Damn! Odrade thought. Dortujla is the kind of advisor I like to have near me. I wonder how many more such buried treasures are out there, tucked away for mean motives? Why do we so often shunt our talented ones aside? It's an ancient weakness the Sisterhood has not exorcised.
"I think we have learned something valuable about Honored Matres," Dortujla said.
There was no need to nod agreement. This was the core of what had brought Dortujla to Chapterhouse. The ravening hunters had come swarming into the Old Empire, killing and burning wherever they suspected the presence of Bene Gesserit establishments. But the hunters had not touched Buzzell even though its location must be known.
"Why?" Odrade asked, voicing what was in their minds.
"Never damage your own nest," Dortujla said.
"You think they're already on Buzzell?"
"Not yet."
"But you believe Buzzell is a place they want."
"Prime projection."
Odrade merely stared at her. So Dortujla had another hobby! She burrowed into Other Memory, revived and perfected talents stored there. Who could blame her? Time must drag on Buzzell.
"A Mentat summation," Odrade accused.
"Yes, Mother Superior." Very meek. Reverend Mothers were supposed to dig into Other Memory this way only with Chapterhouse permission and then only with guidance and support from companion Sisters. So Dortujla remained a rebel. She followed her own desires the way she had with her forbidden lover. Good! The Bene Gesserit needed such rebels.
"They want Buzzell undamaged," Dortujla said.
"A water world?"
"It would make a suitable home for amphibian servants. Not the Futars or Handlers. I studied them carefully."
The evidence suggested a plan by Honored Matres to bring in enslaved servants, amphibians perhaps, to harvest soostones. Honored Matres could have amphibian slaves. Knowledge that produced Futars might create many forms of sentient life.
"Slaves, dangerous imbalance," Odrade said.
Dortujla showed her first strong emotion, deep revulsion that drew her mouth into a tight line.
It was a pattern the Sisterhood had long recognized: the inevitable failure of slavery and peonage. You created a reservoir of hate. Implacable enemies. If you had no hope of exterminating all of these enemies, you dared not try. Temper your efforts by the sure awareness that oppression will make your enemies strong. The oppressed will have their day and heaven help the oppressor when that day comes. It was a two-edged blade. The oppressed always learned from and copied the oppressor. When the tables were turned, the stage was set for another round of revenge and violence--rotes reversed. And reversed and reversed ad nauseam.
"Will they never mature?" Odrade asked.
Dortujla had no answer but she did have an immediate suggestion. "I must return to Buzzell."
Odrade considered this. Once more, the banished Reverend Mother was ahead of Mother Superior. As disagreeable as the decision was, they both knew it as their best move. Futars and Handlers would return. More important, with a planet Honored Matres desired, odds were high that visitors from the Scattering had been observed. Honored Matres would have to make a move and that move could reveal much about them.
"Of course, they think Buzzell is bait for a trap," Odrade said.
"I could let it be known that I was banished by my Sisters," Dortujla said. "It can be verified."
"Use yourself as bait?"
"Mother Superior, what if they could be tempted into a parley?"
"With us?" What a startling idea!
"I know their history is not one of reasonable negotiations but still .. "
"It's brilliant! But let us make it even more enticing. Say I am convinced I must come to them with a proposal for submission of the Bene Gesserit."
"Mother Superior!"
"I have no intention of surrendering. But what better way to get them to talk?"
"Buzzell is not a good place for a meeting. Our facilities are very poor."
"They are on Junction in force. If they suggested Junction as a meeting place, could you let yourself be persuaded?"
"It would take careful planning, Mother Superior."
"Oh, very careful." Odrade's fingers flickered in her console. "Yes, tonight," she said answering a visible question, and then, speaking to Dortujla across the cluttered worktable: "I want you to meet with my Council and others before you return. We will brief you thoroughly but I give you my personal assurance you will have an open assignment. The important thing is to get them to a meeting on Junction ... and I hope you know how much I dislike using you as bait."
When Dortujla remained deep in thought and not responding, Odrade said: "They may ignore our overtures and wipe you out. Still, you're the best bait we have."
Dortujla showed she still had her sense of humor. "I don't much like the idea of dangling on a hook myself, Mother Superior. Please keep a firm grip on the line." She stood and with a worried look at the work on Odrade's table, said: "You have so much to do and I fear I have kept you far past lunch."
"We will dine here together, Sister. For the moment, you are more important than anything else."
All states are abstractions.
--Octun Politicus, BG Archives
Lucilla cautioned herself not to assume too familiar a feeling about this acid-green room and the recurring presence of Great Honored Matre. This was Junction, stronghold of the ones who sought extermination of the Bene Gesserit. This was the enemy. Day seventeen.
The infallible mental clock that had been set ticking during the Spice Agony told her she had adapted to the planet's circadian rhythms. Awake at dawn. No telling when she would be fed. Honored Matre confined her to one meal a day.
And always that Futar in its cage. A reminder: Both of you in cages. This is how we treat dangerous animals. We may let them out occasionally to stretch their legs and give us pleasure but back to the cage afterward.
Minimal amounts of melange in the food. Not being parsimonious. Not with their wealth. A small show of "what could be yours if you would only be reasonable."
When will she come today?
Great Honored Matre arrivals had no set time. Random appearances to confuse the captive? Probably. There would be other demands on a commander's time. Fit the dangerous pet into the regular schedule wherever you could.
I may be dangerous, Spider Lady, but I am not your pet.
Lucilla felt the presence of scanning devices, things that did more than provide stimulus for eyes. These looked into flesh, probing for concealed weapons, for the functioning of organs. Does she have strange implants? What about additional organs surgically added to her body?
None of those, Madame Spider. We rely on things that come with birth.
Lucilla knew her greatest immediate danger--that she would feel inadequate in such a setting. Her captors had her at a terrible disadvantage but they had not destroyed her Bene Gesserit capabilities. She could will herself to die before the shere in her body was depleted to the point of betrayal. She still had her mind ... and the horde from Lampadas.
The Futar panel opened and it came sliding out in its cage. So Spider Queen was on her way. Displaying threat ahead of her as usual. Early today. Earlier than ever.
"Good morning, Futar." Lucilla spoke with a merry lilt.
The Futar looked at her but did not speak.
"You must hate it in that cage," Lucilla said.
"Not like cage."
She had already determined that these creatures possessed a degree of language facility but the extent of it still eluded her.
"I suppose she keeps you hungry, too. Would you like to eat me?"
"Eat." Definite show of interest.
"I wish I were your Handler."
"You Handler?"
"Would you obey me if I were?"
Spider Queen's heavy chair lifted from its concealment under the floor. No sign of her yet but it had to be assumed she listened to these conversations.
The F
utar stared at Lucilla with peculiar intensity.
"Do Handlers keep you caged and hungry?"
"Handler?" Clear inflections of a question.
"I want you to kill Great Honored Matre." That would be no surprise to them.
"Kill Dama!"
"And eat her."
"Dama poison." Dejected.
Ooooh. Isn't that an interesting bit of information!
"She's not poison. Her meat is the same as mine."
The Futar approached her to the cage's limits. The left hand peeled down its lower lip. Angry redness of a scar there, appearance of a burn.
"See poison," it said, dropping its hand.
I wonder how she did that? No smell of poison about her. Human flesh plus adrenaline-based drug to produce orange eyes in response to anger ... and those other responses Murbella revealed. A sense of absolute superiority.
How far did Futar comprehension go? "Was it a bitter poison?"
The Futar grimaced and spat.
Action faster and more powerful than words.
"Do you hate Dama?"
Bared canines.
"Do you fear her?"
Smile.
"Then why don't you kill her?"
"You not Handler."
It requires a kill command from a Handler!
Great Honored Matre entered and sank into her chair.
Lucilla pitched her voice in the merry lilt: "Good morning, Dama."
"I did not give you permission to call me that." Low and with beginning flecks of orange in the eyes.
"Futar and I have been having a conversation."
"I know." More orange in the eyes. "And if you have spoiled him for me..."
"But Dama--"
"Don't call me that!" Out of her chair, eyes blazing orange.
"Do sit down," Lucilla said. "This is no way to conduct an interrogation." Sarcasm, a dangerous weapon. "You said yesterday you wanted to continue our discussion of politics."
"How do you know what time it is?" Sinking back in her chair but eyes still flaming.
"All Bene Gesserit have this ability. We can feel the rhythms of any planet after a short time on it. "
"A strange talent."
"Anyone can do it. A matter of being sensitized."
"Could I learn this?" Orange fading.
"I said anyone. You're still human, aren't you?" A question not yet fully answered.
"Why do you say you witches have no government?"
Wants to change the subject. Our abilities worry her. "That's not what I said. We have no conventional government."
"Not even a social code?"
"There's no such thing as a social code to meet all necessities. A crime in one society can be a moral requirement in another society."
"People always have government." Orange completely faded. Why does this interest her so much?
"People have politics. I told you that yesterday. Politics: the art of appearing candid and completely open while concealing as much as possible."
"So you witches conceal."
"I did not say that. When we say 'politics,' that's a warning to our Sisters."
"I don't believe you. Humans always create some form of..."
"Accord?"
"As good a word as any!" It angers her.
When Lucilla made no further response, Great Honored Matre leaned forward. "You're concealing!"
"Isn't it my right to hide from you things that might help you defeat us?" There's a juicy morsel of bait!
"I thought so!" Leaning back with a look of satisfaction.
"However, why not reveal it? You think the niches of authority are always there for the filling and you don't see what that says about my Sisterhood."
"Oh, please tell me." Heavy-handed with her sarcasm.
"You believe all of this conforms to instincts going back to tribal days and beyond. Chiefs and Elders. Mystery Mother and Council. And before that, the Strong Man (or Woman) who saw to it that everyone was fed, that all were guarded by fire at the cave's mouth."
"It makes sense."
Does it really?
"Oh, I agree. Evolution of the forms is quite clearly laid out."
"Evolution, witch! One thing piled on another."
Evolution. See how she snaps at key words?
"It's a force that can be brought under control by turning it upon itself."
Control! Look at the interest you've aroused. She loves that word.
"So you make laws just like anyone else!"
"Regulations, perhaps, but isn't everything temporary?"
Intensely interested. "Of course."
"But your society is administered by bureaucrats who know they cannot apply the slightest imagination to what they do."
"That's important?" Really puzzled. Look at her scowl.
"Only to you, Honored Matre."
"Great Honored Matre!" Isn't she touchy!
"Why don't you permit me to call you Dama?"
"We're not intimates."
"Is Futar an intimate?"
"Stop changing the subject!"
"Want tooth clean," the Futar said.
"You shut up!" Really blazing.
The Futar sank to its haunches but it was not cowed.
Great Honored Matre turned her orange gaze toward Lucilla. "What about bureaucrats?"
"They have no room to maneuver because that's the way their superiors grow fat. If you don't see the difference between regulation and law, both have the force of law."
"I see no difference." She doesn't know what she reveals.
"Laws convey the myth of enforced change. A bright new future will come because of this law or that one. Laws enforce the future. Regulations are believed to enforce the past."
"Believed?" She doesn't like that word, either.
"In each instance, action is illusory. Like appointing a committee to study a problem. The more people on the committee, the more preconceptions applied to the problem."
Careful! She's really thinking about this, applying it to herself.
Lucilla pitched her voice in its most reasonable tones. "You live by a past-magnified and try to understand some unrecognized future."
"We don't believe in prescience." Yes, she does! At last. This is why she keeps us alive.
"Dama, please. There's always something unbalanced about confining yourself to a tight circle of laws."
Be careful! She didn't bridle at your calling her Dama.
Great Honored Matre's chair creaked as she shifted in it. "But laws are necessary!"
"Necessary? That's dangerous."
"How so?"
Softly. She feels threatened.
"Necessary rules and laws keep you from adapting. Inevitably, everything comes crashing down. It's like bankers thinking they buy the future. 'Power in my time! To hell with my descendants!'"
"What are descendants doing for me?"
Don't say it! Look at her. She's reacting out of the common insanity. Give her another small taste.
"Honored Matres originated as terrorists. Bureaucrats first and terror as your chosen weapon."
"When it's in your hands, use it. But we were rebels. Terrorists ? That's too chaotic."
She likes that word "chaos. " It defines everything on the outside. She doesn't even ask how you know her origins. She accepts our mysterious abilities.
"Isn't it odd, Dama ..." No reaction; continue. "... how rebels all too soon fall into old patterns if they are victorious? It's not so much a pitfall in the path of all governments as it is a delusion waiting for anyone who gains power."
"Hah! And I thought you would tell me something new. We know that one: 'Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.'"
"Wrong, Dama. Something more subtle but far more pervasive : Power attracts the corruptible."
"You dare accuse me of being corrupt?"
Watch the eyes!
"I? Accuse you? The only one who can do that is yourself. I merely give you the Bene Gesserit opinion."
"And tell me nothing!"
"Yet we believe there's a morality above any law, which must stand watchdog on all attempts at unchanging regulation."
You used both words in one sentence and she didn't notice.
"Power always works, witch. That's the law."
"And governments that perpetuate themselves long enough under that belief always become packed with corruption."
"Morality!"
She's not very good at sarcasm, especially when she's on the defensive.
"I've really tried to help you, Dama. Laws are dangerous to everyone--innocent and guilty alike. No matter whether you believe yourself powerful or helpless. They have no human understanding in and of themselves."
Chapterhouse: Dune Page 18
