Sisterhood of Dune

by Brian Herbert; Kevin J. Anderson

  “You are entitled to love, dear sister, if you can find it in the right place: Emperor Jules was not referring to us marrying chefs.” He kissed her forehead. “Salvador took no joy in what he did. He was performing his duty—as you must do. Please listen to me, as your brother—forget about Hirondo.”

  “But they just ripped him away from me! We didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye. I need to see him, just one last time. How can I live with myself if I don’t know he’s all right, if I can’t see it with my own eyes? I promise, if you tell me where he is, I’ll face my responsibilities from now on.”

  Roderick shook his head, but she would not stop begging him. “We must face our responsibilities regardless of whether we get what we want.” He opened the door of the coach. “Now, let’s go out there and perform another duty. The people are waiting. They all love you.”

  The Corrinos went to a flag-decked platform that had been erected for the occasion, and looked out at the crowd. The stone-throwing children were removed to a safe distance from the machine replicas, watched by guards and nannies so that their parents could participate in the festivities. The crowd surged forward, energized by the arrival of the Emperor’s brother and sister. Most of the people in the throng carried clubs, cudgels, sledgehammers, crowbars.

  “I’ll let you do the honors this time,” Roderick said to his sister. “Unleash the energy of the people.” Before it unleashes itself.

  Red-eyed, Anna went to the front of the platform, and the gathered people fell into a hush, holding their collective breath like a pack of hunting hounds waiting to be loosed upon a hare. The robot ship and the plague capsule waited there, intact, symbolic reminders of the horrific machine tyranny … which few people alive could remember. But they knew what they had been taught, and they knew what to hate.

  Anna raised her hand, and the crowd tensed. She had done this before, knew the words, but Roderick was ready to take over if his sister should surrender to renewed misery over Hirondo. She drew a hitching breath, glanced at him, and he nodded in reassurance.

  Anna said, “We defeated the thinking machines, but we will never forget what they did to humanity.” The gathered people grumbled and hissed, brandishing their simple but destructive weapons. “Let this day serve as a reminder to us and to our children of our victory against the machines that enslaved us.” She brought her hand down in a chopping motion, and the crowd surged forward.

  The clamor was deafening as metal bars, clubs, and sledgehammers pounded down on the capsule, on the robotic ship. Hull plates buckled, controls smashed, plaz shattered. The people cheered and laughed, some screamed in wordless anger, pummeling the nightmarish, symbolic enemy.

  The frenzy lasted half an hour, and by the time the people were sated, the remnants of the machine objects had been beaten into shapeless, unrecognizable shrapnel.

  When tears streamed down Anna Corrino’s cheeks, the people thought she wept for the victory of humanity, but Roderick knew better.

  * * *

  THOUGH BOTH OF her brothers did their best to hide Hirondo from her, the love-struck young man still found a way to get a message to the Princess. He managed to smuggle a note revealing his whereabouts to Lady Orenna, and Anna’s old stepmother was sympathetic to the young lovers. She might seem cold and loveless to others, but the Virgin Empress had a soft spot in her heart for the girl, and she arranged for Anna to slip away, to say one last goodbye.

  Thus, Anna and Hirondo had an unexpected and glorious reunion in the servants’ quarters of the manor house where he had been exiled. She knew in her soul that they were meant to be together.

  Anna had fallen deeply in love with this man and could not envision spending her life without him, despite his lowly station. Now that they were together again, the two spoke in hushed voices about running away to Harmonthep, Chusuk, or some other backwater world. “It doesn’t matter where, as long as we’re together,” she whispered, snuggling close to him on the bed.

  Hirondo was olive-skinned with a solid physique and brown eyes that always held a hint of sadness. She touched his bare chest, wanted to make love to him again, but he looked troubled. “I’d like to go away with you more than anything, Anna, but we’d never make it. I have no money, no resources, no contacts.”

  “I have all that, my darling. Somehow, some way, I’ll do it.” She didn’t have any doubts; they were in love, and everything would work out. “I have to do it.”

  He shook his head. “Your family will hunt us down. It’ll never work. They’re too powerful. This will have to be our farewell … but I’ll never forget you.”

  She glowered at him for being so pessimistic, wondering why everyone was so adamant against letting her be happy. Suddenly self-conscious of her nakedness, Anna swung out of bed and pulled her clothes back on, wondering if she’d made a mistake. She had longed for Hirondo so desperately, and now he seemed to have no backbone. Very well, she would make the arrangements herself without his agreement, and prove to Hirondo that it could be done.

  Without warning, the door to the servants’ quarters burst open, and uniformed Imperial guardsmen rushed in, shouting commands, grabbing Hirondo as he tried to scramble away. They were more gentle when they seized Anna, but kept a secure hold on her nevertheless.

  Shaking his head with sad disappointment, Roderick entered behind the guards. “Anna, I tried hard to help you, but it’s out of my hands now.”

  She struggled, trying to run to Hirondo, but she couldn’t break free. “How did you know?”

  “It’s my job to know. And you leave a wide trail.”

  They brought Anna back to the Imperial Palace and escorted her directly to the Emperor in his private suite. Roderick stood to one side with his arms folded across his chest. Salvador wore a gold-and-white robe of state and looked as if he’d been to a session in the Landsraad Hall. He regarded his sister with a sour face.

  Anna fell to her knees in front of him, grabbed his robe. “Please, Salvador! Let me give up my title and run away with Hirondo. I won’t ask for money. I’ll change my name. We’re destined to be together!”

  Salvador looked heavenward, as if pleading for help, then steadied his gaze on her. “That will never happen. You’re a Corrino and will always be a Corrino. Our father told us to watch out for you.” Then he spoke as if issuing a decree. “You’ll never see Hirondo Nef again.”

  “Don’t kill him! Please don’t hurt him.”

  Salvador pursed his lips, leaned back in his chair. “That would be the easiest solution, but he is beneath my notice. Besides, you would just find some other inappropriate dalliance. Killing Hirondo Nef doesn’t solve the core problem, dear sister, when you are the problem. Our brother has a much more sensible idea.”

  Roderick frowned, as if he disliked being given the credit for the idea. Or the blame. “We’re quite impressed with Dorotea and the other Sisters in the royal court. They are women of refinement and wisdom, and the Rossak School is one of the best in the Imperium. The solution is obvious.”

  Salvador yanked his robe from Anna’s grip, pushed her away. “We’re sending you to the Sisterhood, where I believe you will find a purpose in life. Maybe with their training you’ll do something valuable and meaningful, instead of wasting your time in delusions and aimless pursuits. You have to grow up. We can no longer handle you here at court.”

  Anna looked to Roderick for help, but he shook his head and told her, “This is for the best. You may not know it now, but one day you’ll thank the Emperor for his kindness.”

  Adaptability is the essence of survival.

  —FROM THE AZHAR BOOK

  “Unless you follow instructions carefully, some of you may perish during today’s exercise,” the Reverend Mother said to the acolytes assembled on the rolling surface of the polymerized treetop. Her smile carried no humor. “The same can be said of many aspects of life: If you are careless, you may die.”

  While the young students wore pale green, Reverend Mother Raquella had on
a black leotard, as did Valya and the other assistant proctor, Sister Ninke—a stocky and muscular woman with a stern face and flecks of gray in her auburn hair, though she was only thirty-four years old.

  Ninke held a bound copy of the Sisterhood’s recently compiled manual of philosophies and religions, the Azhar Book. Sometimes, the Reverend Mother liked to quote from the Book during classroom instruction. Even though she surely knew every word in the text, Raquella also believed in the power of formality and rites, helping to cement the profound importance of the philosophical compilation.

  Sisterhood scholars had assembled the Azhar Book in the midst of the CET riots and the uproar over the imposition of the far-reaching Orange Catholic Bible. The compendium of beliefs and esoterica was their private response to the OC Bible, though the women denied any religious ties.

  Rossak was more than a school, with long-established spaceports and old cliff cities that had since been commandeered by Raquella and her followers. By now their graduates numbered in the tens of thousands. After the Sisters finished training, a number of them returned to their original homeworlds to apply their new abilities, demonstrating the worth of Raquella’s training. Some Sisterhood-trained women actively traveled throughout the Imperium to recruit for the school, keeping their eyes open for worthy new students. Most Sisters, however, remained on Rossak to join the ever-growing ranks of advanced women in what had become not just a school but a strengthening order of adherents to a new way of life.

  When Valya had first entered the Rossak School as a sixteen-year-old acolyte, many of the words in the Sisterhood’s lexicon had sounded so mystical to her, rooted in the witchcraft of the original Sorceresses. She remembered finding it all exciting and mysterious … unlike anything in her dull life on Lankiveil.

  Trapped on that backwater planet with little hope of advancement, Valya Harkonnen had made up her mind to become a superior fighter, so that she could stand strong against threats. She and her dear brother, Griffin, had engaged in traditional boxing, wrestling, and martial arts matches. He was taller and stronger, but she had speed, trickery, and unpredictability, so that she defeated him more often than not … which helped him improve, as she did. Neither Valya nor Griffin looked like formidable fighters, but they were deceptively skilled, and the “normalness” of their appearance often put opponents off guard. Since joining the Sisterhood, Valya had learned even more techniques of controlling her body, muscles, and reflexes. She knew that the next time she sparred with Griffin, he would be quite surprised.

  Now the new group of acolytes stood close together on the paved treetops. They looked down at the sheer precipice cut into the high canopy, like a canyon carved through the interlocked branches and leaves.

  “For today’s demonstration, we will show you how powerful we women can be,” the gray-haired Raquella said, looking up as Karee Marques and three other pureblooded Sorceresses prepared to impress the acolytes. Valya had seen the demonstration many times before; she would be awed and saddened, as always.

  These last few survivors of Rossak’s most powerful women exhibited remarkable talents, in many ways superior even to Reverend Mother Raquella’s ability to focus control over her body down to the smallest cell. Valya felt disappointed and discouraged because she could never have such powers without risking the transformative process. And so far, the testing to create new Reverend Mothers had been a dead end.

  Karee Marques said, “Once, the Sorceresses of Rossak were greatly feared, the most powerful women in the old League of Nobles. Without our mental powers, the human race might not have survived the war against the cymeks.”

  The three Sorceresses next to her curled their hands into loosely balled fists. Their hair began to waft freely about, energized with static electricity. The silvery-purple leaves on the edge of the flattened forest canopy began to stir as if alive … as if fleeing. Valya’s head began to pound with the pressure. Disturbed by the building wave, two birdlike moths flew away squawking, beating their iridescent wings.

  “The Sorceresses were able to kill cymeks with psychic powers, boiling their brains inside their preservation canisters. Though shielded, they could not withstand us.” Karee’s face was drawn, the strain pulling the sinews on her neck tight. “But each victory against the cymeks cost the life of a Sorceress. The most powerful ones caused the greatest damage, but by the end of the Jihad, most of the living Sorceresses had sacrificed themselves. The bloodline grew diluted … and those of us here in the School are all who remain.”

  Together in eerie silence, the group of Sorceresses levitated themselves, rising up from the paved canopy as if borne on suspensors, but they did it all with their minds, keeping their eyes closed.

  Valya remained silent, staring in wonder. She heard the acolytes gasp.

  “This is just a hint of the potential in every human being,” Reverend Mother Raquella said. “Through careful study of the genetic records in our breeding database, we were able to eliminate the potential for many horrific birth defects. Once, large numbers of Misborn were cast out into the jungles, genetically inferior, horribly deformed. That doesn’t happen anymore.” The old woman’s lips turned in a frown. “But Sorceresses are rarely born, either.”

  Karee and the other Sorceresses drifted back down to the canopy and relaxed, releasing their intense concentration that had built up to a telepathic thrumming in the air. Valya felt the pain inside her skull recede.

  She noted that all the Sorceresses had their eyes open now, and they emitted a simultaneous sigh. “You must each attain your own potential,” Raquella said to the fascinated acolytes. “You must work with us to find it.”

  “Without machines—we use only what is in our own hearts and minds,” said a new acolyte named Ingrid, who had arrived from the Butlerian stronghold of Lampadas. She had been recommended by Sister Dorotea, who now served Emperor Salvador Corrino himself.

  Raquella paced around the gathered acolytes. Her blue eyes were watery as she looked from face to face. “Answer this—in what ways are humans better than machines?”

  “Creativity,” one of the acolytes answered immediately.

  “Adaptability.”

  “Foresight.”

  Ingrid piped up, “Love?”

  Valya wasn’t sure she liked this new Sister. Ingrid was intense and didn’t seem to listen well. She had arrived at the school with far too many inflexible opinions and had a tendency to blurt out whatever was on her mind. And, now that Reverend Mother Raquella had entrusted Valya with the secret of the breeding-record computers, it made the young woman suspicious of anyone with such close ties to the Butlerians.

  The Reverend Mother stood squarely in front of the naïve new acolyte. “You consider love to be a human advantage?”

  “Yes, Reverend Mother.” Ingrid looked nervous.

  Without warning, Raquella slapped her hard across the face. At first Ingrid looked confused, shocked, and hurt—then her face reddened with fury. Heat flared in her eyes as she tried to control her temper.

  With a chuckle, Raquella relaxed and said, “Love may set us apart from thinking machines, but it is not necessarily an advantage. During the Jihad, we didn’t defeat Omnius with love! Hatred, now, that’s another matter, isn’t it?” She leaned closer. “We all saw it on your face when I struck you. Hatred! That’s the emotion that enabled us to defeat the machines. Controlled hatred. That’s a concept to be understood, but it’s risky.”

  Ingrid was not afraid to speak up. “And faith. With all due respect, Reverend Mother, hatred alone did not lead us to victory. We had faith in our righteous cause, and love made all those martyrs willing to sacrifice for their families, their friends, and even for strangers. Faith, Reverend Mother, faith. And love.”

  Raquella seemed disappointed in the young woman. “That may be what Manford Torondo teaches his followers, but you are in the Sisterhood now. Your perspective must change from blind acceptance of whatever the Butlerians say.”

  Ingrid jerked her head ba
ck, as if she’d heard sacrilege, but the question about human advantages was a rehearsed springboard for what Raquella wanted to teach. She addressed the group of acolytes. “You must set aside beliefs you held before arriving on Rossak. Allow your minds to become a receptive slate upon which we will inscribe new beliefs, new ways. You must be Sisters first, and anything else second.”

  “Are we not humans first?” Ingrid asked. Valya decided that she definitely disliked this annoying young woman.

  “Sisters first.”

  At a nod from Raquella, Sister Ninke opened the Azhar Book and read a prearranged passage. “‘The first question to ask each day when we arise, and the last question each evening when we retire, is this: What does it mean to be human? These seven words form the basis of all our behavior and endeavor. If we do not seek to answer this, what purpose is there to breathing or eating or going about one’s daily life?’”

  * * *

  THAT EVENING, A supply ship arrived at Rossak bearing a message from Salusa Secundus, wrapped in ostentatious packaging.

  Valya was attending the Reverend Mother in her private, stone-walled chamber when the message cylinder arrived. Raquella’s quarters were in the oldest section of caves, in a chamber that had once belonged to the legendary Sorceress Zufa Cenva.

  Valya had been listening to the old woman describe how the voices of past memories had guided her plans to utilize the computerized breeding records to shepherd the human race. Her voice droned on. “Women have always been the driving force behind society, whether or not men wear the mantles of leadership. We have the innate genetic power to create, and even though the Imperium is still stumbling in its first steps, if we in the Sisterhood can extend our influence, sending out even more of our well-trained Sisters as advisers, confidantes, or wives, then we can provide a more stable foundation for the great houses of the Landsraad League.” Raquella drew a long, wistful breath. “Ah, if only you could see it yourself, Valya. Countless generations are contained in my memory, life upon life, extending across the rugged landscape of human history. The perspective is … breathtaking!”