Dorotea’s mind raced as she absorbed what she was seeing. Even more than before, she became hyperaware of tiny telltale signs, the look in Valya’s eyes, the slight twitch of her mouth, the flush of her cheeks, the barely perceptible change in her voice. Her fellow Sister was lying—skillfully, but not skillfully enough. She had not taken the pill at all!
“I’m glad you’re all right,” Dorotea said.
“I made sure they got you to the infirmary. We feared you would die, or suffer mental damage like all the others.”
With her heightened senses, Dorotea became aware of signs she hadn’t wanted to notice before. She’d considered Valya to be her friend, but now she was shocked to discover that the other Sister had acted disingenuously. So many lies!
A disappointment, but hardly an insurmountable one. She had other true allies. From now on, Dorotea would be in control of the game.
* * *
WHEN RAQUELLA RETURNED from the new Suk School on Parmentier, she found that the Sisterhood had changed. Dramatically. After her many years of trying, after so many volunteers had died or suffered irreparable brain damage, one of her Sisters had finally passed through the chemical and mental transformation. It had happened while she was gone, and the volunteer had done it without medical assistance. Remarkable, truly remarkable—as was the person who had done it.
Sister Dorotea … Her own granddaughter. Reverend Mother Dorotea, now. The voices of Other Memories had confirmed this.
Dorotea never should have taken the risk without the proper authorization or preparation, but her success pleased Raquella immensely. At last, she was no longer the only Reverend Mother! She finally had a successor, and though Dorotea’s antitechnological leanings troubled her, the younger woman’s access to all the wisdom of so many past lives would surely enlighten her.
But rather than rejoicing with Raquella, Dorotea withdrew, wrestling with her inner changes. Late in the morning, beneath a smoky, overcast sky, the old Reverend Mother found her alone at the nearby hot springs, a series of steaming pools, rock bowls filled with hot water that bubbled up from a subterranean volcanic area and overflowed down the slope.
The new Reverend Mother sat on a rock in her bathing garments, immersing her legs in the water. Her black robe lay on a rock nearby. Dorotea looked different to Raquella now, older—as if she had gained millennia of memories. Not surprisingly, the transformation had taken a toll on her, but she was alive!
Dorotea looked up to see her, and said nothing although a thousand unspoken messages emanated from her gaze.
Taken aback, Raquella climbed to the pool, sat down, lifted the hem of her own robe, and removed her shoes so that she could dip her feet in the warm water beside Dorotea. After a heavy silence, she said, “My congratulations on your success. You are the first of many, I hope. I’m deeply sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”
The other lives inside her were excited, awash with possibilities. Now that Dorotea had identified the proper derivative of the Rossak drug, Raquella envisioned a steady stream of additional successes. She knew now that she was not a fluke at all.… Dorotea proved that it could be done. Karee Marques could study the precise sample that Dorotea had taken, and with the new information the Sisterhood would have a third Reverend Mother, followed by a fourth, and many more.…
Crisis. Survival. Advancement. At last, Raquella felt great hope for the future of the marvelous Sisterhood that she had created.
When Dorotea still did not answer, Raquella grew more concerned and tried to reach out to the closed-off woman. “Becoming a Reverend Mother can be quite overwhelming. There’s much you need to learn about mastering your body, your responses, and controlling the voices in your head. They can offer a storm of contradictory advice, and you will get lost if you let yourself be buried in all those lives. It’s difficult to adjust, but you have me to help. I will give you advice and we’ll share experiences—one Reverend Mother to another. We have so much in common now—like no other two women in the history of humankind.”
Dorotea finally focused on her. “We’ve always had a great deal in common … Grandmother. I know who you are and what you did to my birth mother, Sister Arlett.”
Raquella went cold, though she should have expected the revelation. “If you know me, then I don’t need to explain my actions. You already have many of my memories.”
Dorotea averted her eyes and gazed down into the steam of the hot spring, to keep her true thoughts hidden. “Where is my mother now?”
“She’s performing an important assignment to recruit more young women for our school.”
“When will she earn her way back here? When can I meet her?”
“Meeting your birth mother should be low on your list of priorities.” She wanted to inspire Dorotea with the true excitement of what they could do now. “We are Reverend Mothers, you and I. It’s as if I now have a very special kind of Sister, one that others cannot understand. But we are well suited to understanding each other.” So many possibilities suddenly opened up before her.
The fledgling Reverend Mother remained cool, even bitter. “So, you’re glad to have a new Sister, but you never wanted a daughter or a granddaughter?”
“I have no mundane familial desires whatsoever. All of my goals involve the Sisterhood. Now you have shown the way, Dorotea … clearing the path for more Reverend Mothers. My transformation was an accident, but you did it intentionally. The first one ever! I was beginning to wonder if it would ever happen. Now, with your help, we can have many more like us in the future.” Raquella wanted Dorotea to see the big picture, since she had the same set of knowledge and past memories. Together, they would have the same goals.
“I already have a number of candidates in mind.” Dorotea sounded grim, rather than thrilled.
* * *
IN AN ISOLATED room, where she hoped to remain undisturbed for some time, Dorotea sat in intense discussions with five Sisters who had already submitted their names as volunteers to Karee Marques. Dorotea selected the ones who were most acceptable to her, those with attitudes and politics similar to her own. For what she had in mind, she needed allies.
She did not, however, require Karee’s guidance or permission, since she had already surpassed the old Sorceress in achievement. Nor did she consult with Reverend Mother Raquella.
Dorotea had gathered them here surreptitiously, in the hope that they would all survive to become Reverend Mothers. For nearly two hours now, she had been preparing the volunteers, allaying their fears and counseling them through eventualities. She helped each woman to envision what would occur in her mind and body when she took the derivative drug.
Sister Valya was not among them. Dorotea knew the truth about the other young woman now.
The volunteers reclined in side-by-side medical chairs to which they were secured by straps, and they were beginning to look a little nervous. Each of them held a single capsule of the latest formulation of the Rossak drug; Dorotea had prepared them herself in Sister Karee’s lab.
“As soon as the poison begins to open the doors inside you,” Dorotea said, “you must move forward into the labyrinth of your sentience and guide yourself through. Many of your predecessors got hopelessly lost … and died. For this internal journey you will be alone, and you can only succeed through your own mental strength. But I can help strengthen you. I want each one of you to be my fellow Reverend Mother.”
She narrowed her eyes and looked at all the faces, remembering how these women had expressed concerns about Sister Ingrid’s death, how they shared Dorotea’s abhorrence of relying on thinking machines. Soon, when they also learned about the hidden computers, the Sisterhood would change significantly. And there was no time to waste.
The five candidates murmured private prayers, then swallowed their pills. Letting out sighs of anticipation, they settled back and closed their eyes. Dorotea went from one woman to the next, checking the straps that held them in place, so they could not injure themselves. Their heads lolled to the
side.
Dorotea stood before them, listening to the hushed and eager murmur of voices in her head. It just might work this time. She watched the women begin to writhe in their restraints and cry out in pain.…
For hours, they struggled through their inner battles, converting the poison, breaking out of the cages in their minds. She knew what was happening to them.
Three of the women eventually opened their eyes and tried to absorb the whirlwind of lives that assailed them from the past. Dorotea brought their medical chairs upright and gave them time to orient themselves. As if hearing a communication broadcast in their ears, they listened inwardly for several minutes, to the voices of Other Memories.
The remaining two Sisters slumped in their reclined chairs with blood running from their ears, but Dorotea did not think of the dead, only of the three new Reverend Mothers who had joined her … allies who would also train others.
“A new day has dawned for the Sisterhood,” she announced.
* * *
THE WOMEN OF Rossak celebrated the surprising success of three more Reverend Mothers. Watching over it all, Raquella appeared to be very proud, as if a great weight had been lifted from her.
Valya joined her in welcoming the cluster of new Reverend Mothers, though she felt uncertain. If she’d had the courage to take the pill along with Dorotea, she might have been one of them. She was no coward, but she was also not a fool to attempt something for which the failure rate had been so high.
However, if she had …
Dorotea came up to her now, and spoke in an accusing whisper. “I know you never took the poison I gave you. You were afraid.” Valya looked away as her mind spun furiously for a response, but Dorotea continued. “As your friend, I fully understand. But now I can help you through the process, and I have decided to give you a second chance.” She extended her hand, offering another dark-blue capsule like the one she’d offered Valya earlier. “Carry this with you to remind you of the possibilities. Take it when you’re ready.”
Valya accepted the capsule and tucked it into a pocket of her black robe. Dorotea put a hand on her shoulder, looking very sincere and encouraging. “I’ll help you through it. I would very much like to have you as one of my Reverend Mothers.”
“One of the Sisterhood’s Reverend Mothers, you mean.”
Dorotea looked at her new companions and smiled. “We all serve the Sisterhood.”
It requires a white-hot crucible to melt the hardest heart.
—THE AZHAR BOOK
With anticipation, though burdened by her secret assignment from Reverend Mother Raquella, Dr. Zhoma awaited the liaison who would take her to the Emperor. Her exclusive patient. The position as Imperial physician would help her gain prestige for her school. If the new Suk School could skate across the thin ice of their financial disaster, they would grow stronger.
But Raquella warned that Salvador Corrino’s bloodline was flawed, even dangerous. Zhoma accepted the Sisterhood’s conclusion without question, and she would remain alert to discover signs for herself. She had brought a sterilization chemical with her, a substance easily hidden in a vitamin supplement that she would prescribe to the Emperor after she had made baseline physical examinations of the whole Corrino family. Before long, she would dispense with the obligation from the Sisterhood … she would be forgiven, and that long-term ache of shame would be gone.
Afterward, she could devote her skills of persuasion to making the Emperor her ally, a genuine patron of the Suk School. Zhoma had not felt such optimism in a very long time.
She waited in the sprawling concourse of the capital city spaceport, while people bustled about their daily business, paying no attention to her. She’d been here for more than half an hour now, and no one had appeared. Troubling, most troubling. She disliked incompetence, and someone in the Emperor’s scheduling office had not planned properly. It seemed like a snub, and perhaps she would have to arrange her own transportation to the Palace. This was not the first impression she wanted to make. What if Emperor Salvador was already waiting for her, thinking she was late?
After nearly an hour, a thin man in a gray suit hurried up to her. “Excuse me, are you the physician Dr. Zhoma?”
She snapped to attention, keeping her expression cool. “The Suk administrator and physician, and I’m supposed to meet with the Emperor. Has there been a miscommunication? His message said he wanted to see me immediately upon my arrival.”
“There have been many necessary preparations to be made at the old Suk School building in Zimia. I am your liaison, Vilhelm Chang. I’ll take you there right away.” Chang led her outside the concourse building to a sleek private flier that bore the golden lion insignia of House Corrino on the hull. The pilot was powering up the engines as they boarded.
“I understood we would be going directly to the Palace.”
“No. A significant event is taking place at the old school, and the Emperor is waiting for you there. He’ll explain everything himself.”
The aircraft took her to the center of the capital city, where she saw large crowds gathered near the original Suk School building. People thronged the grassy park area on the perimeter, overflowing onto nearby streets. So, a reception after all. This was a good sign, though she hadn’t expected it.
Even with the expansion under way on Parmentier, Zhoma and her staff maintained offices in the elegant old structure. Perhaps during her tenure as the Emperor’s physician, she could convert the historic brick building into a hospital for incurable diseases, like the one Raquella Berto-Anirul and Mohandas Suk had run before the Omnius plagues.
She disembarked and went toward a reception area that held a number of dignitaries, as well as Emperor Salvador Corrino and his brother Roderick. Zhoma froze when she saw Manford Torondo there, too, his unmistakable form atop the shoulders of a tall female Swordmaster.
Salvador nodded a greeting. “Ah, Dr. Zhoma—come! Everyone has been waiting for you. Your attendance is necessary, for the full effect. Sorry about all this. We’ll discuss it later.”
Roderick Corrino seemed disturbed, and averted his gaze. He said in a low voice, “This is not what you are expecting, Doctor, but we’ll explain the reasons in private. Do not be alarmed. The Emperor will find some way to make it up to you.”
Not sure what was happening, Zhoma looked at the legless Butlerian leader, who regarded her with obvious disdain, as if she were animal excrement on a path.
Satisfied that the Suk doctor was watching, Manford called out to his followers without waiting for the Emperor’s leave. “Onward, to the old administration building!” He gestured with a well-muscled arm, and his Swordmaster marched forward. The crowds on the streets and in the parks moved in a wave, their voices rising in shouts that had an oddly victorious overtone.
Confused, Dr. Zhoma followed the Corrino brothers. “I apologize for this,” Roderick said in a low voice.
“What—what are they going to do?” This was clearly not a celebratory show in her honor.
Manford did not hesitate to give commands to the Emperor and his companions. “Wait here, Sire—my followers will do the rest.”
Roderick and Salvador stared scrupulously ahead. “Merely a symbolic action, Doctor,” the Emperor muttered to her. “There’s no way around it. You’ll just have to take your lumps today, and I’ll find a way to make amends.”
As the female Swordmaster ascended the stairs of the old building with Manford riding high, the Butlerian crowds streamed forward to surround the structure. They lit torches as they ran.
“You can’t just let them burn down our great school, Sire!” Her voice sounded much smaller than she’d intended.
“Let them?” Salvador turned to her. He was upset, and took out his anger on her. “This is by my command. As Emperor, I have to keep all my subjects happy, and sometimes that involves difficult decisions. You’ll get over this—just remember that it could have been much worse.”
Her eyes began to sting as she smelled fuel i
n the air, pungent fumes. She fought to maintain her professional demeanor.
On the shoulders of his Swordmaster at the top of the entrance stairs, Manford raised his arms in a signal. His people laughed and shouted as they cast their torches and lit flames at key points. The fire raced along like a living thing, evidence that they had planned ahead, installing accelerants throughout the building.
Her school! They were destroying the historic Suk School! Several explosions from inside the grand old building made the very sky seem to shudder. Zhoma watched in breathless dismay as the historic administration building went up in flames and the walls collapsed inward, leaving only the front entrance arch intact, where Manford waited. Calmly, with flames rising into the air behind them, his Swordmaster descended the stairs and carried him back toward the Emperor and his companions. Salvador gave a polite show of applause, while Roderick stood silent at his brother’s side.
Zhoma realized tears were pouring down her cheeks. She wiped them away. How could Emperor Salvador allow this? He was truly a puppet of the antitechnology fanatics … just as Raquella had warned. Zhoma had not taken the Reverend Mother’s warning seriously enough.
The Butlerian leader glanced past the Emperor and looked very smug as he had his Swordmaster turn toward Zhoma. “We wanted to show you how forceful people can be without technology, Doctor. Look what we have done by simply flexing our muscle.” He turned to gaze at the rising flames. “Emperor Salvador has agreed to abide by basic principles, and he will have no need of your medical trickery.”
Her throat felt raw with disgust at what she had seen. “I am a distinguished physician with full training and experience. Your people just destroyed a facility that could have helped thousands of patients. Does that mean nothing to you?” She knew she should keep her outrage to herself, but could not summon the necessary restraint. “Because of you and your followers, countless people will now die from treatable diseases.” She turned to the Emperor, struggling to keep anger and accusation out of her expression. “Sire, do you truly want your subjects to suffer because of this mindless mob?”
Sisterhood of Dune Page 44
