No orange in her eyes. Odrade swept her gaze around at the women who had been her guards. Blank expressions, clear eyes. Was this how they showed despair? It did not feel right. Logno and the others revealed no expected emotional responses.
Everything under wraps?
Events of the past hours should create emotional crisis. Logno gave no sign of it. Not a twitch of revealing nerve or muscle. Perhaps a casual concern and that was all.
A Bene Gesserit mask!
It had to be unconscious, something automatic ignited by defeat. So they did not really accept defeat.
We are still in there with them. Latent... but there! No wonder Murbella almost died. She was confronting her own genetic past as a supreme prohibition.
"My companions," Odrade said. "The three women who came with me. Where are they?"
"Dead." Logno's voice was as dead as the word.
Odrade suppressed a pang for Suipol. Tam and Dortujla had lived long and useful lives, but Suipol... dead and never Shared.
Another good one lost. And isn't that a bitter lesson!
"I will identify the ones responsible if you desire revenge," Logno said.
Lesson two.
"Revenge is for children and the emotionally retarded."
A small return of orange in Logno's eyes.
Human self-delusion took many forms, Odrade reminded herself. Aware that the Scattering would produce the unexpected, she had armed herself accordingly with a protective remoteness that would allow her a space to assess new places, new things and new people. She had known she would be forced to put many things in different categories to serve her or deflect threats. She took Logno's attitude as a threat.
"You do not seem disturbed, Great Honored Matre."
"Others will avenge me." Flat, very self-composed.
The words were even stranger than her composure. She held everything under that close cover, bits and pieces revealed now in flickering movements aroused by Odrade's observation. Deep and intense things, but buried. It was all inside there, masked the way a Reverend Mother would mask it. Logno appeared to have no power at all and yet she spoke as though nothing essential had changed.
"I am your captive but that makes no difference."
Was she truly powerless? No! But that was the impression she wished to convey and all of the other Honored Matres around her mirrored this response.
"See us? Powerless except for the loyalty of our Sisters and the followers they have bonded to us."
Were Honored Matres that confident of their vengeful legions? Possible only if they had never before suffered a defeat of this kind. Yet someone had driven them back into the Old Empire. Into the Million Planets.
Teg found Odrade and her captives while seeking a place to assess victory. Battle always required its analytical aftermath, especially from a Mentat commander. It was a comparison test this battle demanded of him more than any other in his experience. This conflict would not be lodged in memory until assessed and shared as far as possible among those who depended on him. It was his invariable pattern and he did not care what it revealed about him. Break that link of interlocking interests and you prepared yourself for defeat.
I need a quiet place to assemble the threads of this battle and make a preliminary summary.
In his estimation, a most difficult problem of battle was to conduct it in a way that did not release human wildness. A Bene Gesserit dictum. Battle must be conducted to bring out the best in those who survived. Most difficult and sometimes all but impossible. The more remote the soldier from carnage, the more difficult. It was one reason Teg always tried to move to the battle scene and examine it personally. If you did not see the pain, you could easily cause greater pain without second thoughts. That was the Honored Matre pattern. But their pains had been brought home. What would they make of this?
That question was in his mind as he and aides emerged from the tube to see Odrade confronting a party of Honored Matres.
"Here is our commander, the Bashar Miles Teg," Odrade said, gesturing.
Honored Matres stared at Teg.
A child riding on the shoulders of an adult? This is their commander?
"Ghola," Logno muttered.
Odrade spoke to Haker. "Take these prisoners somewhere nearby where they can be comfortable."
Haker did not move until Teg nodded, then politely indicated that captives should precede him into the tiled area on their left. Teg's dominance was not lost on Honored Matres. They glowered at him as they obeyed Haker's invitation.
Men ordering women about!
With Odrade beside him, Teg touched a knee to Streggi's neck and they went onto the balcony. There was an oddity to the scene that he was a moment identifying. He had viewed many battle scenes from high vantages, most often from a scout 'thopter. This balcony was fixed in space, giving him a sense of immediacy. They stood about one hundred meters above the botanical gardens where much of the fiercest conflict had taken place. Many bodies lay sprawled in final dislodgment - dolls thrown aside by departing children. He recognized uniforms of some of his troops and felt a pang.
Could I have done something to prevent this?
He had known this feeling many times and called it "Command Guilt." But this scene was different, not just in that uniqueness found in any battle but in a way that nagged at him. He decided it was partly the landscaped setting, a place better suited to garden parties, now torn by an ancient pattern of violence.
Small animals and birds were returning, nervously furtive after the upset of all that noisy human intrusion. Little furry creatures with long tails sniffed at casualties and scampered up neighboring trees for no apparent reason. Colorful birds peered from screening foliage or flitted across the scene - lines of blurred pigmentation that became camouflage when they ducked abruptly under leaves. Feathered accents to the scene, trying to restore that non-tranquility human observers mistook for peace in such settings. Teg knew better. In his pre-ghola life, he had grown up surrounded by wilderness: farm life close by but wild animals just beyond cultivation. It was not tranquil out there.