"But the Tyrant surely knew this would happen!"
"The Scattering was his goal, Bell. That was his Golden Path, humankind's survival!"
"But we know how he felt about the Tleilaxu and yet he did not exterminate them. He could have and he did not!"
"He wanted diversity."
Bellonda pounded a fist on the table. "He certainly got that!"
"We've been through all of these arguments over and over, Bell, and I still see no way to escape what Odrade has done."
"Subservience!"
"Not at all. Were we ever totally subservient to one of the pre-Tyrant emperors? Not even to Muad'dib!"
"We're still in the Tyrant's trap," Bellonda accused. "Tell me, why have the Tleilaxu continued to produce his favorite ghola? Millennia, and still that ghola keeps coming out of their tanks like a dancing doll."
"You think the Tleilaxu still follow a secret order from the Tyrant? If so, then you argue for Odrade. She has created admirable conditions for us to examine this."
"He ordered nothing of the kind! He merely made that particular ghola deliciously attractive to the Bene Tleilax."
"And not to us?"
"Mother Superior, we must get ourselves out of the Tyrant's trap now! And by the most direct method."
"The decision is mine, Bell. I still lean toward a cautious alliance."
"Then at the very least let us kill the ghola. Sheeana can have children. We could -"
"This is not now and never was purely a breeding project!"
"But it could be. What if you're wrong about the power behind the Atreides prescience?"
"All of your proposals lead to alienation from Rakis and from the Tleilaxu, Bell. "
"The Sisterhood could weather fifty generations on our present stockpiles of melange. More with rationing."
"You think fifty generations is a long time, Bell? Don't you see that this very attitude is why you are not sitting in my chair?"
Bellonda pushed herself back from the table, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. Taraza could see that she was not convinced. Bellonda no longer could be trusted. She might be the one who would have to die. And where was the noble purpose in that?
"This gets us nowhere," Taraza said. "Leave me."
When she was alone, Taraza once more considered Odrade's message. Ominous. It was easy to see why Bellonda and others reacted violently. But that showed a dangerous lack of control.
It is not yet time to write the Sisterhood's final will and testament.
In an odd way, Odrade and Bellonda shared the same fear but came to different decisions because of that fear. Odrade's interpretation of that message in the stones of Rakis conveyed an old warning:
This, too, shall pass away.
Are we to end now, crushed by ravenous hordes from the Scattering?
But the secret of the axlotl tanks was almost within the Sisterhood's grasp.
If we gain that, nothing can stop us!
Taraza swung her gaze around the details of her room. The Bene Gesserit power was still here. Chapter House remained concealed behind a moat of no-ships, its location unrecorded except in the minds of her own people. Invisibility.
Temporary invisibility! Accidents occurred.
Taraza squared her shoulders. Take precautions but don't live in their shadows, constantly furtive. The Litany Against Fear served a useful purpose when avoiding shadows.
From anyone but Odrade, the warning message with its disturbing implications that the Tyrant still guided his Golden Path would have been far less fearsome.
That damnable Atreides talent!
"No more than a secret society?"
Taraza gritted her teeth in frustration.
"Memories are not enough unless they call you to noble purpose!"
And what if it was true that the Sisterhood no longer heard the music of life?
Damn him! The Tyrant could still touch them.
What is he trying to tell us? His Golden Path could not be in peril. The Scattering had seen to that. Humans had spread their kind outward on uncounted courses like the spines of a hedgehog.
Had he seen a vision of the Scattered Ones returning? Could he possibly have anticipated this bramble patch at the foot of his Golden Path?
He knew we would suspect his powers. He knew it!
Taraza thought about the mounting reports of the Lost Ones who were returning to their roots. A remarkable diversity of people and artifacts accompanied by a remarkable degree of secrecy and wide evidence of conspiracy. No-ships of a peculiar design, weapons and artifacts of breathtaking sophistication. Diverse peoples and diverse ways.
Some, astonishingly primitive. At least on the surface.
And they wanted much more than melange. Taraza recognized the peculiar form of mysticism that drove the Scattered Ones back: "We want your elder secrets!"
The message of the Honored Matres was clear enough, too: "We will take what we want."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Odrade has it all right in her hands, Taraza thought. She had Sheeana. Soon, if Burzmali succeeded, she would have the ghola. She had the Tleilaxu Master of Masters. She could have Rakis itself!
If only she were not an Atreides.
Taraza glanced at the projected words still dancing above her tabletop: a comparison of this newest Duncan Idaho with all of the slain ones. Each new ghola had been slightly different from its predecessors. That was clear enough. The Tleilaxu were perfecting something. But what? Was the clue hidden in these new Face Dancers? The Tleilaxu obviously sought an undetectable Face Dancer, mimics whose mimicry reached perfection, shape-copiers who copied not only the surface memories of their victims but the deepest thoughts and identity as well. It was a form of immortality even more enticing than the one the Tleilaxu Masters used at present. That obviously was why they followed this course.