Mentats of Dune

For weeks Anari had been studying schedules and actual witness reports of ship arrivals, as well as a complete accounting of which vessels vanished en route. There were far, far too many accidents.

He pushed the papers aside without reading them. “I’ll be safe. You don’t need to worry about me.”

She remained firm. “You’re wrong, Manford — I do need to worry about you. It’s my main reason for existence.”

Anari had read the documents carefully, a number of related reports that had been prepared for her. In one of them, Rolli Escon had admitted that some vessels had been lost due to “unforeseen difficulties,” but he claimed the same thing occurred with any foldspace shipping company.

Ellonda bustled through the door carrying a tray with two cups and a pot of fragrant herbal tea. The old woman was more hurried in her movements than usual; she had been outside the office door arranging and rearranging the cups as Anari and Manford talked, waiting for an appropriate time to interrupt. Now she came in, smiling. “An evening tea to relax you before you go to sleep. You always talk about serious business, but you know it is best to settle down and not worry about everything, because God is on our side.”

Even though Ellonda had cooked his meals for several years now, Anari intercepted the cup, tasted the tea, and waited for a few seconds before pronouncing it safe, finally passing it over to Manford. Ellonda did not look offended; it was a daily ritual. Anari did not fully trust anyone, when it came to protecting Manford.

He said, “Thank you, Ellonda. God is on our side, and I am His tool, with a sacred mission.” He nodded. “Just as Anari’s mission is apparently to worry about me.”

“In all things,” she said. Without question Anari would give her life for him — she would also give her soul to this man, and that was worth a great deal more to her. But whose side was God on? She was hesitant to point out that VenHold ships had impeccable safety records. Why would God protect vessels belonging to the blasphemous Josef Venport?

Ellonda bustled around the room, setting up cups, straightening furniture, arranging pillows. She tried to remain unobtrusive, without success, but Anari turned her attention to the documents on Manford’s desk. Spreading them open, she pointed to a summary page. “Until now, we feared that EsconTran’s failure rate might be as high as one percent. Judging by the most recent information, I think their losses are many times that.” She became implacable. “Based on my research into the matter, it is too dangerous for you to travel aboard their ships. Each time you take a foldspace voyage, there is a significant risk that you could disappear.”

He shook his head. “Too many worlds need to hear my message and be reminded. Every time I speak to a wayward populace, it is necessary. I am required by God to make certain my people fight the temptation of machines. That is what Rayna Butler taught me, and I must show them how to be strong.”

“You ca

“And we will all lose if I don’t press forward to complete my work.”

Anari couldn’t hide her frustration. “Send me in your place, then, if you don’t absolutely have to be there yourself. Or send your double.”

Manford frowned. “I will go where I need to go.” He sighed, looking at her with great meaning in his eyes — not quite tears, but a reflection of his deep caring. “Your fears are misplaced. It is not my destiny to die a small and remote death.”

THE ORTHODOX SISTER came as a gesture of good faith from Reverend Mother Dorotea at the Imperial Court, although Manford was certain Emperor Salvador knew nothing about it.

Sister Woodra arrived at dawn, dressed in conservative dark robes that concealed her figure. She was middle-aged, neither unattractive nor attractive — not that Manford bothered with such considerations. Woodra followed her faith and helped strengthen the unspoken alliance between the antitechnology Sisters and the Butlerians.

Upon arriving at Lampadas, she had convinced Deacon Harian to escort her directly to the leader’s home. A scowling Anari Idaho answered the door at daybreak, not wanting Manford interrupted. The broad-shouldered Swordmaster stood in the doorway, wearing her weapon at her hip and denying them entry. “He is still asleep.”

Deacon Harian bowed his shaved head in deference but refused to depart. “Apologies, but Sister Woodra comes on urgent business from Salusa Secundus. She has not adjusted to our time.”

“Then she can wait. Manford does not accept intrusions into his private home, especially not at this hour. He conducts business in his headquarters offices in town. Tell her to come back later.”

Though it was barely dawn, Manford had actually been up for some time, always troubled by nightmares when he slept and deep concerns when he was awake. Before the argument could escalate, he called from the back room, “Thank you, Anari. I will meet her now. She has traveled a long way.”

He emerged walking on his hands. Pausing in the middle of the room, he looked up quizzically at Sister Woodra. “I’ve seen you on one of my visits to the Imperial Court. Your face is familiar.”

She bowed formally, regarding the Butlerian leader with respect and, best of all, without pity. “We who serve there do our best to be unobtrusive, Leader Torondo. I was with Sister Dorotea when your Mentat defeated the mek in pyramid chess, and afterward when you a

Manford nodded. “Yes, I can place you now.”

She bowed again. “I am here to offer my services as a Truthsayer. There are those who resist the Butlerian teachings and try to undermine your efforts at every turn.”

“I am all too aware of that,” Manford said. “And what, precisely, can you do for me as a Truthsayer?”

“Some Sisters have a heightened sensitivity to falsehood, which enables us to detect lies and concealments.”

“A useful skill,” Anari interrupted. “But you will find no liars here.”

“I detect no falsehood in your voice, Swordmaster, nor in Deacon Harian’s.”

“And me?” Manford said. “What do you detect in me?”

“You are the most sincere person I have ever met. You believe in your cause without doubt or reservation.”

With a quiet grunt, Manford turned himself about and told them to follow him into his sitting room. Without being asked, Anari settled him into a chair, where he could comfortably converse with his visitors.

Woodra’s steady voice carried complete respect. “My Sisters and I understand the critical importance of your cause, Leader Torondo, but the battle is far from over. You need to know who is telling the truth and who merely pays lip service while secretly being Machine Apologists. Many have taken your pledge, yet they continue to purchase luxuries from Josef Venport.”

Manford clenched his jaw, breathed in, and exhaled a long sigh. “Do not speak that man’s name in this house.” He noticed that Anari tightened her grip on her sword hilt.

Woodra nodded. “I would prefer never to speak it again.”

Hearing that everyone was up, the housekeeper came in with a tray and proceeded to lay out a quick breakfast for the guests. “Sorry it’s such an informal meal, sir, but this should hold you while I make fresh pastries.”

“No need for pastries, Ellonda,” Manford said. “My guests understand that a simple meal is enough, and a simple life is enough.”

The old woman smiled and poured his tea first. Anari took the cup from Ellonda and tasted a sip before allowing Manford to drink.

The Butlerian leader spoke to his small audience, although he knew they were already convinced. “At first glance, we may look the same. Human beings have eyes and ears, minds and bodies. But all people don’t hear the truth that is plain to the righteous. We don’t all see the pure path that righteous people must follow. We don’t all behave in the proper ma