Mentats of Dune

He closed his eyes and drifted into his memories. Humanity seemed comparatively safe now, though still scarred and weak — and struggling against the temptation of technology. Growing up, Manford had been desperately poor, and had run away from home, seeking something. He had no grandiose dreams, just wanted a truth to believe in. He didn’t even realize he was searching until the first time he heard Rayna Butler. She was an old woman then, pale and ethereal, her skin like parchment. But she made holy pronouncements in the purest of words, reflecting her absolute purity of thought.

He heard Rayna tell a large audience that humanity’s worst possible mistake would be to forget the dangers of technology. Ambitious humans had created Omnius in the first place, she said, and the cymek Titans had once been human. “Darkness lives within the human heart, and technology feeds it.”

Young Manford had followed her from venue to venue, listening to more than a dozen speeches before she noticed him in the audience. She summoned the starry-eyed young man, talked privately with him, and he gave himself wholeheartedly to her cause, volunteering to be an assistant.

Though she was old enough to be his grandmother, Rayna was so beautiful and angelic that she captured his heart. He secretly scoured through archives until he located images of Rayna Butler as a young woman, and found that she had been as beautiful as he imagined. Soon Manford came to realize he was in love with her, in an unattainable way like the feelings that Anari now had for him.

After he learned what Rayna had to say, Manford built upon her teachings, and she added his contributions to her lectures, until together they developed the Butlerian philosophy into an all-encompassing way of life. Reliance on human skills rather than the crutch of machines, rigorous effort and strengthening rather than the laziness of computers. She had the charisma and passion to change the universe, to reshape the human race — until a madman’s bomb tore her to pieces. Manford had thrown himself in the way, tried to protect her. In that moment, it did not occur to him not to give his life for her.

But he had not been swift enough, and Rayna died in his arms. He held her, barely conscious himself, not realizing that the lower portion of his own body had been blown off, and his legs were gone.…

“I can’t do anything less than what Rayna’s memory requires of me,” he said now. “So many human souls are slipping through our fingers.”

“Then we need to squeeze our fists tighter,” Woodra said.

They finished their simple breakfast, and Manford realized he was glad to have the Truthsayer at his side. When it was time for Anari to carry him to his headquarters, a breathless young courier arrived at his doorway. “Leader Torondo! Directeur Escon has arrived with an important message for you. His ship just arrived in orbit.”

Harian scowled. “That man always says he has an urgent message.”

“Yes, but sometimes he really does.” Manford turned to the courier. “Tell him to wait in my headquarters office. We will be there shortly.”

The young man ran off down the street without catching his breath.

Anari settled Manford onto her strong shoulders, and in the early morning light she carried him through town to the Butlerian headquarters. Deacon Harian and Sister Woodra accompanied them, while Ellonda stayed behind to tidy the house.

When the party marched in, Rolli Escon was pacing Manford’s office, nervous and flustered. He blurted out, “My Lord Torondo, I wanted—”

“Leader Torondo. I am no nobleman.”

Anari Idaho deposited Manford into his high desk chair and asserted herself. “We know your vessels are unsafe, Directeur. Leader Torondo should not travel aboard them.”

Escon was taken aback. “My vessels are not unsafe! I travel in them myself and will continue to do so.” He looked dyspeptic at the reminder, then changed the subject to his urgent news. “I come here, sir, to tell you about Baridge! I just learned it myself. Deacon Kalifer and his governmental leaders have turned against us.”

“How so?”

“The planet’s population voted to set aside your pledge and bow to Josef Venport’s ultimatum! They have requested an immediate shipment of supplies as soon as a VenHold ship can get there.”

“How do you know this?” Anari said.

“My ships were there! We heard the deacon’s transmission.”

Anger welled up within Manford. “If we let Baridge get away with their hypocrisy, then other weak worlds will fall. We ca

Escon looked decidedly ill.

In a firm voice, Anari said, “As I said earlier, Manford, it is too dangerous for you to travel aboard a spacefolder until EsconTran improves their safety record. Let me go to Baridge in your stead. I’ll take care of it personally.”

Manford flushed. “No, this is too important. I have to be—”

Anari cut him off in front of the other listeners, which irritated him, but she would not sway. “I’ll punish the hypocrites. And if Escon’s ship should vanish with me aboard, then you can send another deputy. And another after that. But for the sake of our sacred cause, you must remain safe.”

He did not want to argue in front of the others, nor did he want to seem petulant. “Then I’ll send my double … just so they can see me.”

“Your double is already delivering a speech on Walgis, Leader Torondo,” Harian pointed out. “He was dispatched last week to hold a rally on—”

Manford waved his hand to silence the deacon.

Anari turned to Rolli Escon. “We must go to Baridge right now. Since you insist that your ships are safe, you will fly with me.”

“My ships are safe!”

Sister Woodra watched him, then turned back to Manford. Her eyes had a strange glitter. “This man is not telling an outright lie, but he does doubt his own words.”

Manford regarded the Sister. “I don’t need a Truthsayer to tell me what is so obvious.”

Chapter 41 (The ideal form of mob behavior is controlled chaos)

The ideal form of mob behavior is controlled chaos.

— MANFORD TORONDO, comment to Anari Idaho

As a trained Sister, Dorotea did not normally dream, but when she did, the images often stuck in her mind like actual events. Sometimes she had trouble differentiating them from reality, especially with the distinct echoes from Other Memory.

She sat up in the darkness. Around her, the chamber was silent, as if holding its breath, but she had just experienced one of her more vivid, troubling dreams.

The Emperor had given Dorotea’s followers austere quarters in a former military barracks near the palace. She had her own suite of rooms in an officer’s section on the top level. After awakening, shaken, she rose from her bed and stood at the window, gazing across the grassy parade grounds, where she and her hundred faithful Sisters trained, along with the new acolytes they were now allowed to recruit. The parade grounds were empty, except for the night watchman’s silent vehicle as he made his rounds.

She opened the window to feel a cool breeze. The air was moist and clean, suggesting that rain had fallen while she’d been deep in her dream. Moisture still clung to the air … just as the dream clung to her awareness, trying to send her a wordless message. Dorotea felt the dream forming a sharper reality in her mind, sculpting an opening for itself, a place for it to remain.

Before going to bed, she’d been thinking about one of the Sister Mentats back on Rossak, an aged Sorceress named Karee Marques. Before the schism, Dorotea had liked the old Sorceress, and had tried to learn from her. Karee had investigated Rossak plants and fungi, preparing poisonous distillates that could be used for the Agony. Though Dorotea assisted Karee in her pharmaceutical work, the old Sorceress had always been reticent, leaving Dorotea to wonder what she was hiding. Karee had also been one of Raquella’s closest confidantes.