Mentats of Dune

The Emperor, however, was not interested in the performance. Despite the beauty of the music, the Chusuk woman was rather drab, especially in this setting. Salvador seemed bored and irritable, consuming more than his usual amount of red wine mixed with melange. The nervous Imperial sommelier stood by, ready to call for another bottle from the palace cellars, should the Emperor require it.

Dorotea studied Salvador; he was overly concerned with his imagined physical ailments and had been increasingly uneasy and impatient after executing his personal Suk physician a year ago. Salvador was too nervous to allow another Suk until they could guarantee their new Imperial Conditioning, which was supposed to make them unbreakably loyal. Dorotea did not know which paranoia would win out — his fear of a conspiratorial doctor, or his chronic hypochondria.

Dorotea observed that the Emperor’s excessive consumption of wine and melange did not mix well with his edgy temperament. He had grown more volatile in the weeks since Empress Tabrina’s banishment from court after the scandal. Despite his long-standing marital problems, Salvador seemed oddly gloomy without her around.

With a wave of his hand, the Emperor interrupted the entertainer during her song, and she was so startled that she jangled the baliset. A robed protocol attendant hurried the Chusuk girl away. She was replaced by a storyteller, supposedly an authentic native of Arrakis who would recite traditional Zensu

In a sonorous voice the man told the timeworn tale of two children — a brother and sister — who ran away from their sietch and rode sandworms to the farthest reaches of the great Tanzerouft, never to return. They became the stuff of legend, reportedly seen for centuries afterward riding the great worms, remaining children forever, never growing into adults. While the story had some appeal, Dorotea found the man’s voice shallow, his tale-spi

“Thank you.” Salvador interrupted the man as he was about to begin a second story. “That will be enough of that.”

The storyteller bowed and hurried away while the Emperor took another sip of wine. Salvador looked crossly toward a doorway where even more entertainers awaited their turns. Three jugglers in whimsical costumes glided across the floor, but had barely begun their tumbling before the Emperor dismissed them. “No more jugglers for the rest of this month! This is an Imperial edict. I’m not in the mood for such frivolity. If I see another juggler, I will run him through with a sword.”

He chuckled as the frightened entertainers tripped over one another to exit, while Roderick looked at him with concern. During a moment of confusion about who would perform next, the Emperor lounged back, obviously uncomfortable. “All right, that’s enough foolish entertainment for this evening. A man of intelligence and culture can only take so much of this sort of fare. I shall have more wine and spice instead, and a little serenity.”

Glancing past the throne, Dorotea met Roderick’s gaze. She could tell they both wished the evening would end quickly. Perhaps Salvador would go distract himself with his concubines.

Despite the Emperor’s words, the members of his court continued chattering about their inane concerns. Dorotea had found very few of them to be serious or interesting, but Roderick was not like the others. The beleaguered Prince had his hands full trying to keep his brother from making a fool of himself, no matter how intelligent and cultured Salvador claimed to be.

At the main entrance door, Dorotea spotted a black-robed woman who moved quietly to the side of the room — not one of the hundred orthodox Sisters who had accompanied her to the Imperial Palace. The newcomer drew little attention to herself, but Dorotea recognized Sister Arlett — her own mother!

It took all of Dorotea’s effort to control her reaction. This woman worked as a missionary Sister to recruit new students. Other Memory images showed Dorotea many details of Arlett’s life, how she had been separated from her baby girl, sent away by Raquella to prevent her from forming a bond with her daughter. Later, the old woman had likewise sent Dorotea away to observe the Butlerian movement on Lampadas … was that a further ploy to keep her even more distant from her mother?

After awakening from the fog of poison, a “newborn” Reverend Mother with access to Other Memories, Dorotea discovered that cruel knowledge and the fact that the Sisters of Rossak possessed secret computers, which turned her against the corrupt operations.

Why had Arlett come here now? She didn’t even know Dorotea was her daughter, unless Raquella had revealed it to her. No, the old Mother Superior would never do that. But Raquella was aware that Dorotea knew the truth. What was her purpose in sending Arlett here, of all the possible Sisters?

A sharp, surprising pang struck her as she thought of a possible reason. Had something happened to the Mother Superior?

While Roderick led his unsteady brother out of the throne room and the Imperial sommelier dutifully followed, Dorotea glided through the droning courtiers, who were disappointed that the entertainment had ended so abruptly. Dorotea wanted to know why her mother had come here.

Arlett watched her approach and waited, her emotions carefully masked. While the members of the court filtered out of the room, the two women found a place to talk in private. Her mother said in a low voice, pitched so only Dorotea could hear, “I bring an important request from Wallach IX.”

Dorotea said, as if granting a great favor, “I will listen, even though Mother Superior Raquella has no official sanction to continue training students.”

“Emperor Salvador was vague in delineating consequences.”

Dorotea no longer had any close co

As far as she was concerned, Raquella’s Sisters were irrelevant.

Dorotea looked at Arlett’s pale blue eyes; even the features were similar to her own, the same nose, the same jawline. How does she not realize it? Deciding to stop the charade Raquella had established long ago, Dorotea said, “Is this a personal matter, Mother, or are you here on business?”

Arlett glanced away, as if embarrassed. “I am not a Reverend Mother. I have not yet undergone the Agony.”

Dorotea’s voice was hard. “That’s not what I meant, Mother. You gave birth to a daughter on Rossak years ago. You were attached to the girl, but Raquella sent you away before the bond could grow stronger … just as Raquella apparently felt no bond toward her own daughter—you.”

Arlett looked stu

Dorotea continued, “Didn’t the Mother Superior ever tell you what became of your child? Your daughter?” She drew herself up. “As a Reverend Mother, I have access to the memories of my ancestors — including those of my own mother and grandmother. You, and Raquella Berto-Anirul.”

The missionary Sister’s eyes shone. “You are my daughter?” She didn’t look angry, but wonderstruck. It was obvious that Raquella had never told her.

“I have your memories of the day when the Sisters took me away as an infant, erased all records, placed me with other children — and sent you off. In fact, I might even remember it better than you do. In Other Memory, I can see when you made love to the man who was my father, a trader from Hagal who came to gather jungle pharmaceuticals. Hakon Iruit. You thought he had a fu