Mentats of Dune

She continued, and each sentence was like a weapon being fired. “You made love to him six times. His mouth tasted like bitter berries. The time I was conceived, you were in a fern glade under a tall silvery tree.” She raised her eyebrows. “I remember you were looking at a green butterfly as you lay on your back in the soft moss.”

Arlett’s words were barely more than a breath. “Its wings were like multicolored glass.”

“Afterward, while you were away for years on missionary assignments, traveling from planet to planet, the Sisterhood raised me, taught me their philosophy and techniques. We were not told who our mothers were. We didn’t think anything of it. Then, after I grew old enough, they sent me away to Lampadas, where I learned from the Butlerians.”

Arlett didn’t seem to be listening anymore. She said again in wonder, “You’re my daughter?”

“Yes. How can you forgive Raquella for what she did to us?”

Arlett summoned surprising i

From Arlett’s demeanor, Dorotea could see that she had not forgiven her mother, but remained loyal nonetheless. She used the tension to put the missionary Sister in her proper place. “What is your errand, woman?”

Arlett struggled to compose herself. Her eyes burned with pain, sadness, and anger. She took several calming breaths, and the blue eyes softened as she looked at Dorotea, then became unreadable and distant. “I am here to appeal to you. This schism weakens the Sisterhood, and Raquella would like to remove the fences between us.”

“Her use of forbidden computers weakened the Sisters of Rossak and brought about their downfall. Your downfall.”

Arlett forcibly controlled the tone of her voice, did not continue the old argument. “We have our minds and abilities, and we are not alone. The two groups of Sisters have much in common. We all want to help our race reach its potential. The VenHold Spacing Fleet is developing Navigators, unlocking the human abilities of their minds, as are the Mentats at their Lampadas school. Do we not all want to improve humanity without thinking machines?”

Dorotea wanted to nod, but remained wary of being guided to a conclusion that she hadn’t reached on her own.

Arlett pressed on. “You understand the need for mapping and monitoring human bloodlines, with or without computers. When our Sister Mentats were killed on Rossak, the entire Sisterhood was weakened, and this in turn weakened the human species. You had a part in that. Don’t deny it, daughter, because you know it is true.”

Dorotea felt personal guilt over her role in Salvador’s overreaction, but knew she could not go back. “I wish it had been different. I did save the Sisterhood from being completely erased — at least a part of it.”

Arlett shook her head. “You sought personal advancement with the Emperor, no matter what your selfishness did to the core of the Sisterhood. It is time for you to repair the damage you caused.” She lowered her voice to a husky whisper. “I plead with you, and I demand it of you. Mother Superior Raquella summons you to see her at Wallach IX before it is too late.”

Dorotea saw something strange on her mother’s face. “Too late for what? What more aren’t you telling me?”

Arlett’s eyes were suddenly full of compassion. “The Mother Superior is dying, and she will soon a

Chapter 57 (All power bases are made of flesh)

All power bases are made of flesh, and must eventually decay and crumble.

— ancient admonition

After his ship arrived at Salusa, Manford Torondo sent a courier to the palace, demanding an Imperial audience. Not bothering to wait for an answer, he and his entourage moved through the capital city with a crowd of earnest followers massing behind him. The palace would never have enough time to prepare, but Manford made sure the Emperor had time to panic.

As usual, Salvador turned to his brother for advice. Prince Roderick, unable to forget the tragedy and violence the Butlerian leader had caused on his last visit here, felt an icy chill go down his spine. Recently, the antitechnology mobs had struck Baridge in a bloody riot that they called “holy.” Roderick saw nothing even remotely holy in their work, and Manford had never atoned, never apologized for, never even seemed to notice the death of Nantha or any of the others killed in their reckless fervor.

And now he was returning to Zimia as if nothing had happened.

All around the capital city, government employees assigned to the Committee of Orthodoxy remained at a heightened state of readiness, to demonstrate that they were always watchful for any technology that Manford had declared unacceptable.

Roderick wished his brother could outlaw the whole movement and render them impotent … but that would be like playing with explosives. Nevertheless, he blamed Manford Torondo for Nantha’s death; that could not be forgiven, regardless of politics or risks.

As the Butlerian delegation made its way through the city, Roderick increased the number of security teams around the palace, granting them quiet permission to use lethal force if a riot began. Meanwhile, court functionaries organized a reception as quickly as they could. They rushed about to prepare the Audience Chamber, setting up drinks and hors d’oeuvres on gilded tables. Salvador suggested that the formality of the reception would force Manford to behave like a diplomat; Roderick didn’t think the man deserved any amenities. He kept his anger in check and decided to make certain his brother wasn’t bullied into additional foolish concessions.

Salvador sat sweating on his throne, dreading Manford’s arrival. He had already consumed several goblets of wine mixed with melange. His spice consumption had increased dramatically of late, and he kept powdered melange in its usual place in a little jeweled box on the armrest of his throne. The stimulating effect of spice made the Emperor’s eyes shine.

Even in the midst of his aching grief over Nantha’s death, Roderick was perceptive enough to realize that Salvador was also depressed, a gloom that began after the exposure of Empress Tabrina’s affair with the Grand Inquisitor. She was banished, and Quemada executed by his own Scalpel torturers, the entire affair kept quiet from the public on Roderick’s insistence. But still … even though Salvador had openly despised his wife — and the feeling had been mutual — he showed unexpected misery at her absence. Salvador wanted Roderick to comfort him, although his pain could not possibly match the pain of losing an i

A lesser man might have sought to capitalize on his brother’s shortcomings, especially in a time of personal crisis. With all the turmoil in the Imperium, the out-of-control Butlerians and the ruthless commercial war VenHold had launched against them, Salvador’s rule was unsteady. Roderick was loyal to the Corrino throne, a moral man. He was the second-born, and his role was clear. He had never wanted more.

Leaning close to the throne, Roderick suggested, “Allow me to remove your wineglass and the melange box, just for a little while? Leader Torondo is entering the palace now, and we don’t want to show him any weakness.”

Salvador appeared reluctant before he gestured in acquiescence. “Of course, of course. I don’t need it.” The Prince whisked away the two items, handing them to a uniformed man, who hurried out a side door.

One of Dorotea’s orthodox Sisters, Reverend Mother Esther-Cano, entered the chamber, followed by a team of functionaries that Roderick had assigned to record the proceedings. He wished Dorotea were here because he trusted the Truthsayer’s wise counsel, but she and several companions had just departed for Wallach IX on a mysterious, urgent mission.