Mentats of Dune

Raquella’s voice was sharp, like a weapon. “As I have seen yours.”

Valya looked at the floor, then raised her gaze and seemed to summon her courage. “I left my Swordmaster instructor and came back at your urging, but what is all this talk of reconciliation? How can you forget our Sisters who were cut down by the Emperor’s troops?”

Raquella’s voice was quietly reassuring. “I’m not ignoring anything, but I must make compromises, for the future of the Sisterhood. When I am gone — and that will be soon, Valya — my work could be torn apart by a civil war, and I don’t want that to happen. All Sisters follow the same basic teachings and believe in our plan to improve the human race. It is best for us not to be divided simply because we disagree about the tools we use. It is essential for us not to be divided.”

“And who is to replace you?” Valya pressed. “Your message said you had chosen your successor.”

“I will tell you when I tell all of the Sisters. My choice will assure the best chance for the Sisterhood’s survival.”

“Is it to be Dorotea, then? The woman who abandoned us? Your own granddaughter?”

Raquella gripped Valya firmly by the arm and guided her out into the corridor. “My decision is forthcoming. And you will attend the reception.”

THE TWO WOMEN entered the austere reception hall, one of the first large structures built by VenHold workers. The school had expanded greatly in the initial year, but the women wasted no time or effort on u

Just inside the doorway, Raquella said, “It would please me to see you and Dorotea spend time together. Make the initial effort. You used to be friends.”

“I pretended to be her friend.”

“Then pretend again. The Sisterhood is at stake.” The Mother Superior flowed away into the crowd of women, leaving Valya on her own.

Raquella eased herself into a seat and poured a glass of springwater from a pitcher. Going into a deep analysis, she felt her nerves crackle with misfires, her metabolism strain, her cellular chemistry struggle to continue functioning. Any normal woman would have died decades ago, but Raquella used her extraordinary bodily control to keep herself alive. She closed her eyes to dive deep into an i

Just a little longer … Maybe tonight she could surrender and be done with her work, with her life.

She returned to awareness when Sister Fielle spoke to her. Raquella realized that she had drifted off for longer than she expected. “Dorotea has arrived, Mother Superior.”

The young Sister Mentat extended her arm and helped the elderly woman to her feet. “Thank you.” Raquella resented her own increasing weakness, and she drew upon energy reserves to steady herself so that others would not see.

Valya stood off to one side, surrounded by a group of Sisters. Raquella realized that they were the commando women who had gone to retrieve the hidden computers from Rossak; they were also the Sisters most dedicated to Valya’s personal combat training. Of course, she should have realized that Valya would gather her own allies at the school.…

When the main doors opened, Sister Arlett strode into the reception hall, introducing the guests she had brought from Salusa. Dorotea followed her, a lanky figure wearing a black robe that was of a different cut from traditional Sisterhood garb; hers even included a Corrino lion crest. She was accompanied by six other women who also served in the Emperor’s palace. Raquella remembered all of the prodigal Sisters, wished they had never left.

Dorotea and her entourage looked around the hall to assess the Mother Superior’s new headquarters. Raquella caught hints of … haughtiness? Superiority? Disappointment at these workmanlike buildings, which were far inferior to the ostentatious spectacle of the Imperial Palace?

The orthodox Sisters mingled with their Wallach IX counterparts, showing no reservations. It was either a sign of submissiveness, or perhaps arrogance, since they had the Emperor’s favor.

From across the large room, Dorotea’s eyes met her grandmother’s like weapons systems acquiring targets. The voices of Other Memory became a loud whisper in the back of Raquella’s mind, a gathering storm. The other woman regarded her as if they were equals … and perhaps that was how Dorotea felt.

The old woman used well-honed techniques to control her blood pressure, her metabolism, her pulse. She had to remain calm and fully alert, using her last energy reserves. Most of all, she had to be ready to do what she must, the martyrdom solution — it was a tremendous gamble, but Raquella knew it was the best move she had left to her.

As Dorotea came forward with gliding steps, the Sisters gave her a wide berth. More and more Sisters congregated around Valya, facing Dorotea and her smaller entourage. Raquella wondered how many seeds Valya had already planted among the Wallach IX followers, how much of a personal power base she’d been building. Dorotea and Valya exchanged glances, but neither showed any emotion.

Now the Mother Superior gripped Dorotea’s hands warmly. “Welcome back, Dorotea. The Salusan Sisters are still our Sisters, though we have traveled different paths. Those paths are converging again.”

Reverend Mother Dorotea held the old woman’s hands formally, then squeezed tighter, but just for a moment. Was she trying to communicate some sort of message? “It is good to see you, Grandmother. We are both far from Rossak.”

“In distance perhaps, but we are not necessarily so separate. At least, it doesn’t have to be that way.”

Raquella was aware of all the women listening in on the conversation, not saying anything. Many of the Wallach Sisters shot questioning glances at Valya. The Mother Superior needed to seal this matter of opposing loyalties.

Raquella hoped that Fielle’s risky solution would succeed.

The Mother Superior had to stage a dramatic, emotional event that would likely result in her death. She had spent years demanding that her students learn to rein in their emotions, but now the future depended on both Valya and Dorotea caring about her.

DURING THE TENSE reception, the Wallach Sisters treated Dorotea and her companions as if they were made of cold glass.

The Mother Superior seated herself at the head of a long dining table and instructed Valya to sit on her right, Dorotea on her left. The two younger women kept themselves in separate pools of moody reticence, speaking only when spoken to, constantly on the alert for their rival’s every move, gesture, and word.

Through a high window in the hall, Raquella could see the fading outlines of nearby hills as darkness set in. She turned to Valya and Dorotea. “Back on Rossak, you two were comrades and learned from each other. You both endured the Agony, though you took separate paths to pass through to the other side.”

The two younger women seemed ready to interject, but Raquella held up a hand to silence them. “I know your disagreements, I know your beliefs — but I hope that both of you will understand that the Sisterhood is more important. The things we have in common are more fundamental than our differences. We know from history — written in documents and told to us by our ancestors within — that since the begi

“Others have tried and failed,” Valya said sourly. “The Commission of Ecumenical Translators sought to find common ground among feuding religions and produced the Orange Catholic Bible. That didn’t turn out well at all.”