Herbert Frank Tom 5 Heretics of Dune

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What you will train, Teg thought. Not whom. This ghola-child would never be a
whom for Schwangyu or any of the others who opposed Taraza. Perhaps the ghola
would not be a whom to anyone until restored to his original self, firmly seated
in that original Duncan Idaho identity.
Teg saw clearly now that Schwangyu harbored more than hidden reservations about
the ghola project. She was in active opposition just as Taraza had warned.
Schwangyu was the enemy and Taraza's orders had been explicit.
"You will protect that child against any threat."
Ten thousand years since Leto II began his metamorphosis from human into the
sandworm of Rakis and historians still argue over his motives. Was he driven by
the desire for long life? He lived more than ten times the normal span of three
hundred SY, but consider the price he paid. Was it the lure of power? He is
called the Tyrant for good reason but what did power bring him that a human
might want? Was he driven to save humankind from itself? We have only his own
words about his Golden Path to answer this and I cannot accept the self-serving
records of Dar-es-Balat. Might there have been other gratifications, which only
his experiences would illuminate? Without better evidence the question is moot.
We are reduced to saying only that "He did it!" The physical fact alone is
undeniable.
-The Metamorphosis of Leto II, 10,000th Anniversary Peroration by Gaus Andaud
Once more, Waff knew he was on lashkar. This time the stakes were as high as
they could go. An Honored Matre from the Scattering demanded his presence. A
powindah of powindahs! Descendants of Tleilaxu from the Scattering had told him
all they could about these terrible women.
"Far more terrible than Reverend Mothers of the Bene Gesserit," they said.
And more numerous, Waff reminded himself.
He did not fully trust the returned Tleilaxu descendants, either. Their accents
were strange, their manners even stranger and their observances of the rituals
questionable. How could they be readmitted to the Great Kehl? What possible
rite of ghufran could cleanse them after all these centuries? It was beyond
belief that they had kept the Tleilaxu secret down the generations.
They were no longer malik-brothers and yet they were the only source of
information the Tleilaxu possessed about these returning Lost Ones. And the
revelations they had brought! Revelations that had been incorporated in the
Duncan Idaho gholas -- that was worth all of the risks of contamination by
powindah evil.
The meeting place with the Honored Matres was the presumed neutrality of an
Ixian no-ship that held a tight orbit around a mutually selected gas giant
planet in a mined-out solar system of the old Imperium. The Prophet himself had
drained the last of the wealth from this system. New Face Dancers walked as
Ixians among the no-ship's crew but Waff still sweated the first encounter. If
these Honored Matres were truly more terrible than the Bene Gesserit witches,
would the exchange of Face Dancers for Ixian crewmen be detected?
Selection of this meeting place and the arrangements had put a strain on the
Tleilaxu. Was it secure? He reassured himself that he carried two sealed
weapons never before seen off the Tleilaxu core planets. The weapons were the
painstaking result of long effort by his artificers: two minuscule dart
throwers concealed in his sleeves. He had trained with them for years until the
flipping of the sleeves and the discharge of the poisoned darts was almost an
instinctive reflex.
The walls of the meeting room were properly copper-toned, evidence that they
were shielded from Ixian spy devices. But what instruments might the people of
the Scattering have developed beyond the Ixian ken?
Waff entered the room with a hesitant step. The Honored Matre already was there
seated in a leather sling chair.
"You will call me what everyone else calls me," she greeted him. "Honored
Matre."
He bowed as he had been warned to do. "Honored Matre."
No hint of hidden powers in her voice. A low contralto with overtones that
spoke of disdain for him. She looked like an aged athlete or acrobat, slowed
and retired but still maintaining her muscle tone and some of her skills. Her
face was tight skin over a skull with prominent cheekbones. The thin-lipped
mouth produced a sense of arrogance when she spoke, as though every word were
projected downward onto lesser folk.
"Well, come in and sit down!" she commanded, waving at a sling chair facing
her.
Waff heard the hatch hiss closed behind him. He was alone with her! She was
wearing a snooper. He could see the lead for it going into her left ear. His
dart throwers had been sealed and "washed" against snoopers, then maintained at
minus 340� Kelvin in a radiation bath for five SY to make them proof against
snoopers. Had it been enough?
Gently, he lowered himself into the indicated chair.
Orange-tinted contact lenses covered the Honored Matre's eyes, giving them a
feral appearance. She was altogether daunting. And her clothing! Red leotards
beneath a dark blue cape. The surface of the cape had been decorated with some
pearly material to produce strange arabesques and dragon designs. She sat in
the chair as though it were a throne, her clawlike hands resting easily on the
arms.
Waff glanced around the room. His people had inspected this place in company
with Ixian maintenance workers and representatives of the Honored Matre. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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