Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [252]
The trio of young Court women chattered excitedly, barely able to move in their stuffed gowns, sparkling ornamental feathers, and kilograms of gaudy jewelry. But now they fell silent as the black-robed Bene Gesserit drew near.
“Just a moment, Margot.” Pausing in front of the elaborately coiffed women, Anirul snapped with the barest hint of Voice, “Don’t waste your time gossiping. Do something productive for a change. We have much to prepare before all the representatives arrive.”
One of the young women, a dark-haired beauty, glared for a moment with large brown eyes, but then had second thoughts. Her manner took on a conciliatory expression and tone. “You are right, Lady,” she said, and abruptly led her companions down the promenade toward a wide, arched doorway of pitted Salusan lava rock that led to the Ambassadors’ apartments.
Exchanging smiles with the secret Kwisatz Mother, Margot quipped, “But aren’t Imperial Courts about gossiping, Anirul? Isn’t that their primary business? The ladies were performing their duties admirably, I’d say.”
Anirul glowered, looking much older than her young features. “I should have given them explicit instructions. Those women are merely decorations, like the jeweled fountains. They don’t have the slightest idea how to be productive.”
After her years on Wallach IX, knowing through her Other Memory just how much the Bene Gesserit had accomplished over the landscape of Imperial history, she considered human lives precious, each one a tiny spark in the bonfire of eternity. But such courtesans aspired to be no more than . . . than morsels for the appetites of powerful men.
In reality, Anirul had no jurisdiction over such women, not even as the Crown Prince’s future wife. Margot placed a soft hand on her forearm. “Anirul, you must be less impulsive. Mother Superior recognizes your talent and skill, but says you must be tempered. All successful life-forms adapt to their surroundings. You are now at the Imperial Court, so adapt to your new environment. We Bene Gesserit must work invisibly.”
Anirul gave her a wry smile. “I always considered my outspokenness to be one of my primary strengths. Mother Superior Harishka knows that. It enables me to discuss mat-ters of interest and to learn things I might not have learned otherwise.”
“If others are capable of listening.” Margot raised her pale eyebrows on her flawless forehead.
Anirul continued down the promenade, head held high, like an Empress. Precious gems glittered in a headpiece that covered her bronze hair like a spiderweb. She knew the courtesans gossiped about her, wondering what secret tasks the Bene Gesserit witches were performing at Court, what spells they had woven to lure Shaddam. Ah, if they only knew. Their gossip and speculations would only serve to enhance Anirul’s mystique.
“It seems that we have things to whisper about, ourselves,” she said.
Margot brushed a lock of honey-blonde hair out of her eyes. “Of course. Mohiam’s child?”
“And the Atreides matter as well.”
Anirul drew a deep breath from a hedge of sapphire roses as they reached a patio garden. The sweet perfume awakened her senses. She and Margot sat together on a bench, where they could observe anyone approaching, though they spoke in directed whispers, secure from any spies.
“What can the Atreides have to do with Mohiam’s daughter?” As one of the Bene Gesserit’s most accomplished operatives, Sister Margot possessed inner-circle details on the next stage of the Kwisatz Haderach program, and now Mohiam herself had been briefed as well.
“Think in the long term, Margot, think of genetic patterns, of the ladder of generations we have plotted. Duke Leto Atreides lies imprisoned, in peril of his life and title. He may seem to be an insignificant noble of an unimpressive Great House. But have you considered what a disaster this situation could be for us?”
Margot took a deep breath as pieces fell into place for her. “Duke Leto? You don’t mean he is needed for . . .” She couldn’t utter the most secret of names, Kwisatz