Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [40]
Did you realize what you were beginning, so long ago? Anirul asked herself. How many plots, how many plans . . . so much you pinned upon a single, secret hope. Sometimes, the buried presence of Mother Superior Raquella actually answered her from within. But not today.
From her access to the multitude of memory-lives buried in her psyche, Anirul knew the precise stairstep on which her illustrious ancestor had stood, and could hear the exact, long-ago words. A chill coursed her spine, making her pause. Though still young in years and smooth-skinned, she contained an Oldness within her, as did all living Reverend Mothers—but in her, the voices spoke louder. It was reassuring to have the comforting crowd of memories there to provide advice in times of need. It prevented foolish mistakes.
But Anirul would be accused of distraction and foolish delay if she did not get to the meeting. Some said she was far too young to be the Kwisatz Mother, but Other Memory had revealed more to her than to any other Sister. She comprehended the precious, millennia-old genetic quest for the Kwisatz Haderach better than the other Reverend Mothers because the past lives had revealed everything to her, while keeping the details hidden from most Bene Gesserit.
The idea of a Kwisatz Haderach had been the Sisterhood’s dream for thousands upon thousands of years, conceived in dark underground meetings even before the victory of the Jihad. The Bene Gesserit had many breeding programs aimed at selecting and enhancing various characteristics of humanity, and no one understood them all. The genetic lines of the messiah project had been the most carefully guarded secret for much of the Imperium’s recorded history, so secret in fact that even the voices in Other Memory refused to divulge the details.
But to Anirul they had told the whole scheme, and she grasped the full implications. Somehow she had been chosen as this generation’s Kwisatz Mother, the guardian of the Bene Gesserit’s most important goal.
The notoriety and the power, however, did not excuse her for being late to the council meetings. Many still saw her as young and impetuous.
Swinging open a heavy door covered with hieroglyphics in a language only Reverend Mothers remembered, she passed through into a foyer where ten other Sisters, all dressed in hooded black aba robes like her own, stood in a cluster. A low murmur of conversation filled the air inside the nondescript building. Treasures can be hidden within a drab and unpretentious shell, said one popular Bene Gesserit dictum.
The other Sisters moved aside for Anirul as she glided through their midst like a swimmer parting water. Though her body was tall and large-boned, Anirul succeeded in projecting a grace in her movements . . . but it did not come easily to her. Whispering, they fell in behind her as she entered the octagonal chapter chamber, the meeting place of the ancient order’s leadership. Her footsteps creaked across the worn planks of the floor, and the door groaned shut, locking behind them.
White Elacca-wood benches rimmed the timeworn room; Mother Superior Harishka sat on one, like a common aco-lyte. Of mixed parentage, showing bloodlines from distinc-tive branches of humanity, the Mother Superior was old and bent, with dark almond eyes peering out from beneath her black hood.
The Sisters moved to the sides of the chamber and seated themselves on empty white benches, as Mother Superior had. Presently the rustling of robes ceased, and no one spoke. From somewhere, the old building creaked. Outside, drizzle fell in silent curtains, muffling the struggling blue-white sunlight.
“Anirul, I await your report,” Mother Superior finally said with just a glimmer of annoyance at her tardiness. Harishka commanded the entire Sisterhood, but Anirul was vested with full authority to make command decisions on the project. “You have promised us your genetic summary and projections.”
Anirul took her position in the center of the chamber. Overhead,