Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [56]
“It’s a Reverend Mother and her entourage,” de Vries said, nodding toward the lights of the shuttle. “Fifteen Sisters and acolytes, along with four male guards. No weapons that we could detect.”
De Vries had been trained as a Mentat by the Bene Tleilax, genetic wizards who produced some of the Imperium’s best human computers. But the Baron hadn’t wanted a mere data-processing machine with a human brain—he’d wanted a calculating and clever man, someone who could not only comprehend and compute the consequences of Harkonnen schemes, but who could also use his corrupt imagination to assist the Baron in achieving his aims. Piter de Vries was a special creation, one of the infamous Tleilaxu “twisted Mentats.”
“But what do they want?” the Baron muttered, gazing at the landed shuttle. “Those witches seem damned confident coming here.” His own blue-uniformed troops marched out like a wolf pack before any of the passengers emerged from the ship. “We could erase them in an instant with our most trivial House defenses.”
“The Bene Gesserit are not without weapons, my Baron. Some say they themselves are weapons.” De Vries raised a thin finger. “It’s never wise to incur the wrath of the Sisterhood.”
“I know that, idiot! So, what’s the Reverend Mother’s name and what does she want?”
“Gaius Helen Mohiam. As to what she wants . . . her Sisterhood has refused to say.”
“Damn them and their secrets,” the Baron grumbled, as he spun about on the plaz-enclosed balcony. He strode toward the corridor to go meet the shuttlecraft.
Piter de Vries smiled after him. “When a Bene Gesserit speaks, she often does so in riddles and innuendos, but her words also hold a great deal of truth. One simply needs to excavate it.”
The Baron responded with a deep grunt, kept going. Intensely curious himself, Piter followed.
On the way, the Mentat reviewed his knowledge of these black-robed witches. The Bene Gesserit occupied themselves with numerous breeding schemes, as if farming humanity for their own obscure purposes. They also commanded one of the greatest storehouses of information in the Imperium, using their intricate libraries to look at the broad movements of peoples, to study the effects of one person’s actions amidst interplanetary politics.
As a Mentat, de Vries would have loved to get his hands on that storehouse of knowledge. With such a treasure trove of data he could make computations and prime projections—perhaps enough to bring down the Sisterhood itself.
But the Bene Gesserit allowed no outsiders into their archives, not even the Emperor himself. Hence there wasn’t much on which even a Mentat could base his calculations. De Vries could only guess at the arriving witch’s intentions.
The Bene Gesserit liked to manipulate politics and societies in secret, so that few people could trace the exact patterns of influence. Nevertheless, the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam knew how to plan and execute a spectacular entrance. With black robes swishing, flanked by two immaculately dressed male guards and followed by her troop of acolytes, she strode into the reception hall of the ancestral Harkonnen Keep.
Seated at a gleaming blackplaz desk, the Baron waited to receive her, accompanied by his twisted Mentat, who stood on one side with a few handpicked personal guards. To exhibit his utter contempt and lack of interest for these visitors, the Baron wore a sloppy, casual robe. He had prepared no refreshments for them, no fanfare, no ceremony whatsoever.
Very well, Mohiam thought, perhaps it’s best we keep this encounter a private matter anyway.
In a strong, firm voice she identified herself, then took one step closer to him, leaving her entourage behind. She had a plain face that showed strength rather than delicacy—not ugly, but not attractive either. In profile her nose, while unremarkable from the front, was revealed to be overlong. “Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, my Sisterhood has business to discuss with you.”
“I’m