Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [59]
The Bene Gesserit always had plans afoot, wheels within wheels, and nothing with them was ever as clear as it seemed. The Baron frowned, running through the possibilities. With this daughter they wanted so badly, did the witches—in spite of their denials—intend to create an illegitimate heir and claim House Harkonnen in the following generation? That was preposterous. He was already grooming Rabban for that position, and no one would question it.
“I . . .” He fumbled for words. “I need a moment to consider this, and I must speak with my advisors.”
Reverend Mother Mohiam all but rolled her eyes at the suggestion, but granted him leave, gesturing for the Baron to take his time. Tossing aside a bloodstained towel, she lounged back on the divan, comfortable to wait.
Despite his despicable personality, Vladimir Harkonnen was an attractive man, well built with pleasant features: reddish hair, heavy lips, pronounced widow’s peak. However, the Bene Gesserit instilled in all their Sisters the critical belief that sexual intercourse was a mere tool for manipulating men and for obtaining offspring to add to the genetically connected web of the Sisterhood. Mohiam never intended to enjoy the act, no matter her orders. Nevertheless, she did find it pleasurable to have the Baron under her thumb, to be able to force him into submission.
The Reverend Mother sat back, closed her eyes, and concentrated on the flow and ebb of hormones in her body, the inner workings of her reproductive system . . . preparing herself.
She knew what the Baron’s answer had to be.
“Piter!” the baron strode down the halls. “Where’s my Mentat?”
De Vries slipped out of an adjoining hall, where he’d been intending to use the hidden observation holes he’d placed in the Baron’s private chambers.
“I’m here, my Baron,” he said, then swigged from a tiny vial. The sapho taste triggered responses in his brain, firing his neurons, stoking his mental capabilities. “What did the witch request? What is she up to?”
The Baron wheeled, finally finding an appropriate target for his rage. “She wants me to impregnate her! The sow!”
Impregnate her? de Vries thought, adding this to his Mentat database. At hyper speed he reassessed the problem.
“She wants to bear my girl-child! Can you believe it? They know about my spice stockpiles, too!”
De Vries was in Mentat mode. Fact: The Baron would never have children any other way. He loathes women. Besides, politically, he is too careful to spread his seed indiscriminately.
Fact: The Bene Gesserit have broad genetic records on Wallach IX, numerous breeding plans, the results of which are open to interpretation. Given a child by the Baron—a daughter instead of a son?—what could the witches hope to accomplish?
Is there some flaw—or advantage—in Harkonnen genetics they wish to exploit? Do they simply wish to do this because they consider it the most humiliating punishment they can inflict upon the Baron? If so, how has the Baron personally offended the Sisterhood?
“The thought of it disgusts me! Rutting with that broodmare,” the Baron growled. “But I’m nearly mad with curiosity. What can the Sisterhood possibly want?”
“I’m unable to make a projection, Baron. Insufficient data.”
The Baron looked as if he wanted to strike de Vries, but refrained. “I’m not a Bene Gesserit stud!”
“Baron,” de Vries said calmly, “if they truly have information about your spice-stockpiling activities, you cannot afford to have that exposed. Even if they were bluffing, your reaction has no doubt already told them all they need to know. If they offer proof to Kaitain, the Emperor will bring his Sardaukar here to exterminate House Harkonnen and set up another Great House in our stead on Arrakis, just as they removed Richese before us. Elrood would like that, no doubt. He and CHOAM