Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [149]
“Something’s happening,” Kynes said. “I’ve never seen them do that before.”
Sheeana dodged lightly away as the seven worms came together and piled one on top of the other, twisting into a single, larger unit that reared up high enough to reach the observation plaz.
Stilgar pulled away, more in reverence than fear.
Sheeana scrambled up the side of the entwined creatures, all the way to the top of the tallest ringed head. While the two ghola boys watched in astonishment, she resumed her gyrations for several minutes, but now she was on top of the worm’s head, both a dancer and a rider. When she stopped, the worm tower divided and unraveled into its seven original components, and Sheeana rode one of them back down to the ground.
Neither of the ghola boys spoke for several minutes. They looked at each other with grins of wonder.
Below, an exhausted Sheeana walked with dragging steps toward the lift. Kynes considered making some excuse to rush down and speak with her while she was fresh from the sands, as a good planetologist should do. He wanted to smell the flinty odor of worms on her body. It would be very interesting and potentially informative. He and Stilgar both longed to understand how she could control the creatures, though each boy had a different reason for wanting to know.
Kynes followed her departure with his gaze. “Even after we get our memories back, she’s going to be a mystery to us.”
Stilgar’s nostrils flared. “Shai-Hulud does not devour her. That is enough for me.”
I will die four deaths—the death of the flesh, the death of the soul, the death of the myth, and the death of reason. And all of these deaths contain the seeds of resurrection.
—LETO ATREIDES II,
Dar-es-Balat recordings
D
oria’s life had become ridiculous, as Bellonda-within reminded her incessantly.
You’re getting fat yourself, said the other Reverend Mother.
“It’s your fault!” Doria snapped. Indeed, she had gained weight, and a significant amount, though she’d continued her vigorous training and exercises. Each day she monitored her metabolism with her own inner techniques, but to no avail. Her once lithe and wiry body now showed noticeable signs of bulk. “You weigh like a heavy stone inside me.” She heard Bellonda’s chuckle clearly in her head.
Grousing to herself as quietly as she could, the former Honored Matre tramped up the face of a small dune, slogging through loose sand. Fifteen other Sisters traipsed along behind her wearing identical singlesuits. They chattered amongst themselves while reading aloud from the instruments and charts they carried. This group actually liked doing such miserable work.
These spice-ops recruits took regular spectral and temperature readings on the sand, mapping out the narrow spice veins and limited deposits. The readings were dispatched to the desert research stations, then combined with firsthand observations to determine the best locations for harvesting operations.
As the planet’s free moisture diminished dramatically, the growing worms were finally producing more melange—more “product,” as the Mother Commander put it. She was anxious to press the New Sisterhood’s advantage, to pay for the huge shipments of armaments being assembled on Richese, and to bribe the Guild to facilitate the ongoing war preparations. Murbella spent melange and soostone wealth as fast as it came in, then demanded more, and more.
Behind Doria, two young Valkyrie trainees practiced fighting maneuvers on the soft sand, attacking and defending. The women had to adjust their techniques depending on the steepness of dune slopes, loose dust or packed sand, or the buried hazards of dead trees.
Feeling the hot blood of her Honored Matre past, Doria would rather have been fighting, too. Perhaps she would be allowed to join the final assault