Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [156]
Sheeana stood at the arboretum doorway, looming like a goddess; against her better judgment, she deactivated the lock field and stepped inside. Only she could soothe the four creatures and communicate with them in a primitive way.
As the largest of the Futars, Hrrm had taken the position of dominance, partly because of his strength and partly because of his connection with Sheeana. He bounded toward her, and she did not move, did not flinch. He bristled, showing his canine teeth, raising his claws.
“You not Handler,” he said.
“I am Sheeana. You know me.”
“Take us to Handlers.”
“I have already promised you. As soon as we find the Handlers, we will deliver you to them.”
“Handlers here!” Hrrm’s next words were unintelligible growls and snarls, then he said, “Home. Home down there.” He hurled himself against the wall. The other Futars yowled.
“Home? Handlers?” Sheeana sucked in a quick breath. “This is the home of the Handlers?”
“Our home!” Hrrm came back to her. “Take us home.”
She reached out to scratch the sensitive spot on his back. Her decision was obvious. “All right, Hrrm. I will take you home.”
The predator rubbed against her. “Not Handler. You Sheeana.”
“I am Sheeana. I am your friend. I will take you to the Handlers.” She saw that the other three half-human creatures had been standing still, their muscles coiled to pounce if she had given the wrong answer. Their eyes glowed yellow with an inner hunger and a desperate need.
The planet of the Handlers!
If the Bene Gesserits hoped to make a good impression on the inhabitants below, returning four lost Futars might gain them leverage. And it would be good for her to bring them back where they belonged.
“Sheeana promised,” Hrrm said. “Sheeana friend. Sheeana not bad lady Honored Matre.”
Smiling, she stroked the creature again. “You four will accompany me.”
Even a great tower has its weak point. The accomplished warrior finds and exploits the smallest flaws to bring about complete ruin.
—MATRE SUPERIOR HELLICA,
Internal Directive 67B-1138
N
ow that Matre Superior Hellica had provided the services of her pet Lost Tleilaxu researcher, Edrik was confident that Uxtal could re-create one of the old Masters who knew how to manufacture spice. Had not the Oracle herself told him there was a solution?
But now the Matre Superior demanded something in return. If he meant to have his manufactured spice, Edrik could not refuse.
Reluctantly, the Navigator accepted the task, knowing full well the consequences he risked. The witch Murbella would be furious, which was only part of the reason he took pleasure in what they were about to do.
Five years ago, brash Honored Matres from Gammu had tried to launch their last few Obliterators against Chapterhouse itself, but that had been a flawed plan from the start. Even the Navigator aboard that Heighliner had been unaware of the scope of the threat. By attacking Chapterhouse, the Honored Matres had meant to wipe out the only remaining source of melange. Idiocy! The foolish whores had failed, and Mother Commander Murbella had seized their Obliterators. Shortly afterward, she had crushed the Honored Matres on Gammu and destroyed their entire enclave.
This time, though, the objective was different, and Edrik had no qualms about helping Hellica punish Murbella and her greedy witches. The Bene Gesserit would feel the sting, and a billion people would die on Richese in a matter of moments. Edrik did not feel guilty, however. The Spacing Guild had not provoked this crisis. Therefore, the blood would be on Murbella’s hands.
The New Sisterhood’s draconian spice policies had done little to ensure loyalty or cooperation from the Navigators. The Guild paid exorbitant