Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [170]
“And you have discovered another supplier of melange?” She let a scoffing tone into her voice. “I find that doubtful. We would know about it.”
“We have a high level of confidence in our alternative.” Edrik drifted away, came back.
Murbella shrugged nonchalantly. “I offer you an immediate increase in spice.” With a gesture, she directed three of her assistants to move a small suspensor barrow into the room; it was heaped high with packages of spice, as much as one Navigator could use in the better part of a Standard Year.
The tank’s speakers remained silent, but she could see the hunger in Edrik’s strange eyes. Murbella feared for a moment that he would turn her down, and all of her carefully thought out tactics would come to naught.
“One can never possess too much spice,” the Navigator said after an interminable pause. “We have learned the painful lesson of relying on any single source. It would be better for the Navigators, and for the New Sisterhood, if we could reach some sort of accommodation.”
I was right, she thought. “You need our spice, and we need your ships.”
“The Guild will listen to your proposal, Mother Commander—provided it is a discussion rather than a threat. A business proposal between respected partners, not the sting of a bully’s lash.”
She stared at the tank, surprised by his bold statement. He might really have another source of spice, or at least the possibility of one. But he seems to harbor doubts and wants to play it safe.
“I need two Guild ships for transport to Tleilax. One equipped with a no-field and the other a traditional Heighliner.”
“Tleilax? For what purpose?”
“We will grind down the only remaining stronghold and eliminate the last viable threat of the Honored Matres, once and for all.”
“It will be arranged, within two days. I will take the spice now.”
RENEGADE HONORED MATRES. The mysterious Enemy. Face Dancers. Murbella could not avoid them all, but the process of physical exercise—running, sweating, and straining—helped her to think as she planned her final assault on Tleilax.
Dressed in a clinging singlesuit, she sprinted along a stony path toward a hill near the Keep. She pushed herself until each breath slashed her lungs like a razor. Some of the inner voices scolded her for wasting time when there was so much work to be done. Murbella only ran harder.
She wanted to stimulate and provoke those Other Memories, needed them alert. The clamorous sea of past lives was always there, but not always available, and certainly not always helpful. Making sense out of the collective wisdom was a constant challenge, even for the most influential of Sisters.
Upon passing through the Spice Agony, a new Reverend Mother was like a baby thrown into a vast ocean and commanded to swim through the waves of Other Memory to survive. With so many Sisters inside, she could always ask questions, but she also risked getting sucked down into the whirlpool of churning advice.
Other Memory was a tool. It could be a great boon, or a great peril. Sisters who delved too deeply into this reservoir of the past were in danger of going insane. That had been the fate of the Kwisatz Mother, Lady Anirul Corrino, so long ago during the time of Muad’Dib. It was like reaching for a sword and grabbing the blade instead of the hilt. A matter of balance.
The floating souls viewed Murbella’s mind from the inside, and some thought they knew her better than she knew herself. But even though she could see the past Sisters of the Bene Gesserit, her Honored Matre ancestry remained blocked from her by a black wall.
As a little girl Murbella had been captured in one of the Honored Matre sweeps, taken from her family and trained in cruelty and sexual domination. A whore. Yes, the Bene Gesserit name was appropriate.
Those terrible women from the Scattering had their dark secrets, their shame, their ignominious crimes. Somewhere in the past they knew their origin, knew what they had done to provoke the Enemy. If only she could find that information inside herself, she would know the truth