Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [66]
Over the years, Janess had studied the many lives of Duncan Idaho. Though she would never meet her father, she had learned much from the combat techniques of the great Swordmaster of House Atreides, classic fighting abilities that had been recorded and passed on to others.
Setting aside the distraction of Duncan, Murbella looked down at her oldest surviving daughter. “You don’t need my help. I can see it in your eyes. Tomorrow you face the Spice Agony.” She rose and prepared to go. “I have been looking for someone whose loyalties and skills I can trust completely. After tomorrow, I believe you will be that person.”
No land or sea or planet is forever. Wherever we stand, we are only stewards.
—MOTHER SUPERIOR DARWI ODRADE
C
arrying two passengers, the ornithopter flew over the newborn desert and rock formations, heading away from Chapterhouse Keep. Looking back from her wide seat in the rear compartment, Bellonda watched the rings of dying crops and orchards disappear behind the dunes. From the small cabin ahead of her, Doria controlled the aircraft. The brash former Honored Matre rarely let Bellonda pilot a ’thopter, though she was certainly competent. The two spoke little during their hours of flying.
Farther south, the barren regions continued to expand as the planet itself dried up. Over the course of nearly seventeen years, the waterhoarding sandtrout had drained the large sea, leaving a dust bowl and an ever-widening arid band. Before long, all of Chapterhouse would become another Dune.
If any of us survives to see it, Bellonda thought. The Enemy will find us, and all our worlds, sooner or later. She was not superstitious, nor an alarmist, but the conclusion was a Mentat certainty.
Both women wore plain black singlesuits designed for permeability and cooling. Since the assassination attempt at the gathering, Murbella had made the uniform dress code mandatory across the New Sisterhood, no longer allowing the women to flaunt their different origins. “During times of peace and prosperity, freedom and diversity are considered absolute rights,” Murbella said. “With a monumental crisis facing us, however, such concepts become disruptive and self-indulgent.”
Every Sister on Chapterhouse now wore a black singlesuit, without any obvious identifiers of whether she originated from the Honored Matres or Bene Gesserits. Unlike the heavy, concealing Bene Gesserit robes, the fine mesh of the formfitting fabric hid none of Bellonda’s lumpy bulk.
I look like the Baron Harkonnen, she thought. She felt an odd sort of pleasure whenever the ferally lean Doria looked at her with disgust.
The former Honored Matre was in a foul mood because she didn’t want to go on this inspection trip—especially not with Bellonda. In perverse response, the Reverend Mother made an effort to be overly cheery.
No matter how much Bellonda tried to deny it, the two of them had similar personalities: both obstinate and fiercely loyal to their respective factions, yet grudgingly acknowledging the greater purpose of the New Sisterhood. Bellonda, always quick to notice flaws, had never hesitated to criticize Mother Superior Odrade either. Doria was similar in her own way, unafraid of pointing out faults in the Honored Matres. Both women tried to hold on to the outdated ways of their respective organizations. As the new Spice Operations Directors, she and Doria shared stewardship of the fledgling desert.
Bellonda wiped perspiration from her brow. They were almost to the desert, and with each passing moment, the heat outside increased. She raised her voice above the drone of the ’thopter’s wings. “You and I should make the best of this trip—for the good of the Sisterhood.”
“You make the best of it.” Doria shouted her sarcasm. “For the good of the Sisterhood.”
Bellonda grabbed a safety strap as the ornithopter passed through turbulence. “You are mistaken if you think I agree entirely with what the Mother Commander