Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [7]
In his mind’s eye, Murbella’s lovely countenance haunted him. His Mentat abilities—both a skill and a curse—allowed him to call up every detail of her features: her oval face and wide brow, the hard green eyes that reminded him of jade, the willowy body that could fight and make love with equal prowess. Then he remembered that her green eyes had become blue after the spice Agony. Not the same person . . .
His thoughts wandered, and Murbella’s features shifted in his mind. Like an afterimage burned onto his retinas, another woman began to take shape, and he was startled. This was an outside presence, a mind immeasurably superior to his own, searching for him, wrapping gentle strands around the Ithaca.
Duncan Idaho, a voice called, soothing and feminine.
He felt a rush of emotions, as well as an awareness of danger. Why hadn’t his Mentat sentry system seen this coming? His compartmentalized mind snapped into full survival mode. He jumped toward the Holtzman controls, intending once again to fling the no-ship far away, without guidance.
The voice tried to intercede. Duncan Idaho, do not flee. I am not your enemy.
The old man and woman had made similar assurances. Though he had no idea who they were, Duncan did comprehend that they were the real danger. But this new muliebral presence, this vast intellect, had touched him from outside of the strange, unidentified universe that the no-ship currently inhabited. He struggled to get away but could not escape the voice.
I am the Oracle of Time.
In several of his lives, Duncan had heard of the Oracle—the guiding force of the Spacing Guild. Benevolent and all-seeing, the Oracle of Time was said to be a shepherding presence that had watched over the Guild since its formation fifteen thousand years ago. Duncan had always considered it an odd manifestation of religion among the hyperacute Navigators.
“The Oracle is a myth.” His fingers hovered over the touchpads of the command console.
I am many things. He was surprised when the voice did not contradict his accusation. Many seek you. You will be found here.
“I trust in my own abilities.” Duncan powered up the foldspace engines. From her external point of view, he hoped the Oracle wouldn’t notice what he was doing. He would take the no-ship somewhere else, fleeing again. How many different powers were hunting them?
The future demands your presence. You have a role to play in Kralizec.
Kralizec . . . typhoon struggle . . . the long-foretold battle at the end of the universe that would forever change the shape of the future.
“Another myth,” Duncan said, even as he activated the foldspace jump without warning the other passengers. He couldn’t risk staying here. The no-ship lurched, then plunged once more into the unknown.
He heard the voice fading as the ship escaped the Oracle’s clutches, but she did not seem dismayed. Here, the distant voice said, I will guide you. The intruding voice faded, ripping away like shreds of cotton.
The Ithaca careened through foldspace and, after an interminably brief instant, tumbled out again.
Stars shone all around the ship. Real stars. Duncan studied the sensors, checked the navigation grid, and saw the sparkles of suns and nebulae. Normal space again. Without further verification he knew that they had fallen back into their own universe. He couldn’t decide whether to rejoice or cry out in despair.
Duncan no longer sensed the Oracle of Time, nor could he detect any of the likely searchers—the mysterious Enemy and the unified Sisterhood—though they must still be out there. They would not have given up, not even after three years.
The no-ship continued