Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [97]
Garimi stumbled forward, but by the time she got to the small bed she saw only the quietly resting child Leto. The boy lay back, gazing up at her calmly with his bright eyes.
Ceasing her cries of pain, Stuka used her Bene Gesserit abilities to stop the flow of blood from the jagged tear in her side. She fought for balance as she reeled away from the crib, her eyes wide. Garimi looked from her back to the child in its cradle. Had she truly seen Leto transform into a sandworm?
There were no surveillance images. Garimi could never prove what she thought she had seen. But how else to explain Stuka’s wound?
“What are you, little Tyrant?” Garimi saw no blood on the small fingers or mouth. Leto blinked back at her.
The crèche door burst open, and Duncan Idaho swept in, followed by two proctors and Sheeana. Duncan stood there, his face dark with anger, saw the blood, the shredded pillow, the baby in its crib. “What in the seven hells are you doing here?”
Garimi backed away from the crib, keeping her distance, afraid that little Leto might turn into the vision worm again and attack. Looking at Duncan’s fiery eyes, she almost concocted a lie that Stuka had come to kill the baby and that she, Garimi, had arrived in time to defend the child. But that lie would crumble quickly upon further examination.
Instead, she drew herself up straight. A Suk doctor arrived in response to the alarms Duncan had triggered. After checking the baby, she went to where Stuka had collapsed in fatigue. Sheeana peeled away the tattered robe to expose the deep gash that had bled extensively before Stuka—in a surge of energy—managed to staunch the flow. Duncan and the proctors stared at it in awe.
Garimi tore her gaze away, now more fearful of Leto II than ever. She gestured angrily at the cradle. “I suspected this child was a monster before. Now I have no doubt whatsoever.”
Despite the words of egalitarians, all humans are not the same. Each of us contains a unique mix of hidden potential. In times of crisis, we must discover these abilities before it is too late.
—BASHAR MILES TEG
D
uring the uproar that followed the attempt on young Leto’s life, Miles Teg watched the predictable power plays among the Bene Gesserit.
The initial escape from Chapterhouse had made them set aside their differences for a time, but over the years factions had formed, and festered like unhealed wounds. The schism grew as time passed and the ghola children provided a powerful wedge. In recent years, Teg had observed smoldering embers of uneasiness and resistance among Garimi’s faction, centered around the new gholas. The crisis over Leto II had been like touching an igniter to kindling soaked with accelerant.
Teg’s mother had raised him on Lernaeus, guiding him in Bene Gesserit ways. Janet Roxbrough-Teg was loyal to the Sisterhood, though not mindlessly so. She taught her son useful skills, showed him how to protect himself from Bene Gesserit tricks, and made him aware of how the ambitious women schemed. A true Bene Gesserit would take any necessary action to achieve a desired goal.
But the attempted murder of a child? Teg was concerned that even Sheeana had miscalculated the risks.
Garimi and Stuka stood defiantly in the boxes of the accused, not bothering to hide their guilt. The heavy doors of the large audience chamber were sealed, as if someone feared the two women might try to flee the no-ship. The thick air in the confined room had the sour, pungent odor of melange exuded from perspiration. The other women were quite agitated, and even most of the conservative faction had turned against Garimi, for now.
“You have acted against the Sisterhood!” Sheeana gripped the edge of the podium. Her voice projected loud and clear as she raised