Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [119]
In assuming the identity of a victim, a Face Dancer imprinted himself with a perfect copy of the original person’s personality and memories, thus creating an exact duplicate. And yet, the false Thufir had risked his life for young Leto II amongst the sandworms. Why? How much of Thufir had actually been in the Face Dancer? Had there ever been a real Thufir ghola?
At first, with the Face Dancer exposed, Duncan had felt a sense of relief that the saboteur and murderer was at last revealed. But after a swift Mentat analysis, he quickly put together several instances of sabotage during which the Thufir Hawat ghola had a clear alibi. Duncan had himself been with him during some of the attacks. The next projection was incontrovertible.
There is more than one Face Dancer among us.
DUNCAN AND TEG met in a small copper-walled room designed for private meetings, blocked from all known scanning devices. Subtle indications implied that this had originally been designed as an interrogation chamber. How often had the original Honored Matres used it as such? For torture, or simply amusement?
Standing coolly at attention, Teg and Duncan faced the Reverend Mothers Sheeana, Garimi, and Elyen, who had consumed the last available doses of the truthtrance drug. All of the women were armed and highly suspicious. Sheeana said, “Under various pretexts, we have isolated everyone aboard, using layers of observers. Most of them think we’re searching for the missing explosive mines. So far, very few people know about Thufir Hawat. Other Face Dancers would not be aware that they are at risk of exposure.”
“I would have thought the entire idea absurd—until recently. Now no suspicion seems too paranoid.” Duncan locked gazes with the Bashar, and both nodded.
“My truthtrance is deeper than it has been before,” Elyen said, sounding distant.
“Perhaps we didn’t ask the correct questions previously.” Garimi put her elbows on the table.
Teg said, “Ask away, then. The sooner you clear us of suspicion, the faster we can root out this cancer. We need a different kind of test.”
Normally a trained Bene Gesserit should have been able to uncover deception with a mere question or two, but this extraordinary inquiry lasted an hour. Because they were building a cadre of trustworthy allies, Sheeana and her Sisters needed to be thorough. And they needed to do a better job than before. The three Reverend Mothers watched for even the slightest flicker of evasion. Neither Duncan nor Teg gave them any.
“We believe you,” Garimi finally said. “Unless you give us cause to change our minds.”
Sheeana nodded. “Provisionally, we accept that you two are exactly who you say you are.”
Teg seemed bitterly amused. “And Duncan and I accept you three as well. Provisionally.”
“Face Dancers are mimics. They can change their appearance, but they cannot change their DNA. Now that we have cell samples from the Hawat impostor, our Suk doctors should be able to develop an accurate test.”
“So we believe,” Teg said. With the loss of his protégé, the Bashar seemed fundamentally disturbed. He no longer took anything at face value.
With an iron-hard scowl, Garimi said, “The obvious answer is that Hawat was born a Face Dancer, then carefully planted and manipulated by our Tleilaxu Master. Who would know Face Dancers better than old Scytale? We know he had the cells in his nullentropy tube. If that scenario is true, the deception went on for almost eighteen years.”
Sheeana continued, “A Face Dancer infant could have mimicked a generic human baby from the very beginning. As he grew, he took a shape based on archival records of the young Atreides warrior-Mentat. Since no one here—not even