Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [77]
Murbella hated to see the Sisters unable to control their suffering. It shamed her, not for their weakness but because she had been unable to prevent this from happening in the first place.
She went to where lines of makeshift beds held young acolytes, most of them terrified, some of them determined. The room smelled of rancid cinnamon—harsh instead of pleasant. With her brow furrowed and eyes intent, the Mother Commander watched two stony-faced Reverend Mothers carry out a stretcher bearing the sheet-wrapped body of a young woman.
“Another one failed the Agony?”
The Reverend Mothers nodded. “Sixty-one today. They are dying as fast as from the plague.”
“And how many successes?”
“Forty-three.”
“Forty-three that will live to fight the Enemy.”
Like a mother hen, Murbella walked up and down the line of beds, observing the plague-stricken Sisters, some sleeping quietly with new bodily awareness, others writhing in deep comas from which it was uncertain they would ever find their way back.
At the end of the row, a teenage girl lay with frightened eyes. She propped herself up in bed on trembling arms. She met Murbella’s gaze, and even in her extreme sickness the girl’s eyes glimmered. “Mother Commander,” she said hoarsely.
Murbella moved closer to the young one. “What is your name?”
“Baleth.”
“Are you waiting to undergo the Agony?”
“I’m waiting to die, Mother Commander. I was brought here to take the Water of Life, but before it could be administered the symptoms of the disease manifested themselves. I’ll be dead before the end of the day.” She sounded very brave.
“So they will not give you the Water of Life, then? You won’t even attempt the Agony?”
Baleth lowered her chin. “They say I will not survive it.”
“And you believe them? Aren’t you strong enough to try?”
“I am strong enough to try, Mother Commander.”
“Then I’d rather you died trying, instead of giving up.” As she looked down at Baleth, she was poignantly reminded of Rinya . . . eager and confident, so like Duncan. But her daughter hadn’t been ready after all, and she had died on the table.
I should have delayed her. Because of my need to prove myself, I pushed Rinya. I should have waited. . . .
And Murbella’s youngest daughter Gianne—what had happened to her? The Mother Commander had kept herself apart from the young woman’s day-to-day activities, letting the Sisterhood raise her. But in this time of crisis, she decided to ask someone, Laera perhaps, to track her down.
Right now, Baleth seemed to show hope, looking with fervid eyes toward the Mother Commander. Murbella ordered the Suk doctors to attend to her immediately. “Time is shorter for this one than for the others.”
From the doctors’ skeptical expressions, Murbella could see they considered this a waste of the valuable Water of Life, but she stood firm. Baleth accepted the viscid draught, took a last look at her Mother Commander, and gulped the toxic substance. She lay back, closed her eyes, and began her fight. . . .
It did not last long. Baleth died in a valiant attempt, but Murbella could feel no guilt about it. The Sisterhood must never stop fighting.
THOUGH MELANGE WAS rare and precious, rarer still was the Water of Life.
By the fourth day of Murbella’s desperate plan, it became apparent that Chapterhouse’s supplies would not be sufficient. Sister after Sister consumed the poison, and many perished while struggling to convert the deadly toxin in their cells, trying to change their bodies.
The Mother Commander tasked her advisors to study the exact amount of poison necessary to trigger the Agony. Some Reverend Mothers suggested diluting the substance, but if they didn’t give enough to be fatal, and thus effective, the entire experiment would fail.
Dozens more Sisters died. More than 60 percent of those who took the poison.
Kiria offered a hard but coldly logical solution. “Assess