the message. Odrade's humor (applied later) had taught Linchine something about herself. Humor under stress.
Odrade smiled at the acolyte beside her in the dining hall. 'How would you like to be a horse?'
'What?' The word was startled out of her but she responded to Mother Superior's smile. Nothing alarming in that. Warm even. Everyone said Mother Superior permitted affections.
'You don't understand, of course,' Odrade said.
'No, Mother Superior.' Still smiling and patient.
Odrade allowed her gaze to quest over the young face. Clear blue eyes not yet touched by the engulfing blue of Spice Agony. A mouth almost like Bell's but without the viciousness. Dependable muscles and dependable intelligence. She would be good at anticipating Mother Superior's needs. Witness her map assignment and that report. Sensitive. Went with her superior intelligence. Not likely to rise to the very top but always in key positions where you needed her qualities.
Why did I sit beside this one?
Odrade frequently selected a particular companion at mealtime visits. Acolytes mostly. They could be so revealing. Reports often found their way to Mother Superior's workroom: personal observations from Proctors about one acolyte or another. But sometimes, Odrade chose a seat for no reason she could explain. As I did tonight. Why this one?
Conversation rarely occurred unless Mother Superior initiated it. Gentle initiation usually, easing into more intimate matters. Others around them listened avidly.
At such moments, Odrade often produced a manner of almost religious serenity. It soothed nervous ones. Acolytes were... well, acolytes, but Mother Superior was the supreme witch of them all. Nervousness was natural.
Someone behind Odrade whispered: 'She has Streggi on the coals tonight.'
On the coals. Odrade knew the expression. It had been used in her acolyte days. So this one was named Streggi. Let it be unspoken for now. Names carry magic.
'Do you enjoy tonight's dinner?' Odrade asked.
'It's acceptable, Mother Superior.' One tried not to give false opinions, but Streggi was confused by the shift in conversation.
'They've overcooked it,' Odrade said.
'Serving so many, how can they please everyone, Mother Superior?'
She speaks her mind and speaks it well.
'Your left hand is trembling,' Odrade said.
'I'm nervous with you, Mother Superior. And I've just come from the practice floor. Very tiring today.'
Odrade analyzed the tremors. 'They have you doing the long-arm lift.'
'Was it painful in your day, Mother Superior?' (In those ancient times?) 'Just as painful as today. Pain teaches, they told me.'
That softened things. Shared experiences, the patter of the Proctors.
'I don't understand about horses, Mother Superior.' Streggi looked at her plate. 'This cannot be horse meat. I'm sure I...'
Odrade laughed loudly, attracting startled looks. She put a hand on Streggi's arm and subsided to a gentle smile. 'Thank you, my dear. No one has made me laugh that much in years. I hope this is the beginning of a long and joyous association.'
'Thank you, Mother Superior, but I -'
'I will explain about the horse, my own little joke and no intent to demean you. I want you to carry a young child on your shoulders, to move him more rapidly than his short legs will carry him.'
'As you wish, Mother Superior.' No objections, no more questions. Questions were there, but the answers would come in their own time and Streggi knew it.
Magic time.
Withdrawing her hand, Odrade said: 'Your name?'
'Streggi, Mother Superior. Aloana Streggi.'
'Rest easy, Streggi. I will see to the orchards. We need them for morale as much as for food. You report to Reassignment tonight. Tell them I want you in my workroom at six tomorrow morning.'
'I will be there, Mother Superior. Will I continue to mark your map?' As Odrade was rising to leave.
'For now, Streggi. But ask Reassignment for a new acolyte and begin training her. Soon, you will be much too busy for the map.'
'Thank you, Mother Superior. The desert is growing very fast.'
Streggi's words gave Odrade a certain satisfaction, dispelling gloom that had hampered her most of the day.
The cycle was getting another chance, turning once more as it was impelled to do by those subterranean forces called 'life' and 'love' and other unnecessary labels.
Thus it turns. Thus it renews. Magic. What witchery could take your attention from this miracle?
In her workroom, she issued an order to Weather, then silenced the tools of her office and went to the bow window. Chapterhouse glowed pale red in the night from reflections of groundlights against low clouds. It gave a romantic appearance to rooftops and walls that Odrade quickly rejected.
Romance? There was nothing romantic about what she had done in the Acolyte Dining Hall.
I have finally done it. I have committed myself. Now, Duncan must restore our Bashar's memories. A delicate assignment.
She continued to stare into the night, suppressing knots in her stomach.
I not only commit myself but I commit what remains of my Sisterhood. So this is how it feels, Tar.
This is how it feels and your plan is tricky.
It was going to rain. Odrade sensed it in the air coming through the ventilators around the window. No need to read a Weather Dispatch. She seldom did that these days, anyway. Why bother? But Streggi's report carried a potent warning.
Rains were becoming rarer here and rather to be welcomed.
Sisters would emerge to walk in it despite the cold. There was a touch of sadness in the thought. Each rain she saw brought the same question: Is this the last one?
The people of Weather did heroic things to keep an expanding desert dry and the growing areas irrigated. Odrade did not know how they had managed this rain to comply with her order. Before long, they would not be able to obey such commands, even from Mother Superior. The desert will triumph because that is what we have set in motion.
She opened the central panes of her window. The wind at this level had stopped. Just the clouds moving overhead. Wind at higher elevations harrying things along. A sense of urgency in the weather. The air was chilly. So they had made temperature adjustments to bring this bit of rain. She closed the window, feeling no desire to go outside. Mother Superior had no time to play the game of last rain. One rain at a time. And always out there the desert moving inexorably toward them.
That, we can map and watch. But what of the hunter behind me - the nightmare figure with the axe? What map tells me where she is tonight?
Religion (emulation of adults by the child) encysts past mythologies: guesses, hidden assumptions of trust in the universe, pronouncements made in search of personal power, all mingled with shreds of enlightenment. And always an unspoken commandment: Thou shalt not question! We break that commandment daily in the harnessing of human imagination to our deepest creativity.
- Bene Gesserit Credo
Murbella sat cross-legged on the practice floor, alone, shivering after her exertions. Mother Superior had been here less than an hour this afternoon. And, as often happened, Murbella felt she had been abandoned in a fever dream.
Odrade's parting words reverberated in the dream: 'The hardest lesson for an acolyte to learn is that she must always go the limit. Your abilities will take you farther than you imagine. Don't imagine, then. Extend
