called them hobbies but attention devoted to interests often was extreme. Odrade thought most interests boring but found it significant that Dortujla called hers a hobby. She collected old coins, did she?
'What kind?'
'I have two early Greek in silver and a perfect gold obol.'
'Authentic?'
'They're real.' Meaning she had done a self-scan of Other Memory to authenticate them. Fascinating. She exercised her abilities in a strengthening way, even with her hobby. Inner history and exterior coincided.
'This is all very interesting, Mother Superior,' Dortujla said finally. 'I appreciate your reassurance that we are still Sisters and find your interest in ancient paintings a parallel hobby. But we both know why I risked coming here.'
'The smugglers.'
'Of course. Honored Matres cannot have overlooked my presence on Buzzell. Smugglers will sell to the high bidders. We must assume they have profited from their valuable knowledge about Buzzell, the soostones, and a resident Reverend Mother with attendants. And we must not forget that Handlers found me.'
Damn! Odrade thought. Dortujla is the kind of advisor I like to have near me. I wonder how many more such buried treasures are out there, tucked away for mean motives? Why do we so often shunt our talented ones aside? It's an ancient weakness the Sisterhood has not exorcised.
'I think we have learned something valuable about Honored Matres,' Dortujla said.
There was no need to nod agreement. This was the core of what had brought Dortujla to Chapterhouse. The ravening hunters had come swarming into the Old Empire, killing and burning wherever they suspected the presence of Bene Gesserit establishments. But the hunters had not touched Buzzell even though its location must be known.
'Why?' Odrade asked, voicing what was in their minds.
'Never damage your own nest,' Dortujla said.
'You think they're already on Buzzell?'
'Not yet.'
'But you believe Buzzell is a place they want.'
'Prime projection.'
Odrade merely stared at her. So Dortujla had another hobby! She burrowed into Other Memory, revived and perfected talents stored there. Who could blame her? Time must drag on Buzzell.
'A Mentat summation,' Odrade accused.
'Yes, Mother Superior.' Very meek. Reverend Mothers were supposed to dig into Other Memory this way only with Chapterhouse permission and then only with guidance and support from companion Sisters. So Dortujla remained a rebel. She followed her own desires the way she had with her forbidden lover. Good! The Bene Gesserit needed such rebels.
'They want Buzzell undamaged,' Dortujla said.
'A water world?'
'It would make a suitable home for amphibian servants. Not the Futars or Handlers. I studied them carefully.'
The evidence suggested a plan by Honored Matres to bring in enslaved servants, amphibians perhaps, to harvest soostones. Honored Matres could have amphibian slaves. Knowledge that produced Futars might create many forms of sentient life.
'Slaves, dangerous imbalance,' Odrade said.
Dortujla showed her first strong emotion, deep revulsion that drew her mouth into a tight line.
It was a pattern the Sisterhood had long recognized: the inevitable failure of slavery and peonage. You created a reservoir of hate. Implacable enemies. If you had no hope of exterminating all of these enemies, you dared not try. Temper your efforts by the sure awareness that oppression will make your enemies strong. The oppressed will have their day and heaven help the oppressor when that day comes. It was a two-edged blade. The oppressed always learned from and copied the oppressor. When the tables were turned, the stage was set for another round of revenge and violence - roles reversed. And reversed and reversed ad nauseam.
'Will they never mature?' Odrade asked.
Dortujla had no answer but she did have an immediate suggestion. 'I must return to Buzzell.'
Odrade considered this. Once more, the banished Reverend Mother was ahead of Mother Superior. As disagreeable as the decision was, they both knew it as their best move. Futars and Handlers would return. More important, with a planet Honored Matres desired, odds were high that visitors from the Scattering had been observed. Honored Matres would have to make a move and that move could reveal much about them.
'Of course, they think Buzzell is bait for a trap,' Odrade said. ' I could let it be known that I was banished by my Sisters,' Dortujla said. 'It can be verified.'
'Use yourself as bait?'
'Mother Superior, what if they could be tempted into a parley?'
'With us?' What a startling idea!
'I know their history is not one of reasonable negotiations but still... '
'It's brilliant! But let us make it even more enticing. Say I am convinced I must come to them with a proposal for submission of the Bene Gesserit.'
'Mother Superior!'
'I have no intention of surrendering. But what better way to get them to talk?'
'Buzzell is not a good place for a meeting. Our facilities are very poor.'
'They are on junction in force. If they suggested junction as a meeting place, could you let yourself be persuaded?'
'It would take careful planning, Mother Superior.'
'Oh, very careful.' Odrade's fingers flickered in her console. 'Yes, tonight,' she said answering a visible question, and then, speaking to Dortujla across the cluttered worktable: 'I want you to meet with my Council and others before you return. We will brief you thoroughly but I give you my personal assurance you will have an open assignment. The important thing is to get them to a meeting on junction... and I hope you know how much I dislike using you as bait. '
When Dortujla remained deep in thought and not responding, Odrade said: 'They may ignore our overtures and wipe you out. Still, you're the best bait we have.'
Dortujla showed she still had her sense of humor. 'I don't much like the idea of dangling on a hook myself, Mother Superior. Please keep a firm grip on the line.' She stood and with a worried look at the work on Odrade's table, said: 'You have so much to do and I fear I have kept you far past lunch.'
'We will dine here together, Sister. For the moment, you are more important than anything else.'
All states are abstractions.
- Octun Politicus, BG Archives
Lucilla cautioned herself not to assume too familiar a feeling about this acid-green room and the recurring presence of Great Honored Matre. This was junction, stronghold of the ones who sought extermination of the Rene Gesserit. This was the enemy. Day seventeen.
The infallible mental clock that had been set ticking during the Spice Agony told her she had adapted to the planet's circadian rhythms. Awake at dawn. No telling when she would be fed. Honored Matre confined her to one meal a day.
And always that Futar in its cage. A reminder: Both of you in cages. This is how we treat dangerous animals. We may let them out occasionally to stretch their legs and give us pleasure but back to the cage afterward.
Minimal amounts of melange in the food. Not being parsimonious. Not with their wealth. A small show of 'what could be yours if you would only be reasonable.'
When will she come today?
Great Honored Matre arrivals had no set time. Random appearances to confuse the captive? Probably. There would be other demands on a commander's time. Fit the dangerous pet into the regular schedule wherever you could.
