Sisterhood, exchanging clandestine messages by letter or embedded in objects that were transported by courier between here and Wallach IX. She had no doubt that the nanny Obregah-Xo also sent secret reports.
Despite the Mother Superior’s personal interest in this daughter of Feyd-Rautha, Margot had plans of her own. She did not intend to let the girl become a mere pawn of the Bene Gesserit. Since the arrival of Muad’Dib — a Kwisatz Haderach that the Sisterhood could not control — and his Abomination sister Alia, Margot Fenring had begun to lose faith in the overly complex and insufficiently successful schemes of the Bene Gesserit.
She and Hasimir had too many other ideas.
Lady Margot smiled at her daughter. The child had a bright and inquisitive mind, and learned quickly. Thanks to her mother’s teachings, as well as those of Count Fenring and Obregah-Xo, the girl had already mastered Bene Gesserit skills that were far beyond her years.
The vehicle drove past a bustling marketplace of tents and shacks that extended out onto the docks, with vendors selling foods and personal articles. “Driver, stop. We would like to explore the market.”
“It is forbidden,” the driver gruffly answered, which only served to make Lady Margot more determined.
“Nevertheless, we will get out here and walk.”
“I am only authorized to drive you around the city.”
Margot had had enough of Tleilaxu secrets and restrictions. She spoke with the full force of Voice. “You will stop the vehicle and do as I command.”
The driver jerked involuntarily, then pulled the groundcar over to the nearest clustered market stalls.
“You will wait for us here as we observe the vendors and their wares.”
Although the driver sat shuddering and almost immobile, he fumbled with a small compartment beside his seat. Sweating with the effort, yet persistent, he produced a tiny black ball, which he squeezed in his palm. It seemed to sprout into two black scarves, one large and one small. “You must cover yourselves. Each of you. Dress as man and boy.”
Amazed that the driver had the strength for such independent thought while under the influence of Voice, Margot took the scarves and quickly wrapped one around her head in a fashion she had seen some of the middle- caste males wear. Without hesitation, Marie secured a scarf over her own face and tied it behind her neck. “I like dress up.”
Margot and her daughter climbed out of the groundcar. Numerous byways extended away from the main pedestrian thoroughfares, and Margot wandered one way and another, mentally keeping track of where they were. Even with the head wrap, she knew that her height, offworld clothing, and complexion would make her stand out. Little Marie didn’t seem to notice the men who stared at them.
Although the noisy market had been bustling before they entered, full of exotic smells of cooking food, spiced slig, and pickled vat-vegetables, Lady Margot noticed that she and Marie moved in a pocket of silence. Vendors and customers grew quiet when they saw the pair.
One of Lady Margot’s pastimes since coming to this planet was studying the variety of exotic Tleilaxu poisons. In addition to their biological expertise, the Bene Tleilax excelled in tailoring toxic chemicals that could kill or paralyze in numerous ways. The market was a veritable buffet of these useful substances. Some of them were effective contact paralytics, while others required unique delivery techniques, since standard poison snoopers could detect deadly substances in food or drink. In displays arrayed before her, Margot admired glittering gems that were chemically impregnated with neurotoxins, to be released under specific circumstances. She saw innocuous-looking fabrics whose fibers — upon being stretched or heated — would shift their long-chain-polymer structures into lethal poison molecules. Yes, the Tleilaxu had interesting toys.
Stopping at a counter, the little girl studied an array of dolls that were on display. All of the figurines were male, but they represented a variety of human species wearing traditional costumes of different worlds. Marie pointed out one that looked like a youthful Paul Atreides, an idealized version of Muad’Dib as a boy. “I want that one,” she said.
The clerk scowled but quoted a low price, apparently anxious to move them along as quickly as possible. After a few Solaris exchanged hands, Lady Margot handed the doll to her daughter, but the child promptly gave it back.
“This is my gift to you, Mother,” she said. “I don’t play with dolls.”
Margot took the doll with a smile and nudged her daughter around. “We should get back to the driver.” She had pressed the issue, and likely the Tleilaxu officials had already sent a scolding message to Count Fenring. She led the way back to the vehicle with an unerring sense of direction. The driver had waited for them, perspiring uneasily.
All the way home in the groundcar, little Marie was bursting with excitement and couldn’t wait to describe to her father what they had done. To Lady Margot, that made the expedition worthwhile.
16
Under the right conditions, even the smallest ripple can create a mighty wave.
In Arrakeen the sounds of construction were as constant as the sighing desert wind and the whispering sand. The citadel complex had begun on the outskirts of the city, which was already populated by millions of pilgrims and those that preyed upon them. When completed, the palace would extend across the suburbs to the cliffside on the north, where many hastily erected homes had been built using raw materials from the wrecks of Shaddam’s warships.
Within the partially remodeled Arrakeen Residency, Paul met with his advisers before the day’s heat grew too oppressive. He selected a purportedly small conference room, a place where the stone walls were close enough to make him feel some sense of privacy. He called it “a comfortable place for uncomfortable discussions.”
He chose his advisers less for their political clout or pedigrees, than because he trusted their abilities. Alia and Chani were there, and Irulan insisted on being a part of the discussions. Though Paul didn’t entirely trust her loyalties, he did value her intelligence, both as a Bene Gesserit and as the fallen Emperor’s eldest daughter. She could indeed contribute much.
Korba also joined them, as well as Chatt the Leaper, another Fedaykin whose resolve could never be questioned. After the Spacing Guild’s delegation to Alia while he was away at Caladan and Kaitain, Paul had given Chatt the task of dealing with their frequent demands, pleas, and complaints. While some Guild representatives had hoped to wheedle concessions from a spokesman, Chatt merely delivered the wishes of Muad’Dib and refused to bend a millimeter. Paul wished he had more negotiators like that.
Servants brought small cups of bitter spice coffee. With the spoils and offerings that were continually delivered to Dune, Muad’Dib and his inner circle never lacked for water. He called the meeting to order by taking his seat.
“I have drawn up an agenda, Usul,” Korba said, straightening in his seat. He often used Paul’s familiar name from Sietch Tabr to emphasize his own closeness to the Emperor. He spread sheets of instroy paper on the tabletop as if they were sacred documents. He could have used common spice paper, but instead Korba had selected a medium that implied permanence and importance. Paul thought that the man would probably seal the sheets as holy relics.
A
“I merely attempted to organize the topics into an efficient order, Usul. Your time has infinite value.”
Alia piped up. “My brother can organize as he wishes. Do you claim to be better at it than he is?”
Paul saw Korba’s muscles bunch. If Alia’s words had not been tempered by her child’s form, his Fremen pride might have caused him to draw his crysknife — as he did too often already.
“What is the first item you wish us to discuss, Beloved?” Chani said, shifting the conversation. Chatt the Leaper sat in silence, listening to every word that Muad’Dib said and, to a lesser extent, the rest of the
