Sheeana sat cross-legged on the hard floor of the arboretum while the four Futars prowled around her. She used Bene Gesserit skills to slow her heartbeat and respiration rate. After the one called Hrrm watched her dance with the sandworms, the shared awe among the beast-men had kept her safe among them.
Although she controlled the scents that came from her body, she did not avert her gaze.
Most of the time the Futars walked on two feet, but occasionally they reverted to a four-pawed pacing. Restless, always restless.
Sheeana had not moved for several minutes. The Futars twitched each time she blinked, and then they went back to their restless prowling. Hrrm came close to her and sniffed. She lifted her chin and sniffed back.
Despite the potential violence in these creatures, she knew it was important for her to be with them inside this large chamber. After continued study, Sheeana was convinced the Futars could reveal much more, if only she could sift the information out of them.
In the deep unknowns of the Scattering, they had been bred by 'Handlers' specifically to hunt down Honored Matres. But who were the Handlers? Did they know of the Enemy? Maybe she could winnow out a vital key to the origin of the whores and the nature of the old man and woman Duncan said were pursuing them.
'More food,' Hrrm said, pacing around close to her. His wiry body hair was rank, and his breath smelled like partially digested meat.
'You've already eaten well today. If you eat too much, you will grow fat. Then you will be slow on the hunt.'
'Hungry,' one of the other Futars said.
'You are always hungry. Food will come later.' It was a biological impulse for them to want to eat constantly, and their Honored Matre captors had kept them on the verge of starvation. The Bene Gesserit, however, maintained a regular, healthy feeding schedule.
'Tell me about the Handlers.' She had asked the question hundreds of times, trying to get a few extra words out of Hrrm, another kernel of information.
'Where Handlers?' the Futar asked, his interest suddenly piqued.
'They are not here, and I can't find them unless you help me.'
'Futars and Handlers. Partners.' Hrrm stretched his muscles, snuffling. The other creatures bristled and flexed their cablelike muscles, as if proud of their physical appearance.
Apparently when the Futars had a focus, it was difficult to get them to consider other matters. In any event, Sheeana had convinced Hrrm (and to a lesser extent the other three) that the Bene Gesserits were different from Honored Matres. Hrrm had entirely forgotten that he had murdered a proctor years ago. Though the Sisters were not the much-anticipated Handlers, the Futars had finally accepted that these women were not to be killed and eaten, like Honored Matres. At least Sheeana hoped so. Slowly, she uncrossed her legs and rose to her feet.
'Hungry,' Hrrm said again. 'Want food now.'
'You'll get food. We never forget to feed you, do we?'
'Never forget,' Hrrm confirmed.
'Where Handlers?' another Futar asked.
'Not here. Far away.'
'Want Handlers.'
'Soon. As soon as you help us find them.'
She left the arboretum enclosure as the Futars bounded through the artificial trees, searching relentlessly for something they would never find on the Ithaca. She took special care to lock the chamber securely behind her.
8
It is often easier for us to destroy each other than it is to resolve our differences. Such is the cosmic joke of human nature!
In order to receive their small but desperately needed rations of melange, the Guild regularly sent Heighliners to Chapterhouse. The ships carried supplies, recruits for the New Sisterhood, and surveillance information collected from far-flung scouts. Murbella kept a careful watch on the rebel Honored Matre strongholds, preparing for her next major offensive with the Valkyries.
Six hours before the regular Guildship was scheduled to arrive, a smaller vessel careened into the system. Immediately upon emerging from foldspace, the ship began to broadcast an emergency warning.
The small craft from the Scattering had an unusual oval design, Holtzman engines, and its own no-field that flickered in and out of phase. Spewing out high levels of radiation in its exhaust, the ship had probably been damaged during its headlong flight to Chapterhouse. It maneuvered erratically as it approached.
Upon being notified, Murbella raced to the Keep's communications center, afraid this might be another embattled Honored Matre ship from far outside the Old Empire. On the screen, the crackling image was so filled with static that she could barely make out the vague outline of a pilot. Only after the ship burned all its remaining fuel to achieve a barely stable orbit did the transmission resolve enough that Murbella could discern the face of a Priestess of the Cult of Sheeana, who had been dispatched by the Missionaria Protectiva to promote the wild new religion.
'Mother Commander, we bring dire news! An urgent warning.' Murbella could see figures with her in the oval ship's crowded cockpit, but the Sister had not used any code words to denote that she was being forced or held captive.
Knowing the others were listening, but not knowing who they were, Murbella carefully selected her words after identifying the young woman. 'Yes… Iriel.
Where have you come from?'
'Gammu.'
With every moment, the transmitted images became clearer. Murbella could see five people inside the vessel's piloting chamber. Many of them wore the traditional clothing of Gammu. The anxious passengers appeared to be bruised and battered; dried blood caked their cheeks and clothes. At least two of those aboard appeared to be either dead or unconscious.
'No choice… no chance. We had to take the risk.' Murbella snapped at the nearest woman in the communications center. 'Send up a retrieval ship. Get those people down here safely—now!'
'Not much time,' the priestess transmitted; her whole body shook with utter weariness. 'Need to warn you. We escaped from Gammu before the Heighliner departed, but the whores nearly killed us. They know what we discovered. When is the Guildship coming?'
'We still have several hours,' Murbella said, trying to sound reassuring.
'It may be sooner, Mother Commander. They know.''
'What do they know? What have you discovered?'
'Obliterators. The Honored Matres on Gammu still have four Obliterators. They received orders from their Matre Superior Hellica on Tleilax. They are coming here aboard the Guildship. They mean to destroy Chapterhouse.' THOUGH NOT severely injured, Priestess Iriel was exhausted and nearly starved. She had used all of her bodily reserves to help the small ship escape. Three of her six companions died before they could receive medical attention; the others were taken to the Keep's infirmary.
Before resting, Iriel insisted on finishing the report to her Mother Commander, even though she could barely remain upright. Murbella summoned potent melange drinks, and the stimulant temporarily revived the battered young woman.
Iriel told of her ordeal on Gammu. She had been assigned to that planet for several years now, given orders to prepare the populace for the coming conflict. By preaching the message of Sheeana and the need to stand against the Outside Enemy, Iriel had cultivated wholehearted fanatical followers. The more concerned the people of Gammu grew about the danger from the outside, the more they wanted to hear Iriel's message of hope and
