Because those women think they are infallible, it is easier to detect them.'
'Hubris is their principal weakness,' Thufir Hawat said.
Green eyes flashed from the bandit mask of dark skin. 'They have many weaknesses. We've had to learn how to exploit them.'
They shared a meal of nuts, fruit, smoked fish, and medallions of a spiced dark meat that apparently came from an arboreal rodent. The Rabbi was more relaxed than Sheeana had ever seen him, though he seemed worried about the origin of the food. She could tell that the old man had already made up his mind: He wanted his people to settle here, if the Handlers would have them.
While they sat together on the open rooftop, listening to the buzz of night insects and watching the swoop of dark birds, Sheeana felt very isolated.
According to scan reports, the Handlers' population was relatively large, with mines and industries in other parts of the world. They had apparently developed a quiet and peaceful civilization. 'We assume your people originated in the Scattering, long ago after the Tyrant's death. Was this planet the first stop on your wandering?'
The Chief Handler shrugged his bony shoulders. 'We have myths about that, but it was more than a thousand years ago.'
'Fifteen centuries,' Thufir suggested. He was a bright student. Considering his past and his place in history, the Mentat ghola was quite interested in spans of time.
'Our race spread to many nearby worlds. We were not an empire but a… political brotherhood. Then out of nowhere the Honored Matres came like a stampede of blind and clumsy animals, as destructive in their ignorance as in their malevolence.' Orak Tho bent his elongated face toward the brazier's glow. Orange light washed across his skin.
Other Handlers sat around the upper deck's circular wall, listening and muttering. Their distinctive body smells drifted into the cool air. Their race seemed to have an affinity for scents, as if smell was an important part of their communication abilities.
'Without warning, they came to pillage, destroy, and conquer.' Orak Tho's face was as hard as petrified wood, his long jaw set. 'Naturally, we had to stop this feral incursion.' His lips curved in a faint smile. 'So we developed our Futars.'
'But how did you do that?' Sheeana asked. If these deceptively simple people could detect orbiting ships and create sophisticated genetic hybrids, their technology must be far more advanced than was evident.
'Some of those who joined us in settling these worlds were orphans of the Tleilaxu race. They showed us how to change our offspring to create what we needed, since God and evolution would be much too slow to provide them for us.'
'The Futars,' Teg said. 'They are most interesting.' After their initial reunion, the Handlers had taken the predatory creatures off to holding areas, where they could be with others of their own kin.
'What happened to these Tleilaxu?' The Rabbi looked around. He had never much liked Master Scytale.
'Alas, they are all dead.'
'Killed?' Teg asked.
'Extinct. They don't breed the same as others do.' He sniffed, as if disinterested in that part of the story. 'Our Futars were bred to hunt Honored Matres. Those women came to our planets, confident they would conquer us. But we turned the tables on them. They are fit to serve as food for our Futars, nothing more.'
FOR SAFETY, TEG suggested that their group sleep in the lighter with the hatches sealed and defensive fields up, which obviously displeased their hosts. The Chief Handler cast a glance over his shoulder. 'Though these forests are well tamed, a few of the old predators still roam the grounds at night. It would be better if you stayed with us, up here in the safe towers.'
A flicker of dismay crossed the Rabbi's face. 'What old predators?' He didn't want to hear about any flaws with this world.
'The feline beasts that supplied genetic material for creating the Futars.'
Orak Tho gestured with his loose arms across to another cylindrical wooden tower. 'We have a grand show tomorrow. You should be well rested for what you will witness.'
'What kind of show?' Hawat sounded eager. At times he seemed no more than the boy he truly was, rather than a potential warrior-Mentat.
With a mysterious smile, the Chief Handler motioned for them to follow him.
His green irises now looked like blazing emeralds.
It was full dark outside. Unfamiliar constellations sparkled like a million eyes reflecting firelight. He guided the four visitors across a sturdy plank walkway to a nearby tower, then down a spiraling interior staircase that circled the cylinder twice before reaching the ground level. They walked across the leaf-strewn forest floor to a much shorter tower that looked like a thick, man-made stump.
The stench struck them first. The base of the stout artificial tree had been hollowed out, like a dank lair. Thick vertical bars extended deep into the mulchy ground, blocking off the hollow to form a dirt-floored cell.
Teg raised his eyebrows. 'You have prisoners.'
The chamber contained five ragged, angry captives. Despite their tattered and beaten appearance, Sheeana could tell they were human. All were females with matted hair, rough hands, and bloodied knuckles. The remnants of torn leotards clung to their pale skin, and their eyes flashed faintly orange.
Honored Matres!
One of the whores saw them approach. Snarling, she lunged toward the wooden bars of her cage, flying sideways to deliver a devastating kick. Her bare foot slammed into the iron-hard wood. The impact produced a faint but hollow crack, and as the Honored Matre limped away, Sheeana realized the crack had been the fracture of bone, not wood. The women had already battered themselves bloody against the barricade.
Orak Tho's face constricted as if a thunderstorm were brewing behind it.
'Honored Matres came down in a transport ship three months ago, expecting easy prey. We massacred them, but managed to save some for… training purposes.'
His lips curled back. 'It is not the first time they have tried to harass us.
They form isolated cells that don't necessarily know what the others are doing. Thus they repeat the same mistakes.'
Two Futars prowled around the base of the wooden tower, circling and sniffing.
Sheeana recognized one of them as Hrrm; the second beast-man had a black stripe in the wiry hair of its chest. One of the captive Honored Matres called out in a threatening voice. 'Free us, or our Sisters will peel strips of meat from your bones while you still live!'
Hrrm snarled and hurled himself at the cage, backing off only at the last moment. Hot spittle from his mouth splattered the captive Honored Matre. Three of the beaten women came forward to the bars, looking as bestial as the Futars.
'As I said,' Orak Tho continued in his calm and confident voice, 'Honored Matres are fit for little more than food.'
A Handler came with a wooden bowl of red bones to which clung scraps of meat and fatty skin with patches of fur. A second bowl held slick-looking entrails and purplish organs. He dumped the offal through a slot into the cage. The filthy Honored Matres looked at it in disgust.
'Eat, if you wish to have strength for tomorrow's hunt.'
'We don't eat garbage!' said one of the Honored Matres.
'Then you starve. It matters not to me.'
Sheeana could tell the women were ravenous. After a shaky hesitation, they grabbed for the scraps, tearing off raw pieces and eating until their faces and fingers were smeared with grease and covered with old blood. They looked through the bars at their captors with such hateful expressions that they seemed capable of putrefying flesh.
One of the women glowered at Sheeana. 'You don't belong here.'
'Neither do you. However, I am outside the cage, while you are behind the bars.'
The woman slammed the palm of her hand against the wooden barricade with a loud crack, but it was a halfhearted attempt at an attack. Hrrm pounced beside Sheeana as if to protect her, then prowled in front of the
