cage, his muscles rippling. He seemed very agitated.
Sheeana found it ironic, knowing what the Honored Matres had done to Hrrm and to his companions. The sexual perversions, the whippings and deprivations. It seemed a strikingly odd turnabout to see the women imprisoned, with the Futars prowling free.
She turned to the Chief Handler. 'Honored Matres abuse their captive Futars.
Your punishments are appropriate.'
'My guests, tomorrow we will put you in our best observation stations, from which you can watch the hunt.' Orak Tho reached over to pat both Futars on their heads. 'It will be good for this one to run with his brothers, and get in practice again. It is what he was born to do.'
With his bestial eyes fixed on the Honored Matres, Hrrm bared his teeth in a menacing smile.
Before they all slept, Teg returned to the lighter to transmit an optimistic report back to the Ithaca.
13
An alliance is often more a work of art than a simple business transaction.
The Guild Navigator finally came to Chapterhouse in response to the Mother Commander's summons. Though she was impatient and frustrated with him, he did not explain where he had been or why he had delayed coming for several days.
In the meantime, Janess, Kiria, and ten other handpicked Valkyries—most of them from the original Honored Matres who had undergone Bene Gesserit training — had already been secretly deposited on Tleilax to begin their underground work. They would be infiltrating the last stronghold of the rebel whores to undermine their defenses, planting the seeds of destruction while setting up for a surprise ambush. A part of Murbella wished she could be with her daughter's team, wearing traditional Honored Matre clothing again, letting the predator half of her dual nature come to the fore.
But she trusted Janess and her companions. For now, Murbella had to arrange the rest of the details and secure Guild cooperation, either through bribery or threat. She had to be the Mother Commander, not just an average fighter.
The mutated Navigator swam in his tank, not looking at all eager or interested, which troubled the Mother Commander. She had hinted that he would be rewarded well for speaking with her, but he did not seem excited by the prospect.
'The gas looks thin in your tank, Navigator,' she said.
'It is only a temporary shortage.' He did not seem to be bluffing.
'We may be ready to increase your supply of melange, if the Guild is ready to cooperate with us and participate in the fight against the oncoming Enemy.'
Edrik's metallic voice came through the speakers of his tank. 'Your offer comes much too late, Mother Commander. For years you have tried to frighten us with the existence of this shadow Enemy, and you have tantalized us with promises of melange. But your treasure has lost its luster. We have been forced to seek other alternatives, other supply lines.'
'There are no other sources of melange.' Murbella glided forward to stand close to the curved plaz and peer inside.
'The Spacing Guild is in crisis. The severe shortage of spice—perpetuated by your Sisterhood—has split us into two factions. Many Navigators have already died from withdrawal, while others do not have sufficient melange to perceive safe paths through foldspace. One faction of the Guild led by human Administrators has clandestinely hired the Ixians to develop improved navigation machines. They intend to install them in all Guildships.'
'Machines! Ix has been talking about such things for centuries. People in the Scattering used navigational devices, and so did Chapterhouse. They have never been fully acceptable before.'
'And after years of intensive research, it seems they may have a viable solution to the ancient impossible problem. I believe they are inferior substitutes, not at all comparable to Navigators. Still, they do work.'
The Mother Commander's mind raced ahead, chasing several desirable possibilities she had not previously considered. If the Ixians had developed reliable devices for guiding ships through foldspace, then the New Sisterhood could use them in its own fleet. No longer needing to force the cooperation of the Navigators, they could be independent, not at the mercy of a volatile and unpredictable power base such as the Guild. If indeed Ix would sell such devices to the Sisterhood. Surely the Guild must have some sort of exclusive contract…
Then she realized that even the short-term solution of using navigation machines for her own battle fleet had its drawbacks. Second—and third—order consequences. Only Chapterhouse had spice. With that single substance they could pay and control the Navigators so that no other party could compete. If melange became unnecessary, then the whole worth and strength of the New Sisterhood would diminish.
Only a moment had passed as Murbella considered all of this. 'Navigation machines would mean the end of Navigators such as yourself.'
'And it would also remove one of the primary customers for your melange, Mother Commander. Therefore, my faction seeks a reliable and secure source of spice, so that Navigators can continue to exist. Your New Sisterhood has driven us to this extreme. We cannot depend on you for the spice we need.'
'And you have discovered another supplier of melange?' She let a scoffing tone into her voice. 'I find that doubtful. We would know about it.'
'We have a high level of confidence in our alternative.' Edrik drifted away, came back.
Murbella shrugged nonchalantly. 'I offer you an immediate increase in spice.'
With a gesture, she directed three of her assistants to move a small suspensor barrow into the room; it was heaped high with packages of spice, as much as one Navigator could use in the better part of a Standard Year.
The tank's speakers remained silent, but she could see the hunger in Edrik's strange eyes. Murbella feared for a moment that he would turn her down, and all of her carefully thought out tactics would come to naught.
'One can never possess too much spice,' the Navigator said after an interminable pause. 'We have learned the painful lesson of relying on any single source. It would be better for the Navigators, and for the New Sisterhood, if we could reach some sort of accommodation.'
I was right, she thought. 'You need our spice, and we need your ships.'
'The Guild will listen to your proposal, Mother Commander—provided it is a discussion rather than a threat. A business proposal between respected partners, not the sting of a bully's lash.'
She stared at the tank, surprised by his bold statement. He might really have another source of spice, or at least the possibility of one. But he seems to harbor doubts and wants to play it safe.
'I need two Guild ships for transport to Tleilax. One equipped with a no-field and the other a traditional Heighliner.'
'Tleilax? For what purpose?'
'We will grind down the only remaining stronghold and eliminate the last viable threat of the Honored Matres, once and for all.'
'It will be arranged, within two days. I will take the spice now.'
RENEGADE HONORED matres. The mysterious Enemy. Face Dancers. Murbella could not avoid them all, but the process of physical exercise—running, sweating, and straining—helped her to think as she planned her final assault on Tleilax.
Dressed in a clinging singlesuit, she sprinted along a stony path toward a hill near the Keep. She pushed herself until each breath slashed her lungs like a razor. Some of the inner voices scolded her for wasting time when there was so much work to be done. Murbella only ran harder.
She wanted to stimulate and provoke those Other Memories, needed them alert.
The clamorous sea of past lives was always there, but not always available, and certainly not always helpful. Making sense out of the collective wisdom was a constant challenge, even for the most influential of Sisters.
