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Do I still think of myself as an Honored Matre?
The Bene Gesserit knew she had not fully committed herself to them. What skills do I have that they could possibly want? Not the skills of deception.
"Do actions agree with words? There's your measure of reliability. Never confine yourself to the words. "
Murbella put her hands over her ears. Shut up, Odrade!
"How does a Truthsayer separate sincerity from a more fundamental judgment?"
Murbella dropped her hands to her sides. Maybe I'm really sick. She swept her gaze around the long room. No one there to utter these words. Anyway, it was Odrade's voice.
"If you convince yourself, sincerely, you can speak utter balderdash (mervelous old word; look it up), absolute poppylarky in every word and you will be believed. But not by one of our Trusthsayers."
Murbella's shoulders sagged. She began to wander aimlessly around the practice floor. Was there no place to escape?
"Look for the consequences, Murbella. That's how you ferret out things that work. That's what our much-vaulted truths are all about."
Pragmatism?
Idaho found her then and responded to the wild look in her eyes. "What's wrong?"
"I think I'm sick. Really sick. I thought it was something Odrade did to me but ..."
He caught her as she fell.
"Help us!"
For once, he was glad of the comeyes. A Suk was with them in less than a minute. She bent over Murbella where Idaho cradled her on the floor.
The examination was brief. The Suk, a graying older Reverend Mother with the traditional diamond brand on her forehead, straightened and said: "Overstressed. She's not trying to find her limits, she's going beyond them. We'll put her back into the sensitizing class before we let her continue. I'll send the Proctors."
Odrade found Murbella in the Proctor's Ward that evening, propped up in a bed, two Proctors taking turns testing her muscle response. A small gesture and they left Odrade alone with Murbella.
"I tried to avoid complicating things," Murbella said. Candor and honesty.
"Trying to avoid complications often creates them." Odrade sank into a chair beside the bed and put a hand on Murbella's arm. Muscles quivered under the hand. "We say 'words are slow, feeling's faster.'" Odrade withdrew. "What decisions have you been making?"
"You let me make decisions?"
"Don't sneer." She lifted a hand to prevent interruption. "I didn't take your previous conditioning into sufficient account. The Honored Matres left you practically incapable of making decisions. Typical of power-hungry societies. Teach their people to diddle around forever. 'Decisions bring bad results!' You teach avoidance."
"What's that have to do with me collapsing?" Resentful.
"Murbella! The worst products of what I'm describing are almost basket cases--can't make decisions about anything, or leave them until the last possible second and then leap at them like desperate animals."
"You told me to go the limit!" Almost wailing.
"Your limits, Murbella. Not mine. Not Bell's or those of anyone else. Yours."
"I've decided I want to be like you." Very faint.
"Marvelous! I don't believe I've ever tried to kill myself. Especially when I was pregnant."
In spite of herself, Murbella grinned.
Odrade stood. "Sleep. You're going into a special class tomorrow where we'll work on your ability to mesh your decisions with sensitivity to your limits. Remember what I told you. We take care of our own."
"Am I yours?" Almost whispered.
"Since you repeated the oath before the Proctors." Odrade turned out the lights as she left. Murbella heard her speak to someone before the door closed. "Stop fussing with her. She needs rest."
Murbella closed her eyes. The fever dream was gone but in its place was her own memory. "I am a Bene Gesserit. I exist only to serve."
She heard herself saying those words to the Proctors but memory gave them an emphasis not in the original.
They knew I was being cynical.
What could you hide from such women?
She felt the remembered hand of the Proctor on her forehead and heard the words that had possessed no meaning until this moment.
"I stand in the sacred human presence. As I do now, so should you stand some day. I pray to your presence that this be so. Let the future remain uncertain for that is the canvas to receive our desires. Thus the human condition faces its perpetual tabula rasa. We possess no more than this moment where we dedicate ourselves continuously to the sacred presence we share and create. "
Conventional but unconventional. She realized that she had not been physically or emotionally prepared for this moment. Tears flowed down her cheeks.
Laws to suppress tend to strengthen what they would prohibit. This is the fine point on which all the legal professions of history have based their job security.
--Bene Gesserit Coda
On her restless prowlings through Central (infrequent these days but more intense because of that), Odrade looked for signs of slackness and especially for areas of responsibility that were running too smoothly.
The Senior Watchdog had her own watchwords: "Show me a completely smooth operation and I'll show you someone who's covering mistakes. Real boats rock."
She said this often and it became an identifying phrase the Sisters (and even some acolytes) employed to comment on Mother Superior.
"Real boats rock." Soft chuckles.
Bellonda accompanied Odrade on today's early morning inspection, not mentioning that "once a month" had been stretched to "once every two months"--if that. This inspection was a week past the mark. Bell wanted to use this time for warnings about Idaho. And she had dragged Tamalane along although Tam was supposed to be reviewing Proctor performance at this hour.
Two against one? Odrade wondered. She did not think Bell or Tam suspected what Mother Superior intended. Well, it would come out, as had Taraza's plan. In its own time, eh, Tar?
Down the corridors they stalked, black robes swishing with urgency, eyes missing little. It was all familiar and yet they looked for things that were new. Odrade carried her Ear-C over her left shoulder like a misplaced diving weight. Never be out of communication range these days.
Behind the scenes in any Bene Gesserit center were the support facilities: clinic-hospital, kitchen, morgue, garbage control, reclamation systems (attached to sewage and garbage), transport and communications, kitchen provisioning, training and physical maintenance halls, schools for acolytes and postulants, quarters for all of the denominations, meeting centers, testing facilities and much more. Personnel often changed because of the Scattering and movement of people into new responsibilities, all according to subtle Bene Gesserit awareness. But tasks and places for them remained.
As they strode swiftly from one area to another, Odrade spoke of the Sisterhood Scattering, not trying to hide her dismay at "the atomic family" they had become.
"I find it difficult to contemplate humankind spreading into an unlimited universe," Tam said. "The possibilities ..."
"Infinite numbers game." Odrade stepped across a broken curb. "That should be repaired. We've been playing the infinity game since we learned to jump Foldspace."
There was no joy in Bellonda. "It's not a game!"
Odrade could appreciate Bellonda's feelings. We have never seen empty space. Always more galaxies. Tam's right. It's daunting when you focus on that Golden Path.
Memories of explorations gave the Sisterhood a statistical handl
e on it but little else. So many habitable planets in a given assemblage and, among those, an expected additional number that could be terraformed.
"What's evolving out there?" Tamalane demanded.
A question they could not answer. Ask what Infinity might produce and the only answer possible was, "Anything."
Any good, any evil; any god, any devil.
"What if Honored Matres are fleeing something?" Odrade asked. "Interesting possibility?"
"These speculations are useless," Bellonda muttered. "We don't even know if Foldspace introduces us to one universe or many ... or even an infinite number of expanding and collapsing bubbles."
"Did the Tyrant understand this any better than we do?" Tamalane asked.
They paused while Odrade looked into a room where five Advanced acolytes and a Proctor studied a projection of regional melange stores. The crystal holding the information performed an intricate dance in the projector, bouncing on its beam like a ball on a fountain. Odrade saw the summation and turned away before scowling. Tam and Bell did not see Odrade's expression. We will have to start limiting access to melange data. Too depressing to morale.
