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Presently, she put aside the empty mug and called for warm clothing. "I'm going for a walk in the orchards." The night attendant made no comment. Everyone knew she often went walking there, even at night.
Within minutes she was in the narrow, link-fenced path to her favorite orchard, her way lighted by a miniglobe fixed on a short cord to her right shoulder. A small herd of the Sisterhood's black cattle came up to the fence beside Odrade and gazed at her as she passed. She looked at the wet muzzles, inhaled the rich smell of alfalfa in the steam of their breathing and paused. The cows sniffed and sensed the pheromone that told them to accept her. They went back to eating forage piled near the fence by herdsmen.
Turning her back on the cattle, Odrade looked at leafless trees across from the pasture. Her miniglobe drew a circle of yellow light that emphasized winter starkness.
Few understood why this place attracted her. It was not enough to say she found troubled thoughts soothed here. Even in winter, with frost crunching underfoot. This orchard was a hard-bought silence between storms. She extinguished her miniglobe and let her feet follow the familiar way in darkness. Occasionally, she glanced up at starlight defined by leafless branches. Storms. She felt one approaching that no meteorologist could anticipate. Storms beget storms. Rage begets rage. Revenge begets revenge. Wars beget wars.
The old Bashar had been a master at breaking those circles. Would his ghola still have that talent?
What a perilous gamble.
Odrade looked back at the cattle, a dark blob of movement and starlighted steam. They had herded close for warmth and she heard a familiar grinding as they chewed their cuds.
I must go south into the desert. Face to face with Sheeana there. The sandtrout thrive. Why are there no sandworms?
She spoke aloud to the cattle clustered by the fence: "Eat your grass. It's what you're supposed to do."
If a spying watchdog chanced on that remark, Odrade knew she would have serious explaining to do.
But I have seen through to the heart of our enemy this night. And I pity them.
To know a thing well, know it limits. Only when pushed beyond its tolerances will true nature be seen.
--The Amtal Rule
Do not depend only on theory if your life is at stake.
--Bene Gesserit Commentary
Duncan Idaho stood almost in the center of the no-ship's practice floor and three paces from the ghola-child. Sophisticated training instruments were near at hand, some exhausting, some dangerous.
The child looked admiring and trusting this morning.
Do I understand him better because I, too, am a ghola? A questionable assumption. This one has been brought up in a way much different from the one they designed for me. Designed! The precise term.
The Sisterhood had copied as much of Teg's original childhood as possible. Even to an adoring younger companion standing in for the long-lost brother. And Odrade giving him the deep teaching! As Teg's birth-mother did.
Idaho remembered the aged Bashar whose cells had produced this child. A thoughtful man whose comments were to be heeded. With only a slight effort, Idaho recalled the man's manner and words.
"The true warrior often understands his enemy better than he understands his friends. A dangerous pitfall if you let understanding lead to sympathy as it will naturally do when left unguided."
Difficult to think of the mind behind those words as latent somewhere in this child. The Bashar had been so insightful, teaching about sympathies on that long-ago day in the Gammu Keep.
"Sympathy for the enemy--a weakness of police and armies alike. Most perilous are the unconscious sympathies directing you to preserve your enemy intact because the enemy is your justification for existence. "
"Sir?"
How could that piping voice become the commanding tones of the old Bashar?
"What is it?"
"Why are you just standing there looking at me?"
"They called the Bashar 'Old Reliability.' Did you know that?"
"Yes, sir. I've studied the story of his life."
Was it "Young Reliability" now? Why did Odrade want his original memories restored so quickly?
"Because of the Bashar, the entire Sisterhood has been digging into Other Memory, revising their views of history. Did they tell you that?"
"No, sir. Is it important for me to know? Mother Superior said you would train my muscles."
"You liked to drink Danian Marinete, a very fine brandy, I recall."
"I'm too young to drink, sir."
"You were a Mentat. Do you know what that means?"
"I'll know when you restore my memories, won't I?"
No respectful sir. Calling the teacher to task for unwanted delays.
Idaho smiled and got a grin in response. An engaging child. Easy to show him natural affection.
"Watch out for him," Odrade had said. "He's a charmer."
Idaho recalled Odrade's briefing before bringing the child.
"Since every individual is accountable ultimately to the self," she said, "the formation of that self demands our utmost care and attention."
"Is that necessary with a ghola?"
They had been in Idaho's sitting room that night, Murbella a fascinated listener.
"He will remember everything you teach him."
"So we do a little editing of the original."
"Careful, Duncan! Give a bad time to an impressionable child, teach that child not to trust anyone, and you create a suicide--slow or fast suicide, doesn't make any difference."
"Are you forgetting that I knew the Bashar?"
"Don't you remember, Duncan, how it was before your memories were restored?"
"I knew the Bashar could do it and I thought of him as my salvation."
"And that's how he sees you. It's a special kind of trust."
"I'll treat him honestly."
"You may think you act from honesty but I advise you to look deeply into yourself every time you come face to face with his trust."
"And if I make a mistake?"
"We will correct it if possible." She glanced up at the comeyes and back to him.
"I know you'll be watching us!"
"Don't let it inhibit you. I'm not trying to make you self-conscious. Just cautious. And remember that my Sisterhood has efficient methods of healing."
"I'll be cautious."
"You might remember it was the Bashar who said: "The ferocity we display to our foes is always tempered by the lesson we hope to teach."
"I can't think of him
as a foe. The Bashar was one of the finest men I've ever known."
"Excellent. I place him in your hands."
And here the child was on the practice floor getting more than a little impatient with his teacher's hesitations.
"Sir, is this part of a lesson, just standing here? I know sometimes--"
"Be still."
Teg came to military attention. No one had taught him that. This was from his original memories. Idaho was suddenly fascinated by this glimpse of the Bashar.
They knew he would catch me this way!
Never underestimate Bene Gesserit persuasiveness. You could find yourself doing things for them without knowing pressures had been applied. Subtle and damnable! There were compensations, of course. You lived in interesting times, as the ancient curse/benison had it. All in all, Idaho decided, he preferred interesting times, even these times.
