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The woman stood slowly, insolently, emphasizing what a favor she did merely by noticing Odrade.
"Great Honored Matre agrees to see you."
Heavy, almost masculine voice. Pride walled up so high she exposed it whatever she did. Packed solid with immovable prejudice. She knew so many things she was a walking display of ignorance and fears. Odrade saw her as a perfect demonstration of Honored Matre vulnerability.
At the end of many turnings and corridors, all of them bright and clean, they came to a long room--sun pouring in a line of windows, sophisticated military console at one end; space maps and terrain maps projected there. Center of Spider Queen's web? Odrade entertained doubts. Console too obvious. Something of different design from the Scattering but no mistaking its purpose. Fields that humans could manipulate had physical limits, and a hood for mental interface could be nothing else even though it was a towering oval shape and a peculiar dirty yellow.
She swept her gaze over the room. Sparsely furnished. A few slingchairs and small tables, a large open area where (presumably) people could await orders. No clutter. This was supposed to be an action center.
Impress that upon the witch!
Windows on one long wall revealed flagstones and gardens beyond. This whole thing was a set piece!
Where is Spider Queen? Where does she sleep? What is the appearance of her lair?
Two women came in through an arched doorway from the flagstones. Both wore red robes with glittering arabesques and dragon shapes on them. Soostones shattered for decorations.
Odrade held her silence, exercising caution until after introductions by the escort, who uttered as few words as possible and left hurriedly.
Without Murbella's hints, the tall one standing beside Spider Queen was the one Odrade would have taken for commander. But it was the smaller one. Fascinating.
This one did not just climb to power. She sneaked between the cracks. One day, her Sisters awoke to accomplished fact. There she was, firmly seated at the center. And who could object? Ten minutes after leaving her you would have difficulty remembering the target of your objections.
The two women examined Odrade with equal intensity.
Well and good. That is needed at this moment.
Spider Queen's appearance was more than a surprise. Until this moment, no physical description of her had been achieved by the Bene Gesserit. Only temporary projections, imaginative constructs based on scattered bits of evidence. Here she was, finally. A small woman. Expected stringy muscles visible under red leotards beneath her robe. Face a forgettable oval with bland brown eyes, orange flecks dancing in them.
Fearful and angered by it but cannot place the precise reasons for her fear. All she has is a target--me. What does she think to gain from me?
The aide was something else: in appearance, far more dangerous. Golden hair so carefully coiffed, slight hook to the nose, thin lips, skin stretched tightly over high cheekbones. And that venemous glare.
Odrade passed her gaze once more over Spider Queen's features: a nose that some would have trouble describing a minute after leaving her.
Straight? Well, somewhat.
Eyebrows a match to straw-colored hair. The mouth opened to become pinkly visible and almost vanished when closed. It was a face in which you had difficulty finding a central focus and thus the entire thing became blurred.
"So you lead the Bene Gesserit."
Voice equally low-key. Oddly inflected Galach and no jargon, yet you sensed it just behind her tongue. Linguistic tricks were there. Murbella's knowledge emphasized that.
"They have something close to Voice. Not the equal of what you gave me but there are other things they do, word tricks of a sort."
Word tricks.
"How should I address you?" Odrade asked.
"I hear you call me the Spider Queen." Orange flecks dancing viciously in her eyes.
"Here at the center of your web and considering your vast powers, I'm afraid I must confess to it."
"So that is what you notice--my powers." Vain!
The first thing Odrade actually had marked was the woman's smell. She was bathed in some outrageous perfume.
Covering up pheromones?
Warned about Bene Gesserit ability to judge on the basis of minuscule sense data? Perhaps. Just as probably she preferred this perfume. The odious concoction had about it an underlying hint of exotic flowers. Something from her homeland?
The Spider Queen put a hand to her forgettable chin. "You may call me Dama."
The companion objected. "This is the last enemy in the Million Planets!"
So that's how they think of the Old Empire.
Dama held up a hand for silence. How casual and how revealing. Odrade saw a luster reminiscent of Bellonda in the aide's eyes. Viciousness watchful in there and looking for places to attack.
"Most are required to address me as Great Honored Matre," Dama said. "I have conferred an honor upon you." She gestured toward the arched doorway behind her. "We will walk outside, just the two of us, while we talk."
No invitation; it was a command.
Odrade paused beside the door to look at a map displayed there. Black on white, little lines of paths and irregular outlines with labels in Galach. It was the gardens beyond the flagstones, identification of plantings. Odrade bent close to study it while Dama waited with amused tolerance. Yes, esoteric trees and bushes, very few bearing edible fruits. Pride of possession and this map was here to emphasize it.
On the patio, Odrade said: "I noticed your perfume."
Dama was thrown back into memories and her voice carried subtle undertones when she responded.
Floral identity marker for her own flamebush. Imagine that! But she is both sad and angry when she thinks of this. And she wonders why I bring it to attention.
"Otherwise, the bush would not have accepted me," Dama said.
Interesting choice of verb tense.
The accented Galach was not hard to understand. She obviously adjusted unconsciously for the listener.
Good ear. Spends a few seconds, watching, listening and adjusts to make herself understood. Very old art form that most humans adopt quickly.
Odrade saw the origins as protective coloration.
Don't want to be taken for an alien.
An adjustable characteristic built into the genes. Honored Matres had not lost it but this was a vulnerability. Unconscious tonalities were not completely covered and they revealed much.
Despite her blatant vanity, Dama was intelligent and self-disciplined. It was a pleasure to come to that opinion. Certain circumlocutions were not necessary.
Odrade stopped where Dama stopped at the edge of the patio. They stood almost shoulder to shoulder and Odrade, gazing outward at the garden, was struck by the almost Bene Gesserit appearance.
"Speak your piece," Dama said.
"What value do I have as a hostage?" Odrade asked.
Orange glare!
"You've obviously asked the question," Odrade said.
"Do continue." Orange subsiding.
"The Sisterhood has three replacements for me." Odrade produced her most penetrating stare. "It is possible for us to weaken each other in ways that would destroy us both."
"We could crush you as we would swat an insect!"
Beware the orange!
Odrade was not deflected by warnings from within. "But the hand that swatted us would fester, and eventually, sickness would consume you."
It could not be stated plainer without specific details.
"Impossible!" An orange glare.
"Do you think us unaware of how you were driven back here by your enemies?"
My most dangerous gambit.
Odrade watched it take effect. A dark scowl was not Dama's only visible response. Orange vanished, leaving her eyes an oddly bland discrepancy on the glowering face.
Odrade nodded as though Dama had answered. "We could leave you vulnerable to those who assail you, those who drove you into this cul de s
ac."
