The bay's projections resumed battle status. Teg once more called in his force. He was seething and it was minutes before he restored a sense of command. Did Murbella know how she undermined his authority? Or should he take this as a measure of the importance she attached to the refugees?
When the situation was secure, he turned the bay over to an aide and, riding on Streggi's shoulders, went to see these important refugees. What was so vital about them that Murbella risked interference?
They were in a troop-carrier hold, a congealed party held apart by a cautious commander.
Who knows what may be concealed among these unknowns?
The Rabbi, identifiable because he was being deferred to by the field commander, stood with a brown-robed woman at the near side of his people. He was a small, bearded man wearing a white skullcap. Cold light made him appear ancient. The woman shielded her eyes with a hand. The Rabbi was speaking and his words became audible as Teg approached.
The woman was under verbal attack!
"The prideful one will be brought low!"
Without removing her hand from its defensive position, the woman said: "I am not proud of what I carry."
"Nor of the powers this knowledge may bring you?"
With knee pressure, Teg ordered Streggi to stop them about ten paces away. His commander glanced at Teg but stayed in position, ready to act defensively if this should prove to be a diversion.
Good man.
The woman bent her head even lower and pressed her hand against her eyes when she spoke. "Are we not offered knowledge that we might use it in holy service?"
"Daughter!" The Rabbi held himself stiffly erect. "Whatever we may learn that we may better serve, it never can be a great thing. All we call knowledge, were it to encompass everything a humble heart could hold, all of that would be no more than one seed in the furrows. "
Teg felt reluctant to interfere. What an archaic way of speaking. This pair fascinated him. The other refugees listened to the exchange with rapt attention. Only Teg's field commander appeared aloof, keeping his attention on the strangers and giving an occasional hand-signal to aides.
The woman kept her head respectfully lowered and the shielding hand in place but she still defended herself. "Even a seed lost in the furrows may bring forth life."
The Rabbi's lips tightened into a grim line, then: "Without water and care, which is to say, without the blessing and the word, there is no life. "
A great sigh shook the woman's shoulders but she held herself in that oddly submissive position when she responded: "Rabbi, I hear and obey. Still, I must honor this knowledge that has been thrust upon me because it contains the very admonition you have just voiced."
The Rabbi placed a hand on her shoulder. "Then convey it to those who want it and may no evil enter where you go."
Silence told Teg the argument had ended. He urged Streggi forward. Before she could move, Murbella strode past and nodded to the Rabbi while keeping her gaze on the woman.
"In the name of the Bene Gesserit and our debt to you, I welcome you and give you sanctuary," Murbella said.
The brown-robed woman lowered her hand and Teg saw contact lenses glittering in the palm. She lifted her head then and there were gasps all around. The woman's eyes were the total blue of spice addiction but they also held that inner force marking one who had survived the Agony.
Murbella made instant identification. A wild Reverend Mother! Not since Dune's Fremen days had one of these been known.
The woman curtsied to Murbella. "I am called Rebecca. And I am filled with joy to be with you. The Rabbi thinks I am a silly goose but I have a golden egg for I carry Lampadas: seven million six hundred twenty-two thousand and fourteen Reverend Mothers and they are rightfully yours."
***
Answers are a perilous grip on the universe. They can appear sensible yet explain nothing.
As the wait for their promised escort lengthened, Odrade became first angry and then amused. Finally, she began following lobby robos, interfering with their movements. Most were small and none appeared humanoid.
Functional. Hallmark of Ixian servos. Busy, busy, busy little accompaniments to a sojourn at Junction or its equivalent anywhere.
They were so commonplace that few people noticed them. Since they were not capable of dealing with deliberate interference, they subsided into motionless humming.
"Honored Matres have little or no sense of humor." I know, Murbella. I know. But do they get my message?
Dortujla obviously did. She came out of her funk and watched these antics with a wide grin. Tam looked disapproving but tolerant. Suipol was delighted. Odrade had to restrain her from helping to immobilize the devices.
Let me do the antagonizing, child. I know what is in store for me.
When she was sure she had made her point, Odrade took a position under one of the chandeliers.
"Attend me, Tam," she said.
Tamalane obediently placed herself in front of Odrade with an attentive expression.
"Have you noticed, Tam, that modern lobbies tend to be quite small?"
Tamalane spared a glance for her surroundings.
"Lobbies once were large," Odrade said. "To provide a prestigious feeling of space for the powerful, and impressing others with your importance, of course."
Tamalane caught the spirit of Odrade's playlet and said: "These days you're important if you travel at all."
Odrade looked at the immobilized robos scattered across the lobby floor. Some hummed and jittered. Others waited quietly for someone or some thing to restore order.
The autoreceptionist, a phallic tube of black plaz with a single glittering comeye, came out from behind its cage and picked its way through the stalled robos to confront Odrade.
"Much too humid today." It had a soupy feminine voice. "Don't know what Weather is thinking of."
Odrade spoke past it to Tamalane. "Why do they have to program these mechanicals to simulate friendly humans?"
"It's obscene," Tamalane agreed. She forcibly shouldered the autoreceptionist aside and it swiveled to study the source of this intrusion but made no other move.
Odrade was suddenly aware she had touched on the force that had powered the Butlerian Jihad - mob motivation.
My own prejudice!
She studied the mechanical confronting them. Was it waiting for instructions or must she address the thing directly?
Four more robos entered the lobby and Odrade recognized her party's luggage piled on them.
All of our things carefully inspected, I'm sure. Search where you will. We carry no hint of our legions.
The four scurried along the edge of the room and found their passage blocked by the ones rendered motionless. The luggage robos stopped and waited for this unique state of affairs to be sorted out. Odrade smiled at them. "There go the signs of the transient concealing our secret selves."
Concealing and secret.
Words to annoy the watchers.
Come on, Tam! You know the ploy. Confuse that enormous content of unconsciousness, arouse feelings of guilt they will be incapable of recognizing. Give them the jitters the way I did with the robos. Make them wary. What are the real powers of these Bene Gesserit witches?
Tamalane took her cue. Transients and secret selves. She explained for the comeyes in tones one used with children. "What do you carry when you leave your nest? Are you one who tries to pack it all? Or do you prune to necessities?"
What would the watchers classify as necessities? Tools of hygiene and washable or replaceable clothing? Weapons? They sought those in our luggage. But Reverend Mothers tend not to carry visible weapons.