Ghanima shook her head against the remembered pain. The burning! The burning! Paul had imagined his skin curling black on that agonized hand within the box, flesh crisping and dropping away until only charred bones remained. And it had been a trick - the hand unharmed. But sweat stood out on Ghanima's forehead at the memory.
"Of course you remember this in a way that I cannot," Jessica said.
For a moment, memory-driven, Ghanima saw her grandmother in a different light: what this woman might do out of the driving necessities of that early conditioning in the Bene Gesserit schools! It raised new questions about Jessica's return to Arrakis.
"It would be stupid to repeat such a test on you or your brother," Jessica said. "You already know the way it went. I must assume you are human, that you will not misuse your inherited powers."
"But you don't make that assumption at all," Ghanima said.
Jessica blinked, realized that the barriers had been creeping back in place, dropped them once more. She asked: "Will you believe my love for you?"
"Yes." Ghanima raised a hand as Jessica started to speak. "But that love wouldn't stop you from destroying us. Oh, I know the reasoning: 'Better the animal-human die than it re-create itself.' And that's especially true if the animal-human bears the name Atreides."
"You at least are human," Jessica blurted. "I trust my instinct on this."
Ghanima saw the truth in this, said: "But you're not sure of Leto."
"I'm not."
"Abomination?"
Jessica could only nod.
Ghanima said: "Not yet, at least. We both know the danger of it, though. We can see the way of it in Alia."
Jessica cupped her hands over her eyes, thought: Even love can't protect us from unwanted facts. And she knew then that she still loved her daughter, crying out silently against fate: Alia! Oh, Alia! I am sorry for my part in your destruction.
Ghanima cleared her throat loudly.
Jessica lowered her hands, thought: I may mourn my poor daughter, but there are other necessities now. She said: "So you've recognized what happened to Alia."
"Leto and I watched it happen. We were powerless to prevent it, although we discussed many possibilities."
"You're sure that your brother is free of this curse?"
"I'm sure."
The quiet assurance in that statement could not be denied. Jessica found herself accepting it. Then: "How is it you've escaped?"
Ghanima explained the theory upon which she and Leto had settled, that their avoiding of the spice trance while Alia entered it often made the difference. She went on to reveal his dreams and the plans they'd discussed - even Jacurutu.
Jessica nodded. "Alia is an Atreides, though, and that poses enormous problems."
Ghanima fell silent before the sudden realization that Jessica still mourned her Duke as though his death had been but yesterday, that she would guard his name and memory against all threats. Personal memories from the Duke's own lifetime fled through Ghanima's awareness to reinforce this assessment, to soften it with understanding.
"Now," Jessica said, voice brisk, "what about this Preacher? I heard some disquieting reports yesterday after that damnable Lustration."
Ghanima shrugged. "He could be -"
"Paul?"
"Yes, but we haven't seen him to examine."
"Javid laughs at the rumors," Jessica said.
Ghanima hesitated. Then: "Do you trust this Javid?"
A grim smile touched Jessica's lips. "No more than you do."
"Leto says Javid laughs at the wrong things," Ghanima said.
"So much for Javid's laughter," Jessica said. "But do you actually entertain the notion that my son is still alive, that he has returned in this guise?"
"We say it's possible. And Leto..." Ghanima found her mouth suddenly dry, remembered fears clutching her breast. She forced herself to overcome them, recounted Leto's other revelations of prescient dreams.
Jessica moved her head from side to side as though wounded.
Ghanima said: "Leto says he must find this Preacher and make sure."
"Yes... Of course. I should never have left here. It was cowardly of me."
"Why do you blame yourself? You had reached a limit. I know that. Leto knows it. Even Alia may know it."
Jessica put a hand to her own throat, rubbed it briefly. Then: "Yes, the problem of Alia."
"She works a strange attraction on Leto," Ghanima said. "That's why I helped you meet alone with me. He agrees that she is beyond hope, but still he finds ways to be with her and... study her. And... it's very disturbing. When I try to talk against this, he falls asleep. He -"
"Is she drugging him?"
"No-o-o." Ghanima shook her head. "But he has this odd empathy for her. And... in his sleep, he often mutters Jacurutu."
"That again!" And Jessica found herself recounting Gurney's report about the conspirators exposed at the landing field.
"I sometimes fear Alia wants Leto to seek out Jacurutu," Ghanima said. "And I always thought it only a legend. You know it, of course."
Jessica shuddered. "Terrible story. Terrible."
"What must we do?" Ghanima asked. "I fear to search all of my memories, all of my lives..."
"Ghani! I warn you against that. You mustn't risk -"
"It may happen even if I don't risk it. How do we know what really happened to Alia?"
"No! You could be spared that... that possession." She ground the word out. "Well... Jacurutu, is it? I've sent Gurney to find the place - if it exists."
"But how can he... Oh! Of course: the smugglers."
Jessica found herself silenced by this further example of how Ghanima's mind worked in concert with what must be an inner awareness of others. Of me! How truly strange it was, Jessica thought, that this young flesh could carry all of Paul's memories, at least until the moment of Paul's spermal separation from his own past. It was an invasion of privacy against which something primal in Jessica rebelled. Momentarily she felt herself sinking into the absolute and unswerving Bene Gesserit judgment: Abomination! But there was a sweetness about this child, a willingness to sacrifice for her brother, which could not be denied.
We are one life reaching out into a dark future, Jessica thought. We are one blood. And she girded herself to accept the events which she and Gurney Halleck had set in motion. Leto must be separated from his sister, must be trained as the Sisterhood insisted.
***
I hear the wind blowing across the desert and I see the moons of a winter night rising tike great ships in the void. To them I make my vow: I will be resolute and make an art of government; I will balance my inherited past and become a perfect storehouse of my relic memories. And I will be known for kindliness more than for knowledge. My face will shine down the corridors of time for as long as humans exist.
When she had been quite young, Alia Atreides had practiced for hours in the prana-bindu trance, trying to strengthen her own private personality against the onslaught of all those others. She knew the problem - melange could not be escaped in a sietch warren. It infested everything: food, water, air, even the fabrics against which she cried at night. Very early she recognized the uses of the sietch orgy where the tribe drank the death-water of a worm. In the orgy, Fremen released the accumulated pressures of their own genetic memories, and they denied those memories. She saw her companions being temporarily possessed in the orgy.
For her, there was no such release, no denial. She had possessed full consciousness long before birth. With that consciousness came a cataclysmic awareness of her circumstances: womb-locked into intense, inescapable contact with the personas of all her ancestors and of those identities death-transmitted in spice-tau to the Lady Jessica. Before birth, Alia had contained every bit of the knowledge required in a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother - plus much, much more from all those others.