Willem let out a loud, raw scream, and Vor, trembling in horror, felt the dead boy’s arm. Orry’s skin was cold, his dull eyes staring up at the cottage ceiling.
Willem dropped to the bedside and pulled his brother toward him in a sad, macabre embrace, unable to understand what had happened. Vor felt icy and alert. A deep fear settled into his stomach.
He was the first to notice the bloodstained note left by the bedside — nineteen lines written in a style that looked psychotic, forming an odd shape on the paper:
The last words Shander and Orry Atreides heard,
Tula Veil is Tula Harkonnen of Lankiveil.
The price of Atreides treachery
Is Harkonnen vengeance.
We have only begun
To hunt you down.
First Shander,
Then Orry
Then all
The rest
Of the
Vermin.
Never enough
To compensate for
The murder of our beloved
Brother, son, friend, and companion;
Griffin Harkonnen, we loved you dearly!
Take flight, Atreides cowards, and try to hide, but
You must flee for all time, because we will never forget.
Chapter 68 (Every Mentat knows there)
Every Mentat knows there is no such thing as the future. As the ancient philosopher Anko Bertus said, there is a range of possible futures, and each has its probabilities. Mentat projection can sort them, to guide the creators.
— GILBERTUS ALBANS, instruction to students at the Mentat School
The weak sun rose over Wallach IX the following morning, and Dorotea hurried across a courtyard filled with meter-high greenhouse structures where the acolytes grew fresh vegetables. Mother Superior Raquella had summoned her to her private chambers. It was not a casual request. The red-faced Acolyte runner said it was urgent.
After the silvery-purple jungles of Rossak, and glorious Salusa Secundus, Dorotea did not like this cool, plain planet, and she looked forward to returning to the Imperial Court. The orthodox Sisters who had accompanied her were also anxious to get back to their duties in the palace.
But Raquella had terrified them all the night before, forcing them to see the destructive nature of their factional differences. The Mother Superior had nearly flung herself off the cliff in despair, but stepped back from the brink in exchange for the promises of Valya and Dorotea. Dorotea meant her promise that they would find common ground, would work together.
In her heart, she understood that the two factions still had philosophical differences, particularly regarding the use of advanced technology. But there didn’t have to be a permanent, fundamental difference. The breeding-record computers — which Dorotea had never been able to find — were either destroyed or abandoned. The argument didn’t matter anymore. Both parts of the Sisterhood believed in developing innate human skills, watching and guiding the evolution of the human race.
The details of a new coalition would be the most difficult part, but Dorotea felt confident that she and Valya could negotiate terms acceptable to both factions. Dorotea wanted to fashion the combined Sisterhood into a legacy Mother Superior Raquella would be proud of.
If the new Sisterhood resolved to turn its back on forbidden computers, Dorotea was sure she could convince Salvador Corrino to forgive the women who had strayed. Then all Sisters could follow the correct path together, with the blessing of the Emperor.…
To her credit, Valya also seemed to be making genuine efforts to reunite with Dorotea, for the good of the order. Even so, the other woman’s reluctance still simmered beneath the surface, and Dorotea was sure that Valya had deceived her in the past, pretending to be of the same mind when she joined their quiet conspiracy. Valya was powerful and talented, a Reverend Mother now, just like Dorotea. And the aged Mother Superior considered her to be one of her most reliable confidantes.
Dorotea already had her hundred orthodox Sisters on Salusa, as well as more than a dozen new Acolytes. They filled significant roles at court, basked in their importance. But after Raquella’s crisis on the cliff, Dorotea had removed the Imperial insignia from her black robe, indicating that she considered herself a Sister first. Her six companions had done the same.
And now she had received an urgent summons to the Mother Superior’s quarters. After all these years, the old woman — her grandmother — was on her deathbed. Dorotea felt a sinking in her heart.
She climbed a wooden stairway in one of the prefab buildings and hurried down a hall to the second door, which was half open. She pushed her way inside.
The Mother Superior’s apartment consisted of three modest rooms, one of which she used as a private office, cluttered with files from ongoing projects. Dorotea saw papers strewn about. “Mother Superior?” she called out.
Valya appeared in the bedroom doorway, her face drawn and gray. She motioned for Dorotea. “Mother Superior is increasingly feeble. She asked to see us both right away. I believe she has chosen her successor.” She shook her head in dismay. “Yesterday’s ordeal drained the rest of the life from her.”
After a cold shudder, Dorotea straightened her posture. “Whatever her decision, we must abide by it and work together. My orthodox Sisters are prepared to do what is necessary for the Sisterhood.”
Valya rushed her inside. “Hurry!”
Inside the dim, stifling room, Raquella sat propped up in her bed, surrounded by pillows, and she looked ancient, as if years and years had been heaped on her overnight. Her eyes appeared to have sunk deeper into her skull than the day before, and her skin looked translucent, showing age spots and blood vessels. A medical Sister leaned over her with a handheld scanner to monitor vital signs. A worried Fielle stood nearby, looking very unlike an emotionless Sister Mentat.
Raquella dismissed the medical Sister in a breathy voice that sounded like crackling papyrus. “Leave us.” The doctor hurried out of the room and closed the door.
“Sister Fielle has made an important Mentat projection,” Raquella said. “We all need to hear it for the good of the Sisterhood. After she speaks, I will announce my successor.” The ancient woman drew a long breath, which required great effort. “I am nearly finished with this life. But I want to make certain my work goes on.”
The Sister Mentat gave a somber nod. Her short hair looked wilder than usual. “Some time ago I warned Mother Superior that a civil war might occur among the Sisters without her leadership. I suggested that either of you might instigate it.” She looked first at Dorotea, then at Valya. “My Mentat projection told me that the only way to bring the factions together was for Raquella to make a martyr of herself, like Serena Butler, to force the factions to reconcile.
“When I told Mother Superior of my projection, I did not inform her that I knew exactly what she would do — that she would take it to the brink, but that you both would make it unnecessary for her to kill herself after all.”