Bellonda arrived first, dropping into her chairdog with no comment on its new position. Bell frequently appeared untidy, belt loose, robe wrinkled, bits of food on the bosom. Today, she was neat and clean.
Now, why is that?
Bellonda said, “Tam and Sheeana will be late.”
Odrade accepted this without stopping her study of this different Bellonda. Was she a bit slimmer? There was no way to insulate a Mother Superior completely from what went on within her sensory area of concerns but sometimes pressures of work distracted her from small changes. These were a Reverend Mother’s natural habitat, though, and negative evidence was as illuminating as positive. On reflection, Odrade realized that this new Bellonda had been with them for several weeks.
Something had happened to Bellonda. Any Reverend Mother could exercise reasonable control over weight and figure. A matter of internal chemistry—banking fires or letting them burn high. For years now, rebellious Bellonda had flaunted a gross body.
“You’ve lost weight,” Odrade said.
“Fat was beginning to slow me too much.”
That had never been sufficient reason for Bell to change her ways. She had always compensated with speed of mind, with projections and faster transport.
“Duncan really got to you, didn’t he?”
“I’m not a hypocrite nor criminal!”
“Time to send you to a punishment Keep, I guess.”
This recurrent humorous thrust usually annoyed Bellonda. Today, it did not arouse her. But under pressure of Odrade’s stare, she said: “If you must know, it’s Sheeana. She has been after me to improve my appearance and broaden my circle of associates. Annoying! I’m doing it to shut her up.”
“Why are Tam and Sheeana late?”
“Reviewing your latest meeting with Duncan. I have severely limited who has access to it. No telling what will happen when it becomes general knowledge.”
“As it will.”
“Inevitable. I only buy us time to prepare.”
“I did not want it suppressed, Bell.”
“Dar, what are you doing?”
“I will announce that at a Convocation.”
No words but Bellonda glared her surprise.
“A Convocation is my right,” Odrade said.
Bellonda leaned back and stared at Odrade, assessing, questioning … all without words. The last Convocation of the Bene Gesserit had been at the Tyrant’s death. And before that, at the Tyrant’s seizure of power. A Convocation had not been thought possible since Honored Matres attacked. Too much time taken from desperate labors.
Presently, Bellonda asked: “Will you risk bringing Sisters from our surviving Keeps?”
“No. Dortujla will represent them. There is precedent, as you know.”
“First, you free Murbella; now it’s a Convocation.”
“Free? Murbella is tied by chains of gold. Where would she go without her Duncan?”
“But you’ve given Duncan freedom to leave the ship!”
“Has he?”
Bellonda said, “You think that information from the ship’s armory is all he’ll take?”
“I know it.”
“I am reminded of Jessica turning her back on the Mentat who would have killed her.”
“The Mentat was immobilized by his own beliefs.”
“Sometimes the bull gores the matador, Dar.”
“More often he does not.”
“Our survival should not depend on statistics!”
“Agreed. That is why I call Convocation.”
“Acolytes included?”
“Everyone.”
“Even Murbella? Does she get an acolyte’s vote?”
“I think she may be a Reverend Mother by then.”
Bellonda gasped, then: “You move too fast, Dar!”
“These times require it.”
Bellonda glanced toward the dining room door. “Here’s Tam. Later than I expected. I wonder if they took time to consult Murbella?”
Tamalane arrived, breathing hard from hurrying. She dropped into her blue chairdog, noted the new positions and said: “Sheeana will be along presently. She is showing records to Murbella.”
Bellonda addressed Tamalane. “She’s going to put Murbella through the Agony and call a Convocation.”
“I’m not surprised.” Tamalane spoke with her old precision. “The position of that Honored Matre must be resolved as soon as possible.”
Sheeana joined them then and took the slingchair at Odrade’s left, speaking as she sat. “Have you watched Murbella walk?”
Odrade was caught by the way this abrupt question, uttered without preamble, fixed the attention. Murbella walking in the ship. Observed just that morning. Beauty in Murbella and the eye could not avoid it. To other Bene Gesserit, Reverend Mothers and acolytes alike, she was something of an exotic. She had arrived fullgrown from the dangerous Outside. One of them. It was her movements, though, that compelled the eye. Homeostasis in her that went beyond the norms.
Sheeana’s question redirected the observer’s mind. Something about Murbella’s quite acceptable passage required new examination. What was it?
Murbella’s motions were always carefully chosen. She excluded anything not required to go from here to there. Path of least resistance? It was a view of Murbella that sent a pang through Odrade. Sheeana had seen it, of course.