this she knew she could never willingly abandon it. Perhaps I have indeed become Bene Gesserit. That is what he fears, of course.
“I will tell you a thing,” the Rabbi said. “This ‘crucial intersection of living awareness,’ as they call it, that is nothing unless you know how your own decisions go out from you like threads into the lives of others.”
“To see our own actions in the reactions of others, yes, that is how the Sisters view it.”
“That is wisdom. What is it the lady says they seek?”
“Influence on the maturing of humankind.”
“Mmmmmm. And she finds that events are not beyond her influence, merely beyond her senses. That is almost wise. But maturity … ahhh, Rebecca. Do we interfere with a higher plan? Is it the right of humans to set limits on the nature of Yaweh? I think Leto II understood that. This lady in you denies it.”
“She says he was a damnable tyrant.”
“He was but there have been wise tyrants before him and doubtless will be more after us.”
“They call him Shaitan.”
“He had Satan’s own powers. I share their fear of that. He was not so much prescient as he was a cement. He fixed the shape of what he saw.”
“That is what the lady says. But she says it is their grail that he preserved.”
“Again, they are almost wise.”
A great sigh shook the Rabbi and once more he looked to the instruments on his wall. Energy for the morrow.
He returned his attention to Rebecca. She was changed. He could not avoid awareness of it. She had become very like the Bene Gesserit. It was understandable. Her mind was filled with all of those people from Lampadas. But they were not Gadarene swine to be driven into the sea and their diabolism with them. And I am not another Jesus.
“This thing they tell you about the Mother Superior Odrade —that she often damns her own Archivists and the Archives with them. What a thing! Are not Archives like the books in which we preserve our wisdom?”
“Then am I an Archivist, Rabbi?”
Her question confounded him but it also illuminated the problem. He smiled. “I tell you something, daughter. I admit to a little sympathy with this Odrade. There is always something grumbling about Archivists.”
“Is that wisdom, Rabbi?” How shyly she asked it!
“Believe me, daughter, it is. How carefully the Archivist suppresses even the smallest hint of judgment. One word after another. Such arrogance!”
“How do they judge which words to use, Rabbi?”
“Ahhh, a bit of wisdom comes to you, daughter. But these Bene Gesserit have not achieved wisdom and it is their grail that prevents it.”
She could see it on his face. He tries to arm me with doubts about these lives I carry.
“Let me tell you a thing about the Bene Gesserit,” he said. Nothing came into his mind then. No words, no sage advice. This had not happened to him for years. There was only one course open to him; speak from the heart.
“Perhaps they have been too long on the road to Damascus without a blinding flash of illumination, Rebecca. I hear them say they act for the benefit of humankind. Somehow, I cannot see this in them, nor do I believe the Tyrant saw it.”
When Rebecca started to reply, he stopped her with an upraised hand. “Mature humanity? That is their grail? Is it not the mature fruit that is plucked and eaten?”
On the floor of Junction’s Great Hall, Rebecca remembered these words, seeing the personification of them not in the lives she preserved but in the actions of her captors.
Great Honored Matre had finished eating. She wiped her hands on the gown of an attendant.
“Let her approach,” Great Honored Matre said.
Pain lanced Rebecca’s left shoulder and she lurched forward on her knees. The one called Logno had come up behind with the stealth of a hunter and had jabbed a shuntgoad into the captive’s flesh.
Laughter echoed through the room.
Rebecca staggered to her feet and, staying just ahead of the goad, arrived at the foot of the steps leading up to the Great Honored Matre where the goad stopped her.
“Down!” Logno emphasized the command with another jab.
Rebecca sank to her knees and stared straight ahead at the risers of the steps. The yellow tiles displayed tiny scratches. Somehow, these flaws reassured her.
Great Honored Matre said: “Let her be, Logno. I wish answers, not screams.” Then to Rebecca: “Look at me, woman!”
Rebecca raised her eyes and stared up at the face of death. What an unremarkable