question such things. But, silently, she could wonder.
Mohiam, the teacher who knew her so well, would be gravely disappointed when she discovered the secret of the young woman’s rebellion. Jessica feared seeing the betrayal and disappointment on the Reverend Mother’s face when she held up a newborn baby boy. Could they kill the Duke’s son, out of spite?
But she squared her shoulders as she walked on. I can always bear a daughter later, as many as the Sisterhood might want of me.
Jessica spotted young Princess Irulan dressed in an elegant black playsuit that accented her long blonde hair. She sat on a polished stone bench, intent on a filmbook open on her lap. Looking up, Irulan noticed her. “Good afternoon, Lady Jessica. Have you been eliminated from the tournaments?”
“I am not a game player, I’m afraid.”
“Neither am I.” Irulan made a graceful gesture with her hand. “Will you sit?” Anirul, while remaining aloof in the Bene Gesserit way, still paid a great deal of attention to her eldest daughter. The Princess was serious and intelligent, even more so than her younger sisters.
Irulan held up her filmbook. “Have you read Lives of the Heroes of the Jihad?” She acted much older than her years, seemed hungry to learn. It was said that the Princess harbored aspirations of being a writer one day.
“Of course. Reverend Mother Mohiam was my teacher. She made me memorize the whole thing. There is a statue of Raquella Berto-Anirul on the grounds of the Mother School.”
Irulan raised her eyebrows. “Serena Butler was always my favorite.”
Jessica sat on the sun-warmed stone bench. They watched children run by, kicking a red ball in front of them. The Princess put away her filmbook and changed the subject. “You must find Kaitain quite different from Caladan.”
Jessica smiled. “Kaitain is so beautiful and fascinating. I learn new things every day, see amazing sights.” She paused, then admitted, “It is not my home, however.”
Irulan’s classic beauty reminded Jessica of herself at that age. She was only eleven years older than the Princess; the two of them might have been sisters, by appearance. This one is exactly the type my Duke should marry, in order to gain stature for his House. I should hate her, but I do not.
The Emperor’s wife, wearing a long dress of mauve cloth with a golden collar and filigree sleeves, emerged from the garden path behind her. “Oh, there you are, Jessica. What are you two plotting?”
Irulan replied. “We’re just talking about how amazing Kaitain is.”
Anirul allowed herself a momentary flash of pride. She noted the filmbook, knew that Irulan had been studying while others played court games. In a conspiratorial tone she said to Jessica, “Irulan seems more dedicated to learning the labyrinth of leadership than my husband is.” She extended a ring-bedecked hand to Jessica. “Come, I have things to discuss with you.”
Jessica followed the Emperor’s wife through a topiary garden, whose shrubs had been trimmed into soldier shapes. Anirul plucked a small, out-of-place twig from the uniform of one of the shrub-soldiers. “Jessica, you are different from the hangers-on at court, who constantly gossip and vie for social position. I find you refreshing.”
“Surrounded by so much splendor, I must seem rather plain.”
Anirul chuckled. “Your beauty requires no enhancement. I, on the other hand, am expected to dress in a certain way.” She displayed the rings on her fingers. “This blue soostone, however, is more than a ring.”
She pressed the gem, and a shimmering journal appeared in front of her, the pages dense with information. Before Jessica could read any of the holo-scribed words, Anirul deactivated the projection.
“Since privacy is so rare at Court, I have found my diary to be an extremely useful tool for contemplation. It enables me to analyze my thoughts, and to sift through Other Memory. You will know about it, Jessica, when you become a Reverend Mother.”
Jessica followed her on stepping-stones that crossed a small water garden, where oversize lilies and aquatic flowers floated. Anirul continued, “I consider my journal a responsibility, in case anything should happen to prevent my memory transference at the end of my life.” Her words left much unsaid: In these critical last days of the long-planned secret breeding program, she, as the Kwisatz Mother, needed a written chronicle for those who would follow her. She dared not risk having her life and experiences vanish into an abyss of unrecorded history.
Anirul fingered her soostone ring. “I would like to give you a journal of your own, Jessica. An