The false Tuek’s councillors, the ones fully involved in what they thought of as “the Tleilaxu plot,” spoke of public support for modernization and openly gloated that they had their way at last. Albertus regularly reported everything to Odrade. Each new report worried her more. Even the obvious subservience of Albertus bothered her.
“Of course, the councillors do not mean
She could only agree. The behavior of the councillors signaled that they had powerful backing among the middle echelons of the priesthood, among the climbers who dared joke about their Divided God at weekend parties . . . among those being soothed by the hoard Odrade had found at Sietch Tabr.
Ninety thousand long tons! Half a year’s harvest from the deserts of Rakis. Even a third of it represented a significant bargaining chip in the new balances.
She had wanted to restore in him
It made no difference now that his subservience was driven by an absolute belief in her holy association with Sheeana. Odrade had never before focused on how easily the Missionaria Protectiva’s teachings destroyed human independence. That was always the goal, of course:
The Tyrant’s words in that secret chamber had done more than ignite her fears for the Sisterhood’s future.
From that millennial distance, he had planted doubts in her as surely as she had planted them in Waff.
She saw the Tyrant’s questions as though they had been limned with glowing light on her inner eye.
“WITH WHOM DO YOU ALLY?”
The Tyrant’s words had been burned into her consciousness. Where was the “noble purpose” in what the Sisterhood did? Odrade could almost hear Taraza’s sneering response to such a question.
Perhaps even Tuek had known it. And what had that bought him in the end?
Odrade felt a haunting sympathy for the late High Priest. Tuek had been a superb example of what a tightly knit family could produce. Even his name was a clue: unchanged from Atreides days on this planet. The founding ancestor had been a smuggler, confidant of the first Leto. Tuek had come from a family that held firmly to its roots, saying: “There is something worth preserving in our past.” The example this set for descendants was not lost on a Reverend Mother.
These blocks of modernization visible out her window were a sign of that failure—sops to the rising power elements in Rakian society, those elements that the Sisterhood had worked so long to foster and strengthen. Tuek had seen this as a harbinger of the day when he would be too weak politically to prevent the things implied by such modernization:
A shorter and more upbeat ritual.
New songs, more in the modern manner.
Changes in the dancing. (“Traditional dances take so long!”)
Above all, fewer ventures into the dangerous desert for the young postulants from the powerful families.
Odrade sighed and glanced back at Waff. The little Tleilaxu chewed his lower lip. Good!
Behind the closed doors of the Temple, the transition of the High Priesthood already was being debated. The new Rakians spoke of the need “to keep up with the times.” They meant: “Give us more power!”
Still, she could not escape the thought:
Albertus reported that Tuek, just before his death and replacement by the Face Dancer, had warned his kin they might not retain familial control of the High Priesthood when he died. Tuek had been more subtle and resourceful than his enemies expected. His family already was calling in its debts, gathering its resources to retain a power base.
And the Face Dancer in Tuek’s place revealed much by his mimic performance. The Tuek family had not yet learned of the substitution and one might almost believe the original High Priest had not been replaced, so good was this Face Dancer. Observing that Face Dancer in action betrayed much to the watchful Reverend Mothers. That, of course, was one of the things that had Waff squirming now.
