Harmony had been achieved but at a cost. Odrade signaled that Convocation was ended, knowing well that all questions had not been answered nor even asked. But the unasked questions would come filtering through Bell where they would get the most appropriate treatment.
Alert ones among the Sisters would not ask. They already saw her plan.
As she left the Great Common Room, Odrade felt herself accept full commitment for choices she had made, recognizing previous hesitancy for the first time. There were regrets, but only Murbella and Sheeana might know them.
Walking behind Bellonda, Odrade thought about the places I will never go, the things I will never see except as a reflection in the life of another.
It was a form of nostalgia that centered on the Scatterings and this eased her pain. There was just too much for one person to see out there. Even the Bene Gesserit with its accumulated memories could never hope to catch up with all of it, not with every last interesting detail. It was back to grand designs. The Big Picture, the Mainstream. The specialties of my Sisterhood. Here were essentials Mentats employed: patterns, movements of currents and what those currents carried, where they were going. Consequences. Not maps but the flowings.
At least, I have preserved key elements of our jury-monitored democracy in original form. They may thank me for that one day.
Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty.
- The Coda
"Who expected the air machinery to break down?"
The Rabbi asked his question of no one in particular. He sat on a low bench, a scroll clutched to his breast. The scroll had been reinforced by modern artifice but it still was old and fragile. He was not sure of the time. Midmorning probably. They had eaten not long ago food that could be described as breakfast.
"I expected it."
He appeared to be addressing the scroll. "Passover has come and gone and our door was locked."
Rebecca came to stand over him. "Please, Rabbi. How does this help Joshua at his labors?"
"We have not been abandoned," the Rabbi told his scroll. "It is we who have hidden ourselves away. When we cannot be found by strangers, where would anyone look who might help us?"
He peered up abruptly at Rebecca, owlish behind his glasses. "Have you brought evil to us, Rebecca?"
She knew his meaning. "Outsiders always think there's something nefarious about the Bene Gesserit," she said.
"So now I, your Rabbi, am Outsider!"
"You estrange yourself, Rabbi. I speak from the viewpoint of the Sisterhood you made me help. What they do is often boring. Repetitious but not evil."
"I made you help? Yes, I did that. Forgive me, Rebecca. If evil joins us, I have done it."
"Rabbi! Stop this. They are an extended clan. And still, they keep a touchy individualism. Does an extended clan mean nothing to you? Does my dignity offend you?"
"I tell you, Rebecca, what offends me. By my hand you have learned to follow different books than..." He raised the scroll as though it were a bludgeon.
"No books at all, Rabbi. Oh, they have a Coda but it's just a collection of reminders, sometimes useful, sometimes to be discarded. They always adjust their Coda to current requirements."
"There are books that cannot be adjusted, Rebecca!"
She stared down at him with ill-concealed dismay. Was this how he saw the Sisterhood? Or was it fear talking?
Joshua came to stand beside her, hands greasy, black smears on forehead and cheeks. "Your suggestion was the right one. It's working again. How long I don't know. The problem is -"
"You do not know the problem," the Rabbi interrupted.
"The mechanical problem, Rabbi," Rebecca said. "This no-chamber's field distorts machinery."
"We could not bring in frictionless machinery," Joshua said. "Too revealing, not to mention the cost."
"Your machinery is not all that has been distorted."
Joshua looked at Rebecca with raised eyebrows. What's wrong with him? So Joshua trusted Bene Gesserit insights, too. That offended the Rabbi. His flock sought guidance elsewhere.
The Rabbi surprised her then. "You think I'm jealous, Rebecca?"
She shook her head from side to side.
"You display talents," the Rabbi said, "that others are quick to use. Your suggestion fixed the machinery? These... these Others told you how?"
Rebecca shrugged. This was the Rabbi of old, not to be challenged in his own house.
"I should praise you?" the Rabbi asked. "You have power? Now, you will govern us?"
"No one, least of all I, ever suggested that, Rabbi." She was offended and did not mind showing it.
"Forgive me, daughter. That is what you call 'flip.' "
"I don't need your praise, Rabbi. And of course I forgive."
"Your Others have something to say about this?"
"The Bene Gesserit say fear of praise goes back to an ancient prohibition against praising your child because that brings down the wrath of the gods."
He bowed his head. "Sometimes a bit of wisdom."
Joshua appeared embarrassed. "I'm going to try sleeping. I should be rested." He aimed a meaningful glance at the machinery area where a labored rasping could be heard.
He left them for the darkened end of the chamber, stumbling on a child's toy as he went.
The Rabbi patted the bench beside him. "Sit, Rebecca."
She sat.
"I am fearful for you, for us, for all of the things we represent." He caressed the scroll. "We have been true for so many generations." His gaze swept the room. "And we don't even have a minyan here."