"So you lead the Bene Gesserit."
Voice equally low-key. Oddly inflected Galach and no jargon, yet you sensed it just behind her tongue. Linguistic tricks were there. Murbella's knowledge emphasized that.
"They have something close to Voice. Not the equal of what you gave me but there are other things they do, word tricks of a sort."
Word tricks.
"How should I address you?" Odrade asked.
"I hear you call me the Spider Queen." Orange flecks dancing viciously in her eyes.
"Here at the center of your web and considering your vast powers, I'm afraid I must confess to it."
"So that is what you notice - my powers." Vain!
The first thing Odrade actually had marked was the woman's smell. She was bathed in some outrageous perfume.
Covering up pheromones?
Warned about Bene Gesserit ability to judge on the basis of minuscule sense data? Perhaps. Just as probable she preferred this perfume. The odious concoction had about it an underlying hint of exotic flowers. Something from her homeland?
The Spider Queen put a hand to her forgettable chin. "You may call me Dama."
The companion objected. "This is the last enemy in the Million Planets!"
So that's how they think of the Old Empire.
Dama held up a hand for silence. How casual and how revealing. Odrade saw a luster reminiscent of Bellonda in the aide's eyes. Viciousness watchful in there and looking for places to attack.
"Most are required to address me as Great Honored Matre," Dama said. "I have conferred an honor upon you." She gestured toward the arched doorway behind her. "We will walk outside, just the two of us, while we talk."
No invitation; it was a command.
Odrade paused beside the door to look at a map displayed there. Black on white, little lines of paths and irregular outlines with labels in Galach. It was the gardens beyond the flagstones, identification of plantings. Odrade bent close to study it while Dama waited with amused tolerance. Yes, esoteric trees and bushes, very few bearing edible fruits. Pride of possession and this map was here to emphasize it.
On the patio, Odrade said: "I noticed your perfume."
Dama was thrown back into memories and her voice carried subtle undertones when she responded.
Floral identity marker for her own flamebush. Imagine that! But she is both sad and angry when she thinks of this. And she wonders why I bring it to attention.
"Otherwise, the bush would not have accepted me," Dama said.
Interesting choice of verb tense.
The accented Galach was not hard to understand. She obviously adjusted unconsciously for the listener.
Good ear. Spends a few seconds, watching, listening and adjusts to make herself understood. Very old art form that most humans adopt quickly.
Odrade saw the origins as protective coloration.
Don't want to be taken for an alien.
An adjustable characteristic built into the genes. Honored Matres had not lost it but this was a vulnerability. Unconscious tonalities were not completely covered and they revealed much.
Despite her blatant vanity, Dama was intelligent and self-disciplined. It was a pleasure to come to that opinion. Certain circumlocutions were not necessary.
Odrade stopped where Dama stopped at the edge of the patio. They stood almost shoulder to shoulder and Odrade, gazing outward at the garden, was struck by the almost Bene Gesserit appearance.
"Speak your piece," Dama said.
"What value do I have as a hostage?" Odrade asked.
Orange glare!
"You've obviously asked the question," Odrade said.
"Do continue." Orange subsiding.
"The Sisterhood has three replacements for me." Odrade produced her most penetrating stare. "It is possible for us to weaken each other in ways that would destroy us both."
"We could crush you as we would swat an insect!"
Beware the orange!
Odrade was not deflected by warnings from within. "But the hand that swatted us would fester, and eventually, sickness would consume you."
It could not be stated plainer without specific details.
"Impossible!" An orange glare.
"Do you think us unaware of how you were driven back here by your enemies?"
My most dangerous gambit.
Odrade watched it take effect. A dark scowl was not Dama's only visible response. Orange vanished, leaving her eyes an oddly bland discrepancy on the glowering face.
Odrade nodded as though Dama had answered. "We could leave you vulnerable to those who assail you, those who drove you into this cul de sac."
"You think we..."
"We know."
At least, now I know.
The knowledge produced both elation and fear.
What is out there to subdue these women?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
"We merely gather our forces before -"
"Before returning to an arena where you are sure to be crushed... where you cannot count on overwhelming numbers."
Dama's voice relapsed into soft Galach that Odrade had difficulty understanding. "So they have been to you... and made their offer. What fools you are to trust the..."
"I have not said we trust."
"If Logno back there..." Nod of head indicating the aide in the room "... heard you talking to me this way you would be dead in less time than I take to warn you of it."
"I am fortunate there are only the two of us."
"Don't count on that to carry you much farther."
Odrade glanced over her shoulder at the building. Alterations in Guild design were visible: a long facade of windows, much exotic wood and jeweled stones.
Wealth.
She was dealing with wealth in an extreme it would be hard for some to imagine. Nothing Dama wanted, nothing that could be provided by the society subservient to her, would be denied. Nothing except freedom to go back into the Scattering.