But the fools had dared demand "more information" from her. Demanded! And after saying they still had no solution to rearming The Weapon. Of course, they did not know it was a weapon. Did they? She could not be sure. So it had been a good thing to kill those two after all. Teach them a lesson.
Bring us answers, not questions.
She liked the order she and her Sisters were creating in the Old Empire. There had been too much wandering about and too many different cultures, too many unstable religions.
Worship of Guldur will serve them as it serves us.
She felt no mystical affinity to her religion. It was a useful tool of power. The roots were well known: Leto II, the one those witches called "The Tyrant," and his father, Muad'Dib. Consummate power brokers, both of them. Lots of schismatic cells around but those could be weeded out. Keep the essence. It was a well-lubricated machine.
The tyranny of the minority cloaked in the mask of the majority.
That was what the witch Lucilla had recognized. No way to let her live after discovering she knew how to manipulate the masses. The witch nests would have to be found and burned. Lucilla's perceptiveness clearly was not an isolated example. Her actions betrayed the workings of a school. They taught this thing! Fools! You had to manage reality or things really got out of control.
Logno returned. Dama could always tell the sound of her footsteps. Furtive.
"The old witch will be brought from Buzzell," Logno said. "And her attendants."
"Don't forget about the Futars."
"I have given the orders, Dama."
Oily voice! You'd like to feed me to the herd, wouldn't you, Logno?
"And tighten up security on the cages, Logno. Three more of them escaped last night. They were wandering around in the garden when I awoke."
"I was told, Dama. More cage guards have been assigned."
"And don't tell me they're harmless without a Handler."
"I do not believe that, Dama."
And that's truth from her, for once. Futars terrify her. Good.
"I believe we have our power base, Logno." Dama turned, noting that Logno had encroached at least two millimeters into the danger zone. Logno saw it, too, and retreated. As close as you want in front where I can see you, Logno, but not behind my back.
Logno saw the orange blaze in Dama's eyes and almost knelt. Definite bending of the knees. "It is my eagerness to serve you, Dama!"
Your eagerness to replace me, Logno.
"What of that woman from Gammu? Odd name. What was it?"
"Rebecca, Dama. She and some of her companions have... ahhh, temporarily eluded us. We will find them. They cannot get off the planet."
"You think I should have kept her here, don't you?"
"It was wise to think of her as bait, Dama!"
"She's still bait. That witch we found on Gammu did not go to those people by accident."
"Yes, Dama."
Yes, Dama! But the subservient sound in Logno's voice was enjoyable. "Well, get on with it!"
Logno scurried away.
There were always those little cells of potential violence meeting secretly somewhere. Building up their mutual charges of hate, swarming out to disrupt the orderly lives around them. Someone always had to clean up after those disruptions. Dama sighed. Terror tactics were so... so temporary!
Success, that was the danger. It had cost them an empire. If you waved your success around like a banner someone always wanted to cut you down. Envy!
We will hold our success more cautiously this time.
She fell into a semi-reverie, still alert to the sounds behind her, but relishing the evidence of new victories that had been displayed to her this morning. She liked to roll the names of captive planets silently on her tongue.
Wallach, Kronin, Reenol, Ecaz, Bela Tegeuse, Gammu, Gamont, Niushe...
Humans are born with a susceptibility to that most persistent and debilitating disease of intellect: self-deception. The best of all possible worlds and the worst get their dramatic coloration from it. As nearly as we can determine, there is no natural immunity. Constant alertness is required.
- The Coda
With Odrade away from Central (and probably only for a short time) Bellonda knew swift action was required. That damned Mentat-ghola is too dangerous to live!
Mother Superior's party was barely out of sight into the lowering afternoon before Bellonda was on her way to the no-ship.
Not for Bellonda a thoughtful approach through ring orchards. She ordered space on a tube, windowless, automatic, and fast. Odrade, too, had observers who might send unwanted messages.
En route, Bellonda reviewed her assessment of Idaho's many lives, a record she had kept in Archives ready for quick retrieval. In the original and early gholas, his character had been dominated by impulsiveness. Quick to hate, quick to give loyalty. Later Idaho-gholas tempered this with cynicism but the underlying impulsiveness remained. The Tyrant had called it to action many times. Bellonda recognized a pattern.
He can be goaded by pride.
His long service to the Tyrant fascinated her. Not only had he been a Mentat several times but there was evidence he had been a Truthsayer in more than one incarnation.
Idaho's appearance reflected what she saw in her records. Interesting character lines, a look around the eyes and a set to his mouth that went with complex inner development.
Why would Odrade not accept the danger of this man? Bellonda had felt frequent misgivings when Odrade spoke of Idaho with such flaunting of her emotions.
"He thinks clearly and directly. There's a fastidious cleanliness about his mind. It's restorative. I like him and I know that's a trivial thing to influence my decisions."
She admits his influence!