Taraza was forced to swivel her chair to face him. Damn him! Teg was not going to make this any easier for her. All of the Reverend Mother Examiners had remarked a difficulty in getting Teg to sit for conversation. He preferred to stand, his shoulders held with military stiffness, his gaze aimed downward. Few Reverend Mothers matched his height - more than two meters. This trait, the analysts agreed, was Teg's way (probably unconscious) of protesting the Sisterhood's authority over him. None of this, however, showed itself in his other behavior. Teg had always been the most reliable military commander the Sisterhood had ever employed.
In a multisociety universe whose major binding forces interacted with complexity despite the simplicity of labels, reliable military commanders were worth their weight in melange many times over. Religions and the common memory of imperial tyrannies always figured in the negotiations but it was economic forces that eventually carried the day and the military coin could be entered on anybody's adding machine. It was there in every negotiation and would be for as long as necessity drove the trading system - the need for particular things (such as spice or the technoproducts of Ix), the need for specialists (such as Mentats or Suk doctors), and all of the other mundane needs for which there were markets: for labor forces, for builders, for designers, for planiformed life, for artists, for exotic pleasures...
No legal system could bind such complexity into a whole and this fact quite obviously brought up another necessity - the constant need for arbiters with clout. Reverend Mothers had naturally fallen into this role within the economic web and Miles Teg knew this. He also knew that he was once more being brought out as a bargaining chip. Whether he enjoyed that role did not figure in the negotiations.
"It's not as though you had any family to hold you here," Taraza said.
Teg accepted this silently. Yes, his wife had been dead thirty-eight years now. His children were all grown and, with the exception of one daughter, gone from the nest. He had his many personal interests but no family obligations. True.
Taraza reminded him then of his long and faithful service to the Sisterhood, citing several memorable achievements. She knew the praise would have little effect on him but it provided her with a needed opening for what must follow.
"You have been apprised of your familial resemblance," she said.
Teg inclined his head no more than a millimeter.
"Your resemblance to the first Leto Atreides, grandfather of the Tyrant, is truly remarkable," she said.
Teg gave no sign that he heard or agreed. This was merely a datum, something already stored in his copious memory. He knew he bore Atreides genes. He had seen the likeness of Leto I at Chapter House. It had been oddly like looking into a mirror.
"You're a bit taller," Taraza said.
Teg continued to stare down at her.
"Damn it all, Bashar," Taraza said, "will you at least try to help me?"
"Is that an order, Mother Superior?"
"No, it's not an order!"
Teg smiled slowly. The fact that Taraza allowed herself such an explosion in front of him said many things. She would not do that with people she felt were untrustworthy. And she certainly would not permit herself such an emotional display with a person she considered merely an underling.
Taraza sat back in her chair and grinned up at him. "All right," she said. "You've had your fun. Patrin said you would be most upset with me if I called you back to duty. I assure you that you are crucial to our plans."
"What plans, Mother Superior?"
"We are raising a Duncan Idaho ghola on Gammu. He is almost six years old and ready for military education."
Teg allowed his eyes to widen slightly.
"It will be a taxing duty for you," Taraza said, "but I want you to take over his training and protection as soon as possible."
"My likeness to the Atreides Duke," Teg said. "You will use me to restore his original memories."
"In eight or ten years, yes."
"That long!" Teg shook his head. "Why Gammu?"
"His prana-bindu inheritance has been altered by the Bene Tleilax, at our orders. His reflexes will match in speed those of anyone born in our times. Gammu... the original Duncan Idaho was born and raised there. Because of the changes in his cellular inheritance we must keep all else as close to the original conditions as possible."
"Why are you doing this?" It was a Mentat's data-conscious tone.
"A female child with the ability to control the worms had been discovered on Rakis. We will have use for our ghola there."
"You will breed them?"
"I am not engaging you as a Mentat. It is your military abilities and your likeness to the original Leto that we need. You know how to restore his original memories when the time comes."
"So you're really bringing me back as a Weapons Master."
"You think that's a comedown for the man who was Supreme Bashar of all our forces?"
"Mother Superior, you command and I obey. But I will not accept this post without full command of all of Gammu's defenses."
"That already has been arranged, Miles."
"You always did know how my mind works."
"And I've always been confident of your loyalty."
Teg pushed himself away from the sideboard and stood a moment in thought, then: "Who will brief me?"
"Bellonda from Records, the same as before. She will provide you with a cipher to secure the exchange of messages between us."
"I will give you a list of people," Teg said. "Old comrades and the children of some of them. I will want all of them waiting on Gammu when I arrive."
"You don't think any of them will refuse?"
His look said: "Don't be silly!"
Taraza chuckled and she thought: There's a thing we learned well from the original Atreides - how to produce people who command the utmost devotion and loyalty.
"Patrin will handle the recruiting," Teg said. "He won't accept rank I know, but he's to get the full pay and courtesies of a colonel-aide."
"You will, of course, be restored to the rank of Supreme Bashar," she said. "We will..."
"No. You have Burzmali. We will not weaken him by bringing back his old Commander over him."
She studied him a moment, then: "We have not yet commissioned Burzmali as..."
"I am well aware of that. My old comrades keep me fully informed of Sisterhood politics. But you and I, Mother Superior, know it's only a matter of time. Burzmali is the best."
She could only accept this. It was more than a military Mentat's assessment. It was Teg's assessment. Another thought struck her.
"Then you already knew about our dispute in Council!" she accused. "And you let me..."
"Mother Superior, if I thought you would produce another monster on Rakis, I would have said so. You trust my decisions; I trust yours."
"Damn you, Miles, we've been apart too long." Taraza stood. "I feel calmer just knowing you'll be back in harness."
"Harness," he said. "Yes. Reinstate me as a Bashar on special assignment. That way, when word gets back to Burzmali, there'll be no silly questions."
Taraza produced a sheaf of ridulian papers from beneath her robe and passed them to Teg. "I've already signed these. Fill in your own reinstatement. The other authorizations are all there, transport vouchers and so on. I give you these orders personally. You are to obey me. You are my Bashar, do you understand?"
"Wasn't I always?" he asked.
"It's more important than ever now. Keep that ghola safe and train him well. He's your responsibility. And I will back you in that against anyone."
"I hear Schwangyu commands on Gammu."
"Against anyone Miles. Don't trust Schwangyu."
"I see. Will you lunch with us? My daughter has..."
"Forgive me, Miles, but I must get back soonest. I will send Bellonda at once."
Teg saw her to the door, exchanged a few pleasantries with his old students in her party and watched as they left. They had an armored groundcar waiting in the drive, one of the new models that they obviously had brought with them. Sight of it gave Teg an uneasy feeling.
Urgency!
Taraza had come in person, the Mother Superior herself on a messenger's errand, knowing what that would reveal to him. Knowing so intimately how the Sisterhood performed, he saw the revelation in what had just happened. The dispute in the Bene Gesserit Council went far deeper than his informants had suggested.
"You are my Bashar."
Teg glanced through the sheaf of authorizations and vouchers Taraza had left with him. Already carrying her seal and signature. The trust this implied added to the other things he sensed and increased his disquiet.
"Don't trust Schwangyu."
He slipped the papers into his pocket and went in search of Patrin. Patrin would have to be briefed, and mollified. They would have to discuss whom to call in for this assignment. He began to list some of the names in his mind. Dangerous duty ahead. It called for only the best people. Damn! Everything on the estate here would have to be passed over to Firus and Dimela. So many details! He felt his pulse quicken as he strode through the house.
Passing a house guard, one of his old soldiers, Teg paused: "Martin, cancel all of my appointments for today. Find my daughter and tell her to meet me in my study."
Word spread through the house and, from there, across the estate. Servants and family, knowing that The Reverend Mother Superior had just conversed privately with him, automatically set up a protective screen to keep idle distractions away from Teg. His eldest daughter, Dimela, cut him short when he tried to list details necessary to carry on his experimental farm projects.
"Father, I am not an infant!"
They were in the small greenhouse attached to his study. Remains of Teg's lunch sat on the corner of a potting bench. Patrin's notebook was propped against the wall behind, the luncheon tray.
Teg looked sharply at his daughter. Dimela favored him in appearance but not in height. Too angular to be a beauty but she had made a good marriage. They had three fine children, Dimela and Firus.
"Where is Firus?" Teg asked.
"He's out seeing to the replanting of the South Farm."
"Oh, yes. Patrin mentioned that."
Teg smiled. It had always pleased him that Dimela had refused the Sisterhood's bid, preferring to marry Firus, a native of Lernaeus, and remain in her father's entourage.
"All I know is that they're calling you back to duty," Dimela said. "Is it a dangerous assignment?"
"You know, you sound exactly like your mother," Teg said.
"So it is dangerous! Damn them, haven't you done enough for them?"
"Apparently not."
She turned away from him as Patrin entered the far end of the greenhouse. He heard her speak to Patrin as they passed.
"The older he gets the more he gets like a Reverend Mother himself!"
What else could she expect? Teg wondered. The son of a Reverend Mother, fathered by a minor functionary of the Combine Honnete Ober Advancer Mercantiles, he had matured in a household that moved to the Sisterhood's beat. It had been apparent to him at an early age that his father's allegiance to CHOAM's interplanetary trading network vanished when his mother objected.
