“Our task will be easier, and far less dangerous, once the Butlerian hysteria quiets down,” Valya mused.

“Without Manford Torondo, the movement will fracture and fade away,” Fielle said. “I’m surprised he hasn’t been assassinated yet — by Josef Venport or someone else.”

Valya’s voice was completely even. “Are you volunteering for the assignment?”

“No, Mother Superior! I didn’t mean to suggest the Sisterhood would condone anything like that.”

Valya arched her eyebrows. “You should make a Mentat projection on the possibilities and probabilities. We might be better off if the Butlerian leader were out of the way.”

“Or worse off, if someone even more dangerous took his place.”

Two black-robed Sisters emerged from the crematorium, each carrying an urn. The ashes would still be warm, reminding Valya of how a body’s warmth lingered even after the heart had stopped beating. In time, the memory of the traitor Dorotea would grow as cold as her ashes that were soon to be spread on the ground. Valya would make sure that Dorotea was not revered, her actions not emulated. Perhaps even her name would be forgotten.

Raquella, though, was a different matter. There would be statues erected in her honor, and her memory would endure as long as the Sisterhood. And Valya Harkonnen would forever be known as her chosen successor, the bearer of her eternal torch.

Valya knew she was also much more than that.…

Chapter 76 (The tangible expression of the human)

By night, the tangled sangrove forest was eerie and threatening, but Anna made her way along instinctive paths. She wasn’t afraid, because she had Erasmus with her — both the comforting voice in her ear, and the physical memory core that she had bound to her body beneath her clothing.

The gelsphere glowed through the material with varying degrees of brightness, providing faint illumination to light her way. Sometimes the orb went entirely dark when the robot’s spy-eyes sensed that Butlerians might be nearby. Once, he whispered to her to stop moving, and she froze, in total darkness, listening while someone moved through the forest nearby. When it was safe, she continued to make her way from the besieged Mentat School.

Anna hadn’t been instructed in physical combat. As the Emperor’s sister, she had led a pampered life, and when she trained with the Sisters on Rossak as well as at the Mentat School, her studies had been devoted to focusing her mind.

Now, as she slipped through the forest murk, balancing on the upthrust roots and taking care not to slip into the water, Anna heard faint voices seeping into her thoughts from memory … but not her own memory. The danger to the Mentat School and to the Headmaster brought the ghost whispers frothing out of her personal turmoil. Those clamoring memories must be echoes of past lives — female ancestors whose spirits were imprisoned within the double-helix cage of her DNA. Yet how could they be? Though she had survived the Rossak poison, Anna was not a Reverend Mother, and could only hear the whispers of what it must be like to be one.

The most important, and clearest, advisory voice belonged to Erasmus. “I can guide you with my spy-eyes while we are near the school. Did you memorize the new path the Mentats made?”

“I know the path, and I know my own shortcuts.”

“You’re a clever girl,” Erasmus said. “I am proud of you.” His comment made her feel good, and he added, “We need to maintain a swift pace, to get as far as we can from the Butlerian camp before sunrise.”

She felt distraught and wanted him to understand her urgency. “They’re going to execute Headmaster Albans. Shouldn’t we try to rescue him?”

At the thought of execution, Anna suddenly reeled as howling childhood memories surged back — her father forcing her to sit at his side while CET members were murdered in front of her. He had insisted that the experience would strengthen her, make her glad to see justice done. But it hadn’t. Instead, the bloodshed had showed her the horror of harsh penalties.

She didn’t want Headmaster Albans to face such a terrible fate, but felt helpless to save him. She wanted him to find some way to escape and flee into obscurity as Toure Bomoko had, while the rest of the CET members were executed in his stead. She wondered if the same thing would happen here. Gilbertus was a very smart man.

“If Headmaster Albans were to escape,” she asked, “wouldn’t Manford still want someone to die instead?”

“All of the other students, I expect,” Erasmus said.

“I don’t want them all to die, and I don’t want the Headmaster to die either.”

“All humans die. The only variable is timing. Come — we must hurry.”

“Where will we go afterward?” Anna asked.

“I have not calculated that yet.”

Anna picked her way around the tangled roots, careful not to fall into the water, where glints of silver showed night-prowling razorjaws, like reflections from shattered bits of mirror. Her progress was painstakingly slow.

“The water is not deep,” he said. “It will be faster if you wade through the channels.”

“The fish would eat me,” Anna said.

The robot core said, “I can fix that.” A pulse of blue light crackled through the water, a power discharge that lit the marshy streams with cold fire. Like bubbles rising in a cauldron, hundreds of silvery fish bobbed belly-up, dead.

“Gilbertus placed many defenses around the school, but I considered them insufficient, so I added more. The channel is safe for you now. I’ll tell you when you need to climb back up on the roots.”

Trusting him entirely, Anna dropped into the cold water and waded along. Now she made better progress through the sangroves, safe from razorjaws, but she knew there was still danger from Butlerian scouts who roamed the swamps.

As she sloshed along, a buzzing sound came close — a cloud of stinging night-gnats. Anna plunged her head underwater, trusting that the razorjaws were still incapacitated. The swarming insects swirled low, dusted the top of the water in search of blood, and then flew away. Finally, Anna raised her head and shoulders out of the water, dripping wet, and kept moving.

After several more minutes, Erasmus said, “I suggest you climb up on the roots now. I am recharging the pulse-batteries through the waterways, but more razorjaws may come soon.”

Anna hoisted herself onto the suspended roots and climbed along, carefully choosing her footing. Around her, the sky began to brighten with the approach of dawn. Looking back in the direction of the Butlerian camp, she spotted a shadowy figure moving through the sangroves — and in the same instant the man saw her, too. He had broad shoulders, and a square of fabric was wrapped around his head. His eyes were bright in the swamp shadows.

“You’re the girl Manford wants, the Emperor’s sister.” The man sprang toward her with a careful grace, bounding from one sangrove elbow to another. “Come with me, and you’ll be in time to watch the Headmaster’s execution.”

Holding on to a branch, Anna scrambled backward and swung to another root. Sharp sticks scratched her, but she didn’t feel the pain. Erasmus couldn’t help her now.

The Butlerian man was swift and nimble as he chased her. He might have been an experienced hunter, accustomed to being outdoors, and he was intent on catching her. He grabbed Anna’s arm, yanked her close. She started to scream, then bit it off, knowing the noise would only attract more attention from the siege camp — and she didn’t know how to fight such a muscular man.