The most effective family unit is quite large—a community in which children are raised and trained in a uniform fashion, not in a random, unpredictable way. There is also the matter of good genetics.

—RAQUELLA BERTO-ANIRUL, founder of the ancient order of Bene Gesserit

After arriving on Wallach IX, Jessica saw bright reminders of her childhood everywhere around the Mother School. And that was intentional, to emphasize what she had been taught, again and again. We exist to serve. But Jessica was not that same person anymore. For years, she had been little more than a serving girl to Mohiam; now she was returning as the Duchess of Caladan and the Mother of Muad’Dib, the Emperor of the Known Universe. Much more than a meek acolyte.

As she entered the central plaza, she refused to let herself feel intimidated about the meeting to which she had been summoned. The Bene Gesserit Sisterhood no longer controlled her. Jessica controlled herself, her decisions, and her future.

She walked around the sprawling complex to gather her thoughts before facing the other Reverend Mothers. She paused by a fountain, where a refreshing spray of water misted her face. She dipped a hand in the cool water of the fountain, let the cupped moisture run onto the cobblestones. A waste . . . a luxury. Water was not a precious resource on Wallach IX. Others might see Jessica as a moonstruck girl dawdling at her chores, but she was in no hurry. Though they had commanded her, she had come of her own accord.

Despite the failings of the Bene Gesserit order, this place was a hub of human learning and triumphs, where the greatest thoughts were assembled and transmitted far and wide. Jessica had learned much here, but only later had she learned the most important truth of all—that even the Sisterhood was not always right.

But they were predictable. Neither Reverend Mother Mohiam nor any other Sister had deigned to notice her arrival, but Jessica saw right through that as a ploy to emphasize her lack of importance. How different her reception was from how Muad’Dib and the clamoring populace of Arrakeen would have received her.

Jessica already had deeply conflicting attitudes about Mohiam. The two women had an odd relationship that alternated from hostile to cool, with all too brief moments that approached tenderness. The old woman considered her a disappointment and would always look for ways to make Jessica pay for daring to have a son.

For now, at least, the highest ranking Bene Gesserits wanted to speak with Jessica. She was curious and concerned, but not afraid.

A black-robed woman emerged from the half-timbered stucco and wood administration building and stared at her. It was Mohiam herself, sending a signal of impatience with a rigid stance, a twitch of an elbow, a flicker of the wrist before she turned and went back inside.

Now that Jessica understood them, the Sisterhood’s manipulative mind games were amusing. Let them wait for me . . . for a change. She remained at the fountain for another minute, focusing her thoughts, then made her way up the stairs and pushed open a heavy door. Like other structures in the Mother School complex, it had moss-streaked sienna roof tiles and special windows to concentrate the minimal light from Wallach IX’s distant sun.

She joined other robed Sisters inside the chapter chamber. Their footsteps creaked on the floor planks of the octagonal room as they found spots on elaccawood perimeter benches.

Even the ancient Mother Superior Harishka took a seat like an ordinary acolyte. The Mother Superior remained alert, defying her age, though an attentive Medical Sister sat close to her. Harishka’s dark, almond eyes peered out from beneath her black hood as she leaned forward to speak to a much younger Sister at her other side, whom Jessica recognized as Reverend Mother Genino. Despite her lack of years, Genino had risen quickly to become one of the Mother Superior’s key personal advisers.

When Harishka squared her shoulders and shifted her body to gaze across the chamber at Jessica, the rustling of low conversations ceased. The imposing Mother Superior spoke into the sudden silence. “We’re grateful you have come such a long way to see us, Jessica.”

“You summoned me, Mother Superior.” They thought she’d had no choice. “What is this important matter you must discuss with me?”

The Mother Superior bobbed her head like a crow. “We are concerned about Muad’Dib and his dangerous decisions. We fear those who may be counseling him.”

Jessica frowned. Like any powerful leader, Paul had numerous people who could advise him, some good and others bad. The self-centered Qizarate sought to increase its power and influence, especially the man Korba, but Paul’s other advisers were trustworthy and earnest. Stilgar, Chani, even Irulan. . . .

With a thin, wrinkled arm, Harishka gestured to the Medical Sister at her side, who spoke up. “I am Sister Aver Yohsa. I was one of those who tended Emperor Shaddam’s first wife, the Kwisatz Mother Anirul, after the voices within began to overwhelm her.”

“I’m very aware of Anirul’s story. I was there. What is the relevance now?”

“It is a reminder of the danger of falling prey to the inner voices.” Harishka’s eyes narrowed further. “The temptation to listen to such ancient wisdom is often irresistible.” Several Sisters shifted uneasily in their seats; Genino slipped off one of her sandals and leaned down to rub what appeared to be a sore spot on her foot. “For Reverend Mothers, our ancestors-within trace only through the maternal lines, but your son Paul does not have those limitations. He sees into both his feminine and masculine pasts.”

“He is the Kwisatz Haderach, as the Sisterhood itself has admitted.”

Speaking for the first time, Mohiam cleared her throat. “But he has none of the preparations and precautions that we intended to provide. He is dangerous. We suspect that he is already listening to advice that could destroy the human race. Corrupt ancestors from his pasts. What if Paul-Muad’Dib listens to the greatest dictators in human history?”

Harishka added, “You know all the obvious names. What if he has inner conversations with Genghis Khan, Keeltar the Ubertat, or Adolf Hitler? What if he takes private counsel from Agamemnon, known to be an Atreides ancestor? Or from . . . others?”

Jessica frowned. She smoothed her expression to remove any obvious surprise or concern. Were they subtly reminding her that his grandfather was the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen? “Paul would never do anything so foolish,” she said with insufficient conviction. “Besides, Other Memories cannot be searched at will, like records from a filing cabinet. Every Bene Gesserit knows that. The voices must come of their own volition.”

“Is that true even for the Kwisatz Haderach?” Mohiam asked.

Now Jessica was angry. “Are you suggesting that Paul is possessed by voices within?” She didn’t want to consider that possibility, but the idea had struck home. Paul himself had suggested a similar flaw, lashing out at her just after the Battle of Arrakeen. “How would you like to live billions upon billions of lives? How can you tell what’s ruthless unless you’ve plumbed the depths of both cruelty and kindness?”

The Mother Superior gave an aloof shrug. “We merely suggest that possession is a possibility. It might explain some of his extreme and unorthodox actions.”

Jessica remained firm, just as she had when Shaddam and Fenring pressed her to explain Paul’s behavior during the banquet on Salusa. “My son is strong enough to make his own decisions.”

“But can any person survive the constant pressure of so many internal voices whose goals are entirely different from those of the living? He may be an abomination, just as Mohiam insists his sister is.”

Jessica clenched her hands in her lap, and then surprised the other women by laughing. “And there you have it—the standard Bene Gesserit response to anything you find not to your liking. Abomination!” Now that she had identified their flaw, she found them amusing. “You’re just being petulant because my son has made the Sisterhood irrelevant. With your Missionaria Protectiva and your Manipulator of Religions on Dune, you set in motion the circumstances that created him. You placed a tool in front of him, and now you complain that he used it? He grasped the reins of the myth—your myth—and rode it to power and glory. After the way the Bene Gesserit treated him, do you expect him to respect you at all?”

“Maybe you could make him do so,” Harishka said. “If your role were expanded, you could convince him of our worth.”

Reverend Mother Genino slipped her sandal back on and said abruptly, “We have a proposal for you, Jessica—a proposal for the good of the Sisterhood and all humankind.”

Finally, they are getting to the point, Jessica thought.

“The Sisterhood has decided that we must bring the Emperor down, by any means necessary. And we want you to help us end his reign of terror.”

The cold statement stunned her. “What do you mean, bring him down?”

Mohiam said, “Paul Atreides is a genetic mistake—your mistake, Jessica. He grows more dangerous and unpredictable with each passing moment. It is up to you to rectify your error.”

“He must either be killed or controlled.” Harishka shook her head sadly. “And we very much doubt if he can be controlled.”

Jessica drew in a sharp breath through flared nostrils. “Paul is not a monster. I know him. He has clear reasons for everything he does. He is a good man.”

Harishka slowly shook her head from side to side. “Maybe at one time he was, but how well do you know him now? Do not hide from what you feel in your heart. Tens of billions have died in the past seven years of his Jihad, and the war shows no sign of ending. An incalculable swath of pain and suffering across the galaxy. Look at it, child! You know full well what your son has done—and we can only imagine the additional horrors that lie in store.”

Jessica no longer feared this old woman, was beyond being impressed by her supposed strength and wisdom. “What makes you think I would ever choose the Sisterhood over my son?”

Seeming to change the subject, Harishka rose from the hard elacca-wood bench. “I am old, and I have seen much of life, and of death.” She seemed small and frail. She pressed a hand to her back, as if it pained her greatly. “Here is the Sisterhood’s offer: If you do as we wish, I will step down immediately as Mother Superior and elevate you to the position. You, Jessica, will lead the Bene Gesserit order. With that power, perhaps you can find a way to influence your son and bring him back under the Sisterhood’s control—for the good of humanity.”

The idea startled her. “And why do you believe such an offer would be attractive to me?”

Harishka said, “Because you are a Bene Gesserit. We taught you everything that is important in life.”

“But not of love. You know nothing of love.”

Mohiam spoke in a hard voice. “If Paul-Muad’Dib cannot be tamed, then we have only one alternative.”

Jessica shook her head. “I will not do it.”

But . . . as Mother Superior, Jessica knew she could change the focus of the whole Sisterhood, take them back from the brink, restore an order that had existed for more than ten millennia. She could change their teachings and rectify the mistakes that they had perpetuated. The consequences, the benefits, were immeasurable.

But she would not do it at the cost of betraying her son.

Jessica forced a wave of cold calmness through her body, summoning prana-bindu techniques to slow her breathing. She needed to leave the Mother School, but now she worried about what the Sisters would do to her if she refused them outright.

Harishka swayed on her feet, and Medical Sister Yohsa steadied her. “We realize this is a difficult decision for you, but remember your training. Think about all we taught you, all the things that you know. Do not let your love as a mother blind you to the ruin your son is causing. Make the right choice, or all of our futures are forfeit.” Her dark eyes glittered with intensity.

Jessica clung to her dignity as she left the chamber. “I will give you my answer in due course.”