Exile is among the cruelest of acts, for it separates the heart from the body.

—SHADDAM CORRINO IV

Though she would have preferred to be away from the insistent eyes of the Sisters, Mohiam wanted Jessica to stay long enough to attend the Night Vigil two evenings hence. And Jessica knew the Bene Gesserits would continue to pressure her.

She was determined to keep her faith in her son, but she would have been stronger in that resolve if she didn’t have some of the same doubts that others had voiced. Jessica wished she understood him better. Her intellect could achieve superiority over her emotions, but only if she had reasons. She scorned people who exhibited glaze-eyed faith, but now she exhibited the same behavior as the fanatics who blinded themselves to reason and accepted the myth that Muad’Dib was infallible. If she refused to consider that he might be wrong, might be misled by his own delusions, how was her devotion to him any different?

Because he is Paul, she thought to herself. She realized how foolish she had been, how blind to reality. Because he is Paul.

Jessica kept to her own thoughts and avoided socializing with the other Sisters. The cold days on the Bene Gesserit home world carried a whisper of snow that blew but did not settle. Bundled in a thick coat, she followed a path through the lower gardens of rare orchids, star roses, and rugged but exotic vegetable flora from Grand Hain, all of which flourished in the cool climate. Despite the chill in the air, the blossoms unfolded in the weak morning sunlight.

Hearing sudden screeching sounds, she ducked as a flock of songbirds flew low to the ground, streaked past her, and dropped into a thicket of shrubbery. Before she could see what had disturbed them, a rush of powerful winds whipped her hair and clothing, seeming to come from all around her.

A number of tall, thin wind funnels twice her height whirled toward her from a shaded area, brightening as if they collected available sunlight and used it for energy. Jessica spotted more of the whirling objects coming toward her. Dust devils? Contained whirlwinds? Some kind of bizarre attack, treachery from the Sisters?

She threw herself prone in the path, wary but curious, and the whirling funnels circled her, their progress stalled. The small tornadoes were stunning to behold, with hypnotic rainbows of morphing color, like crystalline life-forms. Additional funnels circled and danced over a nearby conservatory building, the only shelter in sight, knocking loose some of the plaz panels.

Lurching to her feet and keeping her head low, Jessica ran toward the building, darting through the dark spaces between the funnels. As she went through, the winds clawed at her, trying to drag her one direction or another, but she struggled to the conservatory. Just as she ducked into the doorway, a loose plaz panel shot past her and shattered against the hard wall.

Inside the building, she looked up through gaps in the ceiling where roof panels were broken or missing. The predatory whirlwinds kept circling until a loud, percussive noise sounded, and the funnels abruptly disappeared. Blue sky appeared overhead, leaving the garden grounds strewn with broken plants and debris.

“Quite a show,” said a female voice. “Residual psychic energy. It’s been doing that around here recently.”

Jessica saw a brown-haired woman with creased skin and sepia eyes, weary eyes . . . a familiar face from long ago. She caught her breath, so surprised that it took her a moment to recognize the woman. “Tessia? Tessia!”

Rhombur’s wife had aged perceptibly, as if she had barely emerged alive from a personal crucible. She came forward to take Jessica’s hands in her own. Tessia was shaking, either from fear or from exhaustion. “No need hide your surprise. I know what’s happened to me.”

“Are you all right? We sent so many inquiries, but no one would say what had happened to you. The Sisterhood turned down my requests for information. How long have you been . . . awake? And after what happened to poor Rhombur, Bronso broke off all contact with House Atreides for the past twelve years.” She wondered if Tessia even knew how the cyborg prince had been killed in Balut’s Theater of Shards.

And what did she mean by residual psychic energy? Had the Sisters been tampering and testing, developing new skills? A weapon? And would that weapon be used against Paul? Jessica didn’t trust them.

Before she could ask, two Bene Gesserit proctors rushed along the walkway in the aftermath of the bizarre windstorm. Seeing them, Tessia drew Jessica farther into the dimly lit conservatory. “This is my velvet-lined prison. I have recovered, but not entirely in the way the Sisters expected. I’m the only person ever to emerge from the hell of a guilt-casting.” She glanced around uneasily.

Only a few rumors had leaked out about the Bene Gesserit guilt-casters, and most people did not believe in their existence. “We thought the Ixian technocrats had used some sort of weapon on your mind.” Now Jessica understood what had happened to Rhombur’s wife on that night in the Grand Palais. If not for the consequences of the guilt-casting, Bronso would never have had a falling out with his father, would never have fled with Paul, and on and on, ripples upon ripples. Hard resentment seeped into Jessica’s words. “Rhombur sent you here in hopes you could be saved.”

Tessia shook her head. “It was Reverend Mother Stokiah—a weapon from their psychic arsenal. My own Sisterhood crushed me and took me from my husband . . . and now he is dead.” Her voice hitched, and Jessica heard the wind suddenly pick up outside.

“What did they want that was so important? What was worth such a tremendous cost?”

“A little thing, actually. They wanted me to be a breeding mother, but I defied their commands, and so they punished me. It did me no good to resist. They needed only my body, only my womb. Not my mind. Even while I was unconscious, they impregnated me. My body gave them the children they wanted.” Her voice held heavy bitterness. “ ‘I am Bene Gesserit: I exist only to serve.’ At least Rhombur didn’t live long enough to find out about it. He never knew. Oh, how I miss him.”

Jessica could not conceal her revulsion. What the Sisterhood had done to this woman, her friend! And now those same women were trying to convince Jessica to destroy Paul? These same women wanted to make her their Mother Superior? If she accepted their offer, she could put an end to breeding abuses . . . but to accept their terms would make Jessica a monster.

Tessia continued in a dreamy voice, as if her mind were far away. “It took years. I saved myself . . . I found my own way out of the darkness where their guilt-caster threw me.”

Jessica’s stomach knotted. “Does Bronso know where you are now? Can he help?”

“I’ve managed to smuggle out several messages. He knows what has happened to me, but what can he do? He is barely a figurehead on Ix these days. He has no real power and could never stand against the Sisterhood. He is as trapped as I am.” She shook her head. “It’s the fall of House Vernius.”

Jessica hugged the other woman, held her close for a long time. “I wish I could get you out of here, but that is not in my power.”

However, if she were Mother Superior, she could do so. . . .

Tessia smiled mysteriously. “Someday, I will find a way. I have already escaped from the mental prison they imposed on me, and oh, they would love to know how I did it. Now they test their techniques on me, alternately showing me compassion and then pummeling me with guilt. Even their guilt-casters don’t understand.”

“They continue to experiment on you?”

“Medical Sister Yohsa constantly tries to deconstruct my mind and build it back up the way the Sisterhood wants it, not the way I want it. But I know ways to deflect their attempts. Those mental defenses are mine, and I won’t surrender them—not after what they did to me.”

Tessia looked from side to side. By the whisper-rush of wind in the courtyard, Jessica heard what must have been another small, strange tornado, and the sharp cries of Bene Gesserits scattering in alarm. Apparently, the residual psychic energy was not completely under control.

Leaning close, Tessia whispered. “What do they want from you, Jessica? And will you give it to them? If not, you could be a target yourself. Have you defied them? You will—I know you. Then the guilt-casters will come for you.” Tessia’s voice came out in a desperate flood as she clutched Jessica’s shoulders. “Listen to me! You must block your thoughts and prepare yourself ahead of time. Build up a bastion of powerful memories, a shield of good things. Have it ready at the forefront of your mind. Use it to guard yourself. They will not suspect you can stand against them, even for a moment. Guilt-casting is a psychic storm, but it can be weathered.”

Jessica knew she might need the information. “Teach me how—please.”

Tessia touched her own forehead, closed her eyes, and released a long sigh. “Let me show you what you need to know.”