From an interior balcony overlooking the waiting Acolytes, twelve-year-old Jessica watched the concubine-selection process with intent eyes and sharp curiosity. Standing beside the girl, Reverend Mother Mohiam had instructed her to observe, so Jessica drank in every detail with practiced Bene Gesserit scrutiny.

What does the teacher want me to see?

On the polished hardwood floor, Mother Superior stood talking with the young nobleman and his newly selected concubine, Tessia al-Reill. Jessica had not predicted that choice; several of the other Acolytes were more beautiful, more shapely, more glamorous . . . but Jessica did not know the Prince or his personality, was not familiar with his tastes.

Did beauty intimidate him, an indication of low selfesteem? Perchance the Acolyte Tessia reminded him of someone else he had known? Or maybe he was simply attracted to her for some difficult-to-define reason . . . her smile, her eyes, her laugh.

“Never try to understand love,” Mohiam cautioned in a directed-whisper, sensing the girl’s thoughts. “Simply work to understand its effects in lesser people.”

Below, one of the other Reverend Mothers brought a document on a writing board and handed it to the Prince for his signature. His companion, a black-haired, hawk-featured nobleman, peered over his shoulder to review the fine print. Jessica could not make out their spoken words, but she was familiar with the ancient Ritual of Duty.

The dark-haired Duke reached forward to fix his companion’s collar. She found the gesture oddly endearing, and she smiled.

“Will I be presented to a nobleman one day, Reverend Mother?” she whispered. No one had ever explained what Jessica’s purpose in the Bene Gesserit might be, and it was a constant source of curiosity to her— one that often irritated Mohiam.

The Reverend Mother formed a scowl on her plain, aging face, as Jessica had suspected she would. “When the time is right, you will know, child. Wisdom is understanding when to ask questions.”

Jessica had heard this admonition before. “Yes, Reverend Mother. Impatience is a weakness.”

The Bene Gesserit had many such sayings, all of which Jessica had committed to memory. She sighed in exasperation, then controlled the reaction, hoping her teacher had not seen. The Sisterhood obviously had some plan for her— why wouldn’t they reveal her future? Most other Acolytes had some idea of their predetermined paths, but Jessica saw only a blank wall ahead of her, with no writing on it.

I am being groomed for something. Prepared for an important assignment. Why had her teacher brought her to this balcony, at this precise moment? There was no accident in this, no coincidence; the Bene Gesserit planned everything, thought everything through with utmost care.

“There is hope for you yet, child,” Mohiam murmured. “I instructed you to observe— but you are intent on the wrong person. Not the man with Tessia. Watch the other one, watch them both, watch how they interact with each other. Tell me what you see.”

From her high vantage, Jessica studied the men. She breathed deeply, let her muscles relax. Her thoughts, like minerals suspended in a glass of water, clarified.

“Both men are nobles, but not blood kin, judging from differences in their dress, mannerisms, and expressions.” She did not take her eyes from them. “They have been close friends for many years. They depend on one another. The black-haired one is concerned for his friend’s welfare.”

“And?” Jessica heard excitement and anticipation in her teacher’s voice, though she could not imagine why. The Reverend Mother’s eyes were riveted on the second nobleman.

“I can tell by his bearing and interaction that the dark-haired one is a leader and takes his responsibilities seriously. He has power, but does not wallow in it. He is probably a better ruler than he gives himself credit for.” She watched his movement, the flush of his skin, the way he looked at the other Acolytes and then forced himself to turn away. “He is also lonely.”

“Excellent.” Mohiam beamed down at her pupil, but her eyes narrowed. “That man is Duke Leto Atreides— and you are destined for him, Jessica. One day you will be the mother of his children.”

Though Jessica knew she should take this news impassively, as a duty she must perform for the Sisterhood, she suddenly found a need to calm her hammering heart.

At that moment Duke Leto glanced up at Jessica, as if sensing her presence in the balcony shadows— and their gazes met. She saw a fire in his gray eyes, a strength and wisdom beyond his years, the result of bearing difficult burdens. She felt herself drawn to him.

But she resisted. Instincts . . . automatic reactions, responses . . . I am not an animal. She rejected other emotions, as Mohiam had taught her for years.

Jessica’s previous questions vanished, and for the moment she formed no new ones. A deep, calming breath brought her to a state of serenity. For whatever reasons, she liked the look of this Duke . . . but her duty was to the Sisterhood. She would wait to learn what lay in store for her, and she would do whatever was necessary.

Impatience is a weakness.

Inwardly, Mohiam smiled. Knowing the genetic threads she’d been ordered to weave, the Reverend Mother had staged this brief but distant encounter between Jessica and Duke Atreides. Jessica was the culmination of many generations of careful breeding to create the Kwisatz Haderach.

The mistress of the program, Kwisatz Mother Anirul, wife of Emperor Shaddam, claimed that the highest likelihood of success would occur if a Harkonnen daughter of the current generation produced an Atreides daughter. Jessica’s secret father was Baron Harkonnen . . . and when she was ready she would be joined with Duke Leto Atreides.

Mohiam found it supremely ironic that these mortal enemies— House Harkonnen and House Atreides— were destined to form such an incredibly important union, one that neither House would ever suspect . . . or condone.

She could hardly restrain her excitement at the prospect: Thanks to Jessica, the Sisterhood was only two generations away from its ultimate goal.