“Who knows what pain is required before a person can become a Navigator? We did not all become Mentats, nor can we all become Navigators. Greatness requires sacrifice.”

A voice echoed from the chamber of an older, more experienced Navigator — Royce Fayed, who was a special protégé of Norma Cenva.

“They may endure pain,” said Fayed’s burbling voice, “but if they survive, they will know a greater joy than they ever imagined possible.”

“They volunteered for the process,” Draigo pointed out.

“They don’t all volunteer,” remarked Impika.

“No survivor has ever complained,” Draigo said.

Fayed added from his tank speakers, “The greatest gift is to ensure that a person reaches his or her potential … even if they have to be forced to that attainment. I was forced, but I do not regret it for a moment.”

WHEN DIRECTEUR VENPORT arrived home after his unsatisfactory speech in the Landsraad Hall, he summoned his Mentat for a debriefing. Draigo arrived in the admin-towers and found the Directeur scanning a new report he had received from the Denali research facility. His eyes sparkled. “Good news, Mentat! Our researcher Ptolemy wants us to help him transport several new cymeks under the tightest possible security — for a test.”

Draigo was surprised. “Transport cymeks? What kind of demonstration does he have in mind?”

“Something that requires an unusually harsh landscape. He wants us to take his cymeks to Arrakis.”

Draigo nodded. “If you can arrange the transportation of the cymek test subjects from Denali, I will send word to my Mentats at Combined Mercantiles to choose an appropriate place. I would like to attend the test myself.”

Directeur Venport raised his bushy eyebrows. “You are welcome to. I’d like your analysis.”

Draigo remained silent for a moment. “The details will take some weeks to arrange, sir, and I would like to make another brief trip first. I can be back in time.”

Venport looked at him, waiting. “I can tell you have something to ask, Mentat. Speak candidly.”

“I extrapolated from basic data, assessed the political tapestry of conflicts, alliances, and shifting loyalties, then followed my thoughts to their natural conclusion. We have another potential ally against the Butlerians.”

“Which is?”

“Back at the Mentat school, Headmaster Albans pretends to support the Butlerian movement in order to protect his trainees, but I refuse to believe that the teachings he espouses come from his heart. I know him. I’ve debated him numerous times. After the bloody rampage festival in Zimia, he will not support the mobs. His cooperation with Manford Torondo has always been reluctant.”

Directeur Venport was not pleased with the idea, having felt the brunt of the Mentat Headmaster’s tactical skills. “I don’t trust him. Without Gilbertus Albans, the Half-Manford never would have conquered the Thonaris shipyards.” He shook his head. “But I respect your projections, Mentat, and I am inclined to indulge you. What do you propose to do?”

Draigo remained standing, his back straight. “While we prepare the cymek test on Arrakis, I would like to go back to the Mentat School in secret. I think I can make the Headmaster see his folly.” He turned his eyes toward the Directeur. “I intend to recruit him to our side.”

During her months on Wallach IX, Tula threw herself into Sisterhood training with impressive dedication. She seemed obsessed with learning the rigorous techniques as swiftly as possible. Valya had already introduced her to the basic methods on Lankiveil, but now Tula was eager — even desperate — to become as talented as her sister.

Valya was pleased to see the difference in her younger sibling. Tula’s former shyness was replaced with new confidence; she never mentioned being homesick for Lankiveil, never talked about their parents or brother, even though Valya knew the younger girl was close to Danvis, as she herself had been to Griffin. She couldn’t help but smile; her sister’s savage determination was a good sign. Tula was nearly ready. Valya kept watching.

In private, the Harkonnen sisters discussed plans against the Atreides — a goal they shared even beyond their dedication to the Sisterhood. Valya, who had already shed blood to protect the Sisterhood, primed Tula to avenge their family’s shame through bloodshed.

Her sister was no shy and trembling flower. Valya had trained with her in mock combat, and knew that Tula was coming close to beating her. No one had done that since Valya’s sparring matches with Griffin.

The young blonde had a certain allure about her, an innocence and feigned vulnerability that made her attractive to young men. Valya had been helping her develop that sexual magnetism, counseling her to use her assets wisely. Tula needed to maximize her charms in preparation for meeting the unsuspecting young Atreides on far-off Caladan.…

She knew exactly when her sister was ready. Valya hugged her in a rare display of emotion, and both knew it was time for the next step.

They entered the Mother Superior’s office, and Valya stood with pride next to her younger sister, lending silent support, while Tula bowed before the ancient woman. Keeping her tone meek, Tula said, “Mother Superior, I thank you for the training you granted me. I learned much about the Sisterhood and about myself, but for the time being, I must leave the Sisterhood with great regret.” The hitch in her voice was carefully orchestrated, and convincing. “There are personal matters that demand my attention.”

The ancient woman looked carefully at Tula as if taking the girl’s measure. “You are an excellent student — as Valya promised you would be. I don’t understand why you would leave us.”

“Our family on Lankiveil faces difficult times, and House Bushnell is attempting to seize our holdings. Now I see that my decision to leave was impulsive—”

“As mine was,” Valya said, “when Sister Arlett recruited me for the Sisterhood. But our family situation was much different then.”

Raquella raised her eyebrows. “And?”

Tula lowered her eyes and answered with only the literal truth. “Because my obligations to House Harkonnen outweigh the demands that the Sisterhood would place on me, I must meet those obligations before I commit myself entirely to the Sisterhood. I have my parents and my remaining brother to consider. They have already lost Griffin, and Valya.”

With her heightened perceptions, Valya noticed a glimmer of disbelief in Raquella’s watery eyes, as she detected the falsehood of omission. But the Mother Superior finally nodded. “Very well. If you were to stay and become Sister Tula, you would no longer be Tula of House Harkonnen, so a choice would be required. I’m glad you realized that about yourself before further complications arose. We will miss you — you have great potential.”

Tula seemed to notice the same hint of skepticism. “Perhaps someday I’ll come back, after I’ve accomplished what I need to do.”

“Of course,” Raquella said. “But I suspect that will be a decision of the next Mother Superior.” She glanced at Valya, and Valya’s heart skipped a beat. She looked so old! Has she chosen me?

The rheumy eyes focused on Tula. “Should you decide to return, make certain you are willing to commit wholeheartedly first. Reflect on all you have learned among us.”