Heretics of Dune
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"Of course."
"There are always means of transferring large sums or selling power," she said. "I do not speak of the power that runs factories but of the power that runs people."
"And that usually passes under the strange names of government or society or civilization," Teg said.
"I suspected you would be very intelligent," she said. She pulled out a chair and sat but did not indicate that Teg should seat himself. "I think of myself as a banker. That saves a lot of muddy and distressful circumlocutions."
Teg did not respond. There seemed no need. He continued to study her.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she demanded.
"I did not expect you to be this old," he said.
"Heh, heh, heh. We have many surprises for you, Bashar. Later, a younger Honored Matre may murmur her name to mark you. Praise Dur if that happens."
He nodded, not understanding much of what she said.
"This is also a very old building," she said. "I watched you when you came in. Does that surprise you, too?"
"No."
"This building has remained essentially unchanged for several thousand years. It is built of materials that will last much longer still."
He glanced at the table.
"Oh, not the wood. But underneath, it's polastine, polaz, and pormabat. The three P-Os are never sneered at where necessity calls for them."
Teg remained silent.
"Necessity," she said. "Do you object to any of the necessary things that have been done to you?"
"My objections don't matter," he said. What was she getting at? Studying him, of course. As he studied her.
"Do you think others have ever objected to what you did to them?"
"Undoubtedly."
"You're a natural commander, Bashar. I think you'll be very valuable to us."
"I've always thought I was most valuable to myself."
"Bashar! Look at my eyes!"
He obeyed, seeing little flecks of orange drifting in across the whites. The sense of peril was acute.
"If you ever see my eyes fully orange, beware!" she said. "You will have offended me beyond my ability to tolerate."
He nodded.
"I like it that you can command but you cannot command me! You command the muck and that is the only function we have for such as you."
"The muck?"
She waved a hand, a negligent motion. "Out there. You know them. Their curiosity is narrow gauge. No great issues ever enter their awareness."
"I thought that was what you meant."
"We work to keep it that way," she said. "Everything goes to them through a tight filter, which excludes all but that which has immediate survival value."
"No great issues," he said.
"You are offended but it doesn't matter," she said. "To those out there, a great issue is: 'Will I eat today?' 'Do I have shelter tonight that will not be invaded by attackers or vermin?' Luxury? Luxury is the possession of a drug or a member of the opposite sex who can, for a time, keep the beast at bay."
And you are the beast, he thought.
"I am taking some time with you, Bashar, because I see that you could be more valuable to us even than Muzzafar. And he is extremely valuable indeed. Even now, we are repaying him for bringing you to us in a receptive condition."
When Teg still remained silent, she chuckled. "You do not think you are receptive?"
Teg held himself quiet. Had they given him some drug in his food? He saw the flickering of doubled vision but the movements of violence had receded as the orange flecks left the Honored Matre's eyes. Her feet were to be avoided, though. They were deadly weapons.
"It's just that you think of the muck in the wrong way," she said. "Luckily, they are most self-limiting. They know this somewhere in the damps of their deepest consciousness but cannot spare the time to deal with that or anything else except the immediate scramble for survival."
"They cannot be improved?" he asked.
"They must not be improved! Oh, we see to it that self-improvement remains a great fad among them. Nothing real about it, of course."
"Another luxury they must be denied," he said.
"Not a luxury! Nonexistent! It must be occluded at all times behind a barrier that we like to call protective ignorance."
"What you don't know cannot hurt you."
"I don't like your tone, Bashar."
Again, the orange flecks danced in her eyes. The sense of violence diminished, however, as she once more chuckled. "The thing you beware of is the opposite of what-you-don't-know. We teach that new knowledge can be dangerous. You see the obvious extension: All new knowledge is non-survival!"
The door behind the Honored Matre opened and Muzzafar returned. It was a changed Muzzafar, his face flushed, his eyes bright. He stopped behind the Honored Matre's chair.
"One day, I will be able to permit you behind me this way," she said. "It is in my power to do this."
What had they done to Muzzafar? Teg wondered. The man looked almost drugged.
"You do see that I have power?" she asked.
He cleared his throat. "That's obvious."