Mentats of Dune

Chapter 8 (While animals camouflage themselves)

Dorotea both admired and feared the Grand Inquisitor, and she did not like to admit that they had much in common. Each possessed an exceptional skill in separating truth from falsehood, “sorting the wheat from the chaff,” as Quemada liked to say. But their methods differed radically. The Reverend Mother discerned veracity through close observation, while the adept torturer employed the tactics of pain he had been taught in the Suk School’s Scalpel Academy.

Quemada stood near her now on the grass outside the palace, and his very presence seemed to suck warmth out of the air. The tall, black-haired man had a strange charisma, a predatory appeal. He watched Dorotea with a gaze as sharp as a hawk’s talons as she led her orthodox Sisters through a training session in Truthsaying. She wondered if Salvador had sent him to keep an eye on them.

By ordering the massacre on Rossak, the Emperor had tried to wipe out the Sisterhood school without regard to which women were loyal and which secretly supported the use of forbidden computers. He didn’t have the patience to sort wheat from chaff, but Dorotea had convinced him of her own usefulness. The survival of her followers — and the core of the Sisterhood itself — required that she not fail. Through their Truthsaying skill, Dorotea and her companions were beginning to prove their worth, but she had to be careful at all times.

And now the Grand Inquisitor was watching.

On some far-flung world, the defeated Mother Superior Raquella was trying to draw together her scattered Sisters, a sad, pathetic effort. Even the Emperor had lost interest in them.

Dorotea, though, had a hundred Sisters with her now, and her truthsense would help her select new candidates. When she found a protégée with the proper skills, she would supervise her training, then give her the opportunity to consume the Rossak drug when she was ready; if the candidate survived, she would become a Reverend Mother. Dorotea was building a new, strong Sisterhood, like a vibrant tree rising from the roots of an old stump.

First, though, she needed to secure the absolute trust of the Emperor.

For today’s training session, Dorotea had brought eight Sisters who were taught to use their internal skills of observation to discern truth from lies. Sister Esther-Cano led the women through the paces. As one of the last surviving pureblood Sorceresses born on Rossak, she had exceptional lie-detection skills.

Esther-Cano had searched the Imperial prisons and identified six of the most notorious liars on Salusa Secundus — embezzlers, frauds, scam artists. A team of guards had removed them from their confinement, dressed them in business attire or casual clothing, and mixed them into a group of ordinary citizen volunteers. All of them had been given instructions, while the cautious guards watched. The twelve subjects sat on chairs on the lawn, recounting their purported life stories. Some were telling the truth, and some were lying.

“I grew up in the slums of south Zimia, so I began life with a setback,” said a slender, middle-aged woman. Dorotea raised her eyebrows, sure that Emperor Salvador would never admit slums existed anywhere in the capital city. “Stealing was the only way I could survive. I took things from my parents, from my teachers, and from local merchants.” She paused, shuddered, and continued. “Only when I found the truth written in the Orange Catholic Bible did I understand that I needed to save other people, rather than take advantage of them.” Her eyes brimmed with tears as she continued to relate her tale. “I shared the word, preached to anyone who would listen.”

When the woman finished recounting her story, Esther-Cano selected one of her students to comment. Sister Avemar was young and pretty, with dark curly hair and attentive brown eyes. “I don’t trust what she’s saying. Her story is fiction.” She ticked off telltale indicators: perspiration on the brow and lip, a slight trembling of the hands, a change in the tenor of the voice that indicated falsehood, posture, direction of gaze, even the selection of evasive words.

Dorotea smiled, for she had come to the same conclusion.

“Now close your eyes and look inward,” Esther-Cano said to Avemar, while the liar squirmed on her chair, forced to remain silent during the discussion. “Take a moment, and tell me more about this subject.”

Avemar meditated, breathing shallowly, and when she finally opened her eyes, they shone with a new brightness. “Everything this woman said was true, but it was also a lie — a lie by way of concealment. She did engage in many illegal activities as a young woman, she did use religion to turn her life around, she did take up the cause of preaching from the Orange Catholic Bible. But she used her fervor to advance her own cause. She took money from her faithful listeners under false pretenses.”

The woman on the chair flushed, squirmed, and finally nodded. Avemar pointed out, “The tears pouring down her cheeks are real.”

“Very good,” Esther-Cano said. “Concealment can be as great a lie as an overt falsehood.”

Next, an elderly man in another chair said in an accented voice, “My life history is not interesting at all. After serving in the armed forces of Emperor Jules, I attended the Zimia college to study accounting. After graduating, I worked for an export company on Ecaz for years, then took a similar position on Hagal. My wife and I accumulated a nest egg by honest means, then retired here on Salusa.”

Esther-Cano indicated for another man to tell his story, so the students had two to consider at the same time. The next speaker was a technician who maintained the Emperor’s lion-drawn royal carriages. He tried to elicit a chuckle as he recounted the time a male lion tried to mount a female lion in heat while both of them were in harness; they overturned the whole carriage with two footmen inside.

After Reverend Mothers critiqued the stories, the other test subjects told their tales until all twelve had spoken. Dorotea watched, easily drawing the correct conclusions. Every one of the subjects told falsehoods or exaggerated to some degree; it didn’t matter whether they were criminals or ordinary citizens. She was also pleased to see that the other Sisters were gradually learning to utilize their instincts and subconscious thoughts to ascertain information.

“It is all about observation,” Esther-Cano said to them. “Using the human senses available to you.”

Quemada was silent beside Dorotea. His handsome, even kindly features concealed his efficient cruelty — his own form of a lie. None of the Grand Inquisitor’s subjects would ever consider him a gentle person, no matter his appearance. When the twelve subjects finished their tales, Dorotea turned to him. “And what is your assessment?” She met his seemingly unthreatening gaze.

“I think your students need considerably more practice.”

“That is why they are called students.”

He gave a thin smile. “My methods are superior. The Suk School has seen to that.”

“Your methods are different, and forthright. I don’t deny their effectiveness, but ours are less obtrusive. And we do not kill subjects before they reveal everything they know. I was able to detect Blanton Davido’s deception the moment he presented himself to Emperor Salvador.”

Quemada remained skeptical. “Anyone can make accusations. I obtained a confession.”

“After I identified the crime.” She stared at him for a long moment. “There are different ways of arriving at the truth — where one method may fail, another might succeed. You and I are not in competition. We both serve the Imperium. As the Emperor succeeds, so do we.” She regarded the twelve subjects, thought of all the deception and lies that came into the Imperial court with each session. “In fact, Quemada, I may well increase your workload by acting as a screener, and sending more people your way.”

The Grand Inquisitor gave a small nod. “Emperor Salvador will be pleased to know that the lies will be exposed, by whatever method.”