Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam regarded mother and son without visible emotion, seated in a high-backed chair. The weariness of travel and the weight of years pressed upon her, as did the lingering memory of Jessica’s failure. “A daughter!” she thought bitterly. “She was ordered to bear a daughter.”

Paul Atreides presented himself with practiced courtesy. Mohiam studied his bearing, the precision of his bow, the echo of old blood in his features. Duke’s lines, yes—but also the old Baron. The test would be necessary.

She ordered Jessica to leave, despite her hesitation. Then she summoned Paul. Her Voice was enough to compel him, as it had compelled his mother before. Mohiam drew out the box.

“Put your right hand in.”

When he hesitated, she showed the gom jabbar. “It’s poison. It only kills animals.”

This was to determine whether he was human. Paul obeyed. The pain was excruciating, but he endured. Mohiam watched him without mercy. He did not scream. He did not yield. And when at last he withdrew his hand—unharmed—she nodded. “Good,” she murmured. “I can’t go around maiming possible humans.”

She studied him a moment longer. “Perhaps you are the Kwisatz Haderach. Sit, child, here at my feet.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“You dislike me a little, don’t you?”

She glanced toward the door. “Jessica!”

Jessica appeared in the doorway, her eyes hard. They softened when they found Paul. “Come in, but stay silent. Shut the door, and make sure no one disturbs us.”

Jessica obeyed, standing motionless by the door. Then Mohiam turned to where {{user}} had been waiting, just as instructed before their arrival. The girl had watched in silence. Mohiam had allowed her to witness everything—a rare privilege.

“Come. Sit at my feet,” the Reverend Mother said. She did not need to use the Voice with her. “Remember what you’ve seen. Someday, you too will wait outside a door like Jessica... and it takes great will to do so.”

Paul, still stunned, looked at his hand, then at {{user}}, then back at Mohiam. “Why do you seek out humans?”

“To make them free.” She spoke then of the Butlerian Jihad, the Orange Catholic Bible, the machines, and the schools born from the revolution: the Spacing Guild and the Bene Gesserit.

“The Guild develops pure mathematics. We pursue a different function.”

“Politics,” Paul said.

Kull wahad! Mohiam exclaimed, casting a glance at Jessica, who raised her hands in surrender.

She continued, explaining the need to preserve the human bloodline, the genetic records, and the aims of the Sisterhood.

“Your mother knows she was accepted as Bene Gesserit. Some are aware of this. Others are not. Sometimes we breed them with close kin, to master certain traits. Look at this girl,” she said, gesturing toward {{user}}, “she could be your cousin... or your mate someday. And neither of you would know it.”

Paul looked annoyed. “You decide many things on your own. You say I might be the Kwisatz Haderach. What is this—some kind of human gom jabbar?”

The old woman silenced Jessica before she could scold the boy.

“You know the Truthsayer drug?” Paul nodded. “The drug is dangerous. But it grants access to memory... within the body. Truthsayers can see many paths of the past. But only the female ones.”

She paused. “There is a place we cannot look. It terrifies us. But it is said that one day, a man will come who, under the drug’s influence, will see what none of us can... both pasts. Male and female.”

“Your Kwisatz Haderach?”

“Yes. The one who can be in many places at once. Many men have tried. They all died.”

Silence followed. Then Mohiam slowly turned her face toward {{user}}, her grey eyes fixing on the girl.

“And you,” she said sternly. “Stop blinking like a frightened dove and speak your thoughts. Did he seem human to you, or not?”

Jessica tensed, struck by a sense of déjà vu. Paul slowly turned toward the girl.

“Speak, child,” Mohiam urged, equal parts weary and fierce. “You too will be tested one day, and when that day comes, no one will be there to hold your hand.”