Pulse of the Imperium

As they were leaving the secluded garden behind while heading to a different lift, Xanthe stayed silent until they had built some distance. Then she spoke, with a tone of uncertainty, as if having trouble forming the question.

"...Could I ask you for not becoming offended by a hypocritical question, Emcas?"

Emcas had been vigilant when they exited the gardens. Too many place to hide and listen, he reckoned. Then came the lift and a question

''You can ask, Lady Xanthe. However whatever I take offense or not will not be known until the question itself is asked'' came as his honest reply

She stopped at that and looked at him, a bit ferally.

"I'll risk it. How does one best cope with keeping both humility and self-esteem when directed with little regard for their own agency?"

He withheld his mistress's gaze

''Remember who you are and focus on the moment'' he quirked an eyebrow risking a question ''Does her ladyship wants to talk about the meeting?''

She sighed, stopping her lip from quivering.

"You would know by now that I am a much better fit for the kind of responsibilities my father has been sharing with me than for my mother's Bene Gesserit agendas. It is hard for me not to reel against any of the Sisterhood's assertions that I am somehow 'theirs'. As if my father, this planet and its daily problems, all that I care about, didn't matter beyond their plans."

He gave a stern nod, understanding the predicament

''I understand not being one for schemes and plots...but someone of your ladyship's station cannot escape those games, I am afraid.''

"That much is true, and I have learnt to walk this tightrope to some extent. But a Reverend Mother is coming."

She turned her face to the wall.

"I suppose Reverend Mothers are important and honoured in your culture and religion, not exactly how I would see them."

''They are but that is not the present concern'' he crossed his arms ''Is the coming of one here the thing that riles your ladyship? Or the reason she is coming in the first place?''

"With them, it's hard to say what's the reason and what's the excuse." She sighed. "I'd rather not be the reason... I wish the Archon had children of her own."

"Is it a succession problem?" He frowned and shook his head as his banishing the thought

"No matter what is the cause, it will be happening regardless of the time we spend worrying about it. All that is to be done is get the dancing shoes polished"

"What the Bene Gesserit truly live for is politics, Emcas." She turned back, twisting her lips in a practised manner that didn't accentuate her obscured deformity. "So that's the dance. If I had to guess, Pankratos might be their trigger, but it doesn't mean it won't lead all the way back to me as their preferred solution."

Emcas had been standing firm, immovable

"Forgive my forthrightness lady Xanthe...but I am amiss as to what you are suggesting. Might you elaborate?"

"If Pankratos is a trap we all might be walking into..." She paused. "The Bene Gesserit have designs for all the houses of the Landsraad they don't like seeing frustrated."

This all went above Emcas's head ''And house Ptolemaios is...frustrated?''

He did not know what might be planned but at least he could be the wall Lady Xanthe could bounce ideas off

''Pankratos is a trap?''

"I don't know who he really is, other than being a demigod of athletic spectacle. Today in Dikasterion he stood just behind the Archon's throne, right next to my father. Many can't fathom why my aunt is giving him so much latitude. It is certainly on my mind."

Xanthe was careful not to overshare, but she seemed intent on letting Emcas develop his own thoughts on the matter.

''There are rumors that they are lovers though I never cared enough to inquire further.'' he seemed quite uncomfortable thinking about all of this scheming ''Is there a worry he might give your aunt an heir?''

"If she had an heir that would actually make my life easier, free from demeaning expectations. That is not the exact point, however. Do you know, Emcas, what is a ghola?"

''I do not, my apologies lady Xanthe'' he bowed his head

"Ghola is not born, but recreated from the cells of a dead person. Those creations often restore some abilities of their former selves but not memories. Only people called the Tleilaxu can make them and their intentions are rarely good. For some reason the Tleilaxu do not restore the eyes and fit gholas with those metallic replacements. There can be other reasons why people choose to have Tleilaxu eyes though."

Xanthe could not fully hide some sense of dread lingering in her eyes.

"Pankratos may be a ghola but my aunt resolutely refuses any discussions on the subject."

Emcas froze for a second, the idea of a clone battling his conception of the natural order

''I find this possibility to be troubling, my lady, as much as I find the concept of a ghola repugnant.'' his jaws clenched ''However...who would he be a ghola of?''