The grinding sounds that emerged from Chani's stillsuit as she walked were beginning to concern her. She knew she must have it examined and repaired as soon as possible. Proper maintenance of a stillsuit was crucial for survival in the desert, second only to effective sandwalking. She hoped someone could assist her in Sietch Rifana, which she could already spot in the distance.
She also needed to replenish her supplies of food and water soon. Her fremkit was growing light, even after careful rationing. Her stomach rumbled in discontent at the thought. She hastened her stride, ignoring the burning muscles along her calves and back. The distance between Sietch Makab and Sietch Rifana was only five days by foot. However, a coriolis storm had forced her to lay low in her stilltent for two days.
Sietch Rifana, like many of the sietches, was hidden within a large rock formation. The beige and tawny mesa stretched far above her head, casting a much-appreciated shadow. Chani made her way to the hidden entrance, following the instructions that had been given to her in Sietch Makab. Approach the mesa directly from the west. Move south until you spot a formation of lime stone at the stop of the escarpment that resembles the new moon. Then approach the mesa slightly to the north of it, and you'll find the hidden opening.
She was searching for the opening when the voices called.
"Halt!"
A few figures emerged, wearing stillsuits, their faces covered. Guards of the sietch. The lookout had seen her approach and had alerted the others. Chani removed her own litham—the scarf wrapped around the head—and opened her stillsuit mask, allowing them to have a good look at her face.
"Peace be upon you, my brothers," she said.
"Who are you?" demanded one of them roughly.
"Chani, daughter of Liet, of Sietch Hagga." Many knew her mother's name, but many others did not.
"Show us your crysknife."
Chani raised her chin. This was always the part where things became difficult. "I've been dedicated to serving the Ancient One since I was a child. I don't carry weapons."
"The Old Geezer, eh?" said one of the guards. The others chuckled.
Chani made no reply, keeping her face as blank as she could.
"I'm sorry. We can't let you enter when you have no crysknife and no one to vouch for you. Besides, we have a Reverend Mother here and a Sayyadina. We don't need any trouble."
Chani sighed. She never enjoyed forcing their hand, but often, like in this case, they left her no other choice.
"Farouk," she addressed the foremost of the guards. "You lost a paracompass two days ago, the one with the scratch that you got from your cousin as a child. You think your nephew might've snitched it, but he hasn't. You'll find it in the north-west corner of your yali, hidden among the pile of clothes your wife intends to mend."
"How—?" said Farouk, looking utterly stunned.
"Djinn," muttered another.
Chani turned to look at him. "You must stop coveting your friend's wife, Shamir. Lemila won't love you if you murder her husband."
The man gripped his cysknife. Then, his nerves apparently deserting him, he collapsed to his knees. The other men followed suit.
"Forgive us, lady," said Farouk. "We'll get you food and anything else you need. We'll repair or replace any item. We'll give you water! As much water as you need! But please, don't ask to enter the sietch."
"You know I must," said Chani gently. She could see their fear.
With great reluctance, they moved aside and let her pass.
Chani walked through the sietch's paths, eyes scanning the murals carved across the walls above her. It appeared to be on the larger side, certainly larger than Sietch Makab.
She made her way to the main hall, a place where many would gather during the hot hours of the day, to eat and converse. It seemed to be around half-full at present. There were families sitting together, mothers with children on their laps; elders around the hookah, talking in quiet tones; young men and women sitting with their friends, enveloped in teasing and barely suppressed laughter.
At the entrance to the hall there was a short, square, smooth pillar, with a large stone statue atop it in the likeness of a curling sandworm. As members of the sietch entered and left the hall, they bowed before the statue. Some bowed deeply, while other merely offered a quick perfunctory nod, but almost all did it.
Chani longed to sit down and allow her aching muscles some rest. She longed to satisfy her basic needs: to eat and drink and sleep. She wanted to take care of her stillsuit as soon as possible. Yet all these concerns were secondary while the prophecy clawed and burned at her throat, desperate to be let out.
She stopped by the pillar, touching the statue and pushing experimentally. It was made of a different stone from the pillar, and though heavy, could be moved. She turned to face the hall.
"People of Sietch Rifana!" she shouted.
All eyes turned to her, and Chani quickly shoved the stone sandworm as hard as she could, sending it to the floor. It landed against the earthen floor with a heavy thud; the top part of it snapped off. A collective gasp rose from the crowd.
"Thus saith the Great One, the lord of thine ancestors," she said, keeping her voice loud enough to be heard in all corners of the hall. "I have rescued thee from the slave pits of Bela Tegeuse and the killing fields of Rossak and have brought thee to Dune, the land of spice, that thou mayest make it thy green paradise. I have given thee commandments that are straight and true, that thou mayest live by them and make the desert bloom. But thou hast abandoned me to worship the beast and man and star. Thou hast done all manner of abominations that were forbidden to thee: thou hast taken the water of the innocent and coveted thy brother's wife. Thy leaders were murderers, and thy murderers leaders. Thou hast bowed down before the foreign priestess and listened to her lies—"
An empty bowl hit her shoulder, harmlessly bouncing off her stillsuit and rolling to the floor. However, Chani knew from experience that other objects would follow, some of them likely to be dangerous. She turned and ran.
She could hear yells and clattering coming from the hall behind her. Soon, some would be after her. She ducked into a narrow hallway, having no idea where she was running.
"Where are you going, my soul?"
She turned around swiftly, finding two women staring at her from the opening of a yali. One looked old, certainly older than a hundred. The other could be anywhere from her twenties to her fifties—due to the health effects of spice, it was difficult to tell.
"I serve the Ancient One," Chani said, after a moment of hesitation.
The old woman stared at her, then smiled. "Come in, quick! We'll hide you here. We are of the Remnant."
Chani hurried into the yali and to the corner they directed her to. She slipped behind a pile of rolled up rugs, crouching in silence, her heart beating erratically. She was ready to give her life for the sake of the Great One, true, but she preferred not to lose it by the hand of some hot-headed, foolish youngster.
"Have you seen a young woman run by here?" demanded a young voice, sharp and impatient.
"Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" responded the old woman, clearly irritated.
"I'm sorry, elder," the young man softened his tone. "We're looking for a heretic. She knocked down Shai-Hulud's statue in the main hall."
"She did?" gasped the old woman. "That's horrific!"
"Yes, it is. But more importantly—"
"Why would anyone do such a thing?" demanded the younger woman, sounding indignant and disgusted.
"Let's go, Turok," said another male voice. "They don't know anything."
The sounds of footsteps grew fainter, followed by silence.
"You can come out," said the younger woman.
Chani slid out, rising to her feet. "I can't thank you enough. What are your names?"
"Subiay, daughter of Harah, peace be upon her," said the old woman. "And this is Mitha, my granddaughter."
"Thank you," Chani lowered her head, "and may the Great One bless you. I'm Chani, daughter of Liet."
"The Prophetess?" gasped Subiay.
"You've heard of me? I'm glad of that."
Mitha sighed. "Only rumors. There aren't many of the faithful here."
She was kneeling by a chest, rummaging through its contents. "I'll get you a better stillsuit, so you can leave yours here. Clean yourself off in the meantime. Sowta will get the food ready."
"Where are your men?" asked Chani, still not wholly at ease.
"Dead," said Mitha simply.
"Harkonnens?"
Mitha hummed. "They were both Fedaykin. Don't worry about the children. They know how to keep their mouths shut."
"I'm in your debt," said Chani, flooded with relief.
"Speak nothing of it," said Subiay firmly.
*
Hours later, after Chani had scrubbed herself clean with sand, and had slept and ate, she sat by Subiay's side while the old woman smoked her hookah. The scent of spice was heavy in the air. The children had been put to bed, and Mitha had gone to check on the guards, to see when it might be safe for Chani to leave. Chani was wearing the new stillsuit, her fremkit full of supplies.
Thank you, Ancient One, for your faithful, she silently prayed.
"Do you know how many of the sietch keep the Old Ways?" she asked.
Subiay tilted her head, looking thoughtful. "It's hard to say. We have some meetings in secret, but of course not everyone can attend them."
"Meetings? Surely your naib knows of that?"
"Oh, I'm sure he does," Subiay chuckled. "But the people here are not as fanatical as in the south. They will turn a blind eye so long as we keep it quiet and don't engage in provocative displays, such as, you know, knocking down the statue of Shai-Hulud."
Chani snorted. "That old man of the desert can handle being treated a little roughly for once, no?"
Mitha slipped back into the yali, looking satisfied. She sat down beside her grandmother. "The guards switch in an hour. Geoff will let you out."
"Excellent. Thank you." Chani grew serious, looking at the two women. "I must tell you something now, so listen carefully."
"Yes, Prophetess," said Subiay. Both women leaned forward.
"In about six months time, there will be a solar eclipse. Once that happens, you must leave. Don't delay for more than a fortnight. Better not to delay for more than a week, actually. You must move south."
"Why?" Mitha asked, looking disturbed.
"The entire north is going to be destroyed. I can't tell you how or why, but anyone who'll still be here a fortnight after the eclipse shall be in immense danger."
Subaiy closed her eyes, a flash of pain passing over her features. "Understood, Prophetess. We'll pass the word around as far as we can."
"But the south..." said Mitha, biting her lip. "I never wanted to take the children there, because of all the foreign worshipers—"
"Things have changed over the last two years," said Chani. "I've been at work. We have sietches that belong almost entirely to the faithful now. Saajid and Remel and Tuono are ours, and many others are split and gradually being swayed to our side."
Mitha stared at her. "How old are you, Prophetess, if I may ask?"
"Nineteen," said Chani, feeling self-conscious. "I'm young, I know, but the Great One has known me since before I was created in my mother's womb."
"Bi-lal kaifa," murmured Subaiy.
"Prophetess, may I ask something else?" said Mitha.
"Of course. What is it?"
"I heard what you did with the guards at the entrance. You told them of things you couldn't have known if not for the Ancient One." Mitha's fingers played nervously with the hem of her robe. "Why didn't you do the same with the people in the main hall? Wouldn't they have listened to you then?"
Chani paused, reflecting on how some things were almost impossible to explain. "The Great One doesn't always show me people's secrets. In that moment, I only knew the prophecy had to come out. I can't always understand it myself, but I can guess that if I had spoken to the people in the hall in the same manner as the guards, it would've only made things worse. Perhaps they would've just declared me a djinn and tried to kill me, without listening to anything else." She let out a resigned breath. "In any case, the important thing right now is to spread the word that all should move south."
"What of Muad'Dib?" Mitha asked, voice trembling.
The name sent a chill through Chani. She hadn't been able to ascertain the rumors yet. In the south only distant whispers of Muad'Dib reached them, and at Sietch Makab she could find no one who would either confirm or deny more than she already knew: Muad'Dib was a foreigner, successfully integrated into the Fremen. Over the past two years he'd become a powerful warlord, harassing the Harkonnens and significantly disrupting spice production, so that the smuggling business had become unbelievably profitable. More and more of his followers were openly calling him 'Lisan al-Gaib'.
The false messiah. What's to be done about him, Ancient One?
"What of Muad'Dib?" she repeated carefully, voice neutral.
"If he goes south, many will follow," said Mitha. "If he stays, many will stay."
Chani was silent. What's to be done? What's to be done?
"Anyone who saves a life is as if he saved the entire world," Subaiy quoted, eyes dark and thoughtful.
Chani smiled. "You're right. I must go and speak with him, if only for the chance of saving a life. Where would I find him, do you think?"
"No one knows," said Subaiy. "He is a shadow who eludes capture."
"But if anyone has a chance of knowing," added Mitha briskly, "it's Geoff. He claims that he served under him back when he was fighting in the north."
"I'll speak to Geoff, then." Chani rose and embraced each one of them. "Thank you, my sisters. I'll never forget your kindness."