She knew this word. Reverend Mothers of the Tyrant’s time had impressed it into the Bene Gesserit consciousness, tracing its roots out to the most ancient sources. “Arafel: the cloud darkness at the end of the universe.” Odrade felt the gasping accumulation of her warning sense. It focused on that single word. “The Tyrant’s holy judgment,” the priests called that word. “The cloud darkness of holy judgment!”
