"You did not come down here to be alone," Teg said. "You came here to hide. You're still hiding in there and you think no one will ever find you."
Duncan put a hand in front of his mouth. It was a signal gesture for which Teg had been waiting. The instructions for this moment were clear: "The ghola wants the original memories wakened and fears this utterly. That is the major barrier you must sunder."
"Take your hand away from your mouth!" Teg ordered.
Duncan dropped his hand as though it had been burned. He stared at Teg like a trapped animal.
"Speak the truth," Teg's instructions warned. "At this moment, every sense afire, the ghola will see into your heart."
"I want you to know," Teg said, "that what the Sisterhood has ordered me to do to you, that this is distasteful to me."
Duncan appeared to crouch into himself. "What did they order you to do?"
"The skills I was ordered to give you are flawed."
"F-flawed?"
"Part of it was comprehensive training, the intellectual part. In that respect, you have been brought to the level of regimental commander."
"Better than Patrin?"
"Why must you be better than Patrin?"
"Wasn't he your comrade?"
"Yes."
"You said he never rose above squad leader!"
"Patrin was fully capable of taking over command of an entire multi-planet force. He was a tactical magician whose wisdom I employed on many occasions."
"But you said he never -"
"It was his choice. The low rank gave him the common touch that we both found useful many times."
"Regimental commander?" Duncan's voice was little more than a whisper. He stared at the tabletop.
"You have an intellectual grasp of the functions, a bit impetuous but experience usually smooths that out. Your weapons skills are superior for your age."
Still not looking at Teg, Duncan asked: "What is my age... sir?"
Just as the instructions cautioned: The ghola will dance all around the central issue. "What is my age?" How old is a ghola.
His voice coldly accusing, Teg said: "If you want to know your ghola-age, why don't you ask that?"
"Wha... what is that age, sir?"
There was such a weight of misery in the youthful voice that Teg felt tears start in the corners of his eyes. He had been warned about this, too. "Do not reveal too much compassion!" Teg covered the moment by clearing his throat. He said: "That's a question only you can answer."
The instructions were explicit: "Turn it back on him! Keep him focused inward. Emotional pain is as important to this process as the physical pain."
A deep sigh shuddered through Duncan. He closed his eyes tightly. When Teg had first seated himself at the table, Duncan had thought: Is this the moment? Will he do it now? But Teg's accusing tone, the verbal attacks, were completely unexpected. And now Teg sounded patronizing.
He's patronizing me!
Cynical anger surged into Duncan. Did Teg think him such a fool that he could be taken in by the most common ploy of a commander? Tone of voice and attitude alone can subjugate another's will. Duncan sensed something else in the patronizing, though: a core of plasteel that would not be penetrated. Integrity... purpose. And Duncan had seen the tears start, the covering gesture.
Opening his eyes and looking directly at Teg, Duncan said: "I don't mean to be disrespectful or ungrateful or rude, sir. But I can't go on without answers."
Teg's instructions were clear: "You will know when the ghola reaches the point of desperation. No ghola will try to hide this. It is intrinsic to their psyche. You will recognize it in voice and posture."
Duncan had almost reached the critical point. Silence was mandatory for Teg now. Force Duncan to ask his questions, to take his own course.
Duncan said: "Did you know that I once thought of killing Schwangyu?"
Teg opened his mouth and closed it without a sound. Silence! But the lad was serious!
"I was afraid of her," Duncan said. "I don't like being afraid." He lowered his gaze. "You once told me that we only hate what's really dangerous to us."
"He will approach it and retreat, approach and retreat. Wait until he plunges."
"I don't hate you," Duncan said, looking once more at Teg. "I resented it when you said ghola to my face. But Lucilla's right: We should never resent the truth even when it hurts."
Teg rubbed his own lips. The desire to speak filled him but it was not yet plunge time.
"Doesn't it surprise you that I considered killing Schwangyu?" Duncan asked.
Teg held himself rigid. Even the shaking of his head would be taken as a response.
"I thought of slipping something into her drink," Duncan said. "But that's a coward's way and I'm not a coward. Whatever else, I'm not that."
Teg remained silently immobile.
"I think you really care what happens to me, Bashar," Duncan said. "But you're right: we will never be comrades. If I survive, I will surpass you. Then... it will be too late for us to be comrades. You spoke the truth."
Teg was unable to prevent himself from inhaling a deep breath of Mentat realization: no avoiding the signs of strength in the ghola. Somewhere recently, perhaps in this very alcove just now, the youth had ceased being a youth and had become a man. The realization saddened Teg. It went so fast! No normal growing-up in between.
"Lucilla does not really care what happens to me the way you do," Duncan said. "She's just following her orders from that Mother Superior, Taraza."