Дюна
Book One: Dune
AstheDukewatched,themoondippedbeneaththeShieldWallcliffs,frostingthem,andinthesuddenintensityofdarkness,heexperiencedachill.Heshivered.
Angershotthroughhim.
TheHarkonnenshavehinderedandhoundedandhuntedmeforthelasttime,hethought.Theyaredungheapswithvillageprovostminds!HereImakemystand!Andhethoughtwithatouchofsadness:Imustrulewitheyeandclaw
—asthehawkamonglesserbirds.Unconsciously,hishandbrushedthehawkemblemonhistunic.
Totheeast,thenightgrewafaggotofluminousgray,thenseashellopalescencethatdimmedthestars.Therecamethelong,bell-tollingmovementofdawnstrikingacrossabrokenhorizon.
Itwasasceneofsuchbeautyitcaughtallhisattention.
Somethingsbeggarlikeness,hethought.
Hehadneverimaginedanythingherecouldbeasbeautifulasthatshatteredredhorizonandthepurpleandochrecliffs.Beyondthelandingfieldwherethenight’sfaintdewhadtouchedlifeintothehurriedseedsofArrakis,hesawgreatpuddlesofredbloomsand,runningthroughthem,anarticulatetreadofviolet...likegiantfootsteps.
“It’sabeautifulmorning,Sire,”theguardsaid.
“Yes,itis.”
TheDukenodded,thinking:Perhapsthisplanetcouldgrowonone.Perhapsitcouldbecomeagoodhomeformyson.
Thenhesawthehumanfiguresmovingintotheflowerfields,sweepingthemwithstrangescythe-likedevices—dewgatherers.Watersopreciousherethateventhedewmustbecollected.
Anditcouldbeahideousplace,theDukethought.
