Дюна
Book One: Dune
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“Hottallowontheback,perhaps,orontheeyelids,”Pitersaid.“Perhapsonotherportionsofthebody.It’sespeciallyeffectivewhenthesubjectdoesn’tknowwherethetallowwillfallnext.It’sagoodmethodandthere’sasortofbeautyinthepatternofpus-whiteblistersonnakedskin,eh,Baron?”
“Exquisite,”theBaronsaid,andhisvoicesoundedsour.
Thosetouchingfingers!Letowatchedthefathands,theglitteringjewelsonbaby-fathands—theircompulsivewandering.
ThesoundsofagonycomingthroughthedoorbehindhimgnawedattheDuke’snerves.Whoisittheycaught?hewondered.CouldithavebeenIdaho?
“Believeme,chercousin,”theBaronsaid.“Idonotwantittocometothis.”
“Youthinkofnervecouriersracingtosummonhelpthatcannotcome,”Pitersaid.“There’sanartistryinthis,youknow.”
“You’reasuperbartist,”theBarongrowled.“Now,havethedecencytobesilent.”
LetosuddenlyrecalledathingGurneyHalleckhadsaidonce,seeingapictureoftheBaron:“‘AndIstooduponthesandoftheseaandsawabeastriseupoutofthesea...anduponhisheadsthenameofblasphemy.’”
“Wewastetime,Baron,”Pitersaid.
“Perhaps.”
TheBaronnodded.“Youknow,mydearLeto,you’lltellusintheendwheretheyare.There’salevelofpainthat’llbuyyou.”
He’smostlikelycorrect,Letothought.Wereifnotforthetooth...andthefactthatItrulydon’tknowwheretheyare.
TheBaronpickedupasliverofmeat,pressedthemorselintohismouth,chewedslowly,swallowed.
