Дюна
Book One: Dune
Hepushedhimselfbackfromthetable,stooduplightlyinhissuspensorsandhesitated,seeingachangecomeovertheDuke.Hesawthemandrawinadeepbreath,thejawlinestiffen,therippleofamusclethereastheDukeclampedhismouthshut.
Howhefearsme!theBaronthought.
ShockedbyfearthattheBaronmightescapehim,Letobitsharplyonthecapsuletooth,feltitbreak.Heopenedhismouth,expelledthebitingvaporhecouldtasteasitformedonhistongue.TheBarongrewsmaller,afigureseeninatighteningtunnel.Letoheardagaspbesidehisear—thesilky-voicedone:Piter.
Itgothim,too!
“Piter!What’swrong?”
Therumblingvoicewasfaraway.
Letosensedmemoriesrollinginhismind—theoldtoothlessmutteringsofhags.Theroom,thetable,theBaron,apairofterrifiedeyes—bluewithinblue,theeyes—allcompressedaroundhiminruinedsymmetry.
Therewasamanwithaboot-toechin,atoymanfalling.Thetoymanhadabrokennoseslantedtotheleft:anoffbeatmetronomecaughtforeveratthestartofanupwardstroke.Letoheardthecrashofcrockery—sodistant—aroaringinhisears.Hismindwasabinwithoutend,catchingeverything.Everythingthathadeverbeen:everyshout,everywhisper,every...silence.
Onethoughtremainedtohim.Letosawitinformlesslightonraysofblack:Thedaythefleshshapesandthefleshthedayshapes.Thethoughtstruckhimwithasenseoffullnessheknewhecouldneverexplain.
Silence.
TheBaronstoodwithhisbackagainsthisprivatedoor,hisownbolthole
behindthetable.Hehadslammeditonaroomfullofdeadmen.
