Дюна
Book Two: Muad‘dib
ToacceptitwouldrequireawakeningfullyintotheterriblenecessitiesofArrakiswheretheymustguardevenfractionaltracesofmoisture,hoardingthefewdropsinthetent’scatchpockets,begrudgingabreathwastedontheopenair.
Somucheasiertodriftbackdownintosleep.
Buttherehadbeenadreaminthisday’ssleep,andsheshiveredatmemoryofit.Shehadhelddreaminghandsbeneathsandflowwhereanamehadbeenwritten:DukeLetoAtreides.Thenamehadblurredwiththesandandshehadmovedtorestoreit,butthefirstletterfilledbeforethelastwasbegun.
Thesandwouldnotstop.
Herdreambecamewailing:louderandlouder.Thatridiculouswailing—partofhermindhadrealizedthesoundwasherownvoiceasatinychild,littlemorethanababy.Awomannotquitevisibletomemorywasgoingaway.
Myunknownmother,Jessicathought.TheBeneGesseritwhoboremeandgavemetotheSistersbecausethat’swhatshewascommandedtodo.WasshegladtoridherselfofaHarkonnenchild?
“Theplacetohitthemisinthespice,”Paulsaid.
Howcanhethinkofattackatatimelikethis?sheaskedherself.
“Anentireplanetfullofspice,”shesaid.“Howcanyouhitthemthere?”
Sheheardhimstirring,thesoundoftheirpackbeingdraggedacrossthetentfloor.
“ItwasseapowerandairpoweronCaladan,”hesaid.“Here,it’sdesertpower.TheFremenarethekey.”
Hisvoicecamefromthevicinityofthetent’ssphincter.HerBeneGesserittrainingsensedinhistoneanunresolvedbitternesstowardher.
AllhislifehehasbeentrainedtohateHarkonnens,shethought.
