Дюна
Book Two: Muad‘dib
Shepushedherselfawayfromtherock,feelingherstrengthreturn.“Whichdirection?”
“Wherethisridgeleads.”Hepointed.
“Deepintothedesert,”shesaid.
“TheFremendesert,”Paulwhispered.
Andhepaused,shakenbytherememberedhighreliefimageryofaprescientvisionhehadexperiencedonCaladan.Hehadseenthisdesert.Butthesetofthevisionhadbeensubtlydifferent,likeanopticalimagethathaddisappearedintohisconsciousness,beenabsorbedbymemory,andnowfailedofperfectregistrywhenprojectedontotherealscene.Thevisionappearedtohaveshiftedandapproachedhimfromadifferentanglewhileheremainedmotionless.
Idahowaswithusinthevision,heremembered.ButnowIdahoisdead.
“Doyouseeawaytogo?”Jessicaasked,mistakinghishesitation.
“No,”hesaid,“Butwe’llgoanyway.”
Hesettledhisshouldersmorefirmlyinthepack,struckoutupasand-carvedchannelintherock.Thechannelopenedontoamoonlitfloorofrockwithbenchedledgesclimbingawaytothesouth.
Paulheadedforthefirstledge,clamberedontoit.Jessicafollowed.
Shenotedpresentlyhowtheirpassagebecameamatteroftheimmediateandparticular—thesandpocketsbetweenrockswheretheirstepswereslowed,thewind-carvedridgethatcuttheirhands,theobstructionthatforcedachoice:Gooverorgoaround?Theterrainenforceditsownrhythms.Theyspokeonlywhennecessaryandthenwiththehoarsevoicesoftheirexertion.
“Carefulhere—thisledgeisslipperywithsand.”
“Watchyoudon’thityourheadagainstthisoverhang.
