Дюна
Book Two: Muad‘dib
Sheedgedhervoicewithscorn,said:“Isthisthewayyouweretaught?”
“Don’tyouunderstand?”heasked.“Everythingweneedtosurviveinthisplaceisunderthatsand.”
“Youfoundme,”shesaid,andnowhervoicewassoft,reasonable.
Paulsquattedbackonhisheels.
Presently,helookedupthefissureatthenewslope,studyingit,markingtheloosenessofthesand.
“Ifwecouldimmobilizeasmallareaofthatslopeandtheupperfaceofa
holedugintothesand,wemightbeabletoputdownashafttothepack.Watermightdoit,butwedon’thaveenoughwaterfor....”Hebrokeoff,then:“Foam.”
Jessicaheldherselftostillnesslestshedisturbthehyperfunctioningofhismind.
Paullookedoutattheopendunes,searchingwithhisnostrilsaswellashiseyes,findingthedirectionandthencenteringhisattentiononadarkenedpatchofsandbelowthem.
“Spice,”hesaid.“Itsessence—highlyalkaline.AndIhavetheparacompass.
Itspowerpackisacid-base.”
Jessicasatupstraightagainsttherock.
Paulignoredher,leapedtohisfeet,andwasoffdownthewind-compactedsurfacethatspilledfromtheendofthefissuretothedesert’sfloor.
Shewatchedthewayhewalked,breakinghisstride—step...pause,step-step...slide...pause...
Therewasnorhythmtoitthatmighttellamaraudingwormsomethingnotofthedesertmovedhere.
Paulreachedthespicepatch,shoveledamoundofitintoafoldofhisrobe,returnedtothefissure.
