Дюна
Book Two: Muad‘dib
Heheardhersoftprogressandthecoldsingle-graindribblesofsound—thedesert’sowncodespellingoutitsmeasureofsafety.
“Wemustwalkwithoutrhythm,”Paulsaidandhecalledupmemoryofmenwalkingthesand...bothprescientmemoryandrealmemory.
“WatchhowIdoit,”hesaid.“ThisishowFremenwalkthesand.”
Hesteppedoutontothewindwardfaceofthedune,followingthecurveofit,movedwithadraggingpace.
Jessicastudiedhisprogressfortensteps,followed,imitatinghim.Shesawthesenseofit:theymustsoundlikethenaturalshiftingofsand...likethewind.
Butmusclesprotestedthisunnatural,brokenpattern:Step...drag...drag...step...step...wait...drag...step...
Timestretchedoutaroundthem.Therockfaceaheadseemedtogrownonearer.Theonebehindstilltoweredhigh.
“Lump!Lump!Lump!Lump!”
Itwasadrummingfromthecliffbehind.
“Thethumper,”Paulhissed.
Itspoundingcontinuedandthefounddifficultyavoidingtherhythmofitintheirstride.
“Lump...lump...lump...lump....”
Theymovedinamoonlitbowlpuncturedbythathollowedthumping.Downandupthroughspillingdunes:step...drag...wait...step....Acrosspeasandthatrolledundertheirfeet:drag...wait...step....
Andallthewhiletheirearssearchedforaspecialhissing.
Thesound,whenitcame,startedsolowthattheirowndraggingpassagemaskedit.Butitgrew...louderandlouder...outofthewest.
“Lump...lump...lump...lump....”drummedthethumper.
Thehissingapproachspreadacrossthenightbehindthem.
