Дюна
Book One: Dune
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“ThesoundsImakecouldbeimitated.”
“I’dknowthedifference.”
Hemightatthat,Hawatthought.Thatwitch-motherofhisisgivinghimthedeeptraining,certainly.Iwonderwhatherpreciousschoolthinksofthat?
Maybethat’swhytheysenttheoldProctorhere—towhipourdearLadyJessicaintoline.
HawatpulledupachairacrossfromPaul,satdownfacingthedoor.Hediditpointedly,leanedbackandstudiedtheroom.Itstruckhimasanoddplacesuddenly,astranger-placewithmostofitshardwarealreadygoneofftoArrakis.
Atrainingtableremained,andafencingmirrorwithitscrystalprismsquiescent,thetargetdummybesideitpatchedandpadded,lookinglikeanancientfootsoldiermaimedandbatteredinthewars.
TherestandI,Hawatthought.
“Thufir,what’reyouthinking?”Paulasked.
Hawatlookedattheboy.“Iwasthinkingwe’llallbeoutofheresoonandlikelyneverseetheplaceagain.”
“Doesthatmakeyousad?”
“Sad?Nonsense!Partingwithfriendsisasadness.Aplaceisonlyaplace.”
Heglancedatthechartsonthetable.“AndArrakisisjustanotherplace.”
“Didmyfathersendyouuptotestme?”
Hawatscowled—theboyhadsuchobservingwaysabouthim.Henodded.
“You’rethinkingit’dhavebeennicerifhe’dcomeuphimself,butyoumustknowhowbusyheis.He’llbealonglater.”
“I’vebeenstudyingaboutthestormsonArrakis.”
“Thestorms.Isee.”
“Theysoundprettybad.”
“That’stoocautiousaword:bad.
