Дюна
Book Two: Muad‘dib
Itwaslikeagiganticrockintheflood,creatingmaelstromsinthecurrentaroundit.
“Haveanendtoit,lad,”Stilgarmuttered.“Don’tplaywithhim.”
Paulcreptfartherintothering,relyingonhisownedgeinspeed.
Jamisbackednowthattherealizationsweptoverhim—thatthiswasnosoftoffworlderinthetahaddiring,easypreyforaFremencrysknife.
Jessicasawtheshadowofdesperationintheman’sface.Nowiswhenhe’smostdangerous,shethought.Nowhe’sdesperateandcandoanything.Heseesthatthisisnotlikeachildofhisownpeople,butafightingmachinebornandtrainedtoitfrominfancy.NowthefearIplantedinhimhascometobloom.
AndshefoundinherselfasenseofpityforJamis—anemotiontemperedbyawarenessoftheimmediateperiltoherson.
Jamiscoulddoanything...anyunpredictablething,shetoldherself.ShewonderedthenifPaulhadglimpsedthisfuture,ifhewererelivingthisexperience.Butshesawthewayhersonmoved,thebeadsofperspirationonhisfaceandshoulders,thecarefulwarinessvisibleintheflowofmuscles.Andforthefirsttimeshesensed,withoutunderstandingit,theuncertaintyfactorin
Paul’sgift.
Paulpressedthefightnow,circlingbutnotattacking.Hehadseenthefearinhisopponent.MemoryofDuncanIdaho’svoiceflowedthroughPaul’sawareness:“Whenyouropponentfearsyou,then’sthemomentwhenyougivethefearitsownrein,giveitthetimetoworkonhim.Letitbecometerror.Theterrifiedmanfightshimself.Eventually,heattacksindesperation.
