Дюна
Book Two: Muad‘dib
Thegreetingcheerliftedfromthefamilygalleries,andFeyd-Rauthapausedtoacceptit,lookingupandscanningthefaces—seeinghiscousinesandcousins,thedemibrothers,theconcubinesandout-freynrelations.Theyweresomanypinktrumpetmouthsyammeringamidstaflutterofcolorfulclothingandbanners.
ItcametoFeyd-Rauthathenthatthepackedranksoffaceswouldlookjustasavidlyathisbloodasatthatoftheslave-gladiator.Therewasnotadoubtoftheoutcomeinthisfight,ofcourse.Herewasonlytheformofdangerwithoutitssubstance—yet....
Feyd-Rauthahelduphisknivestothesun,salutedthethreecornersofthearenaintheancientmanner.Theshortknifeinwhite-glovedhand(white,thesignofpoison)wentfirstintoitssheath.Thenthelongbladeintheblack-glovedhand—thepurebladethatnowwasunpure,hissecretweapontoturnthisdayintoapurelypersonalvictory:poisonontheblackblade.
Theadjustmentofhisbodyshieldtookonlyamoment,andhepausedtosensetheskin-tighteningathisforeheadassuringhimhewasproperlyguarded.
Thismomentcarrieditsownsuspense,andFeyd-Rauthadraggeditoutwiththesurehandofashowman,noddingtohishandlersanddistractors,checkingtheirequipmentwithameasuringstare—gyvesinplacewiththeirpricklessharpandglistening,thebarbsandhookswavingwiththeirbluestreamers.
Feyd-Rauthasignaledthemusicians.
Theslowmarchbegan,sonorouswithitsancientpomp,andFeyd-Rauthaledhistroupeacrossthearenaforobeisanceatthefootofhisuncle’sbox.Hecaughttheceremonialkeyasitwasthrown.
