Дюна

           Theslaveshiftedknifehands,turnedinsidebothparryandfeinttograpplethena-Baron’sshortblade—theoneinthewhiteglovedhandthattraditionsaidshouldcarrythepoison.

           “Youwilldie,Harkonnen,”thegladiatorgasped.

           Theystruggledsidewaysacrossthesand.WhereFeyd-Rautha’sshieldmettheslave’shalfshield,ablueglowmarkedthecontact.Theairaroundthemfilledwithozonefromthefield.

           “Dieonyourownpoison!”theslavegrated.

           Hebeganforcingthewhite-glovedhandinward,turningthebladehethoughtcarriedthepoison.

           Letthemseethis!Feyd-Rauthathought.Hebroughtdownthelongblade,feltitclanguselesslyagainstthebarbedshaftlashedtotheslave’sarm.

           Feyd-Rauthafeltamomentofdesperation.Hehadnotthoughtthebarbedshaftswouldbeanadvantagefortheslave.Buttheygavethemananothershield.Andthestrengthofthisgladiator!Theshortbladewasbeingforcedinwardinexorably,andFeyd-Rauthafocusedonthefactthatamancouldalsodieonanunpoisonedblade.

           “Scum!”Feyd-Rauthagasped.

           Atthekeyword,thegladiator’smusclesobeyedwithamomentaryslackness.ItwasenoughforFeyd-Rautha.Heopenedaspacebetweenthemsufficientforthelongblade.Itspoisonedtipflickedout,drewaredlinedowntheslave’schest.Therewasinstantagonyinthepoison.Themandisengagedhimself,staggeredbackward.

           Now,letmydearfamilywatch,Feyd-Rauthathought.Letthemthinkonthisslavewhotriedtoturntheknifehethoughtpoisonedanduseitagainstme.Letthemwonderhowagladiatorcouldcomeintothisarenareadyforsuchanattempt.