Дюна
Book Two: Muad‘dib
Andletthemalwaysbeawaretheycannotknowforsurewhichofmyhandscarriesthepoison.
Feyd-Rauthastoodinsilence,watchingtheslowedmotionsoftheslave.Themanmovedwithinahesitation-awareness.Therewasanorthographicthingonhisfacenowforeverywatchertorecognize.Thedeathwaswrittenthere.Theslaveknewithadbeendonetohimandheknewhowithadbeendone.Thewrongbladehadcarriedthepoison.
“You!”themanmoaned.
Feyd-Rauthadrewbacktogivedeathitsspace.Theparalyzingdruginthepoisonhadyettotakefulleffect,buttheman’sslownesstoldofitsadvance.
Theslavestaggeredforwardasthoughdrawnbyastring—onedraggingstepatatime.Eachstepwastheonlystepinhisuniverse.Hestillclutchedhisknife,butitspointwavered.
“Oneday...one...ofus...will...get...you,”hegasped.
Asadlittlemouecontortedhismouth.Hesat,sagged,thenstiffenedandrolledawayfromFeyd-Rautha,facedown.
Feyd-Rauthaadvancedinthesilentarena,putatoeunderthegladiatorandrolledhimontohisbacktogivethegalleriesaclearviewofthefacewhenthepoisonbeganitstwisting,wrenchingworkonthemuscles.Butthegladiatorcameoverwithhisownknife,protrudingfromhisbreast.
Inspiteoffrustration,therewasforFeyd-Rauthaameasureofadmirationfortheeffortthisslavehadmanagedinovercomingtheparalysistodothisthingtohimself.Withtheadmirationcametherealizationthatherewastrulyathingtofear.
Thatwhichmakesamansuperhumanisterrifying.
