Дюна
Book Two: Muad‘dib
Therewasrockunderfootnow,afaintgrayswishingofrobesaroundthem,andPaulsensedarelaxingofdiscipline,butstillthatquiet-of-the-personaboutChaniandtheothers.Hefollowedashadowshape—upsteps,aturn,moresteps,intoatunnel,pasttwomoisture-sealeddoorsandintoaglobelightednarrowpassagewithyellowrockwallsandceiling.
Allaroundhim,PaulsawtheFrementhrowingbacktheirhoods,removingnoseplugs,breathingdeeply.Someonesighed.PaullookedforChani,foundthatshehadlefthisside.Hewashemmedinbyapressofrobedbodies.Someonejostledhim,said,“Excuseme,Usul.Whatacrush!It’salwaysthisway.”
Onhisleft,thenarrowbeardedfaceoftheonecalledFarokturnedtowardPaul.Thestainedeyepitsandbluedarknessofeyesappearedevendarkerundertheyellowglobes.“Throwoffyourhood,Usul,”Faroksaid.“You’rehome.”
AndhehelpedPaul,releasingthehoodcatch,elbowingaspacearoundthem.
Paulslippedouthisnoseplugs,swungthemouthbaffleaside.Theodoroftheplaceassailedhim:unwashedbodies,distillateesthersofreclaimedwastes,everywherethesoureffluviaofhumanitywith,overitall,aturbulenceofspiceandspicelikeharmonics.
“Whyarewewaiting,Farok?”Paulasked.
“FortheReverendMother,Ithink.Youheardthemessage—poorChani.”
PoorChani?Paulaskedhimself.Helookedaround,wonderingwhereshewas,wherehismotherhadgottoinallthiscrush.
Faroktookadeepbreath.“Thesmellsofhome,”hesaid.
Paulsawthatthemanwasenjoyingthestinkofthisair,thattherewasnoironyinhistone.
