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Book Two: Muad‘dib

           “Throughthereandbeyond,that’sfoodprocessingandstillsuitmaintenance.”ShelookedatPaul.

           “Yoursuitlooksnew.Butifitneedswork,I’mgoodwithsuits.Iworkinthefactoryinseason.”

           Theybegancomingonknotsofpeoplenowandthickerclusteringsofopeningsinthetunnel’ssides.Afileofmenandwomenpassedthemcarryingpacksthatgurgledheavily,thesmellofspicestrongaboutthem.

           “They’llnotgetourwater,”Harahsaid.“Orourspice.Youcanbesureofthat.”

           Paulglancedattheopeningsinthetunnelwalls,seeingtheheavycarpetsontheraisedledge,glimpsesofroomswithbrightfabricsonthewalls,piledcushions.Peopleintheopeningsfellsilentattheirapproach,followedPaulwithuntamedstares.

           “ThepeoplefinditstrangeyoubestedJamis,”Harahsaid.“Likelyyou’llhavesomeprovingtodowhenwe’resettledinanewsietch.”

           “Idon’tlikekilling,”hesaid.

           “ThusStilgartellsit,”shesaid,buthervoicebetrayedherdisbelief.

           Ashrillchantinggrewlouderaheadofthem.TheycametoanothersideopeningwiderthananyoftheothersPaulhadseen.Heslowedhispace,staringinataroomcrowdedwithchildrensittingcross-leggedonamaroon-carpetedfloor.

           Atachalkboardagainstthefarwallstoodawomaninayellowwraparound,aprojecto-stylusinonehand.Theboardwasfilledwithdesignscircles,wedgesandcurves,snaketracksandsquares,flowingarcssplitbyparallellines.

           Thewomanpointedtothedesignsoneaftertheotherasfastasshecouldmovethestylus,andthechildrenchantedinrhythmwithhermovinghand.

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