Дюна
Book Three: The Prophet
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Paullistened,recognizingthatthesewerethewordsthatalsobeganthedeathchantofhisFedaykin,thewordsthedeathcommandosrecitedastheyhurledthemselvesintobattle.
Willtherebearockshrineherethisdaytomarkthepassingofanothersoul?Paulaskedhimself.WillFremenstophereinthefuture,eachtoaddanotherstoneandthinkonMuad’Dibwhodiedinthisplace?
Heknewthiswasamongthealternativestoday,afactalonglinesofthefutureradiatingfromthispositionintime-space.Theimperfectvisionplaguedhim.Themoreheresistedhisterriblepurposeandfoughtagainstthecomingofthejihad,thegreatertheturmoilthatwovethroughhisprescience.Hisentirefuturewasbecominglikeariverhurtlingtowardachasm—theviolentnexusbeyondwhichallwasfogandclouds.
“Stilgarapproaches,”Chanisaid.“Imuststandapartnow,beloved.Now,ImustbeSayyadinaandobservetheritethatitmaybereportedtrulyintheChronicles.”Shelookedupathimand,foramoment,herreserveslipped,thenshehadherselfundercontrol.“Whenthisispast,Ishallpreparethybreakfastwithmyownhands,”shesaid.Sheturnedaway.
Stilgarmovedtowardhimacrossthefloursand,stirringuplittledustpuddles.ThedarknichesofhiseyesremainedsteadyonPaulwiththeiruntamedstare.Theglimpseofblackbeardabovethestillsuitmask,thelinesofcraggycheeks,couldhavebeenwind-etchedfromthenativerockforalltheirmovement.
