Дюна
Book Three: The Prophet
Andhehadansweredcorrectly:“Halfameterforeverymeterofthemaker’sdiameter.”
“Why?”
“Toavoidthevortexofitspassageandstillhavetimetoruninandmountit.”
“You’veriddenthelittleonesbredfortheseedandtheWaterofLife,”
Stilgarhadsaid.“Butwhatyou’llsummonforyourtestisawildmaker,anoldmanofthedesert.Youmusthaveproperrespectforsuchaone.”
Nowthethumper’sdeepdrummingblendedwiththehissoftheapproachingworm.Paulbreatheddeeply,smellingmineralbitternessofsandeventhroughhisfilters.Thewildmaker,theoldmanofthedesert,loomedalmostonhim.Itscrestingfrontsegmentsthrewasandwavethatwouldsweepacrosshisknees.
Comeup,youlovelymonster,hethought.Up.Youhearmecalling.Comeup.Comeup.
Thewaveliftedhisfeet.Surfacedustsweptacrosshim.Hesteadiedhimself,hisworlddominatedbythepassageofthatsand-cloudedcurvingwall,thatsegmentedcliff,theringlinessharplydefinedinit.
Paulliftedhishooks,sightedalongthem,leanedin.Hefeltthembiteandpull.Heleapedupward,plantinghisfeetagainstthatwall,leaningoutagainsttheclingingbarbs.Thiswasthetrueinstantofthetesting:ifhehadplantedthehookscorrectlyattheleadingedgeofaringsegment,openingthesegment,thewormwouldnotrolldownandcrushhim.
Thewormslowed.Itglidedacrossthethumper,silencingit.Slowly,itbegantoroll—up,up—bringingthoseirritantbarbsashighaspossible,awayfromthesandthatthreatenedthesoftinnerlappingofitsringsegment.
