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Book Three: The Prophet
Helandedrunning,lungedagainsttheslipfaceofadunethewayhehadbeentaught,andhidhimselfbeneaththecascadeofsandoverhisrobe.
Now,thewaiting....
Paulturned,gently,exposedacrackofskybeneathacreaseinhisrobe.Heimaginedtheothersbackalongtheirpathdoingthesame.
Heheardthebeatofthe’thopter’swingsbeforehesawit.Therewasawhisperofjetpodsanditcameoverhispatchofdesert,turnedinabroadarctowardtheridge.
Anunmarked’thopter,Paulnoted.
ItflewoutofsightbeyondHabbanyaRidge.
Abirdcrysoundedoverthedesert.Another.
Paulshookhimselffreeofsand,climbedtothedunetop.Otherfiguresstoodoutinalinetrailingawayfromtheridge.HerecognizedChaniandStilgaramongthem.
Stilgarsignaledtowardtheridge.
Theygatheredandbeganthesandwalk,glidingoverthesurfaceinabrokenrhythmthatwoulddisturbnomaker.StilgarpacedhimselfbesidePaulalongthewindpackedcrestofadune.
“Itwasasmugglercraft,”Stilgarsaid.
“Soitseemed,”Paulsaid.“Butthisisdeepintothedesertforsmugglers.”
“They’vetheirdifficultieswithpatrols,too,”Stilgarsaid.
“Iftheycomethisdeep,theymaygodeeper,”Paulsaid.
“True.”
“Itwouldn’tbewellforthemtoseewhattheycouldseeiftheyventuredtoodeepintothesouth.Smugglerssellinformation,too.”
“Theywerehuntingspice,don’tyouthink?”Stilgarasked.
“Therewillbeawingandacrawlerwaitingsomewhereforthatone,”Paulsaid.“We’vespice.Let’sbaitapatchofsandandcatchussomesmugglers.
