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Book Three: The Prophet
AndI,beingcastadrift,madewhatshriftIcould,waitingforthemomentImightsellmylifeforwhatit’sworth—thedeathofRabban.”
AnembarrassedsilencesettledoverPaul.
A.womancameclimbinguptherockstowardthem,hereyesbetweenstillsuithoodandfacemaskflickingbetweenPaulandhiscompanion.ShestoppedinfrontofPaul.Gurneynotedthepossessiveairabouther,thewayshestoodclosetoPaul.
“Chani,”Paulsaid,“thisisGurneyHalleck.You’veheardmespeakofhim.”
ShelookedatHalleck,backtoPaul.“Ihaveheard.”
“Wheredidthemengoonthemaker?”Paulasked.
“Theybutdivertedittogiveustimetosavetheequipment.”
“Wellthen....”Paulbrokeoff,sniffedtheair,
“There’swindcoming,”Chanisaid.
Avoicecalledoutfromtheridgetopabovethem:“Ho,there—thewind!”
GurneysawaquickeningofmotionamongtheFremennow—arushingaboutandsenseofhurry.Athingthewormhadnotignitedwasbroughtaboutbyfearofthewind.Thefactorycrawlerlumberedupontothedrybeachbelowthemandawaywasopenedforitamongtherocks...andtherocksclosedbehinditsoneatlythatthepassageescapedhiseyes.
“Haveyoumanysuchhidingplaces?”Gurneyasked.
“Manytimesmany,”Paulsaid.HelookedatChani.“FindKorba.TellhimthatGurneyhaswarnedmetherearemenamongthissmugglercrewwho’renottobetrusted.”
ShelookedonceatGurney,backtoPaul,nodded,andwasoffdowntherocks,leapingwithagazelle-likeagility.
“Sheisyourwoman,”Gurneysaid.
“Themotherofmyfirstborn,”Paulsaid.
