Дюна
Book Three: The Prophet
Sheglancedatthethickhangingsthatobscuredtherockofthiscaverncell,thinkingofhowshehadcomehere—ridingamidstahostofworms,thepalanquinsandpackplatformspiledhighwithnecessitiesforthecomingcampaign.
AslongasChanilives,Paulwillnotseehisduty,Jessicathought.Shehasgivenhimasonandthatisenough.
Asuddenlongingtoseehergrandson,thechildwhoselikenesscarriedsomuchofthegrandfather’sfeatures—solikeLeto,sweptthroughher.Jessicaplacedherpalmsagainsthercheeks,begantheritualbreathingthatstilledemotionandclarifiedthemind,thenbentforwardfromthewaistinthedevotionalexercisethatpreparedthebodyforthemind’sdemands.
Paul’schoiceofthisCaveofBirdsashiscommandpostcouldnotbequestioned,sheknew.Itwasideal.AndtothenorthlayWindPassopeningontoaprotectedvillageinacliff-walledsink.Itwasakeyvillage,homeofartisansandtechnicians,maintenancecenterforanentireHarkonnendefensivesector.
Acoughsoundedoutsidethechamberhangings.Jessicastraightened,tookadeepbreath,exhaledslowly.
“Enter,”shesaid.
DraperieswereflungasideandGurneyHalleckboundedintotheroom.Shehadonlytimeforaglimpseofhisfacewithitsoddgrimace,thenhewasbehindher,liftinghertoherfeetwithonebrawnyarmbeneathherchin.
“Gurney,youfool,whatareyoudoing?”shedemanded.
Thenshefeltthetouchoftheknifetipagainstherback.Chillawarenessspreadoutfromthatknifetip.SheknewinthatinstantthatGurneymeanttokillher.
