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Book Three: The Prophet
Ihaveseenafriendbecomeaworshiper,hethought.
Inarushofloneliness,Paulglancedaroundtheroom,notinghowproperandon-reviewhisguardshadbecomeinhispresence.Hesensedthesubtle,pridefulcompetitionamongthem—eachhopingfornoticefromMuad’Dib.
Muad’Dibfromwhomallblessingsflow,hethought,anditwasthebitterestthoughtofhislife.TheysensethatImusttakethethrone,hethought.ButtheycannotknowIdoittopreventthejihad.
Stilgarclearedhisthroat,said:“Rabban,too,isdead.”
Paulnodded.
Guardstotherightsuddenlysnappedaside,standingatattentiontoopenanaisleforJessica.Sheworeherblackabaandwalkedwithahintofstridingacrosssand,butPaulnotedhowthishousehadrestoredtohersomethingofwhatshehadoncebeenhere—concubinetoarulingduke.Herpresencecarriedsomeofitsoldassertiveness.
JessicastoppedinfrontofPaul,lookeddownathim.Shesawhisfatigueandhowhehidit,butfoundnocompassionforhim.Itwasasthoughshehadbeenrenderedincapableofanyemotionforherson.
JessicahadenteredtheGreatHallwonderingwhytheplacerefusedtofititselfsnuglyintohermemories.Itremainedaforeignroom,asthoughshehadneverwalkedhere,neverwalkedherewithherbelovedLeto,neverconfrontedadrunkenDuncanIdahohere—never,never,never....
Thereshouldbeaword-tensiondirectlyoppositetoadab,thedemandingmemory,shethought.Thereshouldbeawordformemoriesthatdenythemselves.
“WhereisAlia?”sheasked.
