Дюна
Book Three: The Prophet
Feyd-Rauthanotedthehesitation,said:“Whyprolongtheinevitable?Youbutkeepmefromexercisingmyrightsoverthisballofdirt.”
Ifit’saflip-dart,Paulthought,it’sacunningone.Thegirdleshowsnosignsoftampering.
“Whydon’tyouspeak?”Feyd-Rauthademanded.
Paulresumedhisprobingcircle,allowinghimselfacoldsmileatthetoneofuneaseinFeyd-Rautha’svoice,evidencethatthepressureofsilencewasbuilding.
“Yousmile,eh?”Feyd-Rauthaasked.Andheleapedinmid-sentence.
Expectingtheslighthesitation,Paulalmostfailedtoevadethedownflashofblade,feltitstipscratchhisleftarm.Hesilencedthesuddenpainthere,hismindfloodedwithrealizationthattheearlierhesitationhadbeenatrick—anoverfeint.
Herewasmoreofanopponentthanhehadexpected.Therewouldbetrickswithintrickswithintricks.
“YourownThufirHawattaughtmesomeofmyskills,”Feyd-Rauthasaid.
“Hegavemefirstblood.Toobadtheoldfooldidn’tlivetoseeit.”
AndPaulrecalledthatIdahohadoncesaid,“Expectonlywhathappensinthefight.Thatwayyou’llneverbesurprised.”
Againthetwocircledeachother,crouched,cautious.
Paulsawthereturnofelationtohisopponent,wonderedatit.Didascratchsignifythatmuchtotheman?Unlesstherewerepoisonontheblade!Buthowcouldtherebe?Hisownmenhadhandledtheweapon,snoopeditbeforepassingit.Theyweretoowelltrainedtomissanobviousthinglikethat.
“Thatwomanyouweretalkingtooverthere,”Feyd-Rauthasaid.“Thelittleone.
