Дюна
Book One: Dune
Sheglancedbackdownthehall,againupatthedoor.
Oval?shewondered.Whatanoddshapeforadoorinahouse.
ThroughthewindowsbeneaththespiralstairshecouldseethegreatwhitesunofArrakismovingontowardevening.Longshadowsstabbeddownthehall.
Shereturnedherattentiontothestairs.Harshsidelightingpickedoutbitsofdriedearthontheopenmetalworkofthesteps.
Jessicaputahandontherail,begantoclimb.Therailfeltcoldunderherslidingpalm.Shestoppedatthedoor,sawithadnohandle,buttherewasafaintdepressiononthesurfaceofitwhereahandleshouldhavebeen.
Surelynotapalmlock,shetoldherself.Apalmlockmustbekeyedtooneindividual’shandshapeandpalmlines.Butitlookedlikeapalmlock.Andtherewerewaystoopenanypalmlock—asshehadlearnedatschool.
Jessicaglancedbacktomakecertainshewasunobserved,placedherpalmagainstthedepressioninthedoor.Themostgentleofpressurestodistortthelines—aturnofthewrist,anotherturn,aslidingtwistofthepalmacrossthesurface.
Shefelttheclick.
Buttherewerehurryingfootstepsinthehallbeneathher.Jessicaliftedherhandfromthedoor,turned,sawMapescometothefootofthestairs.
“Therearemeninthegreathallsaythey’vebeensentbytheDuketogetyoungmasterPaul,”Mapessaid.“They’vetheducalsignetandtheguardhasidentifiedthem.”Sheglancedatthedoor,backtoJessica.
Acautiousone,thisMapes,Jessicathought.That’sagoodsign.
“He’sinthefifthroomfromthisendofthehall,thesmallbedroom,”Jessicasaid.
