Dune полностью

“Sabiha is good at such things; she’ll call us if anything starts to go wrong.” Namri.

“I don’t like this business of Sabiha.” Halleck.

“She’s a necessary ingredient.” Namri.

Leto felt bright light outside himself and darkness within, but the darkness was secretive, protective, and warm. The light began to blaze up and he felt that it came from the darkness within, swirling outward like a brilliant cloud. His body became transparent, drawing him upward, yet he retained that einfalle contact with every cell and nerve. The multitude of inner lives fell into alignment, nothing tangled or mixed. They became very quiet in duplication of his own inner silence, each memory-life discrete, an entity incorporeal and undivided.

Leto spoke to them then: “I am your spirit. I am the only life you can realize. I am the house of your spirit in the land which is nowhere, the land which is your only remaining home. Without me, the intelligible universe reverts to chaos. Creative and abysmal are inextricably linked in me; only I can mediate between them. Without me, mankind will sink into the mire and vanity of knowing. Through me, you and they will find the only way out of chaos: understanding by living.”

With this he let go of himself and became himself, his own person compassing the entirety of his past. It was not victory, not defeat, but a new thing to be shared with any inner life he chose. Leto savored this newness, letting it possess every cell, every nerve, giving up what the einfalle had presented to him and recovering the totality in the same instant.

After a time, he awoke in white darkness. With a flash of awareness he knew where his flesh was: seated on sand about a kilometer from the cliff wall which marked the northern boundary of the sietch. He knew that sietch now: Jacurutu for certain . . . and Fondak. But it was far different from the myths and legends and the rumors which the smugglers allowed.

A young woman sat on a rug directly in front of him, a bright glowglobe anchored to her left sleeve and drifting just above her head. When Leto looked away from the glowglobe, there were stars. He knew this young woman; she was the one from his vision earlier, the roaster of coffee. She was Namri’s niece, as ready with a knife as Namri was. There was the knife in her lap. She wore a simple green robe over a grey stillsuit. Sabiha, that was her name. And Namri had his own plans for her.

Sabiha saw the awakening in his eyes, said: “It’s almost dawn. You’ve spent the whole night here.”

“And most of a day,” he said. “You make good coffee.”

This statement puzzled her, but she ignored it with a single-mindedness which spoke of harsh training and explicit instructions for her present behavior.

“It’s the hour of assassins,” Leto said. “But your knife is no longer needed.” He glanced at the crysknife in her lap.

“Namri will be the judge of that,” she said.

Not Halleck, then. She only confirmed his inner knowledge.

“Shai-Hulud is a great garbage collector and eraser of unwanted evidence,” Leto said. “I’ve used him thus myself.”

She rested her hand lightly on the knife handle.

“How much is revealed by where we sit and how we sit,” he said. “You sit upon the rug and I upon the sand.”

Her hand closed over the knife handle.

Leto yawned, a gaping and stretching which made his jaws ache. “I’ve had a vision which included you,” he said.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

“We’ve been very one-sided about Arrakis,” he said. “Barbaric of us. There’s a certain momentum in what we’ve been doing, but now we must undo some of our work. The scales must be brought into better balance.”

A puzzled frown touched Sabiha’s face.

“My vision,” he said. “Unless we restore the dance of life here on Dune, the dragon on the floor of the desert will be no more.”

Because he’d used the Old Fremen name for the great worm, she was a moment understanding him. Then: “The worms?”

“We’re in a dark passage,” he said. “Without spice, the Empire falls apart. The Guild will not move. Planets will slowly lose their clear memories of each other. They’ll turn inward upon themselves. Space will become a boundary when the Guild navigators lose their mastery. We’ll cling to our dunetops and be ignorant of that which is above us and below us.”

“You speak very strangely,” she said. “How have you seen me in your vision?”

Trust Fremen superstition! he thought. He said: “I’ve become pasigraphic. I’m a living glyph to write out the changes which must come to pass. If I do not write them, you’ll encounter such heartache as no human should experience.”

“What words are these?” she asked, but her hand remained lightly on the knife.