Dune полностью

“Languages build up to reflect specializations in a way of life. Each specialization may be recognized by its words, by its assumptions and sentence structures. Look for stoppages. Specializations represent places where life is being stopped, where the movement is dammed up and frozen.” He saw Sabiha then as a vision-maker in her own right, and every other human carried the same power. Yet she was disdainful of her spice-orgy visions. They caused disquiet and, therefore, must be put aside, forgotten deliberately. Her people prayed to Shai-Hulud because the worm dominated many of their visions. They prayed for dew at the desert’s edge because moisture limited their lives. Yet they wallowed in spice wealth and lured sandtrout to open qanats. Sabiha fed him prescient visions with a casual callousness, yet within her words he saw the illuminated signals: she depended upon absolutes, sought finite limits, and all because she couldn’t handle the rigors of terrible decisions which touched her own flesh. She clung to her one-eyed vision of the universe, englobing and time-freezing as it might be, because the alternatives terrified her.

In contrast, Leto felt the pure movement of himself. He was a membrane collecting infinite dimensions and, because he saw those dimensions, he could make the terrible decisions.

As my father did.

“You must eat this!” Sabiha said, her voice petulant.

Leto saw the whole pattern of the visions now and knew the thread he must follow. My skin is not my own. He stood, pulling his robe around him. It felt strange against his flesh with no stillsuit protecting his body. His feet were bare upon the fused spice-fabric of the floor, feeling the sand tracked in there.

“What’re you doing?” Sabiha demanded.

“The air is bad in here. I’m going outside.”

“You can’t escape,” she said. “Every canyon has its worm. If you go beyond the qanat, the worms will sense you by your moisture. These captive worms are very alert—not like the ones in the desert at all. Besides—” How gloating her voice became! “—you’ve no stillsuit.”

“Then why do you worry?” he asked, wondering if he might yet provoke a real reaction from her.

“Because you’ve not eaten.”

“And you’ll be punished.”

“Yes!”

“But I’m already saturated with spice,” he said. “Every moment is a vision.” He gestured with a bare foot at the bowl. “Pour that onto the sand. Who’ll know?”

“They watch,” she whispered.

He shook his head, shedding her from his visions, feeling new freedom envelop him. No need to kill this poor pawn. She danced to other music, not even knowing the steps, believing that she might yet share the power which lured the hungry pirates of Shuloch and Jacurutu. Leto went to the doorseal, put a hand upon it.

“When Muriz comes,” she said, “he’ll be very angry with—”

“Muriz is a merchant of emptiness,” Leto said. “My aunt has drained him.”

She got to her feet. “I’m going out with you.”

And he thought: She remembers how I escaped her. Now she feels the fragility of her hold upon me. Her visions stir within her. But she would not listen to those visions. She had but to reflect: How could he outwit a captive worm in its narrow canyon? How could he live in the Tanzerouft without stillsuit or Fremkit?

“I must be alone to consult my visions,” he said. “You’ll remain here.”

“Where will you go?”

“To the qanat.”

“The sandtrout come out in swarms at night.”

“They won’t eat me.”

“Sometimes the worm comes down to just beyond the water,” she said. “If you cross the qanat . . .” She broke off, trying to edge her words with menace.

“How could I mount a worm without hooks?” he asked, wondering if she still could salvage some bit of her visions.

“Will you eat when you return?” she asked, squatting once more by the bowl, recovering the ladle and stirring the indigo broth.

“Everything in its own time,” he said, knowing she’d be unable to detect his delicate use of Voice, the way he insinuated his own desires into her decision-making.

“Muriz will come and see if you’ve had a vision,” she warned.

“I will deal with Muriz in my own way,” he said, noting how heavy and slow her movements had become. The pattern of all Fremen lent itself naturally into the way he guided her now. Fremen were people of extraordinary energy at sunrise but a deep and lethargic melancholy often overcame them at nightfall. Already she wanted to sink into sleep and dreams.

Leto let himself out into the night alone.

The sky glittered with stars and he could make out the bulk of surrounding buttes against their pattern. He went up under the palms to the qanat.