Dune полностью

“I was afraid of her,” Duncan said. “I don’t like being afraid.” He lowered his gaze. “You once told me that we only hate what’s really dangerous to us.”

“He will approach it and retreat, approach and retreat. Wait until he plunges.”

“I don’t hate you,” Duncan said, looking once more at Teg. “I resented it when you said ghola to my face. But Lucilla’s right: We should never resent the truth even when it hurts.”

Teg rubbed his own lips. The desire to speak filled him but it was not yet plunge time.

“Doesn’t it surprise you that I considered killing Schwangyu?” Duncan asked.

Teg held himself rigid. Even the shaking of his head would be taken as a response.

“I thought of slipping something into her drink,” Duncan said. “But that’s a coward’s way and I’m not a coward. Whatever else, I’m not that.”

Teg remained silently immobile.

“I think you really care what happens to me, Bashar,” Duncan said. “But you’re right: we will never be comrades. If I survive, I will surpass you. Then . . . it will be too late for us to be comrades. You spoke the truth.”

Teg was unable to prevent himself from inhaling a deep breath of Mentat realization: no avoiding the signs of strength in the ghola. Somewhere recently, perhaps in this very alcove just now, the youth had ceased being a youth and had become a man. The realization saddened Teg. It went so fast! No normal growing-up in between.

“Lucilla does not really care what happens to me the way you do,” Duncan said. “She’s just following her orders from that Mother Superior, Taraza.”

Not yet! Teg cautioned himself. He wet his lips with his tongue.

“You have been obstructing Lucilla’s orders,” Duncan said. “What is it she’s supposed to do to me?”

The moment had come. “What do you think she’s supposed to do?” Teg demanded.

“I don’t know!”

“The original Duncan Idaho would know.”

“You know! Why won’t you tell me?”

“I’m only supposed to help restore your original memories.”

“Then do it!”

“Only you can really do it.”

“I don’t know how!”

Teg sat forward on the edge of his chair, but did not speak. Plunge point? He sensed something lacking in Duncan’s desperation.

“You know I can read lips, sir,” Duncan said. “Once I went up to the tower observatory. I saw Lucilla and Schwangyu down below talking. Schwangyu said: ‘Never mind that he’s so young! You’ve had your orders.’”

Once more cautiously silent, Teg stared back at Duncan. It was like Duncan to move around secretly in the Keep, spying, seeking knowledge. And he had seated himself in that memory-mode now, not realizing that he still was spying and seeking . . . but in a different way.

“I didn’t think she was supposed to kill me,” Duncan said. “But you know what she was supposed to do because you’ve been obstructing her.” Duncan pounded a fist on the table. “Answer me, damn you!”

Ahhhh, full desperation!

“I can only tell you that what she intends conflicts with my orders. I was commanded by Taraza herself to strengthen you and guard you from harm.”

“But you said my training was . . . was flawed!”

“Necessary. It was done to prepare you for your original memories.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“You already know.”

“I don’t, I tell you! Please teach me!”

“You do many things without having been taught them. Did we teach you disobedience?”

“Please help me!” It was a desperate wail.

Teg forced himself to chilly remoteness. “What in the nether hell do you think I’m doing?”

Duncan clenched both fists and pounded them on the table, making his cup dance. He glared at Teg. Abruptly, an odd expression came over Duncan’s face—something grasping in his eyes.

“Who are you?” Duncan whispered.

The key question!

Teg’s voice was a lash striking out at a suddenly defenseless victim: “Who do you think I am?”

A look of utter desperation twisted Duncan’s features. He managed only a gasping stutter: “You’re . . . you’re . . .”

“Duncan! Stop this nonsense!” Teg jumped to his feet and stared down with assumed rage.

“You’re . . .”

Teg’s right hand shot out in a swift arc. The open palm cracked against Duncan’s cheek. “How dare you disobey me?” Left hand out, another rocking slap. “How dare you?”

Duncan reacted so swiftly that Teg experienced an electric instant of absolute shock. Such speed! Although there were separate elements in Duncan’s attack, it occurred in one fluid blur: a leap upward, both feet on the chair, rocking the chair, using that motion to slash the right arm down at Teg’s vulnerable shoulder nerves.

Responding out of trained instincts, Teg dodged sideways and flailed his left leg over the table into Duncan’s groin. Teg still did not completely escape. The heel of Duncan’s hand continued downward to strike beside the knee of Teg’s flailing leg. It numbed the whole leg.