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- Фрэнк Герберт
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- Стр. 50/972
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He
glanced
at
the
charts
on
the
table
.
“
And
Arrakis
is
just
another
place
.
”
“
Did
my
father
send
you
up
to
test
me
?
”
Hawat
scowled
—
the
boy
had
such
observing
ways
about
him
.
He
nodded
.
“
You
’
re
thinking
it
’
d
have
been
nicer
if
he
’
d
come
up
himself
,
but
you
must
know
how
busy
he
is
.
He
’
ll
be
along
later
.
”
“
I
’
ve
been
studying
about
the
storms
on
Arrakis
.
”
“
The
storms
.
I
see
.
”
“
They
sound
pretty
bad
.
”
“
That
’
s
too
cautious
a
word
:
bad
.
Those
storms
build
up
across
six
or
seven
thousand
kilometers
of
flatlands
,
feed
on
anything
that
can
give
them
a
push
—
coriolis
force
,
other
storms
,
anything
that
has
an
ounce
of
energy
in
it
.
They
can
blow
up
to
seven
hundred
kilometers
an
hour
,
loaded
with
everything
loose
that
’
s
in
their
way
—
sand
,
dust
,
everything
.
They
can
eat
flesh
off
bones
and
etch
the
bones
to
slivers
.
”
“
Why
don
’
t
they
have
weather
control
?
”
