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Only
the
faintest
touch
of
sarcasm
tinged
his
voice
,
but
Fremen
ears
around
them
,
alert
to
every
tone
in
a
bird
’
s
cry
or
a
cielago
’
s
piping
message
,
heard
the
sarcasm
and
watched
Paul
to
see
what
he
would
do
.
“
Stilgar
heard
me
swear
my
loyalty
to
him
when
we
consecrated
the
Fedaykin
,
”
Paul
said
.
“
My
death
commandos
know
I
spoke
with
honor
.
Does
Stilgar
doubt
it
?
”
Real
pain
exposed
itself
in
Paul
’
s
voice
.
Stilgar
heard
it
and
lowered
his
gaze
.
“
Usul
,
the
companion
of
my
sietch
,
him
I
would
never
doubt
,
”
Stilgar
said
.
“
But
you
are
Paul
-
Muad
’
Dib
,
the
Atreides
Duke
,
and
you
are
the
Lisan
al
-
Gaib
,
the
Voice
from
the
Outer
World
.
These
men
I
don
’
t
even
know
.
”
Paul
turned
away
to
watch
the
Habbanya
Ridge
climb
out
of
the
desert
.
The
maker
beneath
them
still
felt
strong
and
willing
.
It
could
carry
them
almost
twice
the
distance
of
any
other
in
Fremen
experience
.
He
knew
it
.
There
was
nothing
outside
the
stories
told
to
children
that
could
match
this
old
man
of
the
desert
.
It
was
the
stuff
of
a
new
legend
,
Paul
realized
.
A
hand
gripped
his
shoulder
.
Paul
looked
at
it
,
followed
the
arm
to
the
face
beyond
it
—
the
dark
eyes
of
Stilgar
exposed
between
filter
mask
and
stillsuit
hood
.
“
The
one
who
led
Tabr
sietch
before
me
,
”
Stilgar
said
,
“
he
was
my
friend
.
We
shared
dangers
.
He
owed
me
his
life
many
a
time
.
.
.
and
I
owed
him
mine
.
”
