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The
eyes
of
the
fighting
man
ahead
of
Gurney
followed
the
motion
of
hand
toward
knive
,
came
back
to
glare
into
Gurney
’
s
eyes
.
“
Leave
the
knife
in
its
sheath
,
Gurney
Halleck
,
”
the
man
said
.
Gurney
hesitated
.
That
voice
sounded
oddly
familiar
even
through
a
stillsuit
filter
.
“
You
know
my
name
?
”
he
said
.
“
You
’
ve
no
need
of
a
knife
with
me
,
Gurney
,
”
the
man
said
.
He
straightened
,
slipped
his
crysknife
into
its
sheath
back
beneath
his
robe
.
“
Tell
your
men
to
stop
their
useless
resistance
.
”
The
man
threw
his
hood
back
,
swung
the
filter
aside
.
The
shock
of
what
he
saw
froze
Gurney
’
s
muscles
.
He
thought
at
first
he
was
looking
at
a
ghost
image
of
Duke
Leto
Atreides
.
Full
recognition
came
slowly
.
“
Paul
,
”
he
whispered
.
Then
louder
:
“
Is
it
truly
Paul
?
”
“
Don
’
t
you
trust
your
own
eyes
?
”
Paul
asked
.
“
They
said
you
were
dead
,
”
Gurney
rasped
.
He
took
a
half
-
step
forward
.
