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- Стр. 763/972
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A
thumping
sounded
from
the
open
dunes
beyond
the
baited
patch
of
spice
—
a
deep
drumming
that
seemed
to
be
heard
through
their
feet
.
Gurney
saw
Fremen
spread
out
across
the
sand
there
in
the
path
of
the
worm
.
The
worm
came
on
like
some
great
sandfish
,
cresting
the
surface
,
its
rings
rippling
and
twisting
.
In
a
moment
,
from
his
vantage
point
above
the
desert
,
Gurney
saw
the
taking
of
a
worm
—
the
daring
leap
of
the
first
hookman
,
the
turning
of
the
creature
,
the
way
an
entire
band
of
men
went
up
the
scaly
,
glistening
curve
of
the
worm
’
s
side
.
“
There
’
s
one
of
the
things
you
shouldn
’
t
have
seen
,
”
Paul
said
.
“
There
’
s
been
stories
and
rumors
,
”
Gurney
said
.
“
But
it
’
s
not
a
thing
easy
to
believe
without
seeing
it
.
”
He
shook
his
head
.
“
The
creature
all
men
on
Arrakis
fear
,
you
treat
it
like
a
riding
animal
.
”
“
You
heard
my
father
speak
of
desert
power
,
”
Paul
said
.
“
There
it
is
.
The
surface
of
this
planet
is
ours
.
No
storm
nor
creature
nor
condition
can
stop
us
.
”
Us
,
Gurney
thought
.
He
means
the
Fremen
.
He
speaks
of
himself
as
one
of
them
.
Again
,
Gurney
looked
at
the
spice
blue
in
Paul
’
s
eyes
.
His
own
eyes
,
he
knew
,
had
a
touch
of
the
color
,
but
smugglers
could
get
offworld
foods
and
there
was
a
subtle
caste
implication
in
the
tone
of
the
eyes
among
them
.
They
spoke
of
“
the
touch
of
the
spicebrush
”
to
mean
a
man
had
gone
too
native
.
And
there
was
always
a
hint
of
distrust
in
the
idea
.
“
There
was
a
time
when
we
did
not
ride
the
maker
in
the
light
of
day
in
these
latitudes
,
”
Paul
said
.
“
But
Rabban
has
little
enough
air
cover
left
that
he
can
waste
it
looking
for
a
few
specks
in
the
sand
.
”
He
looked
at
Gurney
.
“
Your
aircraft
were
a
shock
to
us
here
.
”
To
us
.
.
.
to
us
.
.
.
.
