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- Фрэнк Герберт
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“
At
once
,
”
Paul
said
.
Stilgar
turned
away
,
led
them
down
through
the
rocks
,
a
twisting
and
turning
path
into
a
shadowed
cleft
that
admitted
them
to
the
low
entrance
of
a
cave
.
Men
hurried
to
fasten
a
doorseal
behind
them
.
Glowglobes
showed
a
broad
,
dome
-
ceilinged
space
with
a
raised
ledge
on
one
side
and
a
passage
leading
off
from
it
.
Paul
leaped
to
the
ledge
with
Gurney
right
behind
him
,
led
the
way
into
the
passage
.
The
others
headed
for
another
passage
opposite
the
entrance
.
Paul
led
the
way
through
an
anteroom
and
into
a
chamber
with
dark
,
wine
-
colored
hangings
on
its
walls
.
“
We
can
have
some
privacy
here
for
a
while
,
”
Paul
said
.
“
The
others
will
respect
my
—
”
An
alarm
cymbal
clanged
from
the
outer
chamber
,
was
followed
by
shouting
and
clashing
of
weapons
.
Paul
whirled
,
ran
back
through
the
anteroom
and
out
onto
the
atrium
lip
above
the
outer
chamber
.
Gurney
was
right
behind
,
weapon
drawn
.
Beneath
them
on
the
floor
of
the
cave
swirled
a
melee
of
struggling
figures
.
Paul
stood
an
instant
assessing
the
scene
,
separating
the
Fremen
robes
and
bourkas
from
the
costumes
of
those
they
opposed
.
Senses
that
his
mother
had
trained
to
detect
the
most
subtle
clues
picked
out
a
significant
face
—
the
Fremen
fought
against
men
wearing
smuggler
robes
,
but
the
smugglers
were
crouched
in
trios
,
backed
into
triangles
where
pressed
.
That
habit
of
close
fighting
was
a
trademark
of
the
Imperial
Sardaukar
.
A
Fedaykin
in
the
crowd
saw
Paul
,
and
his
battlecry
was
lifted
to
echo
in
the
chamber
:
“
Muad
‘
Dib
!
Muad
’
Dib
!
Muad
’
Dib
!
”
