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- Фрэнк Герберт
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- Стр. 772/972
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Another
eye
had
also
picked
Paul
out
.
A
black
knife
came
hurtling
toward
him
.
Paul
dodged
,
heard
the
knife
clatter
against
stone
behind
him
,
glanced
to
see
Gurney
retrieve
it
.
The
triangular
knots
were
being
pressed
back
now
.
Gurney
held
the
knife
up
in
front
of
Paul
’
s
eyes
,
pointed
to
the
hairline
yellow
coil
of
Imperial
color
,
the
golden
lion
crest
,
multifaceted
eyes
at
the
pommel
.
Sardaukar
for
certain
.
Paul
stepped
out
to
the
lip
of
the
ledge
.
Only
three
of
the
Sardaukar
remained
.
Bloody
rag
mounds
of
Sardaukar
and
Fremen
lay
in
a
twisted
pattern
across
the
chamber
.
“
Hold
!
”
Paul
shouted
.
“
The
Duke
Paul
Atreides
commands
you
to
hold
!
”
The
fighting
wavered
,
hesitated
.
“
You
Sardaukar
!
”
Paul
called
to
the
remaining
group
.
“
By
whose
orders
do
you
threaten
a
ruling
Duke
?
”
And
,
quickly
,
as
his
men
started
to
press
in
around
the
Sardaukar
:
“
Hold
,
I
say
!
”
One
of
the
cornered
trio
straightened
.
“
Who
says
we
’
re
Sardaukar
?
”
he
demanded
.
