The Winds of Dune Read Online Free PDF Page A

comprehend fully. She accepted that now.
    Gurney crumpled the leaflet, threw it aside in disgust, while Jessica shook her head, wishing it could have all been different. Still, Bronso served his purpose, as did they all.

 

     
     
Subakh ul kuhar,
Muad’Dib! Are you well? Are you out there?
—Fremen chant to wind and sand

     
     
     
     
    H e needed the desert, the vast ocean without water that covered most of the planet. Too much time in the city with its priests and Landsraad members arguing over plans for Muad’Dib’s funeral had been wearing on Stilgar. And those noisy pilgrims from other worlds! They were everywhere, clamoring and pushing, giving him no space or time to think.
    Finally, after the envoy from Shaddam IV suffered his tragic accident, Stilgar decided to depart for Sietch Tabr, to immerse himself in the purity of Fremen life. He hoped it would cleanse his mental palate and make him feel
real
again, a Naib instead of a robed ornament in Alia’s court. He made the journey alone, leaving his wife Harah back at the Citadel to watch the Atreides twins.
    At Sietch Tabr, however, he found many changes that disappointed him. It was like the slow fall of sand grains down a slipface, each grain too small to be noticed, but cumulatively causing a significant change. After so many years of Jihad, offworld influences had diluted the Fremen. Their hardships had eased, and their lives were no longer the difficult struggle they once had been. And with comforts came weakness. Stilgar knew the signs. He had watched the changes, and the sietchcould no longer offer him the purity he sought. In the end he stayed only one night.
    Early the next morning, he was out on the open sand, riding a powerful worm. As the behemoth carried him back toward the Shield Wall and Arrakeen, he wondered if the mother of Muad’Dib would return for her son’s funeral. Jessica was a Sayyadina in her own right, and Stilgar felt that Dune had lost part of its soul when she’d chosen to go back to her water world instead of remaining here. How good it would be to see her again, though he was sure even Jessica must have changed.
    As a precaution, he would gather his best Fedaykin in Arrakeen, where they could stand guard with Alia’s soldiers to welcome the mother of the Messiah—if she chose to return. Jessica didn’t need the pomp and ceremony, but she might need his protection.
    Stilgar found his solo ride across the desert invigorating and cleansing. Sitting high on the gray-tan segments of the sandworm, he listened to the hiss of grains as the enormous sinuous body glided along. The hot desert winds caressed Stilgar’s face, winds that would easily erase the tracks of the worm behind them, winds that would make the desert pristine again. This experience made him feel whole once more—planting his own thumper, mounting the worm with his hooks and spreaders, guiding the monster to his will.
    Ever since Muad’Dib had gone out to face his fate, the superstitious Fremen and the people of pan and graben claimed that he had joined Shai-Hulud—literally and spiritually. Some villagers had taken to placing empty pots on shelves or in windows to symbolize the fact that Muad’Dib’s water had never been found, that he had mingled with the sands, with the deity Shai-Hulud. . . .
    Only hours after Muad’Dib had walked out onto the sand, sweet and bereaved Alia had asked Stilgar to follow orders that he knew were contrary to Paul’s direct wishes. She tapped into the Naib’s core beliefs and his need for revenge until he convinced himself that Muad’Dib’s contradictory intent was merely a test. After so much pain and death, Stilgar had
wanted
to feel blood on his hands. As a Naib he had killed many men, and as a fighter in Muad’Dib’s Jihad, he had slaughtered countless others.
    A night of killing had ensued, as the details of the complex conspiracy began to unfold. Korba, a brave Fedaykin who had let himselfbecome too important in