The Winds of Dune Read Online Free PDF Page B

soon as Stilgar released it. Usually, a worm set free of its rider would lurch away into the desert, or bury itself under the sand and sulk. But this one remained where it was, looming, intimidating. It raised its giant head high, facing down, toward him. Its mouth was a round cave bristling with tiny crystalline knives.
    Stilgar froze in the enormous presence of the creature. It knew he was there, yet it did not move toward him, did not attack. Trembling slightly, the Naib could not forget the whispered rumors that Muad’Dib, having trekked out on the sands, had become one with Shai-Hulud. The sandworm’s eyeless head had an eerie, sightless gaze . . . making him think of Muad’Dib. Though blinded, the great man had been able to see Stilgar through prescience.
    He felt a sudden chill. Something was different. He breathedslowly, forming the words in his thoughts but with barely a sound passing across his dry lips. “Muad’Dib, are you there?”
    It seemed foolish, but he could not escape the feeling. In an instant, the sandworm could dive down and devour him, but it did not.
    After several long, tense moments, the enormous creature turned and glided off into the sands, leaving Stilgar standing there, shaking. He watched as the creature drifted off and burrowed itself deep, leaving barely a ripple to mark its passage.
    Tingling with awe, wondering what exactly he had just experienced, Stilgar sprinted with a well-practiced stutter-step across the dunes toward the Shield Wall and the great city beyond.

 

     
     
There is a rule about surprises: Most of them are not good.
— ANONYMOUS , of Old Terra

     
     
     
     
    J essica had been a long time away from the desert, from the Fremen, and from the mind-set that permeated Arrakis.
Dune
. She drew a deep breath, sure that the air inside the passenger cabin already felt dryer.
    As the showy political transport descended from orbit, she stared down at the sprawling city beyond the spaceport, picking out familiar Arrakeen landmarks, noting swaths of new construction. The immense Citadel of Muad’Dib dominated the north side of the city, though many additional new structures vied for attention on the skyline. Numerous government buildings shouldered up against enormous temples to Muad’Dib and even to Alia.
    With her knowledge of Bene Gesserit methods for controlling impressions, manipulating history, and herding large populations, Jessica saw exactly what Paul—or, more accurately, his bureaucracy—intended to do. Much of government was about creating perceptions and moods. Long ago, the Bene Gesserit had unleashed their Missionaria Protectiva here on Arrakis to plant legends and prime the people for a myth. Under Paul-Muad’Dib, those seeds had come to fruition, but not in the way the Sisterhood had anticipated. . . .
    The transport settled on a demarcated area reserved for important visitors. Swirls of sand obscured Jessica’s view through the porthole.
    When the exit doors opened, she smelled dust in the air, heard the susurration of a waiting crowd. The mobs had already gathered, a sea of dirty robes and covered faces. It was late afternoon by local time, and the white sun cast long shadows. She saw hundreds of people in brown and gray desert garb intermixed with those who wore city clothing in a variety of colors.
    All had come to see her. Still inside the transport, Jessica hesitated. “I wasn’t anxious to return here, Gurney. Not at all.”
    For a long moment, he remained silent in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his emotions, his uneasiness, maybe even his dread of facing the wailing masses. Finally, he said, “What is this place without Paul? It isn’t Arrakis.”
    “
Dune,
Gurney. It will always be Dune.”
    Though Jessica still could not grieve—with those feelings locked down, or trapped, inside of her—now she felt moistness in her eyes, a stinging hint of the release she wanted and needed. But she didn’t allow a single tear.
Dune
did not