"Brian Herbert - Dune - Nightime Shadows On Open Sand" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

pupils had dilated, making his solid blue eyes look black. He wrapped his desert camouflage around
him, as did the other, older guerrillas. "It is said that when one waits for vengeance, time
passes slowly but sweetly."

Liet-Kynes nodded. He was dressed to look like a weak, water-fat village boy, but his eyes were as
hard as Velan steel. Beside him, his sietch-mate and blood-brother Warrick, a slightly taller lad,
nodded as well. This night, the two would pretend to be helpless children caught out in the open тАж
irresistible targets for the anticipated Harkonnen patrol.

"We do what must be done, Stil." Liet clapped a hand on Warrick's padded shoulder. These twelve-
year-olds had already blooded more than a hundred Harkonnens apiece, and would have stopped
keeping count, except for their friendly rivalry with each other. "I trust my brother with my
life."

Warrick covered Liet's hand with his own. "Liet would be afraid to die without me at his side."

"With or without you, Warrick, I don't plan to die this night," Liet said, which elicited a deep
laugh from his companion. "I plan to exact revenge."

After the orgy of poisoned death had fallen upon Bilar Camp, Fremen rage had spread from sietch to
sietch like water soaking into sand. From the 'thopter markings found near the hidden cistern,
they knew who was responsible. All Harkonnens must pay.

Around Carthag and Arsunt, word had been passed to timid-looking workers and dusty servants placed
inside Harkonnen strongholds. Some of the infiltrators scrubbed the floors of troop barracks using
dry rags and abrasives. Others posed as water sellers supplying the occupation force.

As the tale of the poisoned village passed from one Harkonnen soldier to another in progressively
exaggerated anecdotes, the Fremen informants noted who derived the greatest pleasure from the
news. They studied the crew assignments and route logs of Harkonnen patrols. Before long, they had
learned exactly which Harkonnen troopers were responsible. And where they could be found.тАж

With a high-pitched squeak and a dancing blur of gossamer wings, a tiny distrans bat swooped from
an observation outcropping in the mountains behind them. When Stilgar held up a hand, the bat
landed on his forearm, primly folding its wings and waiting for a reward.

Stilgar drew a tiny drop of water from the sipping tube at his throat and let the moisture fall
into the open mouth of the bat. Then he brought forth a thin cylinder and placed it to his ear,
listening as the bat emitted complex, wavering squeaks. Stilgar tapped the bat on its head, then
flung it into the night air again, like a falconer releasing his bird.

He turned back to his expectant troop, a predatory smile on his moonshadowed face. "Their
ornithopter has been seen over the ridge. The Harkonnens fly a predictable path as they scan the
desert. But they have been on patrol for so long, they are complacent. They do not see their own
patterns."

"Tonight, they fly into a web of death," Warrick said from the dune top, lifting his fist into the


file:///C|/3226%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20...20Nightime%20Shadows%20On%20Open%20Sand.txt (8 of 12) [1/3/2005 12:29:29 AM]