"Frank Herbert - Dune 4 - God Emporer of Dune" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

said. He spoke in a low voice, somehow made menacing by its lack of emphasis.
Siona heard it then, the way he carried his venom in a sleeve of soft vowels and
she was suddenly alerted.
"Try treachery and we will hunt you down like vermin," she said.
Topri shot a startled glance at her.
The Museum Fremen appeared to shrivel, drawing in upon himself. The blade
trembled in his hand, but his gnome fingers still curled inward around it as
though clasping a throat.
"Treachery, Lady? Oh, no. But it occurred to us that we asked too little for
this copy. Poor as it is, making it and selling it this way puts us in dreadful
peril."
Siona glared at him, thinking of the old Fremen words from the Oral History:
"Once you acquire a marketplace soul, the suk is the totality of existence."
"How much do you want?" she demanded.
He named a sum twice his original figure.
Topri gasped.
Siona looked at Topri. "Do you have that much?"
"Not quite, but we agreed on. . ."
"Give him what you have, all of it," Siona said.
"All of it?"
"Isn't that what I said? Every coin in that bag." She faced the Museum Fremen.
"You will accept this payment." It was not a question and the old man heard her
correctly. He wrapped the blade in its cloth and passed it to her.
Topri handed over the pouch of coins, muttering under his breath.
Siona addressed herself to the Museum Fremen. "We know your name. You are
Teishar, aide to Garun of Tuono. You
have a suk mentality and you make me shudder at what Fremen have become."
"Lady, we all have to live," he protested.
"You are not alive," she said. "Be gone!"
Teishar had turned and scurried away, clutching the money pouch close to his
chest.
Memory of that night did not sit well in Siona's mind as she watched Topri wave
the crysknife copy in their rebel ceremony. We're no better than Teishar, she
thought. A copy is worse than nothing. Topri brandished the stupid blade over
his head as he neared the ceremony's conclusion.
Siona looked away from him and stared at Nayla seated off to her left. Nayla was
looking first one direction and now another. She paid special attention to the
new cadre of recruits at the back of the room. Nayla did not give her trust
easily. Siona wrinkled her nose as a stirring of the air brought the smell of
lubricants. The depths of Onn always smelled dangerously mechanical! She
sniffed. And this room! She did not like their meeting place. It could easily be
a trap. Guards could seal off the outer corridors and send in armed searchers.
This could be too easily the place where their rebellion ended. Siona was made
doubly uneasy by the fact that this room had been Topri's choice.
One of Ulot's few mistakes, she thought. Poor dead Ulot had approved Topri's
admission to the rebellion.
"He is a minor functionary in city services," Ulot had explained. "Topri can
find us many useful places to meet and arm ourselves."
Topri had reached almost the end of his ceremony. He placed the knife in an
ornate case and put the case on the floor beside him.