"Frank Herbert - Dune" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

"I know."
"You're as dear to me as any of my own daughters, but I cannot let that interfere with duty."
"I understand . . . the necessity."
"What you did, Jessica, and why you did it -- we both know. But kindness forces me to tell you there's little chance your lad will be the Bene Gesserit Totality. You mustn't let yourself hope too much."
Jessica shook tears from the corners of her eyes. It was an angry gesture. "You make me feel like a little girl again -- reciting my first lesson." She forced the words out: " 'Humans must never submit to animals.' " A dry sob shook her. In a low voice, she said: "I've been so lonely."
"It should be one of the tests," the old woman said. "Humans are almost always lonely. Now summon the boy. He's had a long, frightening day. But he's had time to think and remember, and I must ask the other questions about these dreams of his."
Jessica nodded, went to the door of the Meditation Chamber, opened it. "Paul, come in now, please."
Paul emerged with a stubborn slowness. He stared at his mother as though she were a stranger. Wariness veiled his eyes when he glanced at the Reverend Mother, but this time he nodded to her, the nod one gives an equal. He heard his mother close the door behind him.
"Young man," the old woman said, "let's return to this dream business."
"What do you want?"
"Do you dream every night?"
"Not dreams worth remembering. I can remember every dream, but some are worth remembering and some aren't."
"How do you know the difference?"
"I just know it."
The old woman glanced at Jessica, back to Paul. "What did you dream last night? Was it worth remembering?"
"Yes." Paul closed his eyes. "I dreamed a cavern . . . and water . . . and a girl there -- very skinny with big eyes. Her eyes are all blue, no whites in them. I talk to her and tell her about you, about seeing the Reverend Mother on Caladan." Paul opened his eyes.
"And the thing you tell this strange girl about seeing me, did it happen today?"
Paul thought about this, then: "Yes. I tell the girl you came and put a stamp of strangeness on me."
"Stamp of strangeness," the old woman breathed, and again she shot a glance at Jessica, returned her attention to Paul. "Tell me truly now, Paul, do you often have dreams of things that happen afterward exactly as you dreamed them?"
"Yes. And I've dreamed about that girl before."
"Oh? You know her?"
"I will know her."
"Tell me about her."
Again, Paul closed his eyes. "We're in a little place in some rocks where it's sheltered. It's almost night, but it's hot and I can see patches of sand out of an opening in the rocks. We're . . . waiting for something . . . for me to go meet some people. And she's frightened but trying to hide it from me, and I'm excited. And she says: 'Tell me about the waters of your homeworld, Usul.' " Paul opened his eyes. "Isn't that strange? My homeworld's Caladan. I've never even heard of a planet called Usul."
"Is there more to this dream?" Jessica prompted.
"Yes. But maybe she was calling me Usul," Paul said. "I just thought of that." Again, he closed his eyes. "She asks me to tell her about the waters. And I take her hand. And I say I'll tell her a poem. And I tell her the poem, but I have to explain some of the words -- like beach and surf and seaweed and seagulls."
"What poem?" the Reverend Mother asked.
Paul opened his eyes. "It's just one of Gurney Halleck's tone poems for sad times."
Behind Paul Jessica began to recite:

"I remember salt smoke from a beach fire
And shadows under the pines --
Solid, clean . . . fixed --
Seagulls perched at the tip of land,
White upon green . . .
And a wind comes through the pines
To sway the shadows;
The seagulls spread their wings,
Lift
And fill the sky with screeches.
And I hear the wind
Blowing across our beach,
And the surf,
And I see that our fire
Has scorched the seaweed."

"That's the one," Paul said.
The old woman stared at Paul, then: "Young man, as a Proctor of the Bene Gesserit, I seek the Kwisatz Haderach, the male who truly can become one of us. Your mother sees this possibility in you, but she sees with the eyes of a mother. Possibility I see, too, but no more."
She fell silent and Paul saw that she wanted him to speak. He waited her out.
Presently, she said: "As you will, then. You've depths in you; that I'll grant."