Dune(d(y)o͞on)

Dune(d(y)o͞on)

By Frank(fraNGk) Herbert

In the week before their departure(diˈpärCHər) to Arrakis(ə ä), when all the final scurrying(ˈskərē) about had reached a nearly unbearable(ˌənˈbe(ə)rəbəl) frenzy(ˈfrenzē), an old crone(krōn) came to visit the mother of the boy, Paul.

It was a warm night at Castle(ˈkasəl) Caladan(kəlādān), and the ancient(ˈānCHənt) pile(pīl) of stone that had served the Atreides(ətredās) family as home for twenty-six generations bore(bôr) that cooled-sweat(swet) feeling it acquired(əˈkwī(ə)r) before a change in the weather.

The old woman was let in by the side door down the vaulted(vôlt) passage(ˈpasij) by Paul’s room and she was allowed a moment to peer(pi(ə)r) in at him where he lay in his bed.

By the half-light of a suspensor lamp(lamp), dimmed(dim) and hanging(ˈhaNGiNG) near the floor, the awakened(əˈwākən) boy could see a bulky(ˈbəlkē) female(ˈfēˌmāl) shape(SHāp) at his door, standing one step ahead of his mother. The old woman was a witch(wiCH) shadow(ˈSHadō)—hair like matted(ˈmatid) spiderwebs(ˈspīdərweb), hooded(ˈho͝odid) ’round darkness of features(ˈfēCHər), eyes like glittering(ˈglitəriNG) jewels(ˈjo͞oəl).

“Is he not small for his age, Jessica?” the old woman asked. Her voice wheezed((h)wēz) and twanged(twaNG) like an untuned(ˌənˈt(y)o͞ond) baliset.

Paul’s mother answered in her soft contralto(kənˈtraltō): “The Atreides are known to start late getting their growth, Your Reverence(ˈrev(ə)rəns).”

“So I’ve heard, so I’ve heard,” wheezed the old woman. “Yet he’s already fifteen.”

“Yes, Your Reverence.”

“He’s awake and listening to us,” said the old woman. “Sly(slī) little rascal(ˈraskəl).” She chuckled(ˈCHəkəl). “But royalty(ˈroiəltē) has need of slyness. And if he’s really the Kwisatz Haderach…well….”

Within(wiT͟Hˈin,wiˈTH-) the shadows of his bed, Paul held his eyes open to mere(mi(ə)r) slits(slit). Two bird-bright(brīt) ovals(ˈōvəl)—the eyes of the old woman—seemed to expand and glow as they stared into his.

“Sleep well, you sly little rascal,” said the old woman. “Tomorrow you’ll need all your faculties(ˈfakəltē) to meet my gom jabbar(jəbär).”

And she was gone, pushing his mother out, closing the door with a solid(ˈsälid) thump(THəmp).

Paul lay awake wondering: What’s a gom jabbar?

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