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𝖤𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟢 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟤 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍 - “𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖭𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋-𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖡𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝖨𝗌 𝖮𝗏𝖾𝗋” 𝖲𝖾𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝖼𝗄. [Main logotype Expert Modern Advice](       Dear Reader, Іnvеstmеnt expert Brad Thomas bought Nike in 2003… And Starbucks in 2006… But neither one made his “10 must-have stocks for 2023.” [Сlісk hеrе and listen to the end to gеt the nаmе and ticker of his #1.]( АІІ thе bеst, Frances Popp Managing Editor, Wide Moat Research   By uttering the words, by being t, she made herself infinitely worth their fighting. Paul clamped his lips tightly closed, forced himself to be silent. T had been the one for him to succeed with the Voice. --everything depended on his mother whose experience went so far beyond his own. Yeah, Scarface said. No need to fight over.... His hand flashed toward the pilot's neck. The blow was met by a splash of metal that caught the arm and in the same motion slammed into Kinet's chest. Scarface groaned, sagged backward against his door. Thought I was some dummy didn't k that trick, Czigo said. He brought back his hand, revealing the knife. It glittered in reflected moonlight. for the cub, he said and leaned toward Paul. No need for that, Jessica murmured. Czigo hesitated. Wouldn't you rather have me cooperative? Jessica asked. Give the boy a . Her lip curled in a sneer. Little enough he'd have out t in that sand. Give him that and.... She smiled. You could find yourself well rewarded. Czigo glanced left, right, returned his attention to Jessica. I've heard me what can happen to a man in this desert, he said. Boy might find the knife a kindness. Is it so much I ask? Jessica pleaded. You're trying to trick me, Czigo muttered. I don't want to see my son die, Jessica said. Is that a trick? Czigo moved back, elbowed the door latch. He grabbed Paul, dragged him across the seat, pushed him half out the door and held the knife posed. What'll y' do, cub, if I cut y'r bonds? He'll and head for those rocks, Jessica said. Is that what y'll do, cub? Czigo asked. Paul's voice was properly surly. Yes. The knife moved down, slashed the bindings of his legs. Paul felt the hand on his back to hurl him down onto the sand, feigned a lurch against the doorframe for , turned as though to catch himself, lashed out with his right foot. The toe was aimed with a precision that did to his long years of training, as though of that training focused on this . Almost every muscle of his body cooperated in the placement of it. The tip struck the soft part of Czigo's abdomen just below the sternum, slammed upward with terrible force over the liver and through the diaphragm to crush the right ventricle of the man's heart. With one gurgling scream, the guard jerked backward across the seats. Paul, unable to use his hands, continued his tumble onto the He's deliberately trying to arouse my anger, the Baron thought. He took two deep breaths to calm himself. He could smell his own sweat, and the harness of the suspensors beneath his robe felt suddenly itchy and ging. The Emperor cannot be unhappy about the death of the concubine and the boy, the Baron said. They fled into the desert. T was a storm. Yes, t were so many convenient accidents, the Count agreed. I do not like your tone, Count, the Baron said. Anger is one thing, violence another, the Count said. Let me caution you: Should an unfortunate accident occur to me the Houses would learn what you did on Arrakis. They've long suspected how you do business. The recent business I can re, the Baron said, was transportation of several legions of Sardaukar to Arrakis. You think you could hold that over the Emperor's head? I wouldn't think of it! The Count smiled. Sardaukar commanders could be found who'd confess they acted without s because they wanted a battle with your Fremen scum. Many might doubt such a confession, the Baron said, but the threat staggered him. Are Sardaukar truly that disciplined? he dered. The Emperor does wish to audit your books, the Count said. Any time. You ... ah ... have no objections? None. My CHOAM Company directorship will bear the cst scrutiny. And he thought: Let him bring a false accusation against me and have it exposed. I sh stand t, promethean, saying: Behold me, I am wronged. Then let him bring any other accusation against me, even a true one. The Houses will not believe a second attack from an accuser once proved wrong. No doubt your books will bear the cst scrutiny, the Count muttered. Why is the Emperor so interested in exterminating the Fremen? the Baron asked. You wish the be changed, eh? The Count shrugged. It is the Sardaukar who wish it, not the Emperor. They needed practice in killing ... and they hate to see a task left undone. Does he think to frighten me by reminding me that he is supported by bloodthirsty killers? the Baron dered. A certain amount of killing has always been an arm of business, the Baron said, but a line has to be drawn somew. Someone must be left to work the spice. The Count emitted a short, barking laugh. You think you can harness the Fremen? T were enough of them for that, the Baron said. But the killing has made the rest of my population uneasy. It's reaching the point w I'm considering another to the Arrakeen , my dear Fenring. And I must confess the Emperor deserves for the inspiration. Ah-h-h? You see, Count, I have the Emperor's prison planet, Salusa Secundus, to inspire me. The Count stared at him with glittering intensity. What possible connection is t between Arrakis and Salusa Secundus? The Baron felt the alertness in Fenring's eyes, said: No connection yet. Yet? You must admit it'd be a way to develop a substantial work force on Arrakis--use the place as a prison planet. You anticipate an increase in prisoners? T has been unrest, the Baron admitted. I've had to squeeze rather severely, Fenring. After , you k the I paid that damnable Guild to transport our mutual force to Arrakis. That has to come from somew. I suggest you not use Arrakis as a prison planet without the Emperor's permission, Baron. Of course not, the Baron said, and he dered at the sudden chill in Fenring's voice. Another matter, the Count said. We learn that Duke Leto's Mentat, Thufir Hawat, is not dead but in your employ. I could not bring myself to waste him, the Baron said. You lied to our Sardaukar commander when you said Hawat was dead. a white lie, my dear Count. I hadn't the stomach for a long argument with the man. Was Hawat the real traitor? Oh, goodness, no! It was the false doctor. The Baron wiped at perspiration on his neck. You must understand, Fenring, I was without a Mentat. You k that. I've been without a Mentat. It was most unsettling. How could you Hawat to shift egiance? His Duke was dead. The Baron forced a smile. T's nothing to fear from Hawat, my dear Count. The Mentat's flesh has been impregnated with a latent poison. We administer an antidote in his meals. Without the antidote, the poison is triggered--he'd die in a few days. Withdraw the antidote, the Count said. But he's useful! And he ks too many things no living man should k. You said the Emperor doesn't fear exposure. Don't play games with me, Baron! When I see such an above the Imperial seal I'll obey it, the Baron said. But I'll not submit to your whim. You think it whim? What else can it be? The Emperor has obligations to me, too, Fenring. I rid him of the troublesome Duke. With the help of a few Sardaukar. W else would the Emperor have found a House to provide the disguising uniforms to hide his hand in this matter? He has asked himself the same question, Baron, but with a slightly different emphasis. The Baron studied Fenring, noting the stiffness of jaw muscles, the careful control. Ah-h-h, , the Baron said. I hope the Emperor doesn't believe he can move against me in total secrecy. He hopes it 't become necessary. The Emperor cannot believe I threaten him! The Baron permitted anger and grief to edge his voice, thinking: Let him wrong me in that! I could place myself on the throne while still beating my breast over how I'd been wronged. The Count's voice went dry and remote as he said: The Emperor believes what his senses tell him. Dare the Emperor charge me with treason before a full Landstraad Council? And the Baron held his breath with the hope of it. The Emperor need dare nothing. The Baron whirled away in his suspensors to hide his expression. It could happen in my ! he thought. Emperor! Let him wrong me! Then--the bribes and coercion, the rying of the Houses: they'd flock to my banner like peasants running for shelter. The thing they fear above else is the Emperor's Sardaukar loosed upon them one House at a time. It's the Emperor's sincere hope he'll have to charge you with treason, the Count said. The Baron found it difficult to keep irony out of his voice and permit the expression of hurt, but he managed. I've been a most loyal subject. These words hurt me beyond my capacity to express. A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care that the balances are correct. This every sister of the Bene Gesserit ks. To begin your study of the of Muad'Dib, then, take care that you first place him in his time: born in the 57th year of the Padishah Emperor, Shaddam IV. And take the most special care that you locate Muad'Dib in his place: the planet Arrakis. Do not be deceived by the fact that he was bom on Caladan and lived his first fifteen years t. Arrakis, the planet kn as Dune, is forever his place. IN THE week before their departure to Arrakis, when the final scurrying about had reached a nearly unbearable frenzy, an old crone came to visit the mother of the boy, Paul. It was a warm night at Castle Caladan, and the ancient pile of stone that had served the Atreides family as for twenty-six generations bore that cooled-sweat feeling it acquired before a change in the weather. The old woman was let in by the side door down the vaulted passage by Paul's room and she was owed a moment to peer in at him w he lay in his bed. By the half-light of a suspensor lamp, dimmed and hanging near the floor, the awakened boy could see a bulky female shape at his door, standing one step ahead of his mother. The old woman was a witch shadow--hair like matted spiderwebs, hooded 'round darkness of features, eyes like glittering jewels. Is he not sm for his age, Jessica? the old woman asked. Her voice wheezed and twanged like an untuned baliset. Paul's mother answered in her soft contralto: The Atreides are kn to start late ting their growth, Your Reverence. 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 little rascal. She chuckled. But royalty has need of slyness. And if he's rey the Kwisatz Haderach ... well.... Within the shadows of his bed, Paul held his eyes to mere slits. Two bird-bright ovals--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 your faculties to meet my gom jabbar. And she was gone, pushing his mother out, closing the door with a solid thump. Paul lay awake dering: What's a gom jabbar? In the upset during this time of change, the old woman was the strangest thing he had seen. Your Reverence. And the way she ed his mother Jessica like a common serving wench instead of what she was--a Bene Gesserit Lady, a duke's concubine and mother of the ducal heir. Is a gom jabbar something of Arrakis I must k before we go t? he dered. He mouthed her strange words: Gomjabbar... Kwisatz Haderach. T had been so many things to learn. Arrakis would be a place so different from Caladan that Paul's mind whirled with the kledge. Arrakis--Dune--Desert Planet. Thufir Hawat, his father's Master of Assassins, had explained it: their mortal enemies, the Harkonnens, had been on Arrakis eighty years, holding the planet in quasi-fief under a CHOAM Company contract to mine the geriatric spice, melange. the Harkonnens were leaving to be replaced by the House of Atreides in fief-complete-an apparent victory for the Duke Leto. Yet, Hawat had said, this appearance contained the deadliest peril, for the Duke Leto was popular among the Houses of the Landsraad. A popular man arouses the jealousy of the powerful, Hawat had said. Arrakis--Dune--Desert Planet. Paul fell asleep to dream of an Arrakeen cavern, silent people around him moving in the dim light of glowglobes. It was solemn t and like a cathedral as he listened to a faint sound--the drip-drip-drip of water. Even while he remained in the dream, Paul k he would re it upon awakening. He always reed the dreams that were predictions. The dream faded. Paul awoke to feel himself in the warmth of his bed--thinking ... thinking. This world of Castle Caladan, without play or companions his own age, perhaps did not deserve sadness in farewell. Dr. Yueh, his teacher, had hinted that the faufreluches class system was not rigidly guarded on Arrakis. The planet sheltered people who lived at the desert edge without caid or bashar to command them: will-o'-the-sand people ed Fremen, marked down on no census of the Imperial Regate. Arrakis-Dune-Desert Planet. Paul sensed his own tensions, decided to practice one of the mind-body lessons his mother had taught him. Three quick breaths triggered the responses: he fell into the floating awareness ... focusing the consciousness ... aortal dilation ... ing the unfocused mechanism of consciousness ... to be conscious by choice ... blood enriched and swift-flooding the overload regions ... one does not obtain food-safety- by instinct alone ... animal consciousness does not extend beyond the given moment nor into the idea that its victims may become extinct ... the animal destroys and does not produce ... animal pleasures remain c to sensation levels and the perceptual ... the requires a background grid through which to see his universe ... focused consciousness by choice, this forms your grid ... bodily integrity follows nerve-blood flow according to the deepest awareness of cell needs ... things/cells/beings are impermanent ... strive for flow-permanence within.... Over and over and over within Paul's floating awareness the lesson rolled. When dawn touched Paul's window sill with yellow light, he sensed it through cd eyelids, ed them, hearing then the reed bustle and hurry in the castle, seeing the familiar patterned beams of his bedroom ceiling. The h door ed and his mother peered in, hair like shaded bronze held with black ribbon at the crown, her oval face emotionless and green eyes staring solemnly. You're awake, she said. Did you sleep well? Yes. He studied the tness of her, saw the hint of tension in her shoulders as she chose clothing for him from the ct racks. Another might have missed the tension, but she had trained him in the Bene Gesserit Way--in the minutiae of observation. She turned, holding a semiformal jacket for him. It carried the red Atreides hawk crest above the breast pocket. Hurry and dress, she said. Reverend Mother is waiting. I dreamed of her once, Paul said. Who is she? She was my teacher at the Bene Gesserit school. , she's the Emperor's Truthsayer. And Paul.... She hesitated. You must tell her about your dreams. I will. Is she the reason we got Arrakis? We did not Arrakis. Jessica flicked dust from a pair of trousers, hung them with the jacket on the dressing stand beside his bed. Don't keep Reverend Mother waiting. Paul sat up, hugged his knees. What's a gom jabbar? Again, the training she had given him exposed her almost invisible hesitation, a nervous betrayal he felt as fear. Jessica crossed to the window, flung wide the draperies, stared across the river orchards toward Mount Syubi. You'll learn about ... the gom jabbar enough, she said. He heard the fear in her voice and dered at it. Jessica spoke without turning. Reverend Mother is waiting in my morning room. hurry. The Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam sat in a tapestried chair watching mother and son approach. Windows on each side of her overlooked the curving southern bend of the river and the green farmlands of the Atreides family holding, but the Reverend Mother ignored the view. She was feeling her age this morning, more than a little petulant. She blamed it on space travel and association with that abominable Spacing Guild and its secretive ways. But was a mission that required personal attention from a Bene Gesserit-with-the-Sight. Even the Padishah Emperor's Truthsayer couldn't evade that responsibility when the duty came. Damn that Jessica! the Reverend Mother thought. If she'd borne us a girl as she was ed to do! Jessica ped three paces from the chair, dropped a sm curtsy, a gentle flick of left hand along the line of her skirt. Paul gave the short bow his dancing master had taught--the one used when in doubt of another's station. The nuances of Paul's greeting were not lost on the Reverend Mother. She said: He's a cautious one, Jessica. Jessica's hand went to Paul's shoulder, tightened t. For a heartbeat, fear pulsed through her palm. Then she had herself under control. Thus he has been taught, Your Reverence. What does she fear? Paul dered. The old woman studied Paul in one gestalten flicker: face oval like Jessica's, but strong bones ... hair: the Duke's black-black but with browline of the maternal grandfather who cannot be d, and that thin, disdainful nose; shape of directly staring green eyes: like the old Duke, the paternal grandfather who is dead. , t was a man who appreciated the power ofbravura--even in death, the Reverend Mother thought. Teaching is one thing, she said, the basic ingredient is another. We sh see. The old eyes darted a hard glance at Jessica. us. I enjoin you to practice the meditation of peace. Jessica took her hand from Paul's shoulder. Your Reverence, I-- Jessica, you k it must be done. Paul looked up at his mother, puzzled. Jessica straightened. Yes ... of course. Paul looked back at the Reverend Mother. Politeness and his mother's obvious awe of this old woman argued caution. Yet he felt an angry apprehension at the fear he sensed radiating from his mother. Paul.... Jessica took a deep breath. ... this test you're about to receive ... it's important to me. Test? He looked up at her. Re that you're a duke's son, Jessica said. She whirled and strode from the room in a dry swishing of skirt. The door cd solidly behind her. Paul faced the old woman, holding anger in . Does one dismiss the Lady Jessica as though she were a serving wench? A smile flicked the corners of the wrinkled old mouth. The Lady Jessica was my serving wench, lad, for fourteen years at school. She nodded. And a good one, too. , you come ! The command whipped out at him. Paul found himself obeying before he could think about it. Using the Voice on me, he thought. He ped at her gesture, standing beside her knees. See this? she asked. From the folds of her gown, she lifted a green metal cube about fifteen centimeters on a side. She turned it and Paul saw that one side was --black and oddly frightening. No light penetrated that blackness. Put your right hand in the box, she said. Fear shot through Paul. He started to back away, but the old woman said: Is this how you obey your mother? He looked up into bird-bright eyes. Slowly, feeling the compulsions and unable to inhibit them, Paul put his hand into the box. He felt first a sense of cold as the blackness cd around his hand, then slick metal against his fingers and a prickling as though his hand were asleep. A predatory look filled the old woman's features. She lifted her right hand away from the box and poised the hand c to the side of Paul's neck. He saw a glint of metal t and started to turn toward it. ! she snapped. Using the Voice again! He swung his attention back to her face. I hold at your neck the gom jabbar, she said. The gom jabbar, the high-handed enemy. It's a needle with a drop of poison on its tip. Ah-ah! Don't pull away or you'll feel that poison. Paul tried to swow in a dry throat. He could not take his attention from the seamed old face, the glistening eyes, the pale gums around silvery metal teeth that flashed as she spoke. A duke's son must k about poisons, she said. It's the way of our times, eh? Musky, to be poisoned in your drink. Aumas, to be poisoned in your food. The quick ones and the slow ones and the ones in between. 's a one : the gom jabbar. It kills animals. Pride overcame Paul's fear. You dare suggest a duke's son is an animal? he demanded. Let us say I suggest you may be , she said. Steady! I warn you not to try jerking away. I am old, but my hand can drive this edle into your neck before you escape me. Who are you? he whispered. How did you trick my mother into leaving me alone with you? Are you from the Harkonnens? The Harkonnens? Bless us, no! , be silent. A dry finger touched his neck and he stilled the involuntary urge to leap away. Good, she said. You pass the first test. , 's the way of the rest of it: If you withdraw your hand from the box you die. This is the rule. Keep your hand in the box and live. Withdraw it and die. Paul took a deep breath to still his trembling. If I out t'll be servants on you in seconds and you'll die. Servants will not pass your mother who stands guard outside that door. Depend on it. Your mother survived this test. it's your turn. Be honored. We seldom administer this to men-children. Curiosity reduced Paul's fear to a manageable level. He heard truth in the old woman's voice, no denying it. If his mother stood guard out t ... if this were truly a test.... And whatever it was, he k himself caught in it, trapped by that hand at his neck: the gom jabbar. He reed the response from the Litany against Fear as his mother had taught him out of the Bene Gesserit rite. I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. W the fear has gone t will be nothing. I will remain. He felt calmness return, said: on with it, old woman. Old woman! she snapped. You've courage, and that can't be denied. Well, we sh see, sirra. She bent c, lowered her voice almost to a whisper. You will feel pain in this hand within the box. Pain. But! Withdraw the hand and I'll touch your neck with my gom jabbar--the death so swift it's like the f of the headsman's axe. Withdraw your hand and the gom jabbar takes you. Understand? And the thought of coincidence entered their minds. Has Paul passed his test on the sand? Jessica asked herself. He's capable, but accident can strike down even the most capable. The waiting. It's the dreariness, she thought. You can wait just so long. Then the dreariness of the waiting overcomes you.     ExpertModernAdvice.com is sending this newsletter on behalf Inception Media, LLC. Inception Media, LLC appreciates your comments and inquiries. Please keep in mind, that Inception Media, LLC are not permitted to provide individualized financial аdvіsе. This email is not financial advice and any investment decіsіоn you make is solely your responsibility. Feel frее to contact us toll frее Domestic/International: +17072979173 Mon–Fri, 9am–5pm ET, or email us support@expertmodernadvice.com. [Unsubscrіbe]( to stop receiving marketing communication from us. 312 W 2nd St Casper, WY 82601 2023 Inception Media, LLC. AІІ rights reserved [Unsubscrіbe](   How did you k this? Jessica asked. It is spoken. Too much is spoken, Jessica said bitterly. me the raw Water of the maker, Chani said. Jessica stiffened at the tone of command in Chani's voice, then observed the intense concentration in the younger woman and said: At once. She went out through the hangings to send a waterman. Chani sat staring at Paul. If he has tried to do this, she thought. And it's the sort of thing he might try .... Jessica knelt beside Chani, holding out a plain camp ewer. The charged odor of the poison was sharp in Chani's nostrils. She dipped a finger in the fluid, held the finger c to Paul's nose. The skin along the bridge of his nose wrinkled slightly. Slowly, the nostrils flared. Jessica gasped. Chani touched the dampened finger to Paul's upper lip. He drew in a long, sobbing breath. What is this? Jessica demanded. Be still, Chani said. You must convert a sm amount of the sacred water. Quickly! Without questioning, because she recognized the tone of awareness in Chani's voice, Jessica lifted the ewer to her mouth, drew in a sm sip. Paul's eyes flew . He stared upward at Chani. It is not necessary for her to change the Water, he said. His voice was weak, but steady. Jessica, a sip of the fluid on her tongue, found her body rying, converting the poison almost automatiy. In the light elevation the ceremony always imparted, she sensed the -glow from Paul--a radiation t registering on her senses. In that , she k. You drank the sacred water! she blurted. One drop of it, Paul said. So sm ... one drop. How could you do such a foolish thing? she demanded. He is your son, Chani said. Jessica glared at her. A rare smile, warm and full of understanding, touched Paul's lips. Hear my beloved, he said. Listen to her, Mother. She ks. A thing that others can do, he must do, Chani said. When I had the drop in my mouth, when I felt it and smelled it, when I k what it was doing to me, then I k I could do the thing that you have done, he said. Your Bene Gesserit proctors speak of the Kwisatz Haderach, but they cannot begin to guess the many places I have been. In the few minutes I .... He broke , looking at Chani with a puzzled frown. Chani? How did you ? You're supposed to be .... Why are you ? He tried to push himself onto his elbows. Chani pressed him back gently. , my Usul, she said. I feel so weak, he said. His gaze darted around the room. How long have I been ? You've been three weeks in a coma so deep that the spark of seemed to have fled, Jessica said. But it was .... I took it just a moment ago and .... A moment , three weeks of fear for me, Jessica said. It was one drop, but I converted it, Paul said. I changed the Water of . And before Chani or Jessica could him, he dipped his hand into the ewer they had placed on the floor beside him, and he brought the dripping hand to his mouth, swowed the palm-cupped liquid. Paul! Jessica screamed. He grabbed her hand, faced her with a death's head grin, and he sent his awareness surging over her. The rapport was not as tender, not as sharing, not as encompassing as it had been with Alia and with the Old Reverend Mother in the cavern ... but it was a rapport: a sense-sharing of the entire being. It shook her, weakened her, and she cowered in her mind, fearful of him. Aloud, he said: You speak of a place w you cannot enter? This place which the Reverend Mother cannot face, show it to me. She shook her head, terrified by the very thought. Show it to me! he commanded. No! But she could not escape him. Bludgeoned by the terrible force of him, she cd her eyes and focused inward-the-direction-that-is-dark. Paul's consciousness flowed through and around her and into the darkness. She glimpsed the place dimly before her mind blanked itself away from the terror. Without king why, her whole being trembled at what she had seen--a region w a wind blew and sparks glared, w rings of light expanded and contracted, w rows of tumescent white shapes flowed over and under and around the lights, driven by darkness and a wind out of . , she ed her eyes, saw Paul staring up at her. He still held her hand, but the terrible rapport was gone. She quieted her trembling. Paul released her hand. It was as though some crutch had been removed. She staggered up and back, would have fen had not Chani jumped to support her. Reverend Mother! Chani said. What is wrong? Tired, Jessica whispered. So ... tired. , Chani said. Sit . She helped Jessica to a cushion against the w. The strong young arms felt so good to Jessica. She clung to Chani. He has, in truth, seen the Water of ? Chani asked. She disengaged herself from Jessica's grip. He has seen, Jessica whispered. Her mind still rolled and surged from the contact. It was like stepping to solid land after weeks on a heaving sea. She sensed the old Reverend Mother within her ... and the others awakened and questioning: What was that? What happened? W was that place? Through it threaded the realization that her son was the Kwisatz Haderach, the one who could be many places at once. He was the fact out of the Bene Gesserit dream. And the fact gave her no peace. What happened? Chani demanded. Jessica shook her head. Paul said: T is in each of us an ancient force that takes and an ancient force that gives. A man finds little difficulty facing that place within himself w the taking force dwells, but it's almost impossible for him to see into the giving force without changing into something other than man. For a woman, the situation is reversed. Jessica looked up, found Chani was staring at her while listening to Paul. Do you understand me, Mother? Paul asked. She could nod. These things are so ancient within us, Paul said, that they're ground into each separate cell of our bodies. We're shaped by such forces. You can say to yourself, 'Yes, I see how such a thing may be.' But when you look inward and confront the raw force of your own unshielded, you see your peril. You see that this could overwhelm you. The est peril to the Giver is the force that takes. The est peril to the Taker is the force that gives. It's as easy to be overwhelmed by giving as by taking. And you, my son, Jessica asked, are you one who gives or one who takes? I'm at the fulcrum, he said. I cannot give without taking and I cannot take without .... He broke , looking to the w at his right. Chani felt a draft against her cheek, turned to see the hangings c. It was Otheym, Paul said. He was listening. Accepting the words, Chani was touched by some of the prescience that haunted Paul, and she k a thing-yet-to-be as though it already had occurred. Otheym would speak of what he had seen and heard. Others would spread the story until it was a fire over the land. Paul-Muad' Dib is not as other men, they would say. T can be no more doubt. He is a man, yet he sees through to the Water of in the way of a Reverend Mother. He is indeed the Lisan al-Gaib. You have seen the future, Paul, Jessica said. Will you say what you've seen? Not the future, he said. I've seen the . He forced himself to a sitting position, waved Chani aside as she moved to help him. The Space above Arrakis is filled with the ships of the Guild. Jessica trembled at the certainty in his voice. The Padishah Emperor himself is t, Paul said. He looked at the rock ceiling of his cell. With his favorite Truthsayer and five legions of Sardaukar. The old Baron Vladimir Harkonnen is t with Thufir Hawat beside him and seven ships jammed with every conscript he could muster. Every House has its raiders above us ... waiting. Chani shook her head, unable to look away from Paul. His strangeness, the flat tone of voice, the way he looked through her, filled her with awe. I'm afraid I was woolgathering, he said. Whe I ... feel especiy sorry , I'm afraid I think of you as ... well, Jessica. Sorry for me? Whatever for? Yueh shrugged. Long ago, he had realized Jessica was not gifted with the full Truthsay as his Wanna had been. Still, he always used the truth with Jessica whe possible. It was safest. You've seen this place, my ... Jessica. He stumbled over the , plunged ahead: So barren after Caladan. And the people! Those townswomen we passed on the way wailing beneath their veils. The way they looked at us. She folded her arms across her breast, hugging herself, feeling the crysknife t, a blade ground from a sandworm's tooth, if the reports were right. It's just that we're strange to them--different people, different customs. They've kn the Harkonnens. She looked past him out the windows. What were you staring at out t? He turned back to the window. The people. Jessica crossed to his side, looked to the left toward the front of the house w Yueh's attention was focused. A line of twenty palm trees grew t, the ground beneath them swept clean, barren. A screen fence separated them from the road upon which robed people were passing. Jessica detected a faint shimmering in the air between her and the people--a house shield--and went on to study the passing throng, dering why Yueh found them so absorbing. The pattern emerged and she put a hand to her cheek. The way the passing people looked at the palm trees! She saw envy, some hate ... even a sense of hope. Each person raked those trees with a fixity of expression. Do you k what they're thinking? Yueh asked. You profess to read minds? she asked. Those minds, he said. They look at those trees and they think: 'T are one hundred of us.' That's what they think. She turned a puzzled frown on him. Why? Those are date palms, he said. One date palm requires forty liters of water a day. A man requires but eight liters. A palm, then, equals five men. T are twenty palms out t--one hundred men. But some of those people look at the trees hopefully. They but hope some dates will f, except it's the wrong season. We look at this place with too critical an eye, she said. T's hope as well as danger . The spice could make us rich. With a fat treasury, we can make this world into whatever we wish. And she laughed silently at herself: Who am I trying to convince? The laugh broke through her restraints, emerging brittle, without humor. But you can't security, she said. Yueh turned away to hide his face from her. If it were possible to hate these people instead love them! In her manner, in many ways, Jessica was like his Wanna. Yet that thought carried its own rigors, hardening him to his purpose. The ways of the Harkonnen cruelty were devious. Wanna might not be dead. He had to be certain. Do not worry for us, Wellington, Jessica said. The 's ours, not yours. She thinks I worry for her! He blinked back tears. And I do, of course. But I must stand before that black Baron with his deed accomplished, and take my one to strike him w he is weakest--in his gloating moment!