"The Duke was a man and this lad used a thumper," Stilgar said. "That was a brave crossing he made in the path of shai-hulud. "
And Jessica heard him excluding her from his thoughts. Had he already passed sentence?
"We haven't time for the test," the voice above them protested.
"Yet he could be the Lisan al-Gaib," Stilgar said.
He's looking for an omen! Jessica thought.
"But the woman," the voice above them said.
Jessica readied herself anew. There had been death in that voice.
"Yes, the woman," Stilgar said. "And her water."
"You know the law," said the voice from the rocks. "Ones who cannot live with the desert--"
"Be quiet," Stilgar said. "Times change."
"Did Liet command this?" asked the voice from the rocks.
"You heard the voice of the cielago, Jamis," Stilgar said. "Why do you press me?"
And Jessica thought: Cielago! the clue of the tongue opened wide avenues of understanding: this was the language of Ilm and Fiqh, and cielago meant bat, a small flying mammal. Voice of the cielago: they had received a distrans message to seek Paul and herself.
"I but remind you of your duties, friend Stilgar," said the voice above them.
"My duty is the strength of the tribe," Stilgar said. "That is my only duty.
I need no one to remind me of it. This child-man interests me. He is full-fleshed. He has lived on much water. He has lived away from the father sun. He has not the eyes of the ibad. Yet he does not speak or act like a weakling of the pans. Nor did his father. How can this be?"
"We cannot stay out here all night arguing," said the voice from the rocks.
"If a patrol--"
"I will not tell you again, Jamis, to be quiet," Stilgar said.
The man above them remained silent, but Jessica heard him moving, crossing by a leap over a defile and working his way down to the basin floor on their left.
"The voice of the cielago suggested there'd be value to us in saving you two," Stilgar said. "I can see possibility in this strong boy-man: he is young and can learn. But what of yourself, woman?" He stared at Jessica.
I have his voice and pattern registered now, Jessica thought. I could control him with a word, but he's a strong man . . . worth much more to us unblunted and with full freedom of action. We shall see.
"I am the mother of this boy," Jessica said. "In part, his strength which you admire is the product of my training."
"The strength of a woman can be boundless," Stilgar said. "Certain it is in a Reverend Mother. Are you a Reverend Mother?"
For the moment, Jessica put aside the implications of the question, answered truthfully, "No."
"Are you trained in the ways of the desert?"
"No, but many consider my training valuable."
"We make our own judgments on value," Stilgar said.
"Every man has the right to his own judgments," she said.
"It is well that you see the reason," Stilgar said. "We cannot dally here to test you, woman. Do you understand? We'd not want your shade to plague us. I will take the boy-man, your son, and he shall have my countenance, sanctuary in my tribe. But for you, woman--you understand there is nothing personal in this?
It is the rule, Istislah, in the general interest. Is that not enough?"
Paul took a half-step forward. "What are you talking about?"
Stilgar flicked a glance across Paul, but kept his attention on Jessica.
"Unless you've been deep-trained from childhood to live here, you could bring destruction onto an entire tribe. It is the law, and we cannot carry useless . .
. "
Jessica's motion started as a slumping, deceptive faint to the ground. It was the obvious thing for a weak outworlder to do, and the obvious slows an opponent's reactions. It takes an instant to interpret a known thing when that thing is exposed as something unknown. She shifted as she saw his right shoulder drop to bring a weapon within the folds of his robe to bear on her new position.
A turn, a slash of her arm, a whirling of mingled robes, and she was against the rocks with the man helpless in front of her.
At his mother's first movement, Paul backed two steps. As she attacked, he dove for shadows. A bearded man rose up in his path, half-crouched, lunging forward with a weapon in one hand. Paul took the man beneath the sternum with a straight-hand jab, sidestepped and chopped the base of his neck, relieving him of the weapon as he fell.
Then Paul was into the shadows, scrambling upward among the rocks, the weapon tucked into his waist sash. He had recognized it in spite of its unfamiliar shape--a projectile weapon, and that said many things about this place, another clue that shields were not used here.
They will concentrate on my mother and that Stilgar fellow. She can handle him. I must get to a safe vantage point where I can threaten them and give her time to escape.
