The Fremen were supreme in that quality the ancients called "spannungsbogen"--
which is the self-imposed delay between desire for a thing and the act of reaching out to grasp that thing.
-from "The Wisdom of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan They approached Cave of the Ridges at dawnbreak, moving through a split in the basin wall so narrow they had to turn sideways to negotiate it. Jessica saw Stilgar detach guards in the thin dawnlight, saw them for a moment as they began their scrambling climb up the cliff.
Paul turned his head upward as he walked, seeing the tapestry of this planet cut in cross section where the narrow cleft gaped toward gray-blue sky.
Chani pulled at his robe to hurry him, said: "Quickly. It is already light."
"The men who climbed above us, where are they going?" Paul whispered.
"The first daywatch," she said. "Hurry now!"
A guard left outside, Paul thought. Wise. But it would've been wiser still for us to approach this place in separate bands. Less chance of losing the whole troop. He paused in the thought, realizing that this was guerrilla thinking, and he remembered his father's fear that the Atreides might become a guerrilla house.
"Faster," Chani whispered.
Paul sped his steps, hearing the swish of robes behind. And he thought of the words of the sirat from Yueh's tiny 0.C. Bible.
"Paradise on my right, Hell on my left and the Angel of Death behind." He rolled the quotation in his mind.
They rounded a corner where the passage widened. Stilgar stood at one side motioning them into a low hole that opened at right angles.
"Quickly!" he hissed. "We're like rabbits in a cage if a patrol catches us here."
Paul bent for the opening, followed Chani into a cave illuminated by thin gray light from somewhere ahead.
"You can stand up," she said.
He straightened, studied the place: a deep and wide area with domed ceiling that curved away just out of a man's handreach. The troop spread out through shadows. Paul saw his mother come up on one side, saw her examine their companions. And he noted how she failed to blend with the Fremen even though her garb was identical. The way she moved--such a sense of power and grace.
"Find a place to rest and stay out of the way, child-man," Chani said.
"Here's food." She pressed two leaf-wrapped morsels into his hand. They reeked of spice.
Stilgar came up behind Jessica, called an order to a group on the left. "Get the doorseal in place and see to moisture security." He turned to another Fremen: "Lemil, get glowglobes." He took Jessica's arm. "I wish to show you something, weirding woman." He led her around a curve of rock toward the light source.
Jessica found herself looking out across the wide lip of another opening to the cave, an opening high in a cliff wall--looking out across another basin about ten or twelve kilometers wide. The basin was shielded by high rock walls.
Sparse clumps of plant growth were scattered around it.
As she looked at the dawn-gray basin, the sun lifted over the far escarpment illuminating a biscuit-colored landscape of rocks and sand. And she noted how the sun of Arrakis appeared to leap over the horizon.
It's because we want to hold it back, she thought. Night is safer than day.
There came over her then a longing for a rainbow in this place that would never see rain. I must suppress such longings, she thought. They're a weakness. I no longer can afford weaknesses.
Stilgar gripped her arm, pointed across the basin. "There! There you see proper Druses."
She looked where he pointed, saw movement: people on the basin floor scattering at the daylight into the shadows of the opposite cliffwall. In spite of the distance, their movements were plain in the clear air. She lifted her binoculars from beneath her robe, focused the oil lenses on the distant people.
Kerchiefs fluttered like a flight of multicolored butterflies.
"That is home," Stilgar said. "We will be there this night." He stared across the basin, tugging at his mustache. "My people stayed out overlate working. That means there are no patrols about. I'll signal them later and they'll prepare for us."
"Your people show good discipline," Jessica said. She lowered the binoculars, saw that Stilgar was looking at them.
"They obey the preservation of the tribe," he said. "It is the way we choose among us for a leader. The leader is the one who is strongest, the one who brings water and security." He lifted his attention to her face.
She returned his stare, noted the whiteless eyes, the stained eyepits, the dust-rimmed beard and mustache, the line of the catchtube curving down from his nostrils into his stillsuit.
"Have I compromised your leadership by besting you, Stilgar?" she asked.
"You did not call me out," he said.
"It's important that a leader keep the respect of his troop," she said.
"Isn't a one of those sandlice I cannot handle," Stilgar said. "When you bested me, you bested us all. Now, they hope to learn from you . . . the weirding way . . . and some are curious to see if you intend to call me out."
She weighed the implications. "By besting you in formal battle?"
He nodded. "I'd advise you against this because they'd not follow you.
You're not of the sand. They saw this in our night's passage."
"Practical people," she said.
"True enough." He glanced at the basin. "We know our needs. But not many are thinking deep thoughts now this close to home. We've been out overlong arranging to deliver our spice quota to the free traders for the cursed Guild . . . may their faces be forever black."
