"Fifteen standard," Paul said.
Stilgar swept his eyes over the troop. "Is there one among you cares to challenge me?"
Silence.
Stilgar looked at the woman. "Until I've learned his weirding ways. I'd not challenge him."
She returned his stare. "But--"
"You saw the stranger, woman who went with Chani to the Reverend Mother?"
Stilgar asked. "She's an out-freyn Sayyadina, mother to this lad. The mother and son are masters of the weirding ways of battle."
"Lisan al-Gaib," the woman whispered. Her eyes held awe as she turned them back toward Paul.
The legend again, Paul thought.
"Perhaps," Stilgar said. "It hasn't been tested, though." He returned his attention to Paul. "Usul, it's our way that you've now the responsibility for Jamis' woman here and for his two sons. His yali . . . his quarters, are yours.
His coffee service is yours . . . and this, his woman."
Paul studied the woman, wondering: Why isn't she mourning her man? Why does she show no hate for me? Abruptly, he saw that the Fremen were staring at him, waiting.
Someone whispered: "There's work to do. Say how you accept her."
Stilgar said: "Do you accept Harah as woman or servant?"
Harah lifted her arms, turning slowly on one heel. "I am still young, Usul.
It's said I still look as young as when I was with Geoff . . . before Jamis bested him."
Jamis killed another to win her, Paul thought.
Paul said: "If I accept her as servant, may I yet change my mind at a later time?"
"You'd have a year to change your decision," Stilgar said. "After that, she's a free woman to choose as she wishes . . . or you could free her to choose for herself at any time. But she's your responsibility, no matter what, for one year . . . and you'll always share some responsibility for the sons of Jamis."
"I accept her as servant," Paul said.
Harah stamped a foot, shook her shoulders with anger. "But I'm young!"
Stilgar looked at Paul, said: "Caution's a worthy trait in a man who'd lead."
"But I'm young!" Harah repeated.
"Be silent," Stilgar commanded. "If a thing has merit, it'll be. Show Usul to his quarters and see he has fresh clothing and a place to rest."
"Oh-h-h-h!" she said.
Paul had registered enough of her to have a first approximation. He felt the impatience of the troop, knew many things were being delayed here. He wondered if he dared ask the whereabouts of his mother and Chani, saw from Stilgar's nervous stance that it would be a mistake.
He faced Harah, pitched his voice with tone and tremolo to accent her fear and awe, said: "Show me my quarters, Harah! We will discuss your youth another time."
She backed away two steps, cast a frightened glance at Stilgar. "He has the weirding voice," she husked.
"Stilgar," Paul said. "Chani's father put heavy obligation on me. If there's anything . . . "
"It'll be decided in council," Stilgar said. "You can speak then." He nodded in dismissal, turned away with the rest of the troop following him.
Paul took Harah's arm, noting how cool her flesh seemed, feeling her tremble. "I'll not harm you, Harah," he said. "Show me our quarters." And he smoothed his voice with relaxants.
"You'll not cast me out when the year's gone?" she said. "I know for true I'm not as young as once I was."
"As long as I live you'll have a place with me," he said. He released her arm. "Come now, where are our quarters?"
She turned, led the way down the passage, turning right into a wide cross tunnel lighted by evenly spaced yellow overhead globes. The stone floor was smooth, swept clean of sand.
Paul moved up beside her, studied the aquiline profile as they walked. "You do not hate me, Harah?"
"Why should I hate you?"
She nodded to a cluster of children who stared at them from the raised ledge of a side passage. Paul glimpsed adult shapes behind the children partly hidden by filmy hangings.
"I . . . bested Jamis."
"Stilgar said the ceremony was held and you're a friend of Jamis." She glanced sidelong at him. "Stilgar said you gave moisture to the dead. Is that truth?"
"Yes."
