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 small 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 small sip.
Paul's eyes flew open. 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 rallying, converting the poison almost automatically. In the light elevation the ceremony always imparted, she sensed the life-glow from Paul -- a radiation there registering on her senses.
In that instant, she knew.
"You drank the sacred water!" she blurted.
"One drop of it," Paul said. "So small . . . 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 knows."
"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 knew what it was doing to me, then I knew 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 off, looking at Chani with a puzzled frown. "Chani? How did you get here? You're supposed to be . . . Why are you here?"
He tried to push himself onto his elbows. Chani pressed him back gently.
"Please, my Usul," she said.
"I feel so weak," he said. His gaze darted around the room. "How long have I been here?"
"You've been three weeks in a coma so deep that the spark of life seemed to have fled," Jessica said.
"But it was . . . I took it just a moment ago and . . . "
"A moment for you, three weeks of fear for me," Jessica said.
"It was only one drop, but I converted it," Paul said. "I changed the Water of Life." And before Chani or Jessica could stop 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, swallowed 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 where 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 closed 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 knowing why, her whole being trembled at what she had seen -- a region where a wind blew and sparks glared, where rings of light expanded and contracted, where rows of tumescent white shapes flowed over and under and around the lights, driven by darkness and a wind out of nowhere.
Presently, she opened 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 fallen had not Chani jumped to support her.
"Reverend Mother!" Chani said. "What is wrong?"
