I must try to grab it, he thought. The suspensor field will make it slippery on the bottom. I must grip tightly.
The thing dropped a half meter, quartered to the left, circled back around the bed. A faint humming could be heard from it.
Who is operating that thing? Paul wondered. It has to be someone near. I could shout for Yueh, but it would take him the instant the door opened.
The hall door behind Paul creaked. A rap sounded there. The door opened.
The hunter-seeker arrowed past his head toward the motion.
Paul's right hand shot out and down, gripping the deadly thing. It hummed and twisted in his hand, but his muscles were locked on it in desperation. With a violent turn and thrust, he slammed the thing's nose against the metal
doorplate. He felt the crunch of it as the nose eye smashed and the seeker went dead in his hand.
Still, he held it--to be certain.
Paul's eyes came up, met the open stare of total blue from the Shadout Mapes.
"Your father has sent for you," she said. "There are men in the hall to escort you."
Paul nodded, his eyes and awareness focusing on this odd woman in a sack-like dress of bondsman brown. She was looking now at the thing clutched in his hand.
"I've heard of suchlike," she said. "It would've killed me, not so?"
He had to swallow before he could speak. "I . . . was its target."
"But it was coming for me."
"Because you were moving." And he wondered: Who is this creature?
"Then you saved my life," she said.
"I saved both our lives."
"Seems like you could've let it have me and made your own escape," she said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"The Shadout Mapes, housekeeper."
"How did you know where to find me?"
"Your mother told me. I met her at the stairs to the weirding room down the hall." She pointed to her right. "Your father's men are still waiting."
Those will be Hawat's men, he thought. We must find the operator of this thing.
"Go to my father's men," he said. "Tell them I've caught a hunter-seeker in the house and they're to spread out and find the operator. Tell them to seal off the house and its grounds immediately. They'll know how to go about it. The operator's sure to be a stranger among us."
And he wondered: Could it be this creature? But he knew it wasn't. The seeker had been under control when she entered.
"Before I do your bidding, manling," Mapes said, "I must cleanse the way between us. You've put a water burden on me that I'm not sure I care to support.
But we Fremen pay our debts--be they black debts or white debts. And it's known to us that you've a traitor in your midst. Who it is, we cannot say, but we're certain sure of it. Mayhap there's the hand guided that flesh-cutter."
Paul absorbed this in silence: a traitor. Before he could speak, the odd woman whirled away and ran back toward the entry.
He thought to call her back, but there was an air about her that told him she would resent it. She'd told him what she knew and now she was going to do his bidding. The house would be swarming with Hawat's men in a minute.
His mind went to other parts of that strange conversation: weirding room. He looked to his left where she had pointed. We Fremen. So that was a Fremen. He paused for the mnemonic blink that would store the pattern of her face in his memory--prune-wrinkled features darkly browned, blue-on-blue eyes without any white in them. He attached the label: The Shadout Mapes.
Still gripping the shattered seeker, Paul turned back into his room, scooped up his shield belt from the bed with his left hand, swung it around his waist and buckled it as he ran back out and down the hall to the left.
She'd said his mother was someplace down here--stairs . . . a weirding room.
= = = = = =
What had the Lady Jessica to sustain her in her time of trial? Think you carefully on this Bene Gesserit proverb and perhaps you will see: "Any road followed precisely to its end leads precisely nowhere. Climb the mountain just a little bit to test that it's a mountain. From the top of the mountain, you cannot see the mountain."
-from "Muad'Dib: Family Commentaries" by the Princess Irulan At the end of the south wing, Jessica found a metal stair spiraling up to an oval door. She glanced back down the hall, again up at the door.
Oval? she wondered. What an odd shape for a door in a house.
Through the windows beneath the spiral stair she could see the great white sun of Arrakis moving on toward evening. Long shadows stabbed down the hall. She returned her attention to the stairs. Harsh sidelighting picked out bits of dried earth on the open metalwork of the steps.
Jessica put a hand on the rail, began to climb. The rail felt cold under her sliding palm. She stopped at the door, saw it had no handle, but there was a faint depression on the surface of it where a handle should have been.
Surely not a palm lock, she told herself. A palm lock must be keyed to one individual's hand shape and palm lines. But it looked like a palm lock. And there were ways to open any palm lock--as she had learned at school.
Jessica glanced back to make certain she was unobserved, placed her palm against the depression in the door. The most gentle of pressures to distort the lines--a turn of the wrist, another turn, a sliding twist of the palm across the surface.
