SANDSTORMS

005. Double Attempt.

CHAPITRE V:
DOUBLE ATTEMPT.

"Many have marked the speed with which Muad'Dib learned the necessities of Arrakis. The Bene Gesserit, of course, know the basis of this speed. For the others, we can say that Muad'Dib learned rapidly because his first training was in how to learn. And the first lesson of all was the basic trust that he could learn. It is shocking to find how many people do not believe they can learn, and how many more believe learning to be difficult. Muad'Dib knew that every experience carries its lesson."

— from 'Muad'Dib, Family Commentaries' by the Princess Irulan

Dr. Yueh and Jessica's conversation indistinctly rose and fell in the other room as Paul laid in bed, feigning sleep. Words of Harkonnens, and spice, filled his ears as he watched the darkness outside. The breeze of a ventilator hovered above him, gently rippling slatted blinds beside the bed. Out of the window, the Holtzman shields covered the sky of their blurring. He thought of Caladan, how they used to live oblivious to any type of danger. It seemed like nobody had the luxury of anything on this planet—neither water, nor naivety.

In silence, the young Atreides sat up. The sound of a door closing behind, followed by his mother's footsteps retreating down the hall gave him the signal he needed to go exploring. He knew that, remaining in the other room, Dr. Yueh would find something to read.

Arrakis awaited.

Slipping out of the bed, Paul headed for the bookcase door that opened into a closet. He didn't take the time to look at what was inside the drawers, donning whatever he could get his hands on. Once his shoes on, the young Atreides looked briefly in the lock leading to the other room before retrieving the sketchpad and pencil lying on the nightstand. The doorknob, inspired by an ornithopter's push bar, gave in under his hand, as the door opened into the hall.

Exhilaration rushed through him as he skimmed the walls, avoiding at all costs coming face to face with the guards Thufir Hawat had deployed throughout the house.

The muffled sound of footsteps stopped him in his tracks as he pressed his back against the cold stone wall. Paul closed his eyes momentarily, the steady rhythm of his breathing disappearing into the shadows of the surrounding silence. Carefully, he peered down the corridor, the soft glow of the hanging glowglobes casting ethereal shadows across the walls. There, amidst the subdued light, he detected the presence of another. The shadow lingered, as if sensing something amiss, while Paul suppressed a gasp, his curiosity piqued.

A long moment passed in which no one tried to move before the dark figure made its way through the halls. Paul looked back briefly before following the mysterious shadow, intrigued.

The shadow seemed to have realized it was being followed, as it began to accelerate, darting between the walls at a frightening speed. The young Atreides also began to run, forgetting his former precautions of stealth, the soles of his boots thudding against the concrete floor.

And then nothing. The shadow disappeared.

A deafening silence surrounded Paul as he looked around, not recognizing the wing into which he had been brought. It was then that he realized how foolish he had been. Defenseless, and with no guards around—he was easy prey.

Clutching the pencil tightly in his hand, Paul scanned his surroundings, searching for any sign of his elusive pursuer. His breath caught in his throat as a sudden movement to his left drew his attention. Before he could react, a sharp blade pressed against his throat, the cold steel sending a shiver down his spine.