of the ancient hunting languages, and the man above them was saying that perhaps these were the strangers they sought.
In the sudden silence that followed the calling voice, the hoopwheel face of the second moon—faintly ivory blue—rolled over the rocks across the basin, bright and peering.
Scrambling sounds came from the rocks—above and to both sides … dark motions in the moonlight. Many figures flowed through the shadows.
A whole troop! Paul thought with a sudden pang.
A tall man in a mottled burnoose stepped in front of Jessica. His mouth baffle was thrown aside for clear speech, revealing a heavy beard in the sidelight of the moon, but face and eyes were hidden in the overhang of his hood.
“What have we here—jinn or human?” he asked.
When Jessica heard the true-banter in his voice, she allowed herself a faint hope. This was the voice of command, the voice that had first shocked them with its intrusion from the night.
“Human, I warrant,” the man said.
Jessica sensed rather than saw the knife hidden in a fold of the man’s robe. She permitted herself one bitter regret that she and Paul had no shields.
“Do you also speak?” the man asked.
Jessica put all the royal arrogance at her command into her manner and voice. Reply was urgent, but she had not heard enough of this man to be certain she had a register on his culture and weaknesses.
“Who comes on us like criminals out of the night?” she demanded.
The burnoose-hooded head showed tension in a sudden twist, then slow relaxation that revealed much. The man had good control.
Paul shifted away from his mother to separate them as targets and give each of them a clearer arena of action.
The hooded head turned at Paul’s movement, opening a wedge of face to moonlight. Jessica saw a sharp nose, one glinting eye—dark, so dark the eye, without any white in it—a heavy brown and upturned mustache.
“A likely cub,” the man said. “If you’re fugitives from the Harkonnens, it may be you’re welcome among us. What is it, boy?”
The possibilities flashed through Paul’s mind: A trick? A fact? Immediate decision was needed.
“Why should you welcome fugitives?” he demanded.
“A child who thinks and speaks like a man,” the tall man said. “Well, now, to answer your question, my young wali, I am one who does not pay the fai, the water tribute, to the Harkonnens. That is why I might welcome a fugitive.”
He knows who we are, Paul thought. There’s concealment in his voice.
“I am Stilgar, the Fremen,” the tall man said. “Does that speed your tongue, boy?”
It is the same voice, Paul thought. And he remembered the Council with this man seeking the body of a friend slain by the Harkonnens.
“I know you, Stilgar,” Paul said. “I was with my father in Council when you came for the water of your friend. You took away with you my father’s man, Duncan Idaho—an exchange of friends.”
“And Idaho abandoned us to return to his Duke,” Stilgar said.
Jessica heard the shading of disgust in his voice, held herself prepared for attack.
The voice from the rocks above them called: “We waste time here, Stil.”
“This is the Duke’s son,” Stilgar barked. “He’s certainly the one Liet told us to seek.”
“But … a child, Stil.”
“The Duke was a man and this lad used a thumper,” Stilgar said. “That was a brave crossing he made in the path of shai-hulud.”
And Jessica heard him excluding her from his thoughts. Had he already passed sentence?
“We haven’t time for the test,” the voice above them protested.
“Yet he could be the Lisan al-Gaib,” Stilgar said.
He’s looking for an omen! Jessica thought.
“But the woman,” the voice above them said.
Jessica readied herself anew. There had been death in that voice.
“Yes, the woman,” Stilgar said. “And her water.”
“You know the law,” said the voice from the rocks. “Ones who cannot live with the desert—”
“Be quiet,” Stilgar said. “Times change.”
“Did Liet command this?” asked the voice from the rocks.
“You heard the voice of the cielago, Jamis,” Stilgar said. “Why do you press me?”
And Jessica thought: Cielago! the clue of the tongue opened wide avenues of understanding: this was the language of Ilm and Fiqh, and cielago meant bat, a small flying mammal. Voice of the cielago: they had received a distrans message to seek Paul and herself.
“I but remind you of your duties, friend Stilgar,” said the voice above them.
“My duty is the strength of the tribe,” Stilgar said. “That is my only duty. I need no one to remind me of it. This child-man interests