But the style of the player in the night, the distinctiveness of the fingers on the baliset’s strings, brought the real musician back to Paul’s memory. It had been Chatt the Leaper, captain of the Fedaykin, leader of the death commandos who guarded Muad’Dib.
We are in the desert, Paul remembered. We are in the central erg beyond the Harkonnen patrols. I am here to walk the sand, to lure a maker and mount him by my own cunning that I may be a Fremen entire.
He felt now the maula pistol at his belt, the crysknife. He felt the silence surrounding him.
It was that special pre-morning silence when the nightbirds had gone and the day creatures had not yet signaled their alertness to their enemy, the sun.
“You must ride the sand in the light of day that Shai-hulud shall see and know you have no fear,” Stilgar had said. “Thus we turn our time around and set ourselves to sleep this night.”
Quietly, Paul sat up, feeling the looseness of a slacked stillsuit around his body, the shadowed stilltent beyond. So softly he moved, yet Chani heard him.
She spoke from the tent’s gloom, another shadow there: “It’s not yet full light, beloved.”
“Sihaya,” he said, speaking with half a laugh in his voice.
“You call me your desert spring,” she said, “but this day I’m thy goad. I am the Sayyadina who watches that the rites be obeyed.”
He began tightening his stillsuit. “You told me once the words of the Kitab al-Ibar,” he said. “You told me: ”Woman is thy field; go then to thy field and till it.’”
“I am the mother of thy firstborn,” she agreed.
He saw her in the grayness matching him movement for movement, securing her stillsuit for the open desert. “You should get all the rest you can,” she said.
He recognized her love for him speaking then and chided her gently: “The Sayyadina of the Watch does not caution or warn the candidate.”
She slid across to his side, touched his cheek with her palm. “Today, I am both the watcher and the woman.”
“You should’ve left this duty to another,” he said.
“Waiting is bad enough at best,” she said. “I’d sooner be at thy side.”
He kissed her palm before securing the faceflap of his suit, then turned and cracked the seal of the tent. The air that came in to them held the chill not-quite-dryness that would precipitate trace dew in the dawn. With it came the smell of a pre-spice mass, the mass they had detected off to the northeast, and that told them there would be a maker near by.
Paul crawled through the sphincter opening, stood on the sand and stretched the sleep from his muscles. A faint green-pearl luminescence etched the eastern horizon. The tents of his troop were small false dunes around him in the gloom. He saw movement off to the left—the guard, and knew they had seen him.
They knew the peril he faced this day. Each Fremen had faced it. They gave him this last few moments of isolation now that he might prepare himself.
It must be done today, he told himself.
He thought of the power he wielded in the face of the pogrom—the old men who sent their sons to him to be trained in the weirding way of battle, the old men who listened to him now in council and followed his plans, the men who returned to pay him that highest Fremen compliment : “Your plan worked, Muad’Dib.”
Yet the meanest and smallest of the Fremen warriors could do a thing that he had never done. And Paul knew his leadership suffered from the omnipresent knowledge of this difference between them.
He had not ridden the maker.
Oh, he’d gone up with the others for training trips and raids, but he had not made his own voyage. Until he did, his world was bounded by the abilities of others. No true Fremen could permit this. Until he did this thing himself, even the great southlands—the area some twenty thumpers beyond the erg—were denied him unless he ordered a palanquin and rode like a Reverend Mother or one of the sick and wounded.
Memory returned to him of his wrestling with his inner awareness during the night. He saw a strange parallel here—if he mastered the maker, his rule was strengthened; if he mastered the inward eye, this carried its own measure of command. But beyond them both lay the clouded area, the Great Unrest where all the universe seemed embroiled.