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- Фрэнк Герберт
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- Стр. 837/972
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“
How
long
till
the
storm
strikes
the
Shield
Wall
?
”
Paul
asked
.
Stilgar
turned
away
,
consulted
one
of
the
Fedaykin
in
the
bowl
.
Presently
,
he
returned
,
said
:
“
Very
soon
,
Muad
’
Dib
.
Sooner
than
we
expected
.
It
’
s
a
great
-
great
-
grandmother
of
a
storm
.
.
.
perhaps
even
more
than
you
wished
.
”
“
It
’
s
my
storm
,
”
Paul
said
,
and
saw
the
silent
awe
on
the
faces
of
the
Fedaykin
who
heard
him
.
“
Though
it
shook
the
entire
world
it
could
not
be
more
than
I
wished
.
Will
it
strike
the
Shield
Wall
full
on
?
”
“
Close
enough
to
make
no
difference
,
”
Stilgar
said
.
A
courier
crossed
from
the
hole
that
led
down
into
the
basin
,
said
:
“
The
Sardaukar
and
Harkonnen
patrols
are
pulling
back
,
Muad
’
Dib
.
”
“
They
expect
the
storm
to
spill
too
much
sand
into
the
basin
for
good
visibility
,
”
Stilgar
said
.
“
They
think
we
’
ll
be
in
the
same
fix
.
”
“
Tell
our
gunners
to
set
their
sights
well
before
visibility
drops
,
”
Paul
said
.
“
They
must
knock
the
nose
off
every
one
of
those
ships
as
soon
as
the
storm
has
destroyed
the
shields
.
”
He
stepped
to
the
wall
of
the
bowl
,
pulled
back
a
fold
of
the
camouflage
cover
and
looked
up
at
the
sky
.
The
horsetail
twistings
of
blow
sand
could
be
seen
against
the
dark
of
the
sky
.
Paul
restored
the
cover
,
said
:
“
Start
sending
our
men
down
,
Stil
.
”
