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.The people of Ten Tribes Sietch gave them warm clothing, which they had notneeded until now.Then Liet and Warrick set off again with their valuableburden of concentrated spice.WHEN THE TWO YOUNG MEN reached the fabled fortress of the water merchant RondoTuek, the structure looked more like a dirty industrial warehouse than afabulous palace set among glistening mountains of white ice.The building wassquare, connected by many pipes and trenches.Chewing machinery had eatenthrough the iron-hard soil to secure sparse frost buried in the dirt, leavingbehind ugly mounds of debris.Any pristine snow had long since been buried in layers of thick dust and blownpebbles, cemented together by frozen water.Extracting moisture was a simpleoperation -- digging massive quantities of soil and cooking out the locked watervapor.Liet broke off a chunk of the frozen ground and licked it, tasting salt as wellas ice mingled with the grit.He knew the water was there, but it seemed asinaccessible to him as if it were on a far-off planet.They moved toward thebig facility with their bobbing cases of distilled spice.The structure was made of pseudocrete blocks fashioned out of debris from theice-extraction process.The fortresslike walls were blank and undecorated,studded with windows and augmented by mirrors and power collectors that drank inthe low-angled sunlight.Frost-extraction ovens emitted brown exhaust plumes,showering the air with cracked dust and grit.Rondo Tuek owned an opulent mansion in Carthag, but it was said that the watermerchant rarely visited his spectacular city dwelling.Tuek had made a tidyprofit by mining the water in the south and marketing it to the northern citiesand the villages of the sinks and pans.However, the southern hemisphere's terrible weather, especially theunpredictable sandstorms, wrecked one shipment in four, and Tuek constantly had to purchase new machinery and hire new crews.Luckily for him, a cargo ofantarctic water brought in enough profit to offset the losses.Fewentrepreneurs were willing to take such risks, but Tuek had hidden connectionswith the smugglers, the Guild, and the Fremen.It was widely rumored, in fact,that the water operation was only a front, a legitimate business that concealedhis real moneymaking enterprise: acting as an intermediary with smugglers.Side by side, Warrick and Liet marched past the loud machinery and busy off-worlders to the entrance gates.Mainly, Tuek used mercenary laborers who neverventured north to spend time in the arid reality of Dune.The water merchantpreferred it that way, since such men were better able to keep secrets.Though Liet was smaller in stature than Warrick, he drew himself up and steppedforward to take the lead.A man in work overalls and insulated gloves trudgedpast them toward the work site, looking sidelong at the two.Liet stopped him."We are a delegation from the Fremen, here to see Rondo Tuek.I am Liet-Kynes, son of Pardot Kynes, and this is Warrick --"The worker brusquely gestured behind him."He's inside somewhere.Go find himyourself." Then he strode toward one of the growling pieces of machinery thatgnawed the dirt-encrusted ice-rock.Rebuffed, Liet looked at his friend.Warrick grinned and clapped him on theback."We don't have time for formalities, anyway.Let us go find Tuek."They ventured into the cavernous building, trying to look as if they belongedthere.The air was chill, though heaterglobes hummed against the walls andcorners.Liet obtained vague directions from other workers, who gestured downone hall and then the next -- until finally the two were totally lost in a mazeof inventory offices, control terminals, and storage rooms.A short, broad-shouldered man marched out, swinging both of his arms."It's nothard to notice two Fremen in here," he said."I'm Rondo Tuek.Come with me tomy private chamber." The squat man cast a glance over his shoulder."And bringyour supplies.Don't leave that cargo lying around."Liet had seen the man only briefly, years ago, at the Fenrings' banquet in theResidency at Arrakeen.Tuek had wide-set gray eyes, flat cheekbones, and almostno chin, making his face a perfect square.His rust-colored hair was thinningon top, but stood out in feathery brushes at his temples.An odd-looking manwith an awkward gait, he was the antithesis of the flowing grace common toFremen.Tuek scuttled ahead.Liet and Warrick dragged the airpack-assisted containersbehind them, hurrying to keep up.Everything in the place seemed drab andplain, a disappointment to Liet.Even in the most squalid sietch, the Fremenlaid down colorful rugs and hangings, or carved decorative figures out ofsandstone.Ceilings were etched with geometrical patterns, sometimes inlaidwith mosaics.Tuek led them to a broad wall as blank as any of the others.He looked fromside to side to make sure his workers had cleared out of the area, then placedhis palmprint against a reader.The lock hissed open to reveal a warm chamberfilled with more opulence than Liet had ever imagined possible. Crystal flasks of expensive kirana brandy and Caladan wines stood in alcoves.Ajeweled chandelier shone faceted light against crimson curtains that gave thewalls a muted softness, as comfortable as a womb."Ah, now we see the water merchant's hidden treasures," Warrick said.The chairs were huge and plush.Entertainment holos lay stacked on a polished-slate table.Speckled mirrors on the ceiling reflected light from glowingCorinthian columns made of opalesque Hagal alabaster, lit from within bymolecular fires."The Guild brings few comforts to Arrakis.Fine items are not appreciated bythe Harkonnens, and few others can afford them." Tuek shrugged his broadshoulders."And, no one wants to transport them through the hells of thesouthern hemisphere just to reach my factory."He raised his feathery eyebrows."But because of my agreement with your people"-- he pushed a control to seal the doors behind him -- "the Guild sendsoccasional ships into direct polar orbit.Lighters come down with any suppliesI request." He patted the heavy cargo containers that Warrick had brought."Inexchange for your monthly spice.payment.""We call it a spice bribe," Liet said.Tuek did not seem offended."Semantics, my boy.The pure melange essence yourFremen take from the deep desert is more valuable than any scrapings theHarkonnen teams manage to find in the north.The Guild keeps these shipmentsfor their own use, but who can understand what the Navigators get out of it?"He shrugged his rolling shoulders again.He tapped his fingers against a pad on the slate table."I am noting that we'vereceived your payment for this month.I have instructed my quartermaster toprovide you with sufficient supplies for your return journey before you depart."Liet hadn't expected many pleasantries from Tuek, and he accepted the terse,businesslike manner.He didn't want to stay there any longer, though city folkor villagers might have lingered to admire the exotic trappings and lavishappointments.Liet had not been born to such fine things.Like his father, he would rather spend his day out in the desert, where hebelonged.IF THEY PUSHED HARD, Liet guessed they could make Ten Tribes Sietch bynightfall.He longed for the heat of the sun so he could flex his numb hands.But it was the cold that impressed Warrick.He stood with his arms spread wide,his desert boots planted on the ground."Have you ever felt such a thing,Liet?" He rubbed his cheek."My flesh feels brittle." He drew in a deepbreath, glanced down at his boots."And you can sense the water.It's here,but.trapped."He looked at the brown mountains of dust-encrusted glaciers.Warrick wasimpulsive and curious, and he called for his friend to wait."We've completedour duty, Liet.Let us not be in such a hurry to return
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