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“
It
’
s
a
crysknife
,
”
she
said
.
“
Say
it
not
lightly
,
”
Mapes
said
.
“
Do
you
know
its
meaning
?
”
And
Jessica
thought
:
There
was
an
edge
to
that
question
.
Here
’
s
the
reason
this
Fremen
has
taken
service
with
me
,
to
ask
that
one
question
.
My
answer
could
precipitate
violence
or
.
.
.
what
?
She
seeks
an
answer
from
me
:
the
meaning
of
a
knife
.
She
’
s
called
the
Shadout
in
the
Chakobsa
tongue
.
Knife
,
that
’
s
“
Death
Maker
”
in
Chakobsa
.
She
’
s
getting
restive
.
I
must
answer
now
.
Delay
is
as
dangerous
as
the
wrong
answer
.
Jessica
said
:
“
It
’
s
a
maker
—
”
“
Eighe
-
e
-
e
-
e
-
e
-
e
!
”
Mapes
wailed
.
It
was
a
sound
of
both
grief
and
elation
.
She
trembled
so
hard
the
knife
blade
sent
glittering
shards
of
reflection
shooting
around
the
room
.
Jessica
waited
,
poised
.
She
had
intended
to
say
the
knife
was
a
maker
of
death
and
then
add
the
ancient
word
,
but
every
sense
warned
her
now
,
all
the
deep
training
of
alertness
that
exposed
meaning
in
the
most
casual
muscle
twitch
.
The
key
word
was
.
.
.
maker
.
Maker
?
Maker
.
