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[terriblepurpose]

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[terriblepurpose]

I think so. I've only seen it done at a distance, but it would have to be. There's a way to walk on the sand to avoid their attention, unless you end up on the wrong type of sand.

Not yet. Or yes. I'm not sure. Someone gave me one, but I hadn't had the chance to ask if she wanted it back before I came here.

[laniidae]

All that power and might, and people have still figured out how to take advantage of them. Though I suppose the sandworms don't care, do they? What people do or don't do around them, it doesn't matter to them either way.

That's a curious gift, a knife as sharp as murder.

[terriblepurpose]

That is a thought. The Fremen revere the sandworms like gods, but they still ride them. I suppose all religion is like that, in a way. Gods in service to man even while they're worshiped.

It was appropriate for the task at hand, and an honor. It was given to her by her great aunt.

If you gave someone a knife like that, would you want it back?

[laniidae]

Not the gods themselves, just the interpretation. The same way that prophecies are about information, yes? Some things just are, and then men take those things and use them for their own ends.

I would expect it back. Not for the sake of the knife itself, but to see if he would return it to me at all.

Or, I suppose, to see which end he gave back to me. The handle or the blade.

[terriblepurpose]

You're going to make a good witch, thinking like that.

The handle. Of course. She gave me a gift.

[That's a lapse, a too quick, too vehement response brought on by the sickening flip of his stomach at the idea of - no, never.]

[laniidae]

I learned from a good teacher, thinking like that.

[It certainly is a lapse. It stands out in contrast to what she's come to expect of him — measured, calibrated, thoughtful responses. No, she thinks: something about that one bothered him.]

What did you do with the knife? The "task at hand". What was it?

[terriblepurpose]

I think you'd like my mother. She'd like you.

[He hesitates only a little before he answers; this is actually a less uncomfortable line of questioning than he worried he'd invited. She wants to talk about knives, not girls.]

A duel. I won. There's a custom with crysknives: they can't be sheathed after they're drawn without tasting blood.

[laniidae]

But you'd rather she didn't come here, would you. Even though you miss her.

Was the duel to the death, or just to first blood?

[terriblepurpose]

I've thought about it. I don't know. I can't decide where she'd be safer.

It was amtal. An old word. It means to test to destruction. I wasn't destroyed.

[laniidae]

You're teaching me all sorts of new words today. I wish I had more to offer in return.

Was it the first time you'd killed someone? Dueling with a girl's gift of a knife?

I was afraid, the first time I killed a man. I suppose in a duel you don't have the luxury of being afraid. Or at least not of showing it.

[terriblepurpose]

I wasn't afraid. I was ang

Yes.

I was tired, after. Were you tired?

[laniidae]

Once the terror wore off. Though it wasn't the killing that bothered me, really, but the circumstance. The part afterward where I realized how powerless I'd been, and how close it had come. That I was only still alive because he'd been stupid and selfish enough to delay killing me long enough for me to kill him first.

It's all right if it bothered you. It's not supposed to be something that comes easily.

[terriblepurpose]

I know. I was prepared for that. It's different for a duke's heir than a princess. I knew that it would happen one day. It's not an easy thing, but it's done. I'm all right.

And I'm sorry that happened to you. I am. You shouldn't have had to do that. Someone should have protected you.

[laniidae]

Would you have? If you'd been there. Would you have killed him for me?

Is that why you were dueling, to protect the girl who gave you the knife?

[terriblepurpose]

In a heartbeat.

[He doesn't have to think about that at all. Of course he would.]

It was for my mother. They wouldn't let her fight for herself. Old customs.

The girl knew the man I killed. I don't know if they were friends. She thought I was going to die, but she wanted me to die with honor.

Do you think that means anything?

[laniidae]

What about now? Would you still kill someone for me?

[She should know better than to press her luck, probably, but it's hard to resist when it's that question in particular. Irresistible, when Paul is offering up the answers she wants to hear, and once upon a time someone else didn't.]

She was one of your Fremen, wasn't she? Everything you've said about them is customs and gods and traditions.

I do think it meant something. That she thought you were doing the right thing by protecting your mother, maybe. Or maybe she just liked you. Girls are like that sometimes.

[terriblepurpose]

Renfri. Of course I would.

[The idea she didn't realize that bruises Paul, a little, not at her hands but on her behalf.]

She is. Her name is Chani. And they are? Girls, I mean.

[laniidae]

I see you've not been around very many girls to begin with, have you.

What did you want it to mean? I'm sure you hoped it meant something.

[terriblepurpose]

[He notices the dropping of the topic, and in the spirit of new restraint, he'll let it drop. Even given the alternative.]

I've been around girls. It was more formal, but I have.

Nothing. I was just curious.

[laniidae]

[Knowing Renfri, it'll probably come back up again sooner or later. Most things do — just like her.]

Was she pretty?

[terriblepurpose]

She's beauti

I didn't notice. Why?

[laniidae]

Mmhmmm. Well, I'd wager she noticed you. You're noticeable.

Likely all the moreso after you won a ceremonial duel with her knife.

[terriblepurpose]

It doesn't matter very much. She's not here. But thank you. (I think.)

What about you? Are there any people you noticed, back where you're from?

[laniidae]

Sometimes, I suppose. Never anything lasting. People still thought I was pretty even after I had to cut off my hair, and I used that, sometimes.

I noticed the man who killed me. He was a witcher with white hair and a fast sword. Like me, I thought. Witchers are man-made monsters. I asked him to kill my wizard for me, but he was determined to stay out of it. He didn't, though. I had nine other men willing to help me, and he killed all of them.

Not very romantic, is it.

[terriblepurpose]

[Paul sits with that, for a while, until the cold-snap fission fury in him fades enough that he can think of his words instead of throwing them like knives.]

Renfri, that wasn't your fault. Do you know that? It wasn't.

You weren't the monster. I know that. I know you. I know what monsters are. If he couldn't see where the monster was, between you and that wizard, then he was no better than him.