"I have another," she said quietly, brushing her hand against the other knife she wore. "They are carved from the same tooth. Most Fremen carry only one. I would not have offered if I was unsure. It is one of the most precious things to a Fremen. Few men have seen these blades and lived as we do not draw them without cause."

It was a serious thing, not a mere tool, not just a knife.

"As your lightsaber is, thus is my crysknife." Her fingers brushed over the hilt of her remaining knife. "Keep it close to you." Arha ran a forefinger along the blade and nicked her fingertip with its point. "Draw it for your life, sheathe it only when it has tasted blood."

She watched the nick on her finger bead right red.