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“
Good
,
”
she
said
.
“
You
pass
the
first
test
.
Now
,
here
’
s
the
way
of
the
rest
of
it
:
If
you
withdraw
your
hand
from
the
box
you
die
.
This
is
the
only
rule
.
Keep
your
hand
in
the
box
and
live
.
Withdraw
it
and
die
.
”
Paul
took
a
deep
breath
to
still
his
trembling
.
“
If
I
call
out
there
’
ll
be
servants
on
you
in
seconds
and
you
’
ll
die
.
”
“
Servants
will
not
pass
your
mother
who
stands
guard
outside
that
door
.
Depend
on
it
.
Your
mother
survived
this
test
.
Now
it
’
s
your
turn
.
Be
honored
.
We
seldom
administer
this
to
men
-
children
.
”
Curiosity
reduced
Paul
’
s
fear
to
a
manageable
level
.
He
heard
truth
in
the
old
woman
’
s
voice
,
no
denying
it
.
If
his
mother
stood
guard
out
there
.
.
.
if
this
were
truly
a
test
.
.
.
.
And
whatever
it
was
,
he
knew
himself
caught
in
it
,
trapped
by
that
hand
at
his
neck
:
the
gom
jabbar
.
He
recalled
the
response
from
the
Litany
against
Fear
as
his
mother
had
taught
him
out
of
the
Bene
Gesserit
rite
.
“
I
must
not
fear
.
Fear
is
the
mind
-
killer
.
Fear
is
the
little
-
death
that
brings
total
obliteration
.
I
will
face
my
fear
.
I
will
permit
it
to
pass
over
me
and
through
me
.
And
when
it
has
gone
past
I
will
turn
the
inner
eye
to
see
its
path
.
Where
the
fear
has
gone
there
will
be
nothing
.
Only
I
will
remain
.
”
He
felt
calmness
return
,
said
:
“
Get
on
with
it
,
old
woman
.
”
“
Old
woman
!
”
she
snapped
.
“
You
’
ve
courage
,
and
that
can
’
t
be
denied
.
Well
,
we
shall
see
,
sirra
.
”
She
bent
close
,
lowered
her
voice
almost
to
a
whisper
.
