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“
If
,
”
he
said
.
“
You
are
tenacious
,
”
she
said
.
“
Cautious
,
”
he
said
,
“
and
aware
of
the
error
factor
.
”
“
Then
I
’
ll
pose
another
question
for
you
:
What
does
it
mean
to
you
that
you
stand
before
another
human
,
that
you
are
bound
and
helpless
and
the
other
human
holds
a
knife
at
your
throat
—
yet
this
other
human
refrains
from
killing
you
,
frees
you
from
your
bonds
and
gives
you
the
knife
to
use
as
you
will
?
”
She
lifted
herself
out
of
the
chair
,
turned
her
back
on
him
.
“
You
may
go
now
,
Thufir
.
”
The
old
Mentat
arose
,
hesitated
,
hand
creeping
toward
the
deadly
weapon
beneath
his
tunic
.
He
was
reminded
of
the
bull
ring
and
of
the
Duke
’
s
father
(
who
’
d
been
brave
,
no
matter
what
his
other
failings
)
and
one
day
of
the
corrida
long
ago
:
The
fierce
black
beast
had
stood
there
,
head
bowed
,
immobilized
and
confused
.
The
Old
Duke
had
turned
his
back
on
the
horns
,
cape
thrown
flamboyantly
over
one
arm
,
while
cheers
rained
down
from
the
stands
.
I
am
the
bull
and
she
the
matador
,
Hawat
thought
.
He
withdrew
his
hand
from
the
weapon
,
glanced
at
the
sweat
glistening
in
his
empty
palm
.
And
he
knew
that
whatever
the
facts
proved
to
be
in
the
end
,
he
would
never
forget
this
moment
nor
lose
this
sense
of
supreme
admiration
for
the
Lady
Jessica
.
