Forward the Foundation

They ate quietly for a while, Cleon gazing at him fixedly and Seldon smiling tentatively. Cleon had no reputation for cruelty or even for irresponsibility, but he could, in theory, have Seldon arrested on some vague charge and, if the Emperor wished to exert his influence, the case might never come to trial. It was always best to avoid notice and at the moment Seldon couldn't manage it.

Surely it had been worse eight years ago, when he had been brought to the Palace under armed guard. This fact did not make Seldon feel relieved, however.

Then Cleon spoke. "Seldon" he said. "The First Minister is of great use to me, yet I feel that, at times, people may think I do not have a mind of my own. Do you think that?"

"Never, Sire," said Seldon calmly. No use protesting too much.

"I don't believe you. However, I do have a mind of my own and I recall that when you first came to Trantor you had this psychohistory thing you were playing with."

"I'm sure you also remember, Sire," said Seldon softly, "that I explained at the time it was a mathematical theory without practical application."

"So you said. Do you still say so?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Have you been working on it since?"

"On occasion I toy with it, but it comes to nothing. Chaos unfortunately interferes and predictability is not-"

The Emperor interrupted. "There is a specific problem I wish you to tackle. Do help yourself to the dessert, Seldon. It is very good."

"What is the problem, Sire?"

"This man Joranum. Demerzel tells me-oh, so politely-that I cannot arrest this man and I cannot use armed force to crush his followers. He says it will simply make the situation worse."

"If the First Minister says so, I presume it is so."

"But I do not want this man Joranum… At any rate, I will not be his puppet. Demerzel does nothing."

"I am sure that he is doing what he can, Sire."

"If he is working to alleviate the problem, he certainly is not keeping me informed."

"That may be, Sire, out of a natural desire to keep you above the fray. The First Minister may feel that if Joranum should-if he should-"

"Take over," said Cleon with a tone of infinite distaste.

"Yes, Sire. It would not be wise to have it appear that you were personally opposed to him. You must remain untouched for the sake of the stability of the Empire."

"I would much rather assure the stability of the Empire without Joranum. What do you suggest, Seldon?"

"I, Sire?"

"You, Seldon," said Cleon impatiently. "Let me say that I don't believe you when you say that psychohistory is just a game. Demerzel stays friendly with you. Do you think I am such an idiot as not to know that? He expects something from you. He expects psychohistory from you and since I am no fool, I expect it, too. Seldon, are you for Joranum? The truth!"

"No, Sire, I am not for him. I consider him an utter danger to the Empire."

"Very well, I believe you. You stopped a potential Joranumite riot at your University grounds single-handedly, I understand."

"It was pure impulse on my part, Sire."

"Tell that to fools, not to me. You had worked it out by psychohistory."

"Sire!"

"Don't protest. What are you doing about Joranum? You must be doing something if you are on the side of the Empire."

"Sire," said Seldon cautiously, uncertain as to how much the Emperor knew. "I have sent my son to meet with Joranum in the Dahl Sector."

"Why?"

"My son is a Dahlite-and shrewd. He may discover something of use to us."

"May?"

"Only may, Sire."

"You'll keep me informed?"

"Yes, Sire."

"And, Seldon, do not tell me that psychohistory is just a game, that it does not exist. I do not want to hear that. I expect you to do something about Joranum. What it might be, I can't say, but you must do something. I will not have it otherwise. You may go."

Seldon returned to Streeling University in a far darker mood than when he had left. Cleon had sounded as though he would not accept failure.

It all depended on Raych now.

18

Raych sat in the anteroom of a public building in Dahl into which he had never ventured-never could have ventured-as a ragamuffin youth. He felt, in all truth, a little uneasy about it now, as though he were trespassing.

He tried to look calm, trustworthy, lovable.

Dad had told him that this was a quality he carried around with him, but he had never been conscious of it. If it came about naturally, he would probably spoil it by trying too hard to seem to be what he really was.

He tried relaxing while keeping an eye on the official who was manipulating a computer at the desk. The official was not a Dahlite. He was, in fact, Gambol Deen Namarti, who had been with Joranum at the meeting with Dad that Raych had attended.

Every once in a while, Namarti would look up from his desk and glance at Raych with a hostile glare. This Namarti wasn't buying Raych's lovability. Raych could see that.