Prelude to Foundation

“If it’s reported, the Imperials could get excited. But what happens is that no one has seen anything and no one knows anything. The Imperials sometimes round up people on general principles, but they can never prove anything. I suppose they decide it’s the outsiders’ fault for being there.-So don’t go to Billibotton, even if you have a knife.”

Seldon shook his head rather pettishly. “I wouldn’t carry a knife. I don’t know how to use one. Not skillfully.”

“Then it’s simple, Master Seldon. Stay out.” Tisalver shook his head portentously. “Just stay out.”

“I may not be able to do that either,” said Seldon.

Dors glared at him, clearly annoyed, and said to Tisalver, “Where does one buy a knife? Or may we have one of yours?”

Casilia said quickly, “No one takes someone else’s knife. You must buy your own.”

Tisalver said, “There are knife stores all over. There aren’t supposed to be. Theoretically they’re illegal, you know. Any appliance store sells them, however. If you see a washing machine on display, that’s a sure sign.”

“And how does one get to Billibotton?” asked Seldon.

“By Expressway.”

Tisalver looked dubious as he looked at Dors’s frowning expression.

Seldon said, “And once I reach the Expressway?”

“Get on the eastbound side and watch for the signs. But if you must go, Master Seldon”-Tisalver hesitated, then said-“you mustn’t take Mistress Venabili. Women sometimes are treated… worse.”

“She won’t go,” said Seldon.

“I’m afraid she will,” said Dors with quiet determination.

68.

The appliance store dealer’s mustache was clearly as lush as it had been in his younger days, but it was grizzled now, even though the hair on his head was still black. He touched the mustache out of sheer habit as he gazed at Dors and brushed it back on each side.

He said, “You’re not a Dahlite.”

“Yes, but I still want a knife.”

He said, “It’s against the law to sell knives.”

Dors said, “I’m not a policewoman or a government agent of any sort. I’m going to Billibotton.”

He stared at her thoughtfully. “Alone?”

“With my friend.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of Seldon, who was waiting outside sullenly.

“You’re buying it for him?” He stared at Seldon and it didn’t take him long to decide. “He’s an outsider too. Let him come in and buy it for himself.”

“He’s not a government agent either. And I’m buying it for myself.”

The dealer shook his head. “Outsiders are crazy. But if you want to spend some credits, I’ll take them from you.”

He reached under the counter, brought out a stub, turned it with a slight and expert motion, and the knife blade emerged.

“Is that the largest you have?”

“Best woman’s knife made.”

“Show me a man’s knife.”

“You don’t want one that’s too heavy. Do you know how to use one of these things?”

“I’ll learn and I’m not worried about heavy. Show me a man’s knife.”

The dealer smiled. “Well, if you want to see one-”

He moved farther down the counter and brought up a much fatter stub. He gave it a twist and what appeared to be a butcher’s knife emerged. He handed it to her, handle first, still smiling.

She said, “Show me that twist of yours.”

He showed her on a second knife, slowly twisting one way to make the blade appear, then the other way to make it disappear. “Twist and squeeze,” he said.

“Do it again, sir.”

The dealer obliged.

Dors said, “All right, close it and toss me the haft.”

He did, in a slow upward loop.

She caught it, handed it back, and said, “Faster.”

He raised his eyebrows and then, without warning, backhanded it to her left side. She made no attempt to bring over her right hand, but caught it with her left and the blade showed tumescently at once-then disappeared. The dealer’s mouth fell open.

“And this is the largest you have?” she said.

“It is. If you try to use it, it will just tire you out.”

“I’ll breathe deeply. I’ll take a second one too.”

“For your friend?”

“No. For me.”

“You plan on using two knives?”

“I’ve got two hands.”

The dealer sighed. “Mistress, please stay out of Billibotton. You don’t know what they do to women there.”

“I can guess. How do I put these knives on my belt?”

“Not the one you’ve got on, Mistress. That’s not a knife belt. I can sell you one, though.”

“Will it hold two knives?”

“I might have a double belt somewhere. Not much call for them.”

“I’m calling for them.”

“I may not have it in your size.”

“Then we’ll cut it down or something.”

“It will cost you a lot of credits.”

“My credit tile will cover it.”

When she emerged at last, Seldon said sourly, “You look ridiculous with that bulky belt.”

“Really, Hari? Too ridiculous to go with you to Billibotton? Then let’s both go back to the apartment.”

“No. I’ll go on by myself. I’ll be safer by myself.”

Dors said, “There is no use saying that, Hari. We both go back or we both go forward. Under no circumstances do we separate.”

And somehow the firm look in her blue eyes, the set to her lips, and the manner in which her hands had dropped to the hafts at her belt, convinced Seldon she was serious.