Mors Planch stood within a ship, the background in soft focus for the moment, and said in
low tones, “My lord Chief Commissioner Chen, I am within the Spear of Glory. The ship I
have hired is the only one to have found the vessel so far, and I anticipate with some
personal concern your deep disappointment at the news I bring. Your councilor is dead,
along with the rest of the crew... ”
Linge Chen's lips worked as he played back the rest of the message. Planch showed the grim
details: the rows of bodies arranged within one chamber, the discovery of the body of
Lodovik Trema on the bridge, curled and still. Planch confirmed Trema's identity by
placing the Commissioner's own identifier on Trema's bracelet.
Linge Chen shut off the message before it could reveal the unnecessary details of what
Planch would do next. The body would not be retrieved; the vessel's discovery would be
forgotten. Linge Chen did not wish to be accused of favoritism or extravagance, not at
this time, when he was hoping to bring down Farad Sinter on the same charge.
For a moment, he felt like a small boy. He had been so convinced that Lodovik Trema moved
on a different and superior plane to the rest of humanity. He could never admit it to
himself, much less any other, but he had trusted as well as admired Trema. His personal
instincts, which had proved almost infallible, had told him that Trema would never betray
him, never do anything not in Linge Chen's best interests. He had even invited Trema to
join his family on special occasions, the only councilor (or Commissioner, for that
matter) he had ever invited to do so.
Lodovik Trema had been a steady and pleasant presence on those occasions, playing solemnly
and with his own kind of innocence with Linge Chen's children, extravagantly complimenting
their mothers on their cooking, which was adequate at best. And Lodovik's advice...
Lodovik Trema had never given Chen bad advice. They had
risen together to this supreme pinnacle of responsibility over twenty-five years of, at
first, inglorious and often painful service. They had weathered the end of Agis's reign
and the first years of the junta, and Lodovik had proven invaluable in designing the
Commission of Public Safety to moderate and eventually replace the junta's military rulers.
Ten minutes passed. Kreen knocked gently on the door to the chamber. “Yes, ” Chen said.
“I'm almost done. ”
He picked up the razor and finished shaving his fine beard, leaving smooth, pallid skin
behind. Then, as a measure of his emotion, he cut two small slices in his skin just in
front of his left ear. Blood welled over the hairs and he patted it with a white towel,
then dropped the towel into an incinerator, offering his own blood to the powers that be,
unspecified.
In his youth in the Imperial Education Municipality of Runim, he had learned such rituals
as part of the path to adulthood, following the Rules of Tua Chen. Tua Chen had been the
most successful product of the secret plan among orthodox Ruel-lians to develop a select
breed of Imperial administrators and bureaucrats, four thousand years before, known as the
Shining Lights. In his late maturity, Tua Chen had devised two Books of Rules, based on
Ruellian principles: one for the training of aristocratic administrators (and occasionally
an Emperor), the other for the training of the Empire's hundreds of billions of
bureaucrats, the Greys.
Linge Chen was reputedly a direct descendant of Tua Chen.
The Shining Light school in its modern form was rife with superstition and almost useless,
but in its heyday it had trained administrators that were sent to the far corners of the
Empire. And in return, from all over the Empire, each year, millions of candidate Greys
came to Trantor to receive the Tua Chen training. The best assumed positions in the
planet's infinitely layered bureaucracy, competing with the entrenched
and resentful Trantor Greys; the rest, having completed their pilgrimage, returned to
their homes, or took positions on frontier worlds.
Linge Chen was the most successful of all the students to come out of the school, and he
had not succeeded by being overly observant of those damnably persuasive secret rituals.
But for Lodovik Trema...
It was the very least he could do.
“Sire... ” Kreen said. With some concern, he observed his master's small wounds, but he
knew enough to say nothing.
“I'm done. Bring me my robe for Imperial presence, and also the sash of black. ”
“What shall I place on the sash, sire?”
“The name of Lodovik. ”
Kreen's face fell in anguish. “No hope, sire?”
Linge Chen shook his head abruptly and pushed past his small servant, into the wardrobe.
Kreen stood very still in the lavatory for a few seconds, his grief genuine. Lodovik had
always given Kreen the impression that the small Lavrentian was the equal of anybody
within their acquaintance. Kreen treasured that evaluation, even though it had never been
spoken.
Then, with a jerk, he roused himself and followed his master.
The private dining room was crowded with Palace staff, making last-minute arrangements.
Hari looked up at the huge chandelier with its ten thousand gleaming round glass ornaments
modeled after the Emperor's chosen Worlds of the Galactic Year, then around the
hundred-meter-long hall, with its solid prime opal matrix columns and the famous deep
green copper-stone staircase, imported from the only system yet settled in the
Greater Magellanic Cloud-a failed colony, abandoned forty years ago, leaving only this
gift as a reminder. His lips twitched at the sight of the staircase. As First Minister, he
had cut off Imperial support for that vigorous world, lest it grow independent and too
powerful...
So many things done to preserve the Center, so many necessary sins of power. He had made
sure that no more far-flung colonies were established, and none had been.
The table was set with thirty plates along its midriff, and thirty high-backed ebon
chairs, none yet occupied, for the guests had not yet arrived and, of course, the Emperor
himself had not yet been seated.
Klayus I escorted Hari around the hall as if he were an honored guest rather than a
last-minute annoyance. “'Raven/ I've been calling you that, haven't I? Do you mind?
'Raven' Seldon, such an evocative title! Harbinger of doom. ”
“Call me what you wish, Highness. ”
“A tough moniker to lift properly, ” Klayus said with a smile. Hari, never one to miss
feminine beauty, caught sight of three dazzling women in the corner of his eye and
automatically turned to face them. The women brushed past him as if he were a statue and
approached the Emperor, seeming to work as a team. As they surrounded him and two leaned
to whisper in his ears, Klayus's face reddened and he practically giggled with glee. “My
extraordinary trio!” he greeted them, after listening for a few seconds. “Hari, you would
not believe how accomplished these women are, or what they can do! They've entertained at
my dinners before. ”
The women looked at Hari as one now, with mild interest, but they read the Emperor's
attitude toward this old man with quick, deadly accuracy. Hari was not a powerful figure
to be attracted to, merely a toy, less even than themselves. Hari thought that if they had
suddenly grown fangs and spouted hair on their noses, they could not have become less
attractive so quickly. With wisdom born more out of his long life and
from many conversations on human nature with Dors than any equation, he quickly imagined
their expert blandishments, warm skin, dulcet voices, masking primordial ammonia ice. Dors
had frequently made wry observations of that human sex after which she was modeled, and
she had seldom been wrong.
Klayus dismissed the women with a few soft words. As they departed, they strolled around
the hall, and he bent over to confide to Hari, “They don't impress you, do they? Their
kind make up a large portion of the women here. Beautiful as frozen moons. My Privy
Councilor manages to search out others of higher quality, but... !” He sighed. “Fine
stones are easier to procure than gems among females, for a man in my position. ”
“It was so with Cleon, as well, Highness, ” Hari said. “He made arrangements with three
princess consorts throughout his youth, then, in his middle years, foreswore women
entirely. He died without an heir, as you know. ”
“I've studied Cleon, of course, ” the Emperor said thoughtfully. “A solid man, not
intelligent, but very capable. He liked you, didn't he?”
“I doubt any Emperor has ever liked a man such as myself, Highness. ”
“Oh, don't be so modest! You have great charms, really. You were married to that
remarkable woman-”
“Dors Venabili, ” said a reedy voice behind them.
The Emperor turned gracefully, his robes swishing over the floor, and his face lit up.
“Farad! How nice of you to come early. ”
The Privy Councilor bowed to his Emperor and glanced in passing at Hari. “When I heard of
your visitor, I could not resist, Highness. ”
“You know my Privy Councilor, Farad Sinter, and Farad, this is the famous Hari Seldon. ”
“We've never met, ” Hari said. No one shook hands in the Emperor's company; too many
weapons had been transferred
between conspirators and assassins in past centuries that way for a simple handshake to be
any other than a gross and even dangerous breach of etiquette.
“I've heard much about your famous wife, ” Sinter said with a smile. “A remarkable woman,
as the Emperor says. ”
“Hari has come here to warn me about your activities, ” Klayus said with a small grin,
glancing between them. “I did not know all you've been up to, Farad. ”
“We've discussed my goals, Highness. What more does Professor Seldon have to add, in the
way of information?”
“He says you're hunting down mechanical men. Robots. From what he says, you appear to be
obsessed with them. ”
Hari stiffened. This was becoming a very dangerous situation, and he was beginning to feel
a noose tighten. He almost regretted having taken this direct approach with someone so
devious and unpredictable as Klayus. It would not be at all good to be singled out and
marked for reprisal by Farad Sinter...
“He's confused my goals, though perhaps the rumors have misled him. There are many false
rumors about our activities, Highness. ” Sinter's smile dripped honey and bonhomie.
“This genetic study... most valuable, don't you think, Hari? Has anyone explained it to
you?”
“System-wide, and also the twelve nearest Central Stars, ” Sinter said.
“It has been explained in the journals of Imperial Science, ” Hari said.
“But shooting people!” Klayus continued. “Why, Farad? To take samples?”
Hari could hardly believe what he was hearing. The Emperor could just as easily have
signed Hari's death warrant. Instead, he seemed to be handing Hari's head to his Privy
Councilor... on a plate, for dinner!
“Those, those are lies of course, ” Sinter said slowly, eyes heavy-lidded. “The Emperor's
police would have reported such indiscretions. ”
“I wonder, ” Klayus said, eyes twinkling merrily. “At any rate, Farad, Raven here has some
excellent points to make about this robot search. Hari, explain to us the political
difficulties that might ensue, should such charges ever become widely disseminated. Tell
Farad about-”
“fo-jo Joranum, yes, I know, ” Sinter said, his lips thinning and his cheeks going white.
“A Mycogenian would-be usurper. Stupid and easily manipulated-by you, in part, am I
correct, Professor Seldon?”
“His name was mentioned, ” the Emperor said, glancing off to one side as if beginning to
be bored.
“Actually, ” Hari said, “Joranum was just a symptom of a larger myth, with consequences
far worse on other worlds than Trantor. ” A myth I have not thought about, not measured,
not researched-all because of Daneel's prohibitions! Even now, Hari realized he would have
some difficulty discussing the topic. He coughed into his fist. Sinter offered a
handkerchief, but Hari shook his head and produced his own. Accepting such an item could
also be misconstrued. And would it even be dangerous? Has Trantor and the Empire come to
that? Either way, Hari would not fall for such a simple set-up. “On the world of Sterrad.
Nikolo Pas. ”
The Emperor stared at Hari blankly. “I'm not familiar with Nikolo Pas. ”
“A butcher, Highness, ” Sinter said. “Responsible for the death of millions. ”
“Billions, actually, ” Hari said. “In a vain search for artificial humans he claimed were
infiltrating the empire. ”
The Emperor stared at Hari for several seconds, his face slack. “I should know about him,
shouldn't I?”
“He died in Rikerian the year before you were born, Highness, ” Sinter said. “It is not a
glorious moment in Imperial History. ”
Something in the atmosphere had changed. Klayus had a sour, even a disappointed look, as
if he were anticipating an unpleasant duty Hari glanced sideways at Sinter and saw that
the Privy Councilor was studying his Emperor's expression with some concern. Then it was
that Hari realized Klayus and Sinter had been playing with him. The Emperor already knew
about the murders of citizens on Trantor. Yet neither Sinter nor any of his tutors had
told him about Nikolo Pas, and this was upsetting him.
“I'm not supposed to be so ignorant, ” Klayus said. “I really should set up more time for
personal study. Go on, Raven. What about Nikolo Pas?”
“In decades past, and every few centuries, Highness, there have been tides and even storms
of psychological disturbance, centered on the myth of the Eternals. ”
Sinter visibly flinched. This gave Hari some satisfaction. He continued.
“The resurgence of that myth has almost invariably led to social unrest, and in a few
extreme cases, genocide. I conducted an interview with Nikolo Pas when I served Cleon as
First Minister, Highness. I spent several days speaking with him, an hour or two at a
time, in his cell deep in Rikerian. ” The memories seemed to fill Hari's mind now. “What
did Pas believe?” the Emperor asked. The servants were at their positions around the hall.
All the arrangements had been completed, the dinner was being delayed; guests could not be
allowed to enter until the Emperor had left, to make a more formal entrance later. Klayus
did not seem concerned by this.