"Would you have me believe he can perform miracles?"

"Certainly. If it so happens that Compor is an agent of the Second Foundation and can control minds; if he can read yours and mine in a distant s.p.a.ceship; if he can influence his way through a customs station at once; if he can land gravitically, with no border patrol outraged at his defiance of the radio beams; and if he can influence minds in such a way as to keep people from entering a building he doesn't want entered.

"By all the stars," Trevize went on with a marked air of grievance, "I can even follow this back to graduation. I didn't go on the tour with him. I remember not wanting to. Wasn't that a matter of his influence? He had to be alone. Where was he really going?"

Pelorat pushed away the dishes before him, as though he wanted to clear a s.p.a.ce about himself in order to have room to think. It seemed to be a gesture that signaled the busboy-robot, a self-moving table that stopped near them and waited while they placed their dishes and cutlery upon it.

When they were alone, Pelorat said, "But that's mad. Nothing has happened that could not have happened naturally. Once you get it into your head that somebody is controlling events, you can interpret everything in that light and find no reasonable certainty anywhere. Come on, old fellow, it's all circ.u.mstantial and a matter of interpretation. Don't yield to paranoia."

"I'm not going to yield to complacency, either."

"Well, let us look at this logically. Suppose he was an agent of the Second Foundation. Why would he run the risk of rousing our suspicions by keeping the tourist center empty? What did he say that was so important that a few people at a distance-who would have been wrapped in their own concerns anyway-would have made a difference?"

"There's an easy answer to that, Janov. He would have to keep our minds under close observation and he wanted no interference from other minds. No static. No chance of confusion."

"Again, just your interpretation. What was so important about his conversation with us? It would make sense to suppose, as he himself insisted, that he met us only in order to explain what he had done, to apologize for it, and to warn us of the trouble that might await us. Why would we have to look further than that?"

The small card-receptacle at the farther rim of the table glittered un.o.btrusively and the figures representing the cost of the meal flashed briefly. Trevize groped beneath his sash for his credit card which, with its Foundation imprint, was good anywhere in the Galaxy-or anywhere a Foundation citizen was likely to go. He inserted it in the appropriate slot. It took a moment to complete the transaction and Trevize (with native caution) checked on the remaining balance before returning it to its pocket.

He looked about casually to make sure there was no undesirable interest in him on the faces of any of the few who still sat in the restaurant and then said, "Why look further than that? Why look further? That was not all he talked about. He talked about Earth. He told us it was dead and urged us very strongly to go to Comporellon. Shall we go?"

"It's something I've been considering, Golan," admitted Pelorat.

"Just leave here?"

"We can come back after we check Out the Sirius Sector."

"It doesn't occur to you that his whole purpose in seeing us was to deflect us from Saysh.e.l.l and get us out of here? Get us anywhere but here?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. See here, they expected us to go to Trantor. That was what you wanted to do and maybe that's what they counted on us doing. I messed things up by insisting we go to Saysh.e.l.l, which is the last thing they wanted, and so now they have to get us out of here."

Pelorat looked distinctly unhappy. "But Golan, you are just making statements. Why don't they want us on Saysh.e.l.l?"

"I don't know, Janov. But it's enough for me that they want us out. I'm staying here. I'm not going to leave."

"But-but- Look, Golan, if the Second Foundation wanted us to leave, wouldn't they just influence our minds to make us want to leave? Why bother reasoning with us?"

"Now that you bring up the point, haven't they done that in your case, Professor?" and Trevize's eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. "Don't you want to leave?"

Pelorat looked at Trevize in surprise. "I just think there's some sense to it."

"Of course you would, if you've been influenced."

"But I haven't been-"

"Of course you would swear you hadn't been if you had been."

Pelorat said, "If you box me in this way, there is no way of disproving your bare a.s.sertion. What are you going to do?"

"I will remain in Saysh.e.l.l. And you'll stay here, too. You can't navigate the ship without me, so if Compor has influenced you, he has influenced the wrong one."

"Very well, Golan. We'll stay in Saysh.e.l.l until we have independent reasons to leave. The worst thing we can do, after all-worse than either staying or going-is to fall out with each other. Come, old chap, if I had been influenced, would I be able to change my mind and go along with you cheerfully, as I plan to do now?"

Trevize thought for a moment and then, as though with an inner shake, smiled and held out his hand. "Agreed, Janov. Now let's get back to the ship and make another start tomorrow. -If we can think of one."

Munn Li Compor did not remember when he had been recruited. For one thing, he had been a child at the time; for another, the agents of the Second Foundation were meticulous in removing their traces as far as that was possible.

Compor was an "Observer" and, to a Second Foundationer, he was instantly recognizable as such.

It meant that Compor was acquainted with mentalics and could converse with Second Foundationers in their own fashion to a degree, but he was in the lowest rank of the hierarchy. He could catch glimpses of minds, but he could not adjust them. The education he had received had never gone that far. He was an Observer, not a Doer.

It made him second-cla.s.s at best, but he did not mind-much. He knew his importance in the scheme of things.

During the early centuries of the Second Foundation, it had underestimated the task before it. It had imagined that its handful of members could monitor the entire Galaxy and that Seldon's Plan, to be maintained, would require only the most occasional, the lightest touch, here and there.

The Mule had stripped them of these delusions. Coming from nowhere, he had caught the Second Foundation (and, of course, the First-though that didn't matter) utterly by surprise and had left them helpless. It took five years before a counterattack could be organized, and then only at the cost of a number of lives.

With Palver a full recovery was made, again at a distressing cost, and he finally took the appropriate measures. The operations of the Second Foundation, he decided, must be enormously expanded without at the same time increasing the chances of detection unduly, so he inst.i.tuted the corps of Observers.

Compor did not know how many Observers were in the Galaxy or even how many there were on Terminus. It was not his business to know. Ideally there should be no detectable connection between any two Observers, so that the loss of one would not entail the loss of any other. All connections were with the upper echelons on Trantor.

It was Compor's ambition to go to Trantor someday. Though he thought it extremely unlikely, he knew that occasionally an Observer might be brought to Trantor and promoted, but that was rare. The qualities that made for a good Observer were not those that pointed toward the Table.

There was Gendibal, for instance, who was four years younger than Compor. He must have been recruited as a boy, just as Compor was, but he had been taken directly to Trantor and was now a Speaker. Compor had no illusions as to why that should be. He had been much in contact with Gendibal of late and he had experienced the power of that young man's mind. He could not have stood up against it for a second.

Compor was not often conscious of a lowly status. There was almost never occasion to consider it. After all (as in the case of other Observers, he imagined) it was only lowly by the standards of Trantor. On their own non-Trantorian worlds, in their own nonmentalic societies, it was easy for Observers to obtain high status.

Compor, for instance, had never had trouble getting into good schools or finding good company. He had been able to use his mentalics in a simple way to enhance his natural intuitive ability (that natural ability had been why he had been recruited in the first place, he was sure) and, in this way, to prove himself a star at hyperspatial pursuit. He became a hero at college and this set his foot on the first rung of a political career. Once this present crisis was over, there was no telling how much farther he might advance.

If the crisis resolved itself successfully, as surely it would, would it not be recalled that it was Compor who had first noted Trevize- not as a human being (anyone could have done that) but as a mind?

He had encountered Trevize in college and had seen him, at first, only as a jovial and quick-witted companion. One morning, however, he had stirred sluggishly out of slumber and, in the stream of consciousness that accompanied the never-never land of half-sleep, he felt what a pity it was that Trevize had never been recruited.

Trevize couldn't have been recruited, of course, since he was Terminus-born and not, like Compor, a native of another world. And even with that aside, it was too late. Only the quite young are plastic enough to receive an education into mentalics; the painful introduction of that art-it was more than a science-into adult brains, set rustily in their mold, was a thing of the first two generations after Seldon only.

But then, if Trevize had been ineligible for recruiting in the first place and had outlived the possibility in the second, what had roused Compor's concern over the matter?

On their next meeting, Compor had penetrated Trevize's mind deeply and discovered what it was that must have initially disturbed him. Trevize's mind had characteristics that did not fit the rules he had been taught. Over and over, it eluded him. As he followed its workings, he found gaps -No, they couldn't be actual gaps-actual leaps of nonexistence. They were places where Trevize's manner of mind dove too deeply to be followed.

Compor had no way of determining what this meant, but he watched Trevize's behavior in the light of what he had discovered and he began to suspect that Trevize had an uncanny ability to reach right conclusions from what would seem to be insufficient data.

Did this have something to do with the gaps? Surely this was a matter for mentalism beyond his own powers-for the Table itself, perhaps. He had the uneasy feeling that Trevize's powers of decision were unknown, in their full, to the man himself, and that he might be able to- To do what? Compor's knowledge did not suffice. He could almost see the meaning of what Trevize possessed-but not quite. There was only the intuitive conclusion-or perhaps just a guess- that Trevize might be, potentially, a person of the utmost importance.

He had to take the chance that this might be so and to risk seeming to be less than qualified for his post. After all, if he were correct- He was not sure, looking back on it, how he had managed to find the courage to continue his efforts. He could not penetrate the administrative barriers that ringed the Table. He had all but reconciled himself to a broken reputation. He had worked himself down (despairingly) to the most junior member of the Table and, finally, Stor Gendibal had responded to his call.

Gendibal had listened patiently and from that time on there had been a special relationship between them. It was on Gendibal's behalf that Compor had maintained his relationship with Trevize and on Gendibal's direction that he had carefully set up the situation that had resulted in Trevize's exile. And it was through Gendibal that Compor might yet (he was beginning to hope) achieve his dream of promotion to Trantor.

All preparations, however, had been designed to send Trevize to Trantor. Trevize's refusal to do this had taken Compor entirely by surprise and (Compor thought) had been unforeseen by Gendibal as well.

At any rate, Gendibal was hurrying to the spot, and to Compor, that deepened the sense of crisis.

Compor sent out his hypersignal.

Gendibal was roused from his sleep by the touch on his mind. It was effective and not in the least disturbing. Since it affected the arousal center directly, he simply awoke.

He sat up in bed, the sheet falling from his well-shaped and smoothly muscular torso. He had recognized the touch; the differences were as distinctive to mentalists as were voices to those who communicated primarily by sound.

Gendibal sent out the standard signal, asking if a small delay were possible, and the "no emergency" call returned.

Without undue haste, then, Gendibal attended to the morning routine. He was still in the ship's shower-with the used water draining into the recycling mechanisms-when he made contact again.

"Compor?"

"Yes, Speaker."

"Have you spoken with Trevize and the other one."

"Pelorat. Janov Pelorat. Yes, Speaker."

"Good. Give me another five minutes and I'll arrange visuals." He pa.s.sed Sura Novi on his way to the controls. She looked at him questioningly and made as though to speak, but he placed a finger on his lips and she subsided at once. Gendibal still felt a bit uncomfortable at the intensity of adoration/respect in her mind, but it was coming to be a comfortingly normal part of his environment somehow.

He had hooked a small tendril of his mind to hers and there would now be no way to affect his mind without affecting hers. The simplicity of her mind (and there was an enormous aesthetic plea- sure to be found in contemplating its unadorned symmetry, Gendibal couldn't help thinking) made it impossible for any extraneous mind field to exist in their neighborhood without detection. He felt a surge of grat.i.tude for the courteous impulse that had moved him that moment they had stood together outside the University, and that had led her to come to him precisely when she could be most useful.

He said, "Compor?"

"Yes, Speaker."

"Relax, please. I must study your mind. No offense is intended."

"As you wish, Speaker. May I ask the purpose?"

"To make certain you are untouched."

Compor said, "I know you have political adversaries at the Table, Speaker, but surely none of them-"

"Do not speculate, Compor. Relax. -Yes, you are untouched. Now, if you will co-operate with me, we will establish visual contact."

What followed was, in the ordinary sense of the word, an illusion, since no one but someone who was aided by the mentalic power of a well-trained Second Foundationer would have been able to detect anything at all, either by the senses or by any physical detecting device.

It was the building up of a- face and its appearance from the contours of a mind, and even the best mentalist could succeed in producing only a shadowy and somewhat uncertain figure. Compor's face was there in mid-s.p.a.ce, as though it were seen through a thin but shifting curtain of gauze, and Gendibal knew that his own face appeared in an identical manner in front of Compor.

By physical hyperwave, communication could have been established through images so clear that speakers who were a thousand pa.r.s.ecs apart might judge themselves to be face-to-face. Gendibal's ship was equipped for the purpose.

There were, however, advantages to the mentalist-vision. The chief was that it could not be tapped by any device known to the First Foundation. Nor, for that matter, could one Second Foundationer tap the mentalist-vision of another. The play of mind might be followed, but not the delicate change of facial expression that gave the communication its finer points.

As for the Anti-Mules- Well, the purity of Novi's mind was sufficient to a.s.sure him that none were about.

He said, "Tell me precisely, Compor, the talk you had with Trevize and with this Pelorat. Precisely, to the level of mind."

"Of course, Speaker," said Compor.

It didn't take long. The combination of sound, expression, and mentalism compressed matters considerably, despite the fact that there was far more to tell at the level of mind than if there had been a mere parroting of speech.

Gendibal watched intently. There was little redundancy, if any, in mentalist-vision. In true vision, or even in physical hypervision across the pa.r.s.ecs, one saw enormously more in the way of information bits than was absolutely necessary for comprehension and one could miss a great deal without losing anything significant.

Through the gauze of mentalist-vision, however, one bought absolute security at the price of losing the luxury of being able to miss bits. Every bit was significant.

There were always horror tales that pa.s.sed from instructor to student on Trantor, tales that were designed to impress on the young the importance of concentration. The most often repeated was certainly the least reliable. It told of the first report on the progress of the Mule before he had taken over Kalgan-of the minor official who received the report and who had no more than the impression of a horselike animal because he did not see or understand the small flick that signified "personal name." The official therefore decided that the whole thing was too unimportant to pa.s.s on to Trantor. By the time the next message came, it was too late to take immediate action and five more bitter years had to pa.s.s.

The event had almost certainly never happened, but that didn't matter. It was a dramatic story and it served to motivate every student into the habit of intent concentration. Gendibal remembered his own student days when he made an error in reception that seemed, in his own mind, to be both insignificant and understandable. His teacher-old Kendast, a tyrant to the roots of his cerebellum-had simply sneered and said, "A horselike animal, Cub Gendibal?" and that had been enough to make him collapse in shame.

Compor finished.

Gendibal said, "Your estimate, please, of Trevize's reaction. You know him better than I do, better than anyone does."

Compor said, "It was clear enough. The mentalic indications were unmistakable. He thinks my words and actions represent my extreme anxiety to have him go to Trantor or to the Sirius Sector or to any place but where, in fact, he is actually going. It meant, in my opinion, that he would remain firmly where he was. The fact that I attached great importance to his shifting his position, in short, forced him to give it the same importance, and since he feels his own interests to be diametrically opposed to mine, he will deliberately act against what he interprets to be my wish."

"You are certain of that?"

"Quite certain."

Gendibal considered this and decided that Compor was correct. He said, "I am satisfied. You have done well. Your tale of Earth's radioactive destruction was cleverly chosen to help produce the proper reaction without the need for direct manipulation of the mind. Commendable!"

Compor seemed to struggle with himself a short moment. "Speaker," he said, "I cannot accept your praise. I did not invent the tale. It is true. There really is a planet called Earth in the Sirius Sector and it really is considered to be the original home of humanity. It was radioactive, either to begin with or eventually, and this grew worse till the planet died. There was indeed a mind-enhancing invention that came to nothing. All this is considered history on the home planet of my ancestors."

"So? Interesting!" said Gendibal with no obvious conviction. "And better yet. To know when a truth will do is admirable, since no nontruth can be presented with the same sincerity. Palver once said, "The closer to the truth, the better the lie, and the truth itself, when it can be used, is the best lie."

Compor said, "There is one thing more to say. In following instructions to keep Trevize in the Saysh.e.l.l Sector until you arrived- and to do so at all costs-I had to go so far in my efforts that it is clear that he suspects me of being under the influence of the Second Foundation."

Gendibal nodded. "That, I think, is unavoidable under the circ.u.mstances. His monomania on the subject would be sufficient to have him see Second Foundation even where it was not. We must simply take that into account."

"Speaker, if it is absolutely necessary that Trevize stay where he is until you can reach him, it would simplify matters if I came to meet you, took you aboard my ship, and brought you back. It would take less than a day-"

"No, Observer," said Gendibal sharply. "You will not do this. The people on Terminus know where you are. You have a hyper-relay on your ship which you cannot remove, have you not?"

"Yes, Speaker."

"And if Terminus knows you have landed on Saysh.e.l.l, their amba.s.sador on Saysh.e.l.l knows of it-and the amba.s.sador knows also that Trevize has landed. Your hyper-relay will tell Terminus that you have left for a specific point hundreds of pa.r.s.ecs away and returned; and the amba.s.sador will inform them that Trevize has, however, remained in the sector. From this, how much will the people at Terminus guess? The Mayor of Terminus is, by all accounts, a shrewd woman and the last thing we want to do is to alarm her by presenting her with an obscure puzzle. We don't want her to lead a section of her fleet here. The chances of that are, in any case, uncomfortably high."

Compor said, "With respect, Speaker- What reason do we have to fear a fleet if we can control a commander?"

"However little reason there might be, there is still less reason to fear if the fleet is not here. You stay where you are, Observer. 'When I reach you, I will join you on your ship and then-"

"And then, Speaker?"

"Why, and then I will take over."