Prelude to Foundation (Foundation #6)

Prelude to Foundation (Foundation #6) Page 15

DAHL-... Oddly enough, the best-known aspect of this sector is Billibotton, a semi-legendary place about which innumerable tales have grown up. In fact, a whole branch of literature now exists in which heroes and adventurers (and victims) must dare the dangers of passing through Billibotton. So stylized have these stories become that the one well-known and, presumably, authentic tale involving such a passage, that of Hari Seldon and Dors Venabili, has come to seem fantastic simply by association...

Encyclopedia Galactica

66.

When Hari Seldon and Dors Venabili were alone, Dors asked thoughtfully, "Are you really planning to see this 'Mother' woman?"

"I'm thinking about it, Dors."

"You're an odd one, Hari. You seem to go steadily from bad to worse. You went Upperside, which seemed harmless enough, for a rational purpose when you were in Streeling. Then, in Mycogen, you broke into the Elders' aerie, a much more dangerous task, for a much more foolish purpose. And now in Dahl, you want to go to this place, which that young man seems to think is simple suicide, for something altogether nonsensical."

"I'm curious about this reference to Earth-and must know if there's anything to it."

Dors said, "It's a legend and not even an interesting one. It is routine. The names differ from planet to planet, but the content is the same. There is always the tale of an original world and a golden age. There is a longing for a supposedly simple and virtuous past that is almost universal among the people of a complex and vicious society. In one way or another, this is true of all societies, since everyone imagines his or her own society to be too complex and vicious, however simple it may be. Mark that down for your psychohistory."

"Just the same," said Seldon, "I have to consider the possibility that one world did once exist. Aurora... Earth... the name doesn't matter. In fact-"

He paused and finally Dors said, "Well?"

Seldon shook his head. "Do you remember the hand-on-thigh story you told me in Mycogen? It was right after I got the Book from Raindrop Forty-Three... Well, it popped into my head one evening recently when we were talking to the Tisalvers. I said something that reminded me, for an instant-"

"Reminded you of what?"

"I don't remember. It came into my head and went out again, but somehow every time I think of the single-world notion, it seems to me I have the tips of my fingers on something and then lose it."

Dors looked at Seldon in surprise. "I don't see what it could be. The hand-on-thigh story has nothing to do with Earth or Aurora."

"I know, but this... thing... that hovers just past the edge of my mind seems to be connected with this single world anyway and I have the feeling that I must find out more about it at any cost. That... and robots."

"Robots too? I thought the Elders' aerie put an end to that."

"Not at all. I've been thinking about them." He stared at Dors with a troubled look on his face for a long moment, then said, "But I'm not sure."

"Sure about what, Hari?"

But Seldon merely shook his head and said nothing more.

Dors frowned, then said, "Hari, let me tell you one thing. In sober history-and, believe me, I know what I'm talking about there is no mention of one world of origin. It's a popular belief, I admit. I don't mean just among the unsophisticated followers of folklore, like the Mycogenians and the Dahlite heatsinkers, but there are biologists who insist that there must have been one world of origin for reasons that are well outside my area of expertise and there are the more mystical historians who tend to speculate about it. And among the leisure-class intellectuals, I understand such speculations are becoming fashionable. Still, scholarly history knows nothing about it."

Seldon said, "All the more reason, perhaps, to go beyond scholarly history. All I want is a device that will simplify psychohistory for me and I don't care what the device is, whether it is a mathematical trick or a historical trick or something totally imaginary. If the young man we've just talked to had had a little more formal training, I'd have set him on the problem. His thinking is marked by considerable ingenuity and originality-"

Dors said, "And you're really going to help him, then?"

"Absolutely. Just as soon as I'm in a position to."

"But ought you to make promises you're not sure you'll be able to keep?"

"I want to keep it. If you're that stiff about impossible promises, consider that Hummin told Sunmaster Fourteen that I'd use psychohistory to get the Mycogenians their world back. There's just about zero chance of that. Even if I work out psychohistory, who knows if it can be used for so narrow and specialized a purpose? There's a real case of promising what one can't deliver."

But Dors said with some heat, "Chetter Hummin was trying to save our lives, to keep us out of the hands of Demerzel and the Emperor. Don't forget that. And I think he really would like to help the Mycogenians."

"And I really would like to help Yugo Amaryl and I am far more likely to be able to help him than I am the Mycogenians, so if you justify the second, please don't criticize the first. What's more, Dors"-and his eyes flashed angrily-"I really would like to find Mother Rittah and I'm prepared to go alone."

"Never!" snapped Dors. "If you go, I go."

67.

Mistress Tisalver returned with her daughter in tow an hour after Amaryl had left on this way to his shift. She said nothing at all to either Seldon or Dors, but gave a curt nod of her head when they greeted her and gazed sharply about the room as though to verify that the heatsinker had left no trace. She then sniffed the air sharply and looked at Seldon accusingly before marching through the common room into the family bedroom.

Tisalver himself arrived home later and when Seldon and Dors came to the dinner table, Tisalver took advantage of the fact that his wife was still ordering some last-minute details in connection with the dinner to say in a low voice, "Has that person been here?"

"And gone," said Seldon solemnly. "Your wife was out at the time."

Tisalver nodded and said, "Will you have to do this again?"

"I don't think so," said Seldon.

"Good."

Dinner passed largely in silence, but afterward, when the daughter had gone to her room for the dubious pleasures of computer practice, Seldon leaned back and said, "Tell me about Billibotton."

Tisalver looked astonished and his mouth moved without any sound issuing.

Casilia, however, was less easily rendered speechless. She said, "Is that where your new friend lives? Are you going to return the visit?"

"So far," said Seldon quietly, "I have just asked about Billibotton."

Casilia said sharply, "It is a slum. The dregs live there. No one goes there, except the filth that make their homes there."

"I understand a Mother Rittah lives there."

"I never heard of her," said Casilia, her mouth closing with a snap. It was quite clear that she had no intention of knowing anyone by name who lived in Billibotton.

Tisalver, casting an uneasy look at his wife, said, "I've heard of her. She's a crazy old woman who is supposed to tell fortunes."

"And does she live in Billibotton?"

"I don't know, Master Seldon. I've never seen her. She's mentioned sometimes in the news holocasts when she makes her predictions."

"Do they come true?"

Tisalver snorted. "Do predictions ever come true? Hers don't even make sense."

"Does she ever talk about Earth?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised."

"The mention of Earth doesn't puzzle you. Do you know about Earth?"

Now Tisalver looked surprised. "Certainly, Master Seldon. It's the world all people came from... supposedly."

"Supposedly? Don't you believe it?"

"Me? I'm educated. But many ignorant people believe it."

"Are there book-films about Earth?"

"Children's stories sometimes mention Earth. I remember, when I was a young boy, my favorite story began, 'Once, long ago, on Earth, when Earth was the only planet-' Remember, Casilia? You liked it too."

Casilia shrugged, unwilling to bend as yet.

"I'd like to see it sometime," said Seldon, "but I mean real book-films... uh... learned ones... or films... or printouts."

"I never heard of any, but the library-"

"I'll try that.-Are there any taboos about speaking of Earth?"

"What are taboos?"

"I mean, is it a strong custom that people mustn't talk of Earth or that outsiders mustn't ask about it?"

Tisalver looked so honestly astonished that there seemed no point in waiting for an answer.

Dors put in, "Is there some rule about outsiders not going to Billibotton?"

Now Tisalver turned earnest. "No rule, but it's not a good idea for anyone to go there. I wouldn't."

Dors said, "Why not?"

"It's dangerous. Violent! Everyone is armed.-I mean, Dahl is an armed place anyway, but in Billibotton they use the weapons. Stay in this neighborhood. It's safe."

"So far," said Casilia darkly. "It would be better if we left altogether. Heatsinkers go anywhere these days." And there was another lowering look in Seldon's direction.

Seldon said, "What do you mean that Dahl is an armed place? There are strong Imperial regulations against weapons."

"I know that," said Tisalver, "and there are no stun guns here or percussives or Psychic Probes or anything like that. But there are knives." He looked embarrassed.

Dors said, "Do you carry a knife, Tisalver?"

"Me?" He looked genuinely horrified. "I am a man of peace and this is a safe neighborhood."

"We have a couple of them in the house," said Casilia, sniffing again. "We're not that certain this is a safe neighborhood."

"Does everyone carry knives?" asked Dors.

"Almost everyone, Mistress Venabili," said Tisalver. "It's customary. But that doesn't mean everyone uses them."

"But they use them in Billibotton, I suppose," said Dors.

"Sometimes. When they're excited, they have fights."

"And the government permits it? The Imperial government, I mean?"

"Sometimes they try to clean Billibotton up, but knives are too easy to hide and the custom is too strong. Besides, it's almost always Dahlites that get killed and I don't think the Imperial government gets too upset over that."

"What if it's an outsider who gets killed?"

"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.

"Very well," he said, "but if you survive and if I ever see Hummin again, my price for continuing to work on psychohistory-much as I have grown fond of you-will be your removal. Do you understand?"

And suddenly Dors smiled. "Forget it. Don't practice your chivalry on me. Nothing will remove me. Do you understand?"

69.

They got off the Expressway where the sign, flickering in the air, said: BILLIBOTTON. As perhaps an indication of what might be expected, the second 'I' was smeared, a mere blob of fainter light.

They made their way out of the car and down to the walkway below. It was early afternoon and at first glance, Billibotton seemed much like the part of Dahl they had left.

The air, however, had a pungent aroma and the walkway was littered with trash.

One could tell that auto-sweeps were not to be found in the neighborhood. And, although the walkway looked ordinary enough, the atmosphere was uncomfortable and as tense as a too-tightly coiled spring. Perhaps it was the people. There seemed the normal number of pedestrians, but they were not like pedestrians elsewhere, Seldon thought. Ordinarily, in the press of business, pedestrians were self-absorbed and in the endless crowds on the endless thoroughfares of Trantor, people could only survive-psychologically-by ignoring each other. Eyes slid away. Brains were closed off. There was an artificial privacy with each person enclosed in a velvet fog of his or her own making. Or there was the ritualistic friendliness of an evening promenade in those neighborhoods that indulged in such things. But here in Billibotton, there was neither friendliness nor neutral withdrawal. At least not where outsiders were concerned. Every person who passed, moving in either direction, turned to stare at Seldon and Dors. Every pair of eyes, as though attached by invisible cords to the two outsiders, followed them with ill will.

The clothing of the Billibottoners tended to be smudged, old, and sometimes corn. There was a patina of ill-washed poverty over them and Seldon felt uneasy at the slickness of his own new clothes.

He said, "Where in Billibotton does Mother Rittah live, do you suppose?"

"I don't know," said Dors. "You brought us here, so you do the supposing. I intend to confine myself to the task of protection and I think I'm going to find it necessary to do just that."

Seldon said, "I assumed it would only be necessary to ask the way of any passerby, but somehow I'm not encouraged to do so."

"I don't blame you. I don't think you'll find anyone springing to your assistance."

"On the other hand, there are such things as youngsters." He indicated one with a brief gesture of one hand. A boy who looked to be about twelve-in any case young enough to lack the universal adult male mustache had come to a full halt and was staring at them.

Dors said, "You're guessing that a boy that age has not yet developed the full Billibottonian dislike of outsiders."

"At any rate," said Seldon, "I'm guessing he is scarcely large enough to have developed the full Billibottonian penchant for violence. I suppose he might run away and shout insults from a distance if we approach him, but I doubt he'll attack us."

Seldon raised his voice. "Young man."

The boy took a step backward and continued to stare.

Seldon said, "Come here," and beckoned.

The boy said, "Wa' for, guy?"

"So I can ask you directions. Come closer, so I don't have to shout."

The boy approached two steps closer. His face was smudged, but his eyes were bright and sharp. His sandals were of different make and there was a large patch on one leg of his trousers.

He said, "Wa' kind o' directions?"

"We're trying to find Mother Rittah."

The boy's eyes flickered. "Wa' for, guy?"

"I'm a scholar. Do you know what a scholar is?"

"Ya went to school?"

"Yes. Didn't you?"

The boy spat to one side in contempt. "Nah."

"I want advice from Mother Rittah-if you'll take me to her."

"Ya want your fortune? Ya come to Billibotton, guy, with your fancy clothes, so I can tell ya your fortune. All bad."

"What's your name, young man?"

"What's it to ya?"

"So we can speak in a more friendly fashion. And so you can take me to Mother Rittah's place. Do you know where she lives?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no. My name's Raych. What's in it for me if I take ya?"

"What would you like, Raych?"

The boy's eyes halted at Dors's belt. Raych said, "The lady got a couple o' knives. Gimme one and I'll take ya to Mother Rittah."

"Those are grown people's knives, Raych. You're too young."

"Then I guess I'm too young to know where Mother Rittah lives." And he looked up slyly through the shaggy halt that curtained his eyes.

Seldon grew uneasy. It was possible they might attract a crowd. Several men had stopped already, but had then moved on when nothing of interest seemed to be taking place. If, however, the boy grew angry and lashed out at them in word or deed, people would undoubtedly gather.

He smiled and said, "Can you read, Raych?"

Raych spat again. "Nah! Who wants to read?"

"Can you use a computer?"

"A talking computer? Sure. Anyone can."

"I'll tell you what, then. You take me to the nearest computer store and I'll buy you a little computer all your own and software that will teach you to read. A few weeks and you'll be able to read."

It seemed to Seldon that the boy's eyes sparkled at the thought, but-if so-they hardened at once.

"Nah, Knife or nothin'."

"That's the point, Raych. You learn to read and don't tell anyone and you can surprise people. After a while you can bet them you can read. Bet them five credits. You can win a few extra credits that way and you can buy a knife of your own."

The boy hesitated. "Nah! No one will bet me. No one got credits."

"If you can read, you can get a job in a knife store and you can save your wages and get a knife at a discount. How about that?"

"When ya gonna buy the talking computer?"

"Right now. I'll give it to you when I see Mother Rittah."

"You got credits?"

"I have a credit tile."

"Let's see ya buy the computer."

The transaction was carried through, but when the boy reached for it, Seldon shook his head and put it inside his pouch. "You've got to get me to Mother Rittah first, Raych. Are you sure you know where to find her?"

Raych allowed a look of contempt to cross his face. "Sure I do. I'll take ya there, only ya better hand over the computer when we get there or I'll get some guys I know after you and the lady, so ya better watch out."

"You don't have to threaten us," said Seldon. "We'll take care of our end of the deal."

Raych led them quickly along the walkway, past curious stares. Seldon was silent during the walk and so was Dors. Dors was far less lost in her own thoughts, though, for she clearly remained conscious of the surrounding people at all times. She kept meeting, with a level glare, the eyes of those passersby that turned toward them. On occasion, when there were footsteps behind them, she turned to look grimly back.

And then Raych stopped and said, "In here. She ain't homeless, ya know."

They followed him into an apartment complex and Seldon, who had had the intention of following their route with a view to retracing his steps later, was quickly lost.

He said, "How do you know your way through these alleys, Raych?"

The boy shrugged. "I been loafin' through them since I was a kid," he said. "Besides, the apartments are numbered-where they ain't broken off-and there's arrows and things. You can't get lost if you know the tricks."

Raych knew the tricks, apparently, and they wandered deeper into the complex. Hanging over it all was an air of total decay: disregarded debris, inhabitants slinking past in clear resentment of the outsiders' invasion. Unruly youngsters ran along the alleys in pursuit of some game or other. Some of them yelled, "Hey, get out o' the way!" when their levitating ball narrowly missed Dors. And finally, Raych stopped before a dark scarred door on which the number 2782 glowed feebly.

"This is it," he said and held out his hand.

"First let's see who's inside," said Seldon softly. He pushed the signal button and nothing happened.

"It don't work," said Raych. "Ya gotta bang. Loud. She don't hear too good."

Seldon pounded his fist on the door and was rewarded with the sound of movement inside. A shrill voice called out, "Who wants Mother Rittah?"

Seldon shouted, "Two scholars!"

He tossed the small computer, with its small package of software attached, to Raych, who snatched it, grinned, and took off at a rapid run.

Seldon then turned to face the opening door and Mother Rittah.

70.

Mother Rittah was well into her seventies, perhaps, but had the kind of face that, at first sight, seemed to belie that. Plump cheeks, a little mouth, a small round chin slightly doubled. She was very short-not quite 1.5 meters tall-and had a thick body.

But there were fine wrinkles about her eyes and when she smiled, as she smiled at the sight of them, others broke out over her face. And she moved with difficulty.

"Come in, come in," she said in a soft high-pitched voice and peered at them as though her eyesight was beginning to fail. "Outsiders... Outworlders even. Am I right? You don't seem to have the Trantor smell about you."

Seldon wished she hadn't mentioned smell. The apartment, overcrowded and littered with small possessions that seemed dim and dusty, reeked with food odors that were on the edge of rancidity. The air was so thick and clinging that he was sure his clothes would smell strongly of it when they left.

He said, "You are right, Mother Rittah. I am Hari Seldon of Helicon. My friend is Dors Venabili of Cinna."

"So," she said, looking about for an unoccupied spot on the floor where she could invite them to sit, but finding none suitable.

Dors said, "We are willing to stand, Mother."

"What?" she looked up at Dors. "You must speak briskly, my child. My hearing is not what it was when I was your age."

"Why don't you get a hearing device?" said Seldon, raising his voice.

"It wouldn't help, Master Seldon. Something seems to be wrong with the nerve and I have no money for nerve rebuilding.-You have come to learn the future from old Mother Rittah?"

"Not quite," said Seldon. "I have come to learn the past."

"Excellent. It is such a strain to decide what people want to hear."

"It must be quite an art," said Dors, smiling.

"It seems easy, but one has to he properly convincing. I earn my fees."

"If you have a credit outlet," said Seldon. "We will pay any reasonable fees if you tell us about Earth-without cleverly designing what you tell us to suit what we want to hear. We wish to hear the truth."

The old woman, who had been shuffling about the room, making adjustments here and there, as though to make it all prettier and more suitable for important visitors, stopped short. "What do you want to know about Earth?"

"What is it, to begin with?"

The old woman turned and seemed to gaze off into space. When she spoke, her voice was low and steady.

"It is a world, a very old planet. It is forgotten and lost."

Dors said, "It is not part of history. We know that much."

"It comes before history, child," said Mother Rittah solemnly. "It existed in the dawn of the Galaxy and before the dawn. It was the only world with humanity." She nodded firmly.

Seldon said, "Was another name for Earth... Aurora?"

And now Mother Rittah's face misted into a frown. "Where did you hear that?"

"In my wanderings. I have heard of an old forgotten world named Aurora on which humanity lived in primordial peace."

"It's a lie." She wiped her mouth as though to get the taste of what she had just heard out of it. "That name you mention must never be mentioned except as the place of Evil. It was the beginning of Evil. Earth was alone till Evil came, along with its sister worlds. Evil nearly destroyed Earth, but Earth rallied and destroyed Evil-with the help of heroes."

"Earth was before this Evil. Are you sure of that?"

"Long before. Earth was alone in the Galaxy for thousands of years-millions of years."

"Millions of years? Humanity existed on it for millions of years with no other people on any other world?"

"That's true. That's true. That's true."

"But how do you know all this? Is it all in a computer program? Or a printout? Do you have anything I can read?"

Mother Rittah shook her head. "I heard the old stories from my mother, who heard it from hers, and so on far back. I have no children, so I tell the stories to others, but it may come to an end. This is a time of disbelief."

Dors said, "Not really, Mother. There are people who speculate about prehistoric times and who study some of the tales of lost worlds."

Mother Rittah made a motion of her arm as though to wipe it away. "They look at it with cold eyes. Scholarly. They try to fit it in with their notions. I could tell you stories for a year of the great hero Ba-Lee, but you would have no time to listen and I have lost the strength to tell."

Seldon said, "Have you ever heard of robots?"

The old woman shuddered and her voice was almost a scream. "Why do you ask such things? Those were artificial human beings, evil in themselves and the work of the Evil worlds. They were destroyed and should never be mentioned."

"There was one special robot, wasn't there, that the Evil worlds hated?"

Mother Rittah tottered toward Seldon and peered into his eyes. He could feel her hot breath on his face. "Have you come to mock me? You know of these things and yet you ask? Why do you ask?"

"Because I wish to know."

"There was an artificial human being who helped Earth. He was Da-Nee, friend of Ba-Lee. He never died and lives somewhere, waiting for his time to return. None knows when that time will be, but someday he will come and restore the great old days and remove all cruelty, injustice, and misery. That is the promise."

At this, she closed her eyes and smiled, as if remembering...

Seldon waited a while in silence, then sighed and said, "Thank you, Mother Rittah. You have been very helpful. What is your fee?"

"So pleasant to meet Outworlders," the old woman replied. "Ten credits. May I offer you some refreshment?"

"No, thank you," said Seldon earnestly. "Please take twenty. You need only tell us how to get back to the Expressway from here.-And, Mother Rittah, if you can arrange to have some of your tales of Earth put into a computer disc, I will pay you well."

"I would need so much strength. How well?"

"It would depend on how long the story is and how well it is told. I might pay a thousand credits."

Mother Rittah licked her lips. "A thousand credits? But how will I find you when the story is told?"

"I will give you the computer code number at which I can be reached."

After Seldon gave Mother Rittah the code number, he and Dors left, thankful for the comparatively clean odor of the alley outside. They walked briskly in the direction indicated by the old woman.

Dors said, "That wasn't a very long interview, Hari."

"I know. The surroundings were terribly unpleasant and I felt I had learned enough. Amazing how these folktales tend to magnify."

"What do you mean, 'magnify'?"

"Well, the Mycogenians fill their Aurora with human beings who lived for centuries and the Dahlites fill their Earth with a humanity that lived for millions of years. And both talk of a robot that lives forever. Still, it makes one think."

"As far as millions of years go, there's room for- Where are we going?"

"Mother Rittah said we go in this direction till we reach a rest area, then follow the sign for CENTRAL WALKWAY, bearing left, and keep on following the sign. Did we pass a rest area on the way in?"

"We may be leaving by a route different from the one we came in. I don't remember a rest area, but I wasn't watching the route. I was keeping my eye on the people we passed and-"

Her voice died away. Up ahead the alley swelled outward on both sides. Seldon remembered. They had passed that way. There had been a couple of ratty couch pads resting on the walkway floor on either side. There was, however, no need for Dors to watch passersby going out as she had coming in. There were no passersby. But up ahead in the rest area they spotted a group of men, rather large-sized for Dahlites, mustaches bristling, bare upper arms muscular and glistening under the yellowish indoor light of the walkway. Clearly, they were waiting for the Outworlders and, almost automatically, Seldon and Dors came to a halt. For a moment or two, the tableau held. Then Seldon looked behind him hastily. Two or three additional men had stepped into view.

Seldon said between his teeth, "We're trapped. I should not have let you come, Dors."

"On the contrary. This is why I'm here, but was it worth your seeing Mother Rittah?"

"If we get out of this, it was."

Seldon then said in a loud and firm voice, "May we pass?"

One of the men ahead stepped forward. He was fully Seldon's height of 1.73 meters, but broader in the shoulders and much more muscular. A bit flabby at the waist, though, Seldon noted.

"I'm Marron," he said with self-satisfied significance, as though the name ought to have meaning, "and I'm here to tell you we don't like Outworlders in our district. You want to come in, all right-but if you want to leave, you'll have to pay."

"Very well. How much?"

"All you've got. You rich Outworlders have credit tiles, right? Just hand them over."

"No."

"No point saying no. We'll just take them."

"You can't take them without killing me or hurting me and they won't work without my voiceprint. My normal voiceprint."

"That's not so, Master-see, I'm being polite-we can take them away from you without hurting you very much."

"How many of you big strong men will it take? Nine? No." Seldon counted rapidly. "Ten."

"Just one. Me."

"With no help?"

"Just me."

"If the rest of you will clear away and give us room, I would like to see you try it, Marron."

"You don't have a knife, Master. You want one?"

"No, use yours to make the fight even. I'll fight without one."

Marron looked about at the others and said, "Hey, this puny guy is a sport. He don't even sound scared. That's sort of nice. It would be a shame to hurt him. I tell you what, Master. I'll take the girl. If you want me to stop, hand over your credit tile and her tile and use your right voices to activate them. If you say no, then after I'm through with the girl... and that'll take some time"-he laughed-"I'll just have to hurt you."

"No," said Seldon. "Let the woman go. I've challenged you to a fight-one to one, you with a knife, me without. If you want bigger odds, I'll fight two of you, but let the woman go."

"Stop, Hari!" cried out Dors. "If he wants me, let him come and get me. You stay right where you are, Hari, and don't move."

"You hear that?" said Marron, grinning broadly. " 'You stay right where you are, Hari, and don't move.' I think the little lady wants me. You two, keep him still."

Each of Seldon's arms were caught in an iron grip and he felt the sharp point of a knife in his back.

"Don't move," said a harsh whisper in his ear, "and you can watch. The lady will probably like it. Marron's pretty good at this."

Dors called out again. "Don't move, Hari!" She turned to face Marron watchfully, her half-closed hands poised near her belt.

He closed in on her purposefully and she waited till he had come within arm's length, when suddenly her own arms flashed and Marron found himself facing two large knives.

For a moment, he leaned backward and then he laughed. "The little lady has two knives-knives like the big boys have. And I've only got one. But that's fair enough." His knife was swiftly out. "I hate to have to cut you, little lady, because it will be more fun for both of us if I don't. Maybe I can just knock them out of your hands, huh?"

Dors said, "I don't want to kill you. I'll do all I can to avoid doing so. Just the same, I call on all to witness, that if I do kill you, it is to protect my friend, as I am honor-bound to do."

Marron pretended to be terrified. "Oh, please don't kill me, little lady." Then he burst into laughter and was joined by the other Dahlites present. Marron lunged with his knife, quite wide of the mark. He tried it again, then a third time, but Dors never budged. She made no attempt to fend off any motion that was not truly aimed at her.

Marron's expression darkened. He was trying to make her respond with panic, but he was only making himself seem ineffectual. The next lunge was directly at her and Dors's left-hand blade moved flashingly and caught his with a force that pushed his arm aside. Her right-hand blade flashed inward and made a diagonal slit in his T-shirt. A thin bloody line smeared the dark-haired skin beneath. Marron looked down at himself in shock as the onlookers gasped in surprise.

Seldon felt the grip on him weaken slightly as the two who held him were distracted by a duel not going quite as they had expected. He tensed himself.

Now Marron lunged again and this time his left hand shot outward to enclose Dors's right wrist. Again Dors's left-hand blade caught his knife and held it motionless, while her right hand twisted agilely and drew downward, even as Marron's left hand closed upon it. It closed on nothing but the blade and when he opened his hand there was a bloody line down the palm.

Dors sprang back and Marron, aware of the blood on his chest and hand, roared out chokingly, "Someone toss me another knife!" There was hesitation and then one of the onlookers tossed his own knife underhanded. Marron reached for it, but Dors was quicker. Her right-hand blade struck the thrown knife and sent it flying backward, whirling as it went.

Seldon felt the grips on his arms weaken further. He lifted them suddenly, pushing up and forward, and was free. His two captors turned toward him with a sudden shout, but he quickly kneed one in the groin and elbowed the other in the solar plexus and both went down.

He knelt to draw the knives of each and rose as double-armed as Dors. Unlike Dors, Seldon did not know how to handle the blades, but he knew the Dahlites would scarcely be aware of that.

Dors said, "Just keep them off, Hari. Don't attack yet.-Marron, my next stroke will not be a scratch."

Marron, totally enraged, roared incoherently and charged blindly, attempting by sheer kinetic energy to overwhelm his opponent. Dors, dipping and sidestepping, ducked under his right arm, kicked her foot against his right ankle, and down he crashed, his knife flying.

She then knelt, placed one blade against the back of his neck and the other against his throat, and said, "Yield!"

With another yell, Marron struck out against her with one arm, pushed her to one side, then scrambled to his feet.

He had not yet stood up completely when she was upon him, one knife slashing downward and hacking away a section of his mustache. This time he yowled like a large animal in agony, clapping his hand to his face. When he drew it away, it was dripping blood.

Dors shouted, "It won't grow again, Marron. Some of the lip went with it. Attack once more and you're dead meat."

She waited, but Marron had had enough. He stumbled away, moaning, leaving a trail of blood.

Dors turned toward the others. The two that Seldon had knocked down were still lying there, unarmed and not anxious to get up. She bent down, cut their belts with one of her knives and then slit their trousers. "This way, you'll have to hold your pants up when you walk," she said. She stared at the seven men still on their feet, who were watching her with awestruck fascination. "And which of you threw the knife?"

There was silence.

She said, "It doesn't matter to me. Come one at a time or all together, but each time I slash, someone dies."

And with one accord, the seven turned and scurried away. Dors lifted her eyebrows and said to Seldon, "This time, at least, Hummin can't complain that I failed to protect you."

Seldon said, "I still can't believe what I saw. I didn't know you could do anything like that-or talk like that either."

Dors merely smiled. "You have your talents too. We make a good pair. Here, retract your knife blades and put them into your pouch. I think the news will spread with enormous speed and we can get out of Billibotton without fear of being stopped."

She was quite right.