Prelude to Foundation

breakfast or not. She wants us out of here.”

“That may be, but we’re paying her.”

“Yes, but I suspect she hates us enough by now to scorn our credits.”

“Perhaps her husband will feel a bit more affectionate concerning the rent.”

“If he has a single word to say, Hari, the only person who would be more surprised than me to hear it would be Mistress Tisalver. —Very well, I’m ready.”

And they moved down the stairs to the Tisalver portion of the apartment to find the lady in question waiting for them with less than breakfast—and with considerably more too.

78

Casilia Tisalver stood ramrod straight with a tight smile on her round face and her dark eyes glinting. Her husband was leaning moodily against the wall. In the center of the room were two men who were standing stiffly upright, as though they had noticed the cushions on the floor but scorned them.

Both had the dark crisp hair and the thick black mustache to be expected of Dahlites. Both were thin and both were dressed in dark clothes so nearly alike that they were surely uniforms. There was thin white piping up and over the shoulders and down the sides of the tubular trouser legs. Each had, on the right side of his chest, a rather dim Spaceship-and-Sun, the symbol of the Galactic Empire on every inhabited world of the Galaxy, with, in this case, a dark “D” in the center of the sun.

Seldon realized immediately that these were two members of the Dahlite security forces.

“What’s all this?” said Seldon sternly.

One of the men stepped forward. “I am Sector Officer Lanel Russ. This is my partner, Gebore Astinwald.”

Both presented glittering identification holo-tabs.

Seldon didn’t bother looking at them. “What is it you want?”

Russ said calmly, “Are you Hari Seldon of Helicon?”

“I am.”

“And are you Dors Venabili of Cinna, Mistress?”

“I am,” said Dors.

“I’m here to investigate a complaint that one Hari Seldon instigated a riot yesterday.”

“I did no such thing,” said Seldon.

“Our information is,” said Russ, looking at the screen of a small computer pad, “that you accused a newsman of being an Imperial agent, thus instigating a riot against him.”

Dors said, “It was I who said he was an Imperial agent, Officer. I had reason to think he was. It is surely no crime to express one’s opinion. The Empire has freedom of speech.”

“That does not cover an opinion deliberately advanced in order to instigate a riot.”

“How can you say it was, Officer?”

At this point, Mistress Tisalver interposed in a shrill voice, “I can say it, Officer. She saw there was a crowd present, a crowd of gutter people who were just looking for trouble. She deliberately said he was an Imperial agent when she knew nothing of the sort and she shouted it to the crowd to stir them up. It was plain that she knew what she was doing.”

“Casilia,” said her husband pleadingly, but she cast one look at him and he said no more.

Russ turned to Mistress Tisalver. “Did you lodge the complaint, Mistress?”

“Yes. These two have been living here for a few days and they’ve done nothing but make trouble. They’ve invited people of low reputation into my apartment, damaging my standing with my neighbors.”

“Is it against the law, Officer,” asked Seldon, “to invite clean, quiet citizens of Dahl into one’s room? The two rooms upstairs are our rooms. We have rented them and they are paid for. Is it a crime to speak to Dahlites in Dahl, Officer?”

“No, it is not,” said Russ. “That is not part of the complaint. What gave you reason, Mistress Venabili, to suppose the person you so accused was, in fact, an Imperial agent?”

Dors said, “He had a small brown mustache, from which I concluded he was not a Dahlite. I surmised he was an Imperial agent.”

“You surmised? Your associate, Master Seldon, has no mustache at all. Do you surmise he is an Imperial agent?”

“In any case,” said Seldon hastily, “there was no riot. We asked the crowd to take no action against the supposed newsman and I’m sure they didn’t.”

“You’re sure, Master Seldon?” said Russ. “Our information is that you left immediately after making your accusation. How could you witness what happened after you left?”

“I couldn’t,” said Seldon, “but let me ask you—Is the man dead? Is the man hurt?”

“The man has been interviewed. He denies he is an Imperial agent and we have no information that he is. He also claims he was handled roughly.”

“He may well be lying in both respects,” said Seldon. “I would suggest a Psychic Probe.”

“That cannot be done on the victim of a crime,” said Russ. “The sector government is very firm on that. It might do if you two, as the criminals in this case, each underwent a Psychic Probe. Would you like us to do that?”

Seldon and Dors exchanged glances for a moment, then Seldon said, “No, of course not.”

“Of course not,” repeated Russ with just a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, “but you’re ready enough to suggest it for someone else.”

The other officer, Astinwald, who had so far not said a word, smiled at this.

Russ said, “We also have information that two days ago you engaged in a knife fight in Billibotton and badly hurt a Dahlite citizen named”—he struck a button on his computer pad and studied the new page on the screen —“Elgin Marron.”

Dors said, “Does your information tell you how the fight started?”

“That is irrelevant at the moment, Mistress. Do you deny that the fight took place?”

“Of course we don’t deny the fight took place,” said Seldon hotly, “but we deny that we in any way instigated that. We were attacked. Mistress Venabili was seized by this Marron and it was clear he was attempting to rape her. What happened afterward was pure self-defense. Or does Dahl condone rape?”

Russ said with very little intonation in his voice, “You say you were attacked? By how many?”

“Ten men.”

“And you alone—with a woman—defended yourself against ten men?”

“Mistress Venabili and I defended ourselves. Yes.”

“How is it, then, that neither of you shows any damage whatever? Are either of you cut or bruised where it doesn’t show right now?”

“No, Officer.”

“How is it, then, that in the fight of one—plus a woman—against ten, you are in no way hurt, but that the complainant, Elgin Marron, has been hospitalized with wounds and will require a skin transplant on his upper lip?”

“We fought well,” said Seldon grimly.

“Unbelievably well. What would you say if I told you that three men have testified that you and your friend attacked Marron, unprovoked?”

“I would say that it belies belief that we should. I’m sure that Marron has a record as a brawler and knifeman. I tell you that there were ten there. Obviously, six refused to swear to a lie. Do the other three explain why they did not come to the help of their friend if they witnessed him under unprovoked attack and in danger of his life? It must be clear to you that they are lying.”

“Do you suggest a Psychic Probe for them?”