Foundation's Edge

thoughts from imperialistic grandiosity to the practicality of commercial treaty; how a careful—and rather long- distance—adjustment of the leader of the Sayshell Union had led to an invitation to the Mayor of a parley and how, thereafter, a rapprochement had been reached with no further adjustments at all with Compor returning to Terminus on his own ship, to see that the agreement would be kept. It had been, Gendibal thought complacently, almost a storybook example of large results brought about by minutely crafted mentalics.

It would, he was sure, squash Speaker Delarmi flat and bring about his own elevation to First Speaker very soon after the presentation of the details at a formal meeting of the Table.

And he did not deny to himself the importance of Sura Novi’s presence, though that would not need to be stressed to the Speakers generally. Not only had she been essential to his victory, but she gave him the excuse he now needed for indulging his childish (and very human, for even Speakers are very human) need to exult before what he knew to be a guaranteed admiration.

She did not understand anything that had happened, he knew, but she was aware that he had arranged matters to his liking and she was bursting with pride over that. He caressed the smoothness of her mind and felt the warmth of that pride.

He said, “I could not have done it without you, Novi. It was because of you I could tell that the First Foundation—the people on the large ship—”

“Yes, Master, I know whom you mean.”

“I could tell, because of you, that they had a shield, together with weak powers of the mind. From the effect on your mind, I could tell, exactly, the characteristics of both. I could tell how most efficiently to penetrate the one and deflect the other.”

Novi said tentatively, “I do not understand exactly what it is you say, Master, but I would have done much more to help, if I could.”

“I know that, Novi. But what you did was enough. It is amazing how dangerous they might have been. But caught now, before either their shield or their field had been developed more strongly, they could be stopped. The Mayor goes back now, the shield and the field forgotten, satisfied over the fact that she has obtained a commercial treaty with Sayshell that will make it a working part of the Federation. I don’t deny that there is much more to do to dismantle the work they have done on shield and field—it is something concerning which we have been remiss—but it will be done.”

He brooded about the matter and went on in a lower voice, “We took far too much for granted with the First Foundation. We must place them under closer supervision. We must knit the Galaxy closer together somehow. We must make use of mentalics to build a closer co-operation of consciousness. That would fit the Plan. I’m convinced of that and I’ll see to it.”

Novi said anxiously, “Master?”

Gendibal smiled suddenly. “I’m sorry. I’m talking to myself. —Novi, do you remember Rufirant?”

“That bone-skulled farmer who attacked you? I should say I do.”

“I’m convinced that First Foundation agents, armed with personal shields, arranged that, together with all the other anomalies that have plagued us. Imagine being blind to a thing like that. But then, I was bemused into overlooking the First Foundation altogether by this myth of a mysterious world, this Sayshellian superstition concerning Gaia. There, too, your mind came in handy. It helped me determine that the source of that mentalic field was the warship and nothing else.”

He rubbed his hands.

Novi said timidly, “Master?”

“Yes, Novi?”

“Will you not be rewarded for what you have done?”

“Indeed I will. Shandess will retire and I will be First Speaker. Then will come my chance to make us an active factor in revolutionizing the Galaxy.”

“First Speaker?”

“Yes, Novi. I will be the most important and the most powerful scholar of them all.”

“The most important?” She looked woebegone.

“Why do you make a face, Novi? Don’t you want me to be rewarded?”

“Yes, Master, I do. —But if you are the most important scholar of them all, you will not want a Hamish- woman near you. It would not be fitting.”

“Won’t I, though? Who will stop me?” He felt a gush of affection for her. “Novi, will you stay with me wherever I go and whatever I am. Do you think I would risk dealing with some of the wolves we occasionally have at the Table without your mind always there to tell me, even before they know themselves, what their emotions might be—your own innocent, absolutely smooth mind. Besides—” He seemed startled by a sudden revelation. “Even aside from that, I—I like having you with me and I intend having you with me. —That is, if you are willing.”

“Oh, Master,” whispered Novi and, as his arm moved around her waist, her head sank to his shoulder.

Deep within, where the enveloping mind of Novi could scarcely be aware of it, the essence of Gaia remained and guided events, but it was that impenetrable mask that made the continuance of the great task possible.

And that mask—the one that belonged to a Hamish-woman—was completely happy. It was so happy that Novi was almost reconciled for the distance she was from herself / them / all, and she was content to be, for the indefinite future, what she seemed to be.

3.

Pelorat rubbed his hands and said, with carefully controlled enthusiasm, “How glad I am to be back on Gaia.”

“Umm,” said Trevize abstractedly.

“You know what Bliss has told me? The Mayor is going back to Terminus with a commercial treaty with Sayshell. The Speaker from the Second Foundation is going back to Trantor convinced that he has arranged it—and that woman, Novi, is going back with him to see to it that the changes that will bring about Galaxia are initiated. And neither Foundation is in the least aware that Gaia exists. It’s absolutely amazing.”

“I know,” said Trevize. “I was told all this, too. But we know that Gaia exists and we can talk.”

“Bliss doesn’t think so. She says no one would believe us, and we would know that. Besides, I, for one, have no intention of ever leaving Gaia.”

Trevize was pulled out of his inner musing. He looked up and said, “What?”

“I’m going to stay here. —You know, I can’t believe it. Just weeks ago, I was living a lonely life on Terminus, the same life I had lived for decades, immersed in my records and my thoughts and never dreaming anything but that I would go to my death, whenever it might be, still immersed in my records and my thoughts and still living my lonely life—contentedly vegetating. Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, I became a Galactic traveler; I was involved with a Galactic crisis; and—do not laugh, Golan—I have found Bliss.”

“I’m not laughing, Janov,” said Trevize, “but are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Oh yes. This matter of Earth is no longer important to me. The fact that it was the only world with a diverse ecology and with intelligent life has been adequately explained. The Eternals, you know.”

“Yes, I know. And you’re going to stay on Gaia?”

“Absolutely. Earth is the past and I’m tired of the past. Gaia is the future.”

“You’re not part of Gaia, Janov. Or do you think you can become part of it?”

“Bliss says that I can become somewhat a part of it—intellectually if not biologically. She’ll help, of course.”

“But since she is part of it, how can you two find a common life, a common point of view, a common interest—”

They were in the open and Trevize looked gravely at the quiet, fruitful island, and beyond it the sea, and on the horizon, purpled by distance, another island—all of it peaceful, civilized, alive, and a unit.

He said, “Janov, she is a world; you are a tiny individual. What if she gets tired of you? She is young—”