Foundation and Earth

“Who punished them, Lizalor?”

“He Who Punishes. The forces of history. I don’t know.” She looked away from him, uncomfortable, then said, in a lower voice, “Ask others.”

“I would like to, but whom do I ask? Are there those on Comporellon who have studied primeval history?”

“There are. They are not popular with us—with the average Comporellian—but the Foundation, your Foundation, insists on intellectual freedom, as they call it.”

“Not a bad insistence, in my opinion,” said Trevize.

“All is bad that is imposed from without,” said Lizalor.

Trevize shrugged. There was no purpose in arguing the matter. He said, “My friend, Dr. Pelorat, is himself a primeval historian of a sort. He would, I am sure, like to meet his Comporellian colleagues. Can you arrange that, Lizalor?”

She nodded. “There is a historian named Vasil Deniador, who is based at the University here in the city. He does not teach class, but he may be able to tell you what you want to know.”

“Why doesn’t he teach class?”

“It’s not that he is forbidden; it’s just that students do not elect his course.”

“I presume,” said Trevize, trying not to say it sardonically, “that the students are encouraged not to elect it.”

“Why should they want to? He is a Skeptic. We have them, you know. There are always individuals who pit their minds against the general modes of thought and who are arrogant enough to feel that they alone are right and that the many are wrong.”

“Might it not be that that could actually be so in some cases?”

“Never!” snapped Lizalor, with a firmness of belief that made it quite clear that no further discussion in that direction would be of any use. “And for all his Skepticism, he will be forced to tell you exactly what any Comporellian would tell you.”

“And that is?”

“That if you search for the Oldest, you will not find it.”

24.

In the private quarters assigned them, Pelorat listened to Trevize thoughtfully, his long solemn face expressionless, then said, “Vasil Deniador? I do not recall having heard of him, but it may be that back on the ship I will find papers by him in my library.”

“Are you sure you haven’t heard of him? Think!” said Trevize.

“I don’t recall, at the moment, having heard of him,” said Pelorat cautiously, “but after all, my dear chap, there must be hundreds of estimable scholars I haven’t heard of; or have, but can’t remember.”

“Still, he can’t be first-class, or you would have heard of him.”

“The study of Earth—”

“Practice saying ‘the Oldest,’ Janov. It would complicate matters otherwise.”

“The study of the Oldest,” said Pelorat, “is not a well-rewarded niche in the corridors of learning, so that first-class scholars, even in the field of primeval history, would not tend to find their way there. Or, if we put it the other way around, those who are already there do not make enough of a name for themselves in an uninterested world to be considered first-class, even if they were. —I am not first-class in anyone’s estimation, I am sure.”

Bliss said tenderly, “In mine, Pel.”

“Yes, certainly in yours, my dear,” said Pelorat, smiling slightly, “but you are not judging me in my capacity as scholar.”

It was almost night now, going by the clock, and Trevize felt himself grow slightly impatient, as he always did when Bliss and Pelorat traded endearments.

He said, “I’ll try to arrange our seeing this Deniador tomorrow, but if he knows as little about the matter as the Minister does, we’re not going to be much better off than we are now.”

Pelorat said, “He may be able to lead us to someone more useful.”

“I doubt it. This world’s attitude toward Earth—but I had better practice speaking of it elliptically, too. This world’s attitude toward the Oldest is a foolish and superstitious one.” He turned away. “But it’s been a rough day and we ought to think of an evening meal—if we can face their uninspired cookery—and then begin thinking of getting some sleep. Have you two learned how to use the shower?”

“My dear fellow,” said Pelorat, “we have been very kindly treated. We’ve received all sorts of instructions, most of which we didn’t need.”

Bliss said, “Listen, Trevize. What about the ship?”

“What about it?”

“Is the Comporellian government confiscating it?”

“No. I don’t think they will.”

“Ah. Very pleasant. Why aren’t they?”

“Because I persuaded the Minister to change her mind.”

Pelorat said, “Astonishing. She didn’t seem a particularly persuadable individual to me.”

Bliss said, “I don’t know. It was clear from the texture of her mind that she was attracted to Trevize.”

Trevize looked at Bliss with sudden exasperation. “Did you do that, Bliss?”

“What do you mean, Trevize?”

“I mean tamper with her—”

“I didn’t tamper. However, when I noted that she was attracted to you, I couldn’t resist just snapping an inhibition or two. It was a very small thing to do. Those inhibitions might have snapped anyway, and it seemed to be important to make certain that she was filled with good will toward you.”

“Good will? It was more than that! She softened, yes, but post-coitally.”

Pelorat said, “Surely you don’t mean, old man—”

“Why not?” said Trevize testily. “She may be past her first youth, but she knew the art well. She was no beginner, I assure you. Nor will I play the gentleman and lie on her behalf. It was her idea—thanks to Bliss’s fiddling with her inhibitions—and I was not in a position to refuse, even if that thought had occurred to me, which it didn’t. —Come, Janov, don’t stand there looking puritanical. It’s been months since I’ve had an opportunity. You’ve—” And he waved his hand vaguely in Bliss’s direction.

“Believe me, Golan,” said Pelorat, embarrassed, “if you are interpreting my expression as puritanical, you mistake me. I have no objection.”

Bliss said, “But she is puritanical. I meant to make her warm toward you; I did not count on a sexual paroxysm.”

Trevize said, “But that is exactly what you brought on, my little interfering Bliss. It may be necessary for the Minister to play the puritan in public, but if so, that seems merely to stoke the fires.”

“And so, provided you scratch the itch, she will betray the Foundation—”

“She would have done that in any case,” said Trevize. “She wanted the ship—” He broke off, and said in a whisper, “Are we being overheard?”

Bliss said, “No!”

“Are you sure?”

“It is certain. It is impossible to impinge upon the mind of Gaia in any unauthorized fashion without Gaia being aware of it.”

“In that case, Comporellon wants the ship for itself—a valuable addition to its fleet.”

“Surely, the Foundation would not allow that.”

“Comporellon does not intend to have the Foundation know.”

Bliss sighed. “There are your Isolates. The Minister intends to betray the Foundation on behalf of Comporellon and, in return for sex, will promptly betray Comporellon, too. —And as for Trevize, he will gladly sell his