Second Foundation - Isaac Asimov [19]
Pritcher interposed quickly, “My companion asks this in friendliness, for the fame of Tazenda fills the Galaxy and we, of course, shall inform the governor of the loyalty and love of the Elders of Rossem.”
No sigh of relief was heard but faces brightened. An Elder stroked his beard with thumb and forefinger, straightening its slight curl with a gentle pressure, and said: “We are faithful servants of the Lords of Tazenda.”
Pritcher’s annoyance at Channis’ bald question subsided. It was apparent, at least, that the age that he had felt creeping over him of late had not yet deprived him of his own capacity for making smooth the blunders of others.
He continued: “We do not know, in our far part of the universe, much of the past history of the Lords of Tazenda. We presume they have ruled benevolently here for a long time.”
The same Elder who spoke before answered. In a soft, automatic way he had become spokesman. He said: “Not the grandfather of the oldest can recall a time in which the Lords were absent.”
“It has been a time of peace?”
“It has been a time of peace!” He hesitated. “The governor is a strong and powerful Lord who would not hesitate to punish traitors. None of us are traitors, of course.”
“He has punished some in the past, I imagine, as they deserve.”
Again hesitation, “None here have ever been traitors, or our fathers or our fathers’ fathers. But on other worlds, there have been such, and death followed for them quickly. It is not good to think of for we are humble men who are poor farmers and not concerned with matters of politics.”
The anxiety in his voice, the universal concern in the eyes of all of them was obvious.
Pritcher said smoothly: “Could you inform us as to how we can arrange an audience with your governor.”
And instantly an element of sudden bewilderment entered the situation.
For after a long moment, the Elder said: “Why, did you not know? The governor will be here tomorrow. He has expected you. It has been a great honor for us. We . . . we hope earnestly that you will report to him satisfactorily as to our loyalty to him.”
Pritcher’s smile scarcely twitched. “Expected us?”
The Elder looked wonderingly from one to the other. “Why . . . it is now a week since we have been waiting for you.”
Their quarters were undoubtedly luxurious for the world. Pritcher had lived in worse. Channis showed nothing but indifference to externals.
But there was an element of tension between them of a different nature than hitherto. Pritcher felt the time approaching for a definite decision and yet there was still the desirability of additional waiting. To see the governor first would be to increase the gamble to dangerous dimensions and yet to win that gamble might multi-double the winnings. He felt a surge of anger at the slight crease between Channis’ eyebrows, the delicate uncertainty with which the young man’s lower lip presented itself to an upper tooth. He detested the useless play-acting and yearned for an end to it.
He said: “We seem to be anticipated.”
“Yes,” said Channis, simply.
“Just that? You have no contribution of greater pith to make. We come here and find that the governor expects us. Presumably we shall find from the governor that Tazenda itself expects us. Of what value then is our entire mission?”
Channis looked up, without endeavoring to conceal the weary note in his voice: “To expect us is one thing; to know who we are and what we came for, is another.”
“Do you expect to conceal these things from men of the Second Foundation?”
“Perhaps. Why not? Are you ready to throw your hand in? Suppose our ship was detected in space. Is it unusual for a realm to maintain frontier observation posts? Even if we were ordinary strangers, we would be of interest.”
“Sufficient interest for a governor to come to us rather than the reverse?”
Channis shrugged: “We’ll have to meet that problem later. Let us see what this governor is like.”
Pritcher bared his teeth in a bloodless kind of scowl. The situation was becoming ridiculous.
Channis proceeded with an artificial animation: “At