Second Foundation - Isaac Asimov [65]
Arcadia broke in anxiously, “Shhh-h” in a tight hiss.
Homir froze, and slowly recovered. “Let’s not talk,” he mumbled.
And now Homir was with Lord Stettin and Arcadia waited outside alone and felt the blood squeezing out of her heart for no reason at all. That was more frightening than anything else. That there seemed no reason.
On the other side of the door, Homir, too, was living in a sea of gelatin. He was fighting, with furious intensity, to keep from stuttering and, of course, could scarcely speak two consecutive words clearly as a result.
Lord Stettin was in full uniform, six-feet-six, large-jawed, and hard-mouthed. His balled, arrogant fists kept a powerful time to his sentences.
“Well, you have had two weeks, and you come to me with tales of nothing. Come, sir, tell me the worst. Is my navy to be cut to ribbons? Am I to fight the ghosts of the Second Foundation as well as the men of the First?”
“I . . . I repeat, my lord, I am no p . . . pre . . . predictor. I . . . I am at a complete . . . loss.”
“Or do you wish to go back to warn your countrymen? To deep Space with your play-acting. I want the truth or I’ll have it out of you along with half your guts.”
“I’m t . . . telling only the truth, and I’ll have you re . . . remember, my l . . . lord, that I am a citizen of the Foundation. Y . . . you cannot touch me without harvesting m . . . m . . . more than you count on.”
The Lord of Kalgan laughed uproariously. “A threat to frighten children. A horror with which to beat back an idiot. Come, Mr. Munn, I have been patient with you. I have listened to you for twenty minutes while you detailed wearisome nonsense to me which must have cost you sleepless nights to compose. It was wasted effort. I know you are here not merely to rake through the Mule’s dead ashes and to warm over the cinders you find—you come here for more than you have admitted. Is that not true?”
Homir Munn could no more have quenched the burning horror that grew in his eyes than, at that moment, he could have breathed. Lord Stettin saw that, and clapped the Foundation man upon his shoulder so that he and the chair he sat on reeled under the impact.
“Good. Now let us be frank. You are investigating the Seldon Plan. You know that it no longer holds. You know, perhaps, that I am the inevitable winner now; I and my heirs. Well, man, what matters it who establishes the Second Empire, so long as it is established. History plays no favorites, eh? Are you afraid to tell me? You see that I know your mission.”
Munn said thickly, “What is it y . . . you w . . . want?”
“Your presence. I would not wish the Plan spoiled through overconfidence. You understand more of these things than I do; you can detect small flaws that I might miss. Come, you will be rewarded in the end; you will have your fair glut of the loot. What can you expect at the Foundation? To turn the tide of a perhaps inevitable defeat? To lengthen the war? Or is it merely a patriotic desire to die for your country?”
“I . . . I—” He finally spluttered into silence. Not a word would come.
“You will stay,” said the Lord of Kalgan, confidently. “You have no choice. Wait”—an almost forgotten afterthought—“I have information to the effect that your niece is of the family of Bayta Darell.”
Homir uttered a startled: “Yes.” He could not trust himself at this point to be capable of weaving anything but cold truth.
“It is a family of note on the Foundation?”
Homir nodded, “To whom they would certainly b . . . brook no harm.”
“Harm! Don’t be a fool, man; I am meditating the reverse. How old is she?”
“Fourteen.”
“So! Well, not even the Second Foundation, or Hari Seldon, himself, could stop time from passing or girls from becoming women.”
With that, he turned on his heel and strode to a draped door which he threw open violently.
He thundered, “What in Space have you dragged your shivering carcass here for?”
The Lady Callia blinked at him, and said in a small voice, “I didn’t know anyone was with