“Hello,” she said, “you don't look like a regular here.”
Raych smiled. “I'm not. Do you know all the regulars?”
“Just about,” she said, unembarrassed. “My name is Manella. What's yours?”
Raych was more regretful than ever. She was quite tall, taller than he himself was without his heels-something he always found attractive-had a milky complexion, and long, softly wavy hair that had distinct glints of dark red in it. Her clothing was not too garish and she might, if she had tried very hard, have passed as a respectable woman of the not-too-hard-working class.
Raych said, “My name doesn't matter. I don't have much money.”
“Oh. Too bad.” Manella made a face. “Can't you get some?”
“I'd like to. I need a job. Do you know of any?”
“What kind of job?”
Raych shrugged. “I don't have any experience in anything fancy, but I ain't proud.”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “I'll tell you what, nameless. Sometimes it doesn't take much money.”
Raych froze at once. He had been successful enough with women, but with his mustache-his mustache. What could she see in his baby-face?
He said, “Tell you what. I had a friend living here a couple of weeks ago and I can't find him. Since you know all the regulars, maybe you know him. His name is Kaspalov. Kaspal Kaspalov.” He raised his voice slightly.
She stared at him blankly and shook her head. “I don't know anybody by that name.”
“Too bad. He was a Joranumite, and so am I.” Again, a blank look. “Do you know what a Joranumite is?”
She shook her head. “N-no. I've heard the word but don't know what it means. Is it some kind of job?”
Raych felt disappointed.
He said, “It would take too long to explain.”
It sounded like a dismissal and, after a moment of uncertainty, she rose, and drifted away. She did not smile, and Raych was a little surprised that she had remained as long as she did after it was established that he couldn't afford her.
(Well, Seldon always insisted he had the capacity to inspire affection, but surely not in a business woman. For them, payment was the thing. Of course, it meant they overlooked a man being short, but a number of pleasant ordinary women didn't seem to mind.)
His eyes followed Manella automatically as she stopped at another table, where a man was seated by himself. He was of early middle age, with butter-yellow hair, slicked back. He was very smooth-shaven, but it seemed to Raych he could have used a beard, his chin being too prominent and a bit asymmetric.
Apparently, she had no better luck with this beardless one. A few words were exchanged, and she moved on. Too bad, but it was impossible for her to fail often, surely. She was unquestionably desirable. It was surely just a matter of financial arrangements.
He found himself thinking, quite involuntarily, of what the upshot would be if he, after all, could-and then realized he had been joined by someone else. It was a man this time. It was, in fact, the man to whom Manella had just spoken.
He was astonished that his own preoccupation had allowed him to be thus approached and, in effect, caught by surprise. He couldn't very well afford this sort of thing.
The man looked at him with a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “You were just talking to a friend of mine.”
Raych could not help smiling broadly. “She's a friendly person.”
“Yes, she is. And a good friend of mine. I couldn't help overhearing what you said to her.”
“Wasn't nothing wrong, I think.”
“Not at all, but you called yourself a Joranumite.”
Raych's heart jumped. His remark to Manella had hit dead-center after all. It had meant nothing to her but it seemed to mean something to her “friend.”
Did that mean he was on the road now? Or merely in trouble?
12.
Raych did his best to size up his new companion, without allowing his own face to lose its smooth naivete. The man had sharp eyes and his right hand clenched almost threateningly into a fist as it rested on the table.
Raych looked owlishly at the other, and waited.
Again, the man said, “I understand you call yourself a Joranumite.”
Raych did his best to look uneasy. It was not difficult. He said, “Why do you ask, mister?”
“Because I don't think you're old enough.”
“I'm old enough. I used to listen to JoJo Joranum's speeches.”
“Can you quote them?”
Raych shrugged. “No, but I got the idea.”
“You're a brave young man to talk openly about being a Joranumite. Some people don't like that.”
“I'm told there are lots of Joranumites in Wye.”
“That may be. Is that why you came here?”
“I'm looking for a job. Maybe another Joranumite would help me.”
“There are Joranumites in Dahl, too. Where are you from?”
There was no question that he recognized Raych's accent. That could not be disguised.
He said, “I was born in Millimaru, but I lived mostly in Dahl when I was growing up.”
“Doing what?”
“Nothing much. Going to school some.”
“And why are you a Joranumite?”
Raych let himself heat up a bit. He couldn't have lived in downtrodden, discriminated-against Dahl without having obvious reasons for being a Joranumite. He said, “Because I think there should be a more representative government in the Empire; more participation by the people; and more equality among the sectors and the worlds. Doesn't anyone with brains and a heart think that?”
“And you want to see the Emperorship abolished?”
Raych paused. One could get away with a great deal in the way of subversive statements, but anything overtly anti-Emperor was stepping outside the bounds. He said, “I ain't saying that. I believe in the Emperor, but ruling a whole Empire is too much for one man.”
“It isn't one man. There's a whole Imperial bureaucracy. What do you think of Hari Seldon, the First Minister?”
“Don't think nothing about him. Don't know about him.”
“All you know is that people should be more represented in the affairs of government. Is that right?”
Raych allowed himself to look confused. “That's what JoJo Joranum used to say. I don't know what you call it. I heard someone once call it ‘democracy,’ but I don't know what that means.”
“Democracy is something they have on some worlds; something they call ‘democracy.’ I don't know that those worlds are run better than other worlds. So you're a democrat?”
“Is that what you call it?” Raych let his head sink as if in deep thought. “I feel more at home as a Joranumite.”
“Of course, as a Dahlite-”
“I just lived there a while.”
“-You're all for people's equalities and such things. The Dahlites, being an oppressed group, would naturally think in that fashion.”
“I hear that Wye is pretty strong in Joranumite thinking. They're not oppressed.”
“Different reason. The old Wye Mayors always wanted to be Emperors. Did you know that?”
Raych shook his head.
“Eighteen years ago,” said the man, “Mayor Rashelle nearly carried through a coup in that direction. So the Wyans are rebels; not so much Joranumite as anti-Cleon.”
Raych said, “I don't know nothing about that. I ain't against the Emperor.”
“But you are for popular representation, aren't you? Do you think that some sort of elected assembly could run the Galactic Empire without bogging down in politics and partisan bickering? Without paralysis?”
Raych said, “Huh? I don't understand.”
“Do you think a great many people could come to some decision quickly in times of emergency? Or would they just sit around and argue?”
“I don't know, but it doesn't seem right that just a few people should have all the say over all the worlds.”
“Are you willing to fight for your beliefs? Or do you just like to talk about them?”
“No one asked me to do any fighting,” said Raych.
“Suppose someone did. How important do you think your beliefs about democracy-or Joranumite philosophy-are?”
“I'd fight for them-if I thought it would do any good.”