His small eyes sparkled.
"I have inquired as to your ship. Naturally, I would like to see that it receives due care and overhaul. I am told its whereabouts are unknown."
"True." Channis replied lightly. "We have left it in space. It is a large ship, suitable for long journeys in sometimes hostile regions, and we felt that landing it here might give rise to doubts as to our peaceful intentions. We preferred to land alone, unarmed."
"A friendly act," commented the governor, without conviction. "A large ship, you say?"
"Not a vessel of war, excellency."
"Ha, hum. Where is it you come from?"
"A small world of the Santanni sector, your excellency. It may be you are not aware of its existence for it lacks importance. We are interested in establishing trade relationships."
"Trade, eh? And what have you to sell?'
"Machines of all sorts, excellency. In return, food, wood, ores."***
"Ha, hum." The governor seemed doubtful. "I know little of*** these matters. Perhaps mutual profit may be arranged. Perhaps, after I have examined your credentials at length - for much information will be required by my government before matters may proceed, you understand - and after I have looked over your ship, it would be advisable for you to proceed to Tazenda."
There was no answer to that, and the governor's attitude iced perceptibly.
"It is necessary that I see your ship, however."
Channis said distantly: "The ship, unfortunately, is undergoing repairs at the moment. If your excellency would not object giving us forty-eight hours, it will be at your service."
"I am not accustomed to waiting."
For the first time, Pritcher met the glare of the other, eye to eye, and his breath exploded softly inside him. For a moment, he had the sensation of drowning, but then his eyes tore away.
Channis did not waver. He said: "The ship cannot be landed for forty-eight hours, excellency. We are here and unarmed. Can you doubt our honest intentions?"
There was a long silence, and then the governor said gruffly, "Tell me of the world from which you come."
That was all. It passed with that. There was no more unpleasantness. The governor, having fulfilled his official duty, apparently lost interest and the audience died a dull death.
And when it was all over, Pritcher found himself back in their quarters and took stock of himself.
Carefully - holding his breath - he "felt" his emotions. Certainly he seemed no different to himself, but would he feel any difference? Had he felt different after the Mule's Conversion? Had not everything seemed natural? As it should have been?
He experimented.
With cold purpose, he shouted inside the silent caverns of his mind, and the shout was, "The Second Foundation must be discovered and destroyed."
And the emotion that accompanied it was honest hate. There was not as much as a hesitation involved in it.
And then it was in his mind to substitute the word "Mule" for the phrase "Second Foundation" and his breath caught at the mere emotion and his tongue clogged.
So far, good.
But had he been handled otherwise - more subtly? Had tiny changes been made? Changes that he couldn't detect because their very existence warped his judgment.
There was no way to tell.
But he still felt absolute loyalty to the Mule! If that were unchanged, nothing else really mattered.
He turned his mind to action again. Channis was busy at his end of the room. Pritcher's thumbnail idled at his wrist communicator.
And then at the response that came he felt a wave of relief surge over him and leave him weak.
The quiet muscles of his face did not betray him, but inside he was shouting with joy - and when Channis turned to face him, he knew that the farce was about over.
Fourth Interlude
The two Speakers passed each other on the road and one stopped the other.
"I have word from the First Speaker."
There was a half-apprehensive flicker in the other's eyes. "Intersection point?"
"Yes! May we live to see the dawn!"
There was no sign in any of Channis' actions that he was aware of any subtle change in the attitude of Pritcher, and in their relations to each other. He leaned back on the hard wooden bench and spread-eagled his feet out in front of him.
"What did you make of the governor?"
Pritcher shrugged: "Nothing at all. He certainly seemed no mental genius to me. A very poor specimen of the Second Foundation, if that's what he was supposed to be."
"I don't think he was, you know. I'm not sure what to make of it. Suppose you were a Second Foundationer," Channis grew thoughtful, "what would you do? Suppose you had an idea of our purpose here. How would you handle us?"
"Conversion, of course."
"Like the Mule?" Channis looked up, sharply. "Would we know if they had converted us? I wonder- And what if they were simply psychologists, but very clever ones."
"In that case, I'd have us killed rather quickly."
"And our ship? No." Channis wagged a forefinger. "We're playing a bluff, Pritcher, old man. It can only be a bluff. Even if they have emotional control down pat, we - you and I - are only fronts. It's the Mule they must fight, and they're being just as careful of us as we are of them. I'm assuming that they know who we are."
Pritcher, stared coldly: "What do you intend doing?"
"Wait." The word was bitten off. "Let them come to us. They're worried, maybe about the ship, but probably about the Mule. They bluffed with the governor. It didn't work. We stayed pat. The next person they'll send will be a Second Foundationer, and he’ll propose a deal of some sort."
"And then?"
"And then we make the deal."
"I don't think so."
"Because you think it will double-cross the Mule? It won't."
"No, the Mule could handle your double-crosses, any you could invent. But I still don't think so."
"Because you think then we couldn't double-cross the Foundationers?"
"Perhaps not. But that’s not the reason."
Channis let his glance drop to what the other held in his fist, and said grimly: "You mean that's the reason."
Pritcher cradled his blaster, "That's right. You are under arrest."
"Why?"
"For treason to the First Citizen of the Union."
Channis' lips hardened upon one another: "What's going on?"
"Treason! As I said. And correction of the matter, on my part."
"Your proof? Or evidence, assumptions, daydreams? Are you mad?"
"No. Are you? Do you think the Mule sends out unweaned youngsters on ridiculous swashbuckling missions for nothing? It was queer to me at the time. But I wasted time in doubting myself. Why should he send you? Because you smile and dress well? Because you're twenty-eight."
"Perhaps because I can be trusted. Or aren't you in the market for logical reasons?"
"Or perhaps because you can't be trusted. Which is logical enough, as it turns out."
"Are we matching paradoxes, or is this all a word game to see who can say the least in the most words?"
And the blaster advanced, with Pritcher after it. He stood erect before the younger man: "Stand up!"
Channis did so, in no particular hurry, and felt the muzzle of the blaster touch his belt with no shrinking of the stomach muscles.