Sinter paced in his small study before the wall image of the human Galaxy with its twenty-five million inhabited worlds marked in red and green. He barely looked up as Vara Liso entered. She immediately dropped her chin and hunched her shoulders. What she saw in Farad Sinter was both frightening and exalting. She had never seem him more calm and steady-not a hint of the slight frown and swagger, the false lineaments of leadership, that he so often projected. He seemed both confident and coldly furious.

“I realize now that you’ve been going about this search all wrong,” he said. “You’ve been bringing me nothing but human mentalics, curious cases of course, but not what we want or need.”

“I was-”

He raised his hand and made a placating moue. “I accuse you of nothing. You had nothing to work with. Now we have something-perhaps the merest something, but more than we had before. I’ve intercepted a man named Mors Planch. I doubt you’ve heard of him. He’s a very competent fellow, with many talents-engineering among them. He tinkers all the time, I understand.”

Liso raised her eyebrows, meekly indicating she had no idea where all this was going.

“I tracked him after I learned that Linge Chen was using him to conduct a private search for Lodovik Trema. Planch is on Trantor. I’ve spoken with him.”

Liso had heard of Trema. Her eyebrows rose higher.

“He found Trema but did not deliver him to the Chief Commissioner. My agents learned this much. All the rigmarole about Trema being dead, having died bravely in the service of the Emperor-that is, the Commission of Public Safety-all nonsense. He’s still alive. Rather, he’s still operating. He can’t be alive.”

Liso dropped her brows and glowered. Sinter seemed to be enjoying this chance to layout his schemes and successes. He fairly glowed, and she saw, written in his emotions, just the sort of pearly cometary tail she imagined followed a leading light into the constellations of supreme power. The thought made her shiver.

“He survived when all the others on his ship died in a neutrino flux.”

“What is that?” Liso asked softly.

“Nothing to concern us. Fatal. Invariably. Far out between the stars, in normal space. He survived. Planch miraculously or very skillfully found him. A competent man. I would like to have his talent work for me. Maybe that will happen yet, but I doubt Linge Chen will let Planch live once he discovers that he has been betrayed. Planch has some fixed notions of justice, and it appears another contender for the person of Trema came on the scene, and paid Planch more than Chen-so Planch took some mixed-up vengeance against Chen and Trantor for the ruin of Madder Loss. A worthless and defiant Chaos World.”

Vara Liso shook her head again. She knew little about such things, nor was she interested. It made her shudder to think of death between the stars, out in the vast open, away from any comforting interiors. She did not regard a hypership as a true environment-more of a temporary coffin.

“When Planch delivered Trema to a certain man on Madder Loss, he made a record, a secret tape, of the proceedings. Somehow, the recording was not detected. I wonder why?” He scratched his cheek for a moment with one finger, staring at her intently. Liso shrugged; she could not possibly offer an explanation.

“Planch does not remember the delivery itself. But the record shows a meeting…Let me play it for you.”

He took out a small machine and slipped the record-more likely, she thought, a duplicate-into the thin slot. Around them appeared a three dimensional scene, quite convincing but for the slight reduction in resolution. She examined the two apparently male figures from Planch’s perspective. One she recognized as Lodovik Trema; the other was tall, slender, handsome in a sort of nondescript way. She could not, of course, read their emotions clearly, but she had the distinct impression something was not quite right. The figures reenacted their conversation, and the more they talked, the more chilled she became.

“I regret to say you’ll soon forget everything you saw here, and your role in rescuing my friend as well.”

“Friend?”

“Yes. We’ve known each other for thousands of years.”

The record ended with part of a taxi ride.

Sinter regarded her curiously.

“A fraud, a joke?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “The record is not a fake. Planch found Lodovik Trema alive. He’s a robot. This other man-he’s a robot, as well. A very old one, possibly the oldest of all. I want you to study this record. Get a feel for these humanlike robots. One or both of them are mentalic. You have the talent to recognize them. Then-we will send you out hunting again. You will find Eternals. Then I will have something to show the Emperor. But for now, I have Planch and this tape, and that can take us all very far, Vara.”

He smiled exuberantly. In his pacing, he had come quite close to her, and with a grin, he gave her a sudden, spontaneous, one-armed hug. She looked up at him, dumfounded, and he folded the record into her hand. She held it with bloodless fingers.

“Study,” he ordered. “I’ll wait for the right moment to convince Klayus we’re onto something.”

The Emperor Klayus woke from a light doze in the empty bed of the seventh sleep chamber, his favorite for afternoon liaisons. He glared around for a moment with some irritation, then stared at the floating image of Farad Sinter. Sinter could not see the Emperor, of course, but that did not make the interruption any less aggravating.

“Your Highness, I have a message from the Commission of Public Safety. They are about to act on an indictment against Professor Hari Seldon.”

Klayus lifted the curtain to the higher sleep field to look for his companion of the past few hours, but she had left the chamber. Perhaps she was in the personal.

“Yes, and so? Linge Chen told us this might happen.”

“Your Highness, it is premature. They are going to try him and at least one of his people. This is a direct challenge to the privilege of the Palace.”

“Farad, the Palace-that is, I-have long since dropped any official support, behind the scenes, for Raven Seldon. He’s an amusement, nothing more.”

“It could be perceived as an affront, now that the move is about to be made.”

“Move-what move?”

“Why, to discredit Seldon. If they succeed, Your Highness-”

“Stop with the titles! Just tell me what you think and get your damned image out of my chamber.”

“Cleon supported Seldon.”

“I know that. Cleon wasn’t even family, Farad.”

“Seldon has ballooned that support into a project consisting of tens of thousands of adherents and sycophants on a dozen planets. His message is treasonous, if not revolutionary-”

“And you want me to protect him?”

“No, sire! You must not let Linge Chen take personal credit for removing this threat. It is time to act swiftly and create the commission we have discussed.”

“With you in charge. The Commission of General security, right?”

“If General Security prosecutes Seldon for treason, you will get all the credit, sire.”

“And no credit or power will go to you?”

“We have discussed this many times.”

“Too many times. What do I care whether Linge Chen takes credit or not? If he removes this intellectual parasite, we’ll all benefit equally, don’t you think?”

Farad thought this over. Klayus could see him deciding to try another tack.

“Your Majesty-this is a very complex issue, and I have many concerns. I did not wish to bring this up so soon, but I have brought an individual back to Trantor from Madder Loss. With your authorization. His name is Mors Planch, and he has evidence which we may add to other evidence-”