Second Foundation 3. Two Men and a Peasant

Rossem is sensation of those marginal worlds usually neglected in Galactic history and exactly ever obtruding itself upon the notice of manpower of the myriad happier planets.In the latter days of the Galactic Empire, a few political prisoners had inhabited its wastes, firearm an observatory and a small Naval garrison served to keep it from complete desertion. Later, in the evil days of strife, heretofore before the fourth di handssion of Hari Seldon, the half-hearteder sort of work force, tired of the periodic decades of danger and danger weary of sacked planets and a g emceely succession of ephemeral emperors making their way to the Purple for a few wicked, fruitless years these hands fled the populated centers and sought shelter in the barren nooks of the Galaxy.Along the chilly wastes of Rossem, villages huddled. Its sun was a small ruddy niggard that clutched its dribble of heat to itself, while s without delay beat thinly down for nine months of the year. The tough nat ive grain lay dormant in the soil those snow-filled months, indeed grew and ripened in almost panic speed, when the suns reluctant radiation brought the temperature to nearly fifty.Small, goatlike animals cropped the grasslands, kicking the thin snow aside with tiny, tri-hooved feet.The men of Rossem had, thus, their bread and their milk and when they could spare an animal point their meat. The darkly ominous forests that gnarled their way over half of the equatorial region of the planet supplied a tough, fine-grained wood for housing. This wood, together with certain furs and minerals, was even worth exporting, and the transports of the Empire came at times and brought in exchange farm machinery, atomic heaters, even televisor sets. The last was not really incongruous, for the long winter enforce a lonely hibernation upon the peasant.Imperial history f disordereded past the peasants of Rossem. The trading ships might bring news in impatient spurts occasionally new fugitives wo uld arrive at one time, a relatively large group arrived in a body and remained and these usually had news of the Galaxy.It was then that the Rossemites learned of sweeping battles and decimated populations or of domineering emperors and rebellious viceroys. And they would sigh and shake their heads, and draw their fur collars closer ab footstep to the fore their bearded faces as they sat about the village square in the weak sun and philosophized on the evil of men.Then after a while, no trading ships arrived at all, and life grew tall(prenominal)er. Supplies of foreign, soft forage, of tobacco, of machinery stopped. Vague word from scraps gathered on the televisor brought increasingly disturbing news. And finally it spread that Trantor had been sacked. The great capital world of all the Galaxy, the splendid, storied, unapproachable and incomparable home of the emperors had been despoiled and ruined and brought to blab destruction.It was something inconceivable, and to numer ous of the peasants of Rossem, scratching away at their fields, it might well up seem that the end of the Galaxy was at hand.And then one day not strange other days a ship arrived again. The old men of each village nodded wisely and lifted their old eyelids to whisper that thus it had been in their fathers time just now it wasnt, quite.This ship was not an Imperial ship. The glowing Spaceship-and-Sun of the Empire was missing from its prow. It was a stubby affair made of scraps of older ships and the men within called themselves soldiers of Tazenda.The peasants were confused. They had not heard of Tazenda, but they greeted the soldiers nevertheless in the traditional fashion of hospitality. The newcomers inquired closely as to the nature of the planet, the number of its inhabitants, the number of its cities a word nonsensical by the peasants to mean villages to the confusion of all concerned its type of economy and so on.Other ships came and proclamations were issued all ov er the world that Tazenda was now the ruling world, that tax-collecting post would be established girdling the equator the inhabited region that percentages of grain and furs harmonise to certain numerical formulae would be collected annually.The Rossemites had blinked solemnly, uncertain of the word taxes. When collection time came, many had paid, or had stood by in confusion while the uniformed, other-wordlings loaded the harvested corn and the pelts on to the broad ground- autos.Here and there indignant peasants banded together and brought out ancient hunting weapons but of this nothing ever came. Grumblingly they had disbanded when the men of Tazenda came and with dismay watched their hard struggle for existence become harder. exactly a new equalizer was reached. The Tazendian regulator lived dourly in the village of Gentri, from which all Rossemites were barred. He and the officials under him were dim otherworld beings that rarely impinged on the Rossemite ken. The tax-fa rmers, Rossemites in the employ of Tazenda, came periodically, but they were creatures of custom now and the peasant had learned how to hide his grain and drive his cattle into the forest, and refrain from having his hut appear too ostentatiously prosperous. Then with a dull, uncomprehending port he would greet all sharp questioning as to his assets by merely pointing at what they could see.Even that grew less, and taxes decreased, almost as If Tazenda wearied of extorting pennies from such a world.Trading sprang up and perhaps Tazenda found that to a greater extent profitable. The men of Rossem no longer received in exchange the polished creations of the Empire, but even Tazendian machines and Tazendian food was better than the native stuff. And there were clothes for the women of other than gray home-spun, which was a very important thing.So once again, Galactic history glided past peacefully enough, and the peasants scrabbIed life out of the hard soil.Narovi blew into his beard as he stepped out of his cottage.The first snows were sifting across the hard ground and the sky was a dull, cloud cover pink. He squinted carefully upward and decided that no real storm was in sight. He could travel to Gentri without much trouble and get rid of his excessiveness grain in return for enough canned foods to last the winter.He roared back through the door, which he opened a crack for the purpose Has the car been fed its fuel, yunker?A voice shouted from within, and then Narovis oldest son, his short, red beard not yet completely outgrown its boyish sparseness, joined him.The car, he tell, sullenly, is fueled and rides well, but for the bad condition of the axles. For that I am of no blame. I have told you it needs expert repairs.The old man stepped back and surveyed his son through baleful eyebrows, then thrust his hairy chin outward And is the fault mine? Where and in what manner may I achieve expert repairs? Has the harvest then been anything but scanty for five years? Have my herds escaped the pest? Have the pelts climbed of themselves-Narovi The well-known voice from within stopped him in mid-word. He grumbled, Well, well and now your mother must insert herself into the affairs of a father and his son. Bring out the car, and see to it that the storage trailers are securely attached.He pounded his gauntleted hands together, and looked upward again. The dimly-ruddy clouds were gathering and the gray sky that showed in the rifts bore no warmth. The sun was hidden.He was at the point of looking away, when his dropping look caught and his finger almost automatically rose on high while his mouth fell open in a shout, in complete thoughtlessness of the cold air.Wife, he called vigorously, Old woman come here.An indignant head appeared at a window. The womans eyes followed his finger, gaped. With a cry, she dashed down the wooden stairs, snatching up an old wrap and a square of linen as she went. She emerged with the linen wrapped insecurel y over her head and ears, and the wrap dangling from her shoulders.She snuffled It is a ship from outside space.And Narovi remarked impatiently And what else could it be? We have visitors, old woman, visitorsThe ship was sinking slowly to a landing on the bare frozen field in the northern portions of Narovis farm.But what shall we do? gasped the woman. Can we offer these people hospitality? Is the dirt floor of our hovel to be theirs and the pickings of last weeks hoecake?Shall they then go to our neighbors? Narovi purpled past the crimson induced by the cold and his arms in their sleek fur covering lunged out and seized the womans brawny shoulders.Wife of my soul, he purred, you bequeath take the two chairs from our room downstairs you will see that a fat youngling is slaughtered and roasted with tubers you will bake a fresh hoecake. I go now to greet these men of power from outer space and and- He paused, placed his great cap awry, and scratched hesitantly. Yes, I shall bring my jug of brewed grain as well. Hearty drink is pleasant.The womans mouth had flapped idly during this speech. Nothing came out. And when that stage passed, it was only a discordant screech that issued.Narovi lifted a finger, Old woman, what was it the village Elders express a sennight since? Eh? Stir your memory. The Elders went from farm to farm themselves Imagine the importance of it to ask us that should any ships from outer space land, they were to be informed immediately on the orders of the governor.And now shall I not seize the opportunity to win into the good graces of those in power? Regard that ship. Have you ever seen its like? These men from the outer worlds are rich, great. The governor himself sends such urgent messages concerning them that the Elders walk from farm to farm in the cooling weather. Perhaps the message is sent throughout all Rossem that these men are greatly desired by the Lords of Tazenda and it is on my farm that they are landing.He fairly hopped fo r anxiety, The proper hospitality now the mention of my name to the governor and what may not be ours?His wife was suddenly aware of the cold biting through her thin house-clothing. She leaped towards the door, shouting over her shoulders, Leave then quickly.But she was speaking to a man who was even then racing towards the segment of the horizon against which the ship sank.***Neither the cold of the world, nor its bleak, empty spaces worried General Han Pritcher. Nor the impoverishment of their surroundings, nor the perspiring peasant himself.What did bother him was the question of the wisdom of their tactics? He and Channis were alone here.The ship, left in space, could take care of itself in ordinary circumstances, but still, he felt unsafe. It was Channis, of course, who was responsible for this move. He looked across at the young man and caught him winking cheerfully at the gap in the furred partition, in which a womans peeping eyes and gaping mouth momentarily appeared.Chan nis, at least, seemed completely at ease. That fact Pritcher savored with a vinegary satisfaction. His game had not much longer to plump exactly as he wished it. Yet, meanwhile their wrist ultrawave sender-receivers were their only connection with the ship.And then the peasant host smiled enormously and bobbed his head several times and said in a voice oily with respect, direful Lords, I crave leave to tell you that my eldest son a good, worthy lad whom my scantness prevents from educating as his wisdom deserves has informed me that the Elders will arrive soon. I trust your stay here has been as pleasant as my humble means for I am poverty-stricken, though a hard-working, honest, and humble farmer, as anyone here will tell you could afford.Elders? said Channis, lightly. The chief men of the region here?So they are, Noble Lords, and honest, worthy men all of them, for our entire village is known throughout Rossem as a just and righteous spot though living is hard and the retu rns of the fields and forests meager. Perhaps you will mention to the Elders, Noble Lords, of my respect and honor for travelers and it may happen that they will request a new motor station waggon for our household as the old one can scarcely creep and upon the remnant of it depends our livelihood.He looked humbly eager and Han Pritcher nodded with the properly aloof condescension compulsory of the role of Noble, Lords bestowed upon them.A report of your hospitality shall reach the ears of your Elders.Pritcher seized the next moments of isolation to speak to the on the face of it half-sleeping Channis.I am not particularly fond of this get together of the Elders, he said. Have you any thoughts on the subject?Channis seemed surprised. No. What worries you?It seems we have better things to do than to become conspicuous here.Channis spoke hastily, in a low monotoned voice It may be necessary to risk becoming conspicuous in our next moves. We wont find the type of men we want, Pritc her, by simply attain out a hand into a dark bag and groping. Men who rule by tricks of the mind need not necessarily be men in obvious power. In the first place, the psychologists of the Second Foundation are probably a very small minority of the total population, just as on your own First Foundation, the technicians and scientists formed a minority. The ordinary inhabitants are probably just that very ordinary. The psychologists may even be well hidden, and the men in the apparently ruling position, may honestly think they are the true masters. Our solution to that problem may be found here on this frozen lump of a planet.I dont follow that at all.Why, see here, its obvious enough. Tazenda is probably a huge world of millions or hundreds of millions. How could we identify the psychologists among them and be able to report truly to the Mule that we have located the Second Foundation? But here, on this tiny peasant world and subject planet, an the Tazendian rulers, our host inform s us, are concentrated in their chief village of Gentri. There may be only a few hundred of them there, Pritcher, and among them must be one or more of the men of the Second Foundation. We will go there eventually, but let us see the Elders first its a logical step on the way.They drew apart easily, as their black-bearded host tumbled into the room again, obviously agitated.Noble Lords, the Elders are arriving. I crave leave to beg you once more to mention a word, perhaps, on my behalf- He almost bent double in a paroxysm of fawning.We shall certainly remember you, said Channis. Are these your Elders?They apparently were. There were three.One approached. He bowed with a dignified respect and said We are honored. Transportation has been provided, Respected sirs, and we hope for the pleasure of your company at our Meeting Hall.Third InterludeThe First Speaker gazed wistfully at the night sky. Wispy clouds scudded across the faint stargleams. Space looked actively hostile. It was cold and nasty at best but now it contained that strange creature, the Mule, and the very content seemed to darken and thicken it into ominous threat.The meeting was over. It had not been long. There had been the doubts and questionings inspired by the difficult mathematical problem of dealing with a mental mutant of uncertain makeup. All the extreme permutations had had to be considered.Were they even yet certain? someplace in this region of space within reaching distance as Galactic spaces go was the Mule. What would he do?It was easy enough to handle his men. They reacted and were reacting according to plan.But what of the Mule himself?