Foundation and Empire 13. Leutenant And Clown

If, from a distance of septette thousand parsecs, the f every(prenominal) of Kalgan to the armies of the Mule had produced reverberations that had excited the curiosity of an old Trader, the exigency of a dogged captain, and the annoyance of a meticulous mayor to those on Kalgan itself, it produced nonhing and excited no one. It is the invariable lesson to hu homosexualkindity that distance in time, and in space as well, lends focus. It is non recorded, incidentally, that the lesson has ever been permanently learned.Kalgan was Kalgan. It solo of all that quadrant of the coltsfoot seemed non to know that the Empire had fallen, that the Stannells no longer rule, that heavy(p)ness had departed, and field pansy had disappeared.Kalgan was the luxury world. With the edifice of mankind crumbling, it maintain its integrity as a producer of pleasure, a buyer of luxurious and a seller of leisure.It outpouringd the harsher vicissitudes of history, for what conqueror would destro y or unconstipated unsafely damage a world so full of the diligent cash that would buy immunity.Yet even Kalgan had finally become the supply of a warlord and its softness had been tempered to the exigencies of war.Its tamed jungles, its mildly modeled shores, and its garishly glamorous cities echoed to the march of imported mercenaries and impressed citizens. The worlds of its province had been armed and its property invested in battleships rather than bribes for the first time in its history. Its ruler turn up beyond doubt that he was determined to defend what was his and eager to confiscate what was others. He was a great one of the Galaxy, a war and peace maker, a builder of Empire, an establisher of dynasty.And an unknown with a ridiculous nickname had shootn him and his arms and his budding Empire and had not even fought a battle.So Kalgan was as ahead, and its uniformed citizens hurried grit to their older spirit, while the unconnected professionals of war me rged easily into the naturaler bands that descended.Again as always, there were the elaborated luxury hunts for the cultivated animal life of the jungles that never took human life and the speedster bird-chases in the air above, that was fatal only to the Great Birds.In the cities, the escapers of the Galaxy could take their varieties of pleasure to suit their purse, from the ethereal sky-palaces of spectacle and fantasy that subject their doors to the wad at the jingle of half(prenominal) a credit, to the unmarked, unnoted haunts to which only those of great wealth were of the cognoscenti.To the vast flood, Toran and bay laurelta added not even a trickle. They registered their ship in the huge common hangar on the East Peninsula, and gravitated to that compromise of the middle-classes, the interior Sea-where the pleasures were yet legal, and even respectable, and the crowds not yet beyond endurance.Bayta wore dark supply against the light, and a thin, clear nightie agains t the heat. Warm-tinted arms, scarcely the goldener for the sun, clasped her knees to her, and she stared with firm, abstracted gaze at the length of her husbands turn upstretched body close to shimmering in the brilliance of white sun-splendor.Dont overdo it, she had said at first, only if Toran was of a dying-red star, Despite one-third years of the buns, sunlight was a luxury, and for four days now his skin, tough before generate for ray resistance, had not felt the harshness of clothing, except for the instruct shorts.Bayta huddled close to him on the sand and they spoke in whispers.Torans spokesperson was gloomy, as it drifted upwards from a relaxed baptismal font, No, I charter were nowhere. But where is he? Who is he? This mad world says nothing of him. Perhaps he doesnt exist.He exists, replied Bayta, with lips that didnt move. Hes clever, thats all. And your uncle is right. Hes a man we could use if theres time.A short pause. Toran whispered, Know what Ive been doing, Bay? Im except daydreaming myself into a sun-stupor. Things figure themselves out so neatly so sweetly. His express nearly trailed off, thusly returned, Remember the way Dr. Amann talked backrest at college, Bay. The Foundation can never lose, but that does not immoral the rulers of the Foundation cant. Didnt the real history of the Foundation begin when Salvor Hardin kicked out the Encyclopedists and took over the planet Terminus as the first mayor? And then in the next century, didnt Hober Mallow gain power by methods almost as drastic? Thats twice the rulers were defeated, so it can be done. So why not by us?Its the oldest argument in the books. Torie. What a fuck up of good daydreaming.Is it? Follow it out. Whats containn? Isnt it part of the Foundation? If we become raising dog, its good-tempered the Foundation winning, and only the current rulers losing.Lots of difference among we can and we will. Youre just rant.Toran squirmed. Nuts, Bay, youre just in one of your sour, green moods. What do you fatality to spoil my fun for? Ill just go to sleep if you dont mind.But Bayta was craning her head, and shortly quite a non sequitur she giggled, and removed her glasses to look down the brim with only her palm shading her eyeball.Toran looked up, then lifted and twisted his shoulders to hunt her glance.Apparently, she was watching a spindly figure, feet in air, who teetered on his hands for the fun of a haphazard crowd. It was one of the swarming acrobatic beggars of the shore, whose supple joints bent and snapped for the stake of the thrown coins.A beach caution was motioning him on his way and with a surprising one-handed balance, the fathead brought a thumb to his nose in an upside down gesture. The declare advanced threateningly and reeled backward with a foot in his stomach. The antic around righted himself without interrupting the motion of the initial kick and was away, while the frothing curb was held off by a thorough ly unsympathetic crowd.The clown make his way raggedly down the beach. He brushed past many, hesitated often, stop nowhere. The original crowd had dispersed. The guard had departed.Hes a queer fellow, said Bayta, with amusement, and Toran concord indifferently. The clown was close enough now to be seen clearly. His thin face drew together in front into a nose of munificent planes and fleshy tip that seemed all but prehensile. His long, lean limbs and spidery body, accentuated by his costume, moved easily and with grace, but with just a suggestion of having been thrown together at random.To look was to smile.The clown seemed suddenly aware of their regard, for he stopped after he had passed, and, with a sharp turn, approached. His large, brown eyes fastened upon Bayta.She found herself disconcerted.The clown smiled, but it only saddened his beaked face, and when he spoke it was with the soft, elaborate phrasing of the Central Sectors.Were I to use the wits the good Spirits gave me, he said, then I would say this gentlewoman can not exist for what sane man would hold a dream to be reality. Yet rather would I not be sane and lend belief to charmed, enchanted eyes.Baytas own eyes opened wide. She said, WowToran laughed, Oh, you enchantress. Go ahead, Bay, that deserves a phoebe bird-credit piece. Let him dedicate it.But the clown was forward with a jump. No, my lady, mistake me not. I spoke for money not at all, but for bright eyes and sweet face.Well, thanks, then, to Toran, Golly, you think the suns in his eyes?Yet not alone for eyes and face, babbled the clown, as his wrangle hurled past each other in heightened frenzy, but also for a mind, clear and sturdy and kind as well.Toran locomote to his feet, reached for the white robe he had crooked his arm about for four days, and slipped into it.Now, bud, he said, imagine you tell me what you want, and stop annoying the lady.The clown fell back a frightened step, his meager body cringing. Now, sure I meant no harm. I am a stranger here, and its been said I am of befogged wits yet there is something in a face that I can read. Behind this ladys fairness, there is a heart thats kind, and that would help me in my trouble for all I speak so boldly.Will five credits cure your trouble? said Toran, dryly, and held out the coin.But the clown did not move to take it, and Bayta said, Let me talk to him, Torie, She added swiftly, and in an undertone, Theres no use being annoyed at his silly way of talking. Thats just his dialect and our speech is probably as strange to him.She said, What is your trouble? Youre not worried about the guard, are you? He wont bother you.Oh, no, not he. Hes but a windlet that blows the dust about my ankles. There is another that I flee, and he is a storm that sweeps the worlds aside and throws them plunging at each other. A hebdomad ago, I ran away, have slept in city streets, and hid in city crowds. Ive looked in many faces for help in need. I find it here. He iter ate the last phrase in softer, anxious tones, and his large eyes were troubled, I find it here.Now, said Bayta, reasonably, I would like to help, but really, friend, Im no shield against a world-sweeping storm. To be truthful about it, I could use-There was an uplifted, the right way articulation that bore down upon them.Now, then, you mud-spawned rascal-It was the beach guard, with a fire-red face, and snarling mouth, that approached at a run. He pointed with his low-power stun pistol.Hold him, you two. Dont let him get away. His heavy hand fell upon the clowns thin shoulder, so that a whimper was squeezed out of him.Toran said, Whats he done?Whats he done? Whats he done? Well, now, thats good The guard reached inside the dangling pocket attached to his belt, and removed a discolor handkerchief, with which he mopped his bare neck. He said with relish. Ill tell you what hes done. Hes run away. The words all over Kalgan and I would have recognized him before this if he had been on his feet instead of on his hawkface top. And he rattled his prey in a fierce good humor.Bayta said with a smile, Now where did he escape from, sir?The guard raised his voice. A crowd was gathering, popeyed and jabbering, and with the increase of audience, the guards smack of importance increased in direct ratio.Where did he escape from? he declaimed in high sarcasm. Why, I suppose youve heard of the Mule, now.All jabbering stopped, and Bayta felt a sudden iciness trickle down into her stomach. The clown had eyes only for her-he still quivered in the guards brawny grasp.And who, continued the guard heavily, would this infernal ragged piece be, but his lordships own court rag whos run away. He jarred his captive with a massive shake, Do you admit it, fool?There was only white fear for closure, and the soundless sibilance of Baytas voice close to Torans ear.Toran stepped forward to the guard in friendly fashion, Now, my man, suppose you take your hand away for just a while. This entertainer you hold has been dancing for us and has not yet danced out his fee.Here The guards voice rose in sudden concern. Theres a reward-Youll have it, if you can prove hes the man you want. cerebrate you withdraw till then. You know that youre interfering with a guest, which could be serious for you.But youre interfering with his lordship and that will be serious for you. He shake the clown once again. Return the mans fee, carrion.Torans hand moved quickly and the guards stun pistol was wrenched away with half a finger nearly pastime it. The guard howled his pain and rage. Toran shoved him violently aside, and the clown, unhanded, scuttled behind him.The crowd, whose fringes were now lost to the eye, compensable little attention to the latest development. There was among them a craning of necks, and a outward-developing motion as if many had decided to increase their distance from the reduce of activity.Then there was a bustle, and a rough order in the distance. A corrido r formed itself and two men strode through, electric whips in perfunctory readiness. Upon each purple blouse was designed an angular shaft of lightning with a carve up planet underneath.A dark giant, in lieutenants uniform, followed them dark of skin, and hair, and scowl.The dark man spoke with the dangerous softness that meant he had little need of yelling to enforce his whims. He said, Are you the man who notified us?The guard was still holding his wrenched hand, and with a pain-distorted face mumbled, I claim the reward, your mogul, and I turn on that man-Youll get your reward, said the lieutenant, without looking at him. He motioned curtly to his men, contemplate him.Toran felt the clown tearing at his robe with a furious grip.He raised his voice and kept it from shaking, Im sorry, lieutenant this man is mine.The soldiers took the educational activity without blinking. One raised his whip casually, but the lieutenants snapped order brought it down.His dark mightiness swu ng forward and planted his square body before Toran, Who are you?And the repartee rang out, A citizen of the Foundation.It worked-with the crowd, at any rate. The pent-up silence broke into an intensive hum. The Mules name might excite fear, but it was, after all, a new name and scarcely stuck as deeply in the vitals as the old one of the Foundation that had destroyed the Empire and the fear of which ruled a quadrant of the Galaxy with ruthless despotism.The lieutenant kept face. He said, Are you aware of the individuation of the man behind you?I have been told hes a runaway from the court of your leader, but my only sure noesis is that he is a friend of mine. Youll need firm proof of his identity to take him.There were high-pitched sighs from the crowd, but the lieutenant let it pass. Have you your papers of Foundation citizenship with you?At my ship.You realize that your transactions are illegal? I can have you shot.Undoubtedly. But then you would have shot a Foundation cit izen and it is quite likely that your body would be sent to the Foundation quartered as part compensation. Its been done by other warlords.The lieutenant plastered his lips. The statement was true.He said, Your name?Toran followed up his advantage, I will answer further questions at my ship. You can get the cell number at the Hangar it is registered under the name Bayta.You wont give up the runaway?To the Mule, perhaps. identify your masterThe conversation had degenerated to a whisper and the lieutenant turned aggressively away.Disperse the crowd he said to his men, with suppressed ferocity.The electric whips rose and fell. There were shrieks and a vast surge of separation and flight.Toran interrupted his reverie only once on their way back to the Hangar. He said, almost to himself, Galaxy, Bay, what a time I had I was so scared-Yes, she said, with a voice that still shook, and eyes that still showed something akin to worship, it was quite out of character.Well, I still dont kn ow what happened. I just got up there with a stun pistol that I wasnt even sure I knew how to use, and talked back to him. I dont know why I did it.He looked across the gangplank of the short-run air vessel that was carrying them out of the beach area, to the seat on which the Mules clown scrunched up in sleep, and added distastefully, It was the hardest thing Ive ever done.The lieutenant stood respectfully before the colonel of the garrison, and the colonel looked at him and said, Well done. Your parts over now.But the lieutenant did not retire immediately. He said darkly, The Mule has lost face before a mob, sir. It will be necessary to undertake disciplinary action to restore proper atmosphere of respect.Those measures have already been taken.The lieutenant half turned, then, almost with resentment, Im willing to agree, sir, that orders are orders, but standing before that man with his stun pistol and swallowing his insolence whole, was the hardest thing Ive ever done.