Foundation and Empire

"Wow!" Devers pulled thoughtfully at his neatly trimmed beard. "And he's the old boy the Emperor sent out here to keep an eye on Riose. Do you know I have an idea?"

"I do now."

"Suppose this Brodrig takes a dislike to our young Army's Delight?"

"He probably has already. He's not noted for a capacity for liking."

"Suppose it gets really bad. The Emperor might hear about it, and Riose might be in trouble."

"Uh-huh. Quite likely. But how do you propose to get that to happen?"

"I don't know. I suppose he could be bribed?"

The patrician laughed gently. "Yes, in a way, but not in the manner you bribed the sergeant - not with a pocket freezer. And even if you reach his scale, it wouldn't be worth it. There's probably no one so easily bribed, but he lacks even the fundamental honesty of honorable corruption. He doesn't stay bribed; not for any sum. Think of something else."

Devers swung a leg over his knee and his toe nodded quickly and restlessly. "It's the first hint, though-"

He stopped; the door signal was flashing once again, and the sergeant was on the threshold once more. He was excited, and his broad face was red and unsmiling.

"Sir," he began, in an agitated attempt at deference, "I am very thankful for the freezer, and you have always spoken to me very fine, although I am only the son of a farmer and you are great lords."

His Pleiades accent had grown thick, almost too much so for easy comprehension; and with excitement, his lumpish peasant derivation wiped out completely the soldierly bearing so long and so painfully cultivated.

Barr said softly, "What is it, sergeant?"

"Lord Brodrig is coming to see you. Tomorrow! I know, because the captain told me to have my men ready for dress review tomorrow for… for him. I thought - I might warn you."

Barr said, "Thank you, sergeant, we appreciate that. But it's all right, man; no need for-"

But the look on Sergeant Luk's face was now unmistakably one of fear. He spoke in a rough whisper, "You don't hear the stories the men tell about him. He has sold himself to the space fiend. No, don't laugh. There are most terrible tales told about him. They say he has men with blast-guns who follow him everywhere, and when he wants pleasure, he just tells them to blast down anyone they meet. And they do - and he laughs. They say even the Emperor is in terror of him, and that he forces the Emperor to raise taxes and won't let him listen to the complaints of the people.

"And he hates the general, that's what they say. They say he would like to kill the general, because the general is so great and wise. But he can't because our general is a match for anyone and he knows Lord Brodrig is a bad 'un."

The sergeant blinked; smiled in a sudden incongruous shyness at his own outburst; and backed toward the door. He nodded his head, jerkily. "You mind my words. Watch him."

He ducked out.

And Devers looked up, hard-eyed. "This breaks things our way, doesn't it, doc?"

"It depends," said Barr, dryly, "on Brodrig, doesn't it?"

But Devers was thinking, not listening.

He was thinking hard.

Lord Brodrig ducked his head as he stepped into the cramped living quarters of the trading ship, and his two armed guards followed quickly, with bared guns and the professionally hard scowls of the hired bravos.

The Privy Secretary had little of the look of the lost soul about him just then. If the space fiend had bought him, he had left no visible mark of possession. Rather might Brodrig have been considered a breath of court-fashion come to enliven the hard, bare ugliness of an army base.

The stiff, tight lines of his sheened and immaculate costume gave him the illusion of height, from the very top of which his cold, emotionless eyes stared down the declivity of a long nose at the trader. The mother-of-pearl ruches at his wrists fluttered filmily as he brought his ivory stick to the ground before him and leaned upon it daintily.

"No," he said, with a little gesture, "you remain here. Forget your toys; I am not interested in them."

He drew forth a chair, dusted it carefully with the iridescent square of fabric attached to the top of his white stick, and seated himself. Devers glanced towards the mate to the chair, but Brodrig said lazily, "You will stand in the presence of a Peer of the Realm."

He smiled.

Devers shrugged. "If you're not interested in my stock in trade, what am I here for?"

The Privy Secretary waited coldly, and Devers added a slow, "Sir."

"For privacy," said the secretary. "Now is it likely that I would come two hundred parsecs through space to inspect trinkets? It's you I want to see." He extracted a small pink tablet from an engraved box and placed it delicately between his teeth. He sucked it slowly and appreciatively.

"For instance," he said, "who are you? Are you really a citizen of this barbarian world that is creating all this fury of military frenzy?"

Devers nodded gravely.

"And you were really captured by him after the beginning of this squabble he calls a war. I am referring to our young general."