They met the man who called himself Davan in a room behind a dilapidated diner.
Far behind.
Raych led the way, once more showing himself as much at home in the burrows of Billibotton as a mole would be in tunnels underground in Helicon. It was Dors Venabili whose caution first manifested itself.
She stopped and said, "Come back, Raych. Exactly where are we going?"
"To Davan," said Raych, looking exasperated. "I told ya."
"But this is a deserted area. Theres no one living here." Dors looked about with obvious distaste. The surroundings were lifeless and what light panels there were did not glower [but] did so only dimly.
"Its the way Davan likes it," said Raych. "Hes always changing around, staying here, staying there. Ya know ... changing around."
"Why?" demanded Dors.
"Its safer, lady."
"From whom?"
"From the govment."
"Why would the government want Davan?"
"I dunno, lady. Tell ya what. Ill tell ya where he is and tell ya how to go and ya go on alone--if ya dont want me to take ya."
Seldon said, "No, Raych, Im pretty sure well get lost without you. In fact, you had better wait till were through so you can lead us back."
Raych said at once, "Whats in it fme? Ya expect me to hang around when I get hungry?"
"You hang around and get hungry, Raych, and Ill buy you a big dinner. Anything you like."
"Ya say that now. Mister. How do I know?"
Dorss hand flashed and it was holding a knife, blade exposed, "Youre not calling us liars, are you, Raych?"
Raychs eyes opened wide. He did not seem frightened by the threat. He said, "Hey, I didnt see that. Do it again."
"Ill do it afterward--if youre still here. Otherwise"--Dors glared at him--"well track you down."
"Aw, lady, come on," said Raych. "Ya aint gonna track me down. Ya aint that kind. But Ill be here." He struck a pose. "Ya got my word." And he led them onward in silence, though the sound of their shoes was hollow in the empty corridors.
Davan looked up when they entered, a wild look that softened when he saw Raych.
He gestured quickly toward the two others--questioningly.
Raych said, "These are the guys." And, grinning, he left.
Seldon said, "I am Hari Seldon. The young lady is Dors Venabili." He regarded Davan curiously. Davan was swarthy and had the thick black mustache of the Dahlite male, but in addition he had a stubble of beard. He was the first Dahlite whom Seldon had seen who had not been meticulously shaven. Even the bullies of Billibotton had been smooth of cheek and chin. Seldon said, "What is your name, sir?"
"Davan. Raych must have told you."
"Your second name."
"I am only Davan. Were you followed here, Master Seldon?"
"No, Im sure we werent. If we had, then by sound or sight, I expect Raych would have known. And if he had not, Mistress Venabili would have."
Dors smiled slightly. "You have faith in me, Hari."
"More all the time," he said thoughtfully.
Davan stirred uneasily. "Yet youve already been found."
"Found?"
"Yes, I have heard of this supposed newsman."
"Already?" Seldon looked faintly surprised. "But I suspect he really was a newsman ... and harmless. We tatted him an Imperial agent at Raychs suggestion, which was a good idea. The surrounding crowd grew threatening and we got rid of him."
"No," said Davan, "he was what you called him. My people know the man and he does work for the Empire.--But then you do not do as I do. You do not use a false name and change your place of abode. You go under your own names, making no effort to remain undercover. You are Hari Seldon, the mathematician."
"Yes, I am," said Seldon. "Why should I invent a false name?"
"The Empire wants you, does it not?"
Seldon shrugged. "I stay in places where the Empire cannot reach out to take me."
"Not openly, but the Empire doesnt have to work openly. I would urge you to disappear ... really disappear."
"Like you ... as you say," said Seldon looking about with an edge of distaste. The room was as dead as the corridors he had walked through. It was musty through and through and it was overwhelmingly depressing.
"Yes," said Davan. "You could be useful to us."
"In what way?"
"You talked to a young man named Yugo Amaryl."
"Yes, I did."
"Amaryl tells me that you can predict the future."
Seldon sighed heavily. He was tired of standing in this empty room. Davan was sitting on a cushion and there were other cushions available, but they did not look clean. Nor did he wish to lean against the mildew-streaked wall.
He said, "Either you misunderstood Amaryl or Amaryl misunderstood me. What I have done is to prove that it is possible to choose starting conditions from which historical forecasting does not descend into chaotic conditions, but can become predictable within limits. However, what those starting conditions might be I do not know, nor am I sure that those conditions can be found by any one person--or by any number of people--in a finite length of time. Do you understand me?"
"No."
Seldon sighed again. "Then let me try once more. It is possible to predict the future, but it may be impossible to find out how to take advantage of that possibility. Do you understand?"
Davan looked at Seldon darkly, then at Dors. "Then you cant predict the future."
"Now you have the point, Master Davan."
"Just call me Davan. But you may be able to learn to predict the future someday."
"That is conceivable."
"Then thats why the Empire wants you."
"No," Seldon raised his finger didactically. "Its my idea that that is why the Empire is not making an overwhelming effort to get me. They might like to have me if I can be picked up without trouble, but they know that right now I know nothing and that it is therefore not worth upsetting the delicate peace of Trantor by interfering with the local rights of this sector or that. Thats the reason I can move about under my own name with reasonable security."
For a moment, Davan buried his head in his hands and muttered, "This is madness." Then he looked up wearily and said to Dors, "Are you Master Seldons wife?"
Dors said calmly, "I am his friend and protector."
"How well do you know him?"
"We have been together for some months."
"No more?"
"No more."
"Would it be your opinion he is speaking the truth?"
"I know he is, but what reason would you have to trust me if you do not trust him? If Hari is, for some reason, lying to you, might I not be lying to you equally in order to support him?"
Davan looked from one to the other helplessly. Then he said, "Would you, in any case, help us?"
"Who are us and in what way do you need help?"
Davan said, "You see the situation here in Dahl. We are oppressed. You must know that and, from your treatment of Yugo Amaryl, I cannot believe you lack sympathy for us."
"We are fully sympathetic."
"And you must know the source of the oppression."
"You are going to tell me that its the Imperial government, I suppose, and I dare say it plays its part. On the other hand, I notice that there is a middle class in Dahl that despises the heatsinkers and a criminal class that terrorizes the rest of the sector."
Davans lips tightened, but he remained unmoved. "Quite true. Quite true. But the Empire encourages it as a matter of principle. Dahl has the potential for making serious trouble. If the heatsinkers should go on strike, Trantor would experience a severe energy shortage almost at once ... with all that that implies. However, Dahls own upper classes will spend money to hire the hoodlums of Billibotton--and of other places--to fight the heatsinkers and break the strike. It has happened before. The Empire allows some Dahlites to prosper--comparatively--in order to convert them into Imperialist lackeys, while it refuses to enforce the arms-control laws effectively enough to weaken the criminal element.
"The Imperial government does this everywhere--and not in Dahl alone. They cant exert force to impose their will, as in the old days when they ruled with brutal directness. Nowadays, Trantor has grown so complex and so easily disturbed that the Imperial forces must keep their hand............