"I didn't say 'killed.' I said `brought down.' The details I leave to you." This last statement was accompanied with an almost dismissive wave of the hand, a flick of the wrist, as if Andorin were already sitting on the Imperial throne.
"And then you'll be Emperor?"
"Yes."
"No, you won't. You'll be dead-and not at my hands, either. Andorin, let me teach you some of the facts of life. If Cleon is killed, then the matter of the succession comes up and, to avoid civil war, the Imperial Guard will at once kill every member of the Wyan Mayoral family they can find-you first of all. On the other hand, if only the First Minister is killed, you will be safe."
"Why?"
"A First Minister is only a First Minister. They come and go. It is possible that Cleon himself may have grown tired of him and arranged the murder. Certainly we would see to it that rumors of this sort are spread. The Imperial Guard would hesitate and would give us a chance to put the new government into place. Indeed, it is quite possible that they themselves would be grateful for the end of Seldon."
"And with the new government in place, what am I to do? Keep on waiting? Forever?"
"No. Once I'm First Minister, there will be ways of dealing with Cleon. I may even be able to do something with the Imperial Guard-and even with the security establishment-and use them all as my instruments. I will then manage to find some safe way of getting rid of Cleon and replacing him with you."
Andorin burst out, "Why should you?"
Namarti said, "What do you mean, why should I?"
"You have a personal grudge against Seldon. Once he is gone, why should you run unnecessary risks at the highest level? You will make your peace with Cleon and I will have to retire to my crumbling estate and my impossible dreams. And perhaps, to play it safe, you will have me killed."
Namarti said, "No! Cleon was born to the throne. He comes from several generations of Emperors-the proud Entun Dynasty. He would he very difficult to handle, a plague. You, on the other hand, would come to the throne as a member of a new dynasty, without any strong ties to tradition, for the previous Wyan Emperors were, you will admit, totally undistinguished. You will be seated on a shaky throne and will need someone to support you-me. And I will need someone who is dependent upon me and whom I can therefore handle you. Come, Andorin, ours is not a marriage of love, which fades in a year; it is a marriage of convenience, which can last as long as we both live. Let us trust each other."
"You swear I will be Emperor."
"What good would swearing do if you couldn't trust my word? Let us say I would find you an extraordinarily useful Emperor and I would want you to replace Cleon as soon as that can safely be managed. Now introduce me to this man you think will be the perfect tool for your purposes."
"Very well. And remember what makes him different. I have studied him. He's a not-very-bright idealist. He will do what he's told, unconcerned by danger, unconcerned by second thoughts. And he exudes a kind of trustworthiness so that his victim will trust him, even if he has a blaster in his hand."
"I find that impossible to believe."
"Wait till you meet him," said Andorin.
17
Raych kept his eyes down. He had taken a quick look at Namarti and it was all he needed. He had met the man ten years before, when Raych had been sent to lure Jo-Jo Joranum to his destruction, and one look was more than enough.
Namarti had changed little in ten years. Anger and hatred were still the dominant characteristics one could see in him-or that Raych could see in him, at any rate, for he realized he was not an impartial witness-and those seemed to have marinated him into leathery permanence. His face was a trifle more gaunt, his hair was flecked with gray, but his thin-lipped mouth was set in the same harsh line and his dark eyes were as brilliantly dangerous as ever.
That was enough and Raych kept his eyes averted. Namarti, he felt, was not the type of person who would take to someone who could stare lm straight in the face.
Namarti seemed to devour Raych with his own eyes, but the slight sneer his face always seemed to wear remained.
He turned to Andorin, who stood uneasily to one side, and said, quite;is though the subject of conversation were not present, "This is the man, then."
Andorin nodded and his lips moved in a soundless "Yes, Chief."
Namarti said to Raych abruptly, "Your name."
"Planchet, sir."
"You believe in our cause?"
"Yes, sir." He spoke carefully, in accordance with Andorin's instructions. "I am a democrat and want greater participation of the people in the governmental process."
Namarti's eyes flicked in Andorin's direction. "A speechmaker."
He looked back at Raych. "Are you willing to undertake risks for the cause?"
"Any risk, sir."
"You will do as you are told? No questions? No hanging back?"
"I will follow orders."
"Do you know anything about gardening?"
Raych hesitated. "No, sir."
"You're a Trantorian, then? Born under the dome?"
"I was born in Millimaru, sir, and I was brought up in Dahl."
"Very well," said Namarti. Then to Andorin, "Take him out and deliver him temporarily to the men waiting there. They will take good care of him. Then come back, Andorin. I want to speak to you."
When Andorin returned, a profound change had come over Namarti. His eyes were glittering and his mouth was twisted into a feral grin.
"Andorin," he said, "the gods we spoke of the other day are with us to an extent I couldn't have imagined."