"I would like to suggest a compromise. Why don't a number of us go with the Maestro. Quite a few of us. We can act as his triumphal escort, a kind of finale to the birthday celebration. Now wait, I don't mean that we will all crowd into the General's offices. I don't even mean entering the Imperial Palace grounds. We can just take hotel rooms in the Imperial Sector at the edge of the grounds-the Dome's Edge Hotel would be just right-and we'll give ourselves a day of pleasure."
"That's just what I need," snorted Seldon. "A day of pleasure."
"Not you, Maestro," said Elar at once. "You'll be meeting with General Tennar. The rest of us, though, will give the people of the Imperial Sector a notion of your popularity-and perhaps the General will take note also. And if he knows we're all waiting for your return, it may keep him from being unpleasant."
There was a considerable silence after that. Finally Raych said, "It sounds too showy to me. It don't fit in with the image the world has of Dad."
But Dors said, "I'm not interested in Hari's image. I'm interested in Hari's safety. It strikes me that if we cannot invade the General's presence or the Imperial grounds, then allowing ourselves to accumulate, so to speak, as near the General as we can, might do us well. Thank you, Dr. Elar, for a very good suggestion."
"I don't want it done," said Seldon.
"But I do," said Dors, "and if that's as close as I can get to offering you personal protection, then that much I will insist on."
Manella, who had listened to it all without comment till then, said, "Visiting the Dome's Edge Hotel could be a lot of fun."
"It's not fun I'm thinking of," said Dors, "but I'll accept your vote in favor."
And so it was. The following day some twenty of the higher echelon of the Psychohistory Project descended on the Dome's Edge Hotel, with rooms overlooking the open spaces of the Imperial Palace grounds.
The following evening Hari Seldon was picked up by the General's armed guards and taken off to the meeting.
At almost the same time Dors Venabili disappeared, but her absence was not noted for a long time. And when it was noted, no one could guess what had happened to her and the gaily festive mood turned rapidly into apprehension.
14
Dors Venabili had lived on the Imperial Palace grounds for ten years. As wife of the First Minister, she had entry to the grounds and could pass freely from the dome to the open, with her fingerprints as the pass.
In the confusion that followed Cleon's assassination, her pass had never been removed and now when, for the first time since that dreadful clay, she wanted to move from the dome into the open spaces of the grounds, she could do so.
She had always known that she could do so easily only once, for, upon discovery, the pass would be canceled-but this was the one time to do it.
There was a sudden darkening of the sky as she moved into the open and she felt a distinct lowering of the temperature. The world under the dome was always kept a little lighter during the night period than natural night would require and was kept a little dimmer during the day period. And, of course, the temperature beneath the dome was always a bit milder than the outdoors.
Most Trantorians were unaware of this, for they spent their entire lives under the dome. To Dors it was expected, but it didn't really matter.
She took the central roadway, into which the dome opened at the site of the Dome's Edge Hotel. It was, of course, brightly lit, so that the darkness of the sky didn't matter at all.
Dors knew that she would not advance a hundred meters along the roadway without being stopped, less perhaps in the present paranoid lays of the junta. Her alien presence would be detected at once.
Nor was she disappointed. A small ground-car skittered up and the guardsman shouted out the window, "What are you doing here? Where are you going?"
Dors ignored the question and continued to walk.
The guardsman called out, "Halt!" Then he slammed on the brakes and stepped out of the car, which was exactly what Dors had wanted him to do.
The guardsman was holding a blaster loosely in his hand-not threatening to use it, merely demonstrating its existence. He said, "Your reference number."
Dors said, "I want your car."
"What!" The guardsman sounded outraged. "Your reference number. Immediately!" And now the blaster came up.
Dors said quietly, "You don't need my reference number," then she walked toward the guardsman.
The guardsman took a backward step. "If you don't stop and present your reference number, I'll blast you."
"No! Drop your blaster."
The guardsman's lips tightened. His finger began to edge toward the contact, but before he could reach it, he was lost.
He could never describe afterward what happened in any accurate way. All he could say was "How was I to know it was The Tiger Woman?" (The time came when he would be proud of the encounter.) "She moved so fast, I didn't see exactly what she did or what happened. One moment I was going to shoot her down-I was sure she was some sort of madwoman-and the next thing I knew, I was completely overwhelmed."
Dors held the guardsman in a firm grip, the hand with the blaster forced high. She said, "Either drop the blaster at once or I will break your arm."
The guardsman felt a kind of death grip around his chest that all but prevented him from breathing. Realizing he had no choice, he dropped the blaster.
Dors Venabili released him, but before the guardsman could make a move to recover, he found himself facing his own blaster in Dors's hand.
Dors said, "I hope you've left your detectors in place. Don't try to report what's happened too quickly. You had better wait and decide what it is you plan to tell your superiors. The fact that an unarmed woman took your blaster and your car may well put an end to your usefulness to the junta."