“No. On the whole, I prefer him anywhere but at home. He would be a disturbing factor on Terminus. His nonsense about the Second Foundation served as the perfect excuse for sending him out and, of course, we counted on Pelorat to lead him to Sayshell, but I don't want him back, continuing to spread the nonsense. We can never tell what that might lead to.”

Kodell chuckled. “I doubt that we can ever find anyone more gullible than an intellectual academic. I wonder how much Pelorat would have swallowed if we had encouraged him.”

“Belief in the literal existence of the mythical Sayshellian Gaia was quite enough—but forget it. We will have to face the Council when we return and we will need their votes for the Sayshellian treaty. Fortunately we have Trevize's statement—voiceprint and all—to the effect that he left Terminus voluntarily. I will offer official regrets as to Trevize's brief arrest and that will satisfy the Council.”

“I can rely on you for the soft soap, Mayor,” said Kodell dryly. “Have you considered, though, that Trevize may continue to search for the Second Foundation?”

“Let him,” said Branno, shrugging, “as long as he doesn't do it on Terminus. It will keep him busy and get him nowhere. The Second Foundation's continued existence is our myth of the century, as Gaia is Sayshell's myth.”

She leaned back and looked positively genial. “And now we have Sayshell in our grip—and by the time they see that, it will be too late for them to break the grip. So the Foundation's growth continues and will continue, smoothly and regularly.”

“And the credit will be entirely yours, Mayor.”

“That has not escaped my notice,” said Branno, and their ship slipped into hyperspace and reappeared in the neighborhood space of Terminus.

Speaker Stor Gendibal, on his own ship again, had every reason for satisfaction. The encounter with the First Foundation had not lasted long, but it had been thoroughly productive.

He had sent back his message of carefully muted triumph. It was only necessary—for the moment—to let the First Speaker know that all had gone well (as, indeed, he might guess from the fact that the general force of the Second Foundation had never had to be used after all). The details could come later on.

He would describe how a careful—and very minor—adjustment to Mayor Branno's mind had turned her thoughts from imperialistic grandiosity to the practicality of commercial treaty; how a careful and rather long-distance—adjustment of the leader of the Sayshell Union had led to an invitation to the Mayor of a parley and how, thereafter, a rapprochement had been reached with no further adjustments at all with Compor returning to Terminus on his own ship, to see that the agreement would be kept. It had been, Gendibal thought complacently, almost a storybook example of large results brought about by minutely crafted mentalics.

It would, he was sure, squash Speaker Delarmi flat and bring about his own elevation to First Speaker very soon after the presentation of the details at a formal meeting of the Table.

And he did not deny to himself the importance of Sum Novi's presence, though that would not need to be stressed to the Speakers generally. Not only had she been essential to his victory, but she gave him the excuse he now needed for indulging his childish (and very human, for even Speakers are very human) need to exult before what he knew to be a guaranteed admiration.

She did not understand anything that had happened, he knew, but she was aware that he had arranged matters to his liking and she was bursting with pride over that. He caressed the smoothness of her mind and felt the warmth of that pride.

He said, “I could not have done it without you, Novi. It was because of you I could tell that the First Foundation—the people on the large ship…”

“Yes, Master, I know whom you mean.”

“I could tell, because of you, that they had a shield, together with weak powers of the mind. From the effect on your mind, I could tell, exactly, the characteristics of both. I could tell how most efficiently to penetrate the one and deflect the other.”

Novi said tentatively, “I do not understand exactly what it is you say, Master, but I would have done much more to help, if I could.”

“I know that, Novi. But what you did was enough. It is amazing how dangerous they might have been. But caught now, before either their shield or their field had been developed more strongly, they could be stopped. The Mayor goes back now, the shield and the field forgotten, satisfied over the fact that she has obtained a commercial treaty with Sayshell that will make it a working part of the Federation. I don't deny that there is much more to do to dismantle the work they have done on shield and field—it is something concerning which we have been remiss—but it will be done.”

He brooded about the matter and went on in a lower voice, “We took far too much for granted with the First Foundation. We must place them under closer supervision. We must knit the Galaxy closer together somehow. We must make use of mentalics to build a closer co-operation of consciousness. That would fit the Plan. I'm convinced of that and I'll see to it.”

Novi said anxiously, “Master?”

Gendibal smiled suddenly. “I'm sorry. I'm talking to myself.—Novi, do you remember Rufirant?”

“That bone-skulled farmer who attacked you? I should say I do.”

“I'm convinced that First Foundation agents, armed with personal shields, arranged that, together with all the other anomalies that have plagued us. Imagine being blind to a thing like that. But then, I was bemused into overlooking the First Foundation altogether by this myth of a mysterious world, this Sayshellian superstition concerning Gaia. There, too, your mind came in handy. It helped me determine that the source of that mentalic field was the warship and nothing else.”

He rubbed his hands.

Novi said timidly, “Master?”

“Yes, Novi?”

“Will you not be rewarded for what you have done?”

“Indeed I will. Shandess will retire and I will be First Speaker. Then will come my chance to make us an active factor in revolutionizing the Galaxy.”

“First Speaker?”

“Yes, Novi. I will be the most important and the most powerful scholar of them all.”

“The most important?” She looked woebegone.

“Why do you make a face, Novi? Don't you want me to be rewarded?”

“Yes, Master, I do.—But if you are the most important scholar of them all, you will not want a Hamishwoman near you. It would not be fitting.”

“Won't I, though? Who will stop me?” He felt a gush of affection for her. “Novi, you'll stay with me wherever I go and whatever I am. Do you think I would risk dealing with some of the wolves we occasionally have at the Table without your mind always there to tell me, even before they know themselves, what their emotions might be—your own innocent, absolutely smooth mind. Besides…” He seemed startled by a sudden revelation, “Even aside from that, I—I like having you with me and I intend having you with me.—That is, if you are willing.”

“Oh, Master,” whispered Novi and, as his arm moved around her waist, her head sank to his shoulder.

Deep within, where the enveloping mind of Novi could scarcely be aware of it, the essence of Gaia remained and guided events, but it was that impenetrable mask that made the continuance of the great task possible.

And that mask—the one that belonged to a Hamishwoman—was completely happy. It was so happy that Novi was almost reconciled for the distance she was from herself/them/all, and she was content to be, for the indefinite future, what she seemed to be.

Pelorat rubbed his hands and said, with carefully controlled enthusiasm, “How glad I am to be back on Gaia.”

“Umm,” said Trevize abstractedly.

“You know what Bliss has told me? The Mayor is going back to Terminus with a commercial treaty with Sayshell. The Speaker from the Second Foundation is going back to Trantor convinced that he has arranged it—and that woman, Novi, is going with him to see to it that the changes that will bring about Galaxia are initiated. And neither Foundation is in the least aware that Gaia exists. It's absolutely amazing.”