"Imprisoned!
That's against the Convention."
"So is the interference with local politics."
"Oh! Is that what he did?"
Gorm meditated. "Who's the trader'?
Anyone I know?"
"No!" said Ponyets sharply, and Gorm accepted the implication and asked no further questions.
Ponyets was up and staring darkly out the visiplate.
He mumbled strong expressions at that part of the misty lens-form that was the body of the Galaxy, then said loudly,
"Damnedest mess!
I'm way behind quota."
Light broke on Gorm's intellect,
"Hey, friend, Askone is a closed area."
"That's right.
You can't sell as much as a penknife on Askone.
They won't buy nuclear gadgets of any sort.
With my quota dead on its feet, it's murder to go there."
"Can't get out of it?"
Ponyets shook his head absently, A know the fellow involved.
Can't walk out on a friend.
What of it? I am in the hands of the Galactic Spirit and walk cheerfully in the way he points out."
Gorm said blankly, "Huh?"
Ponyets looked at him, and laughed shortly,
"I forgot. You never read the
'Bood of the Spirit,' did you?"
"Never heard of it," said Gorm, curtly.
"Well, you would if you'd had a religious training."
"Religious training?
For the priesthood?"
Gorm was profoundly shocked.
"Afraid so.
It's my dark shame and secret.
I was too much for the Reverend Fathers, though, They expelled me, for reasons sufficient to promote me to a secular education under the Foundation.
Well, look, I'd better push off.
How's your quota this year?"
Gorm crushed out his cigarette and adjusted his cap,
"I've got my last cargo going now.
I'll make it."
"Lucky fellow," gloomed Ponyets, and for many minutes after Les Gorm left, he sat in motionless reverie.
So Eskel Gorov was on Askone - and in prison as well!
That was bad!
In fact, considerably worse than it might appear.
It was one thing to tell a curious youngster a diluted version of the business to throw him off and send him about his own.
It was a thing of a different sort to face the truth.
For Limmar Ponyets was one of the few people who happened to know that Master Trader Eskel Gorov was not a trader at all; but that entirely different thing, an agent of the Foundation! 2.
Two weeks gone!
Two weeks wasted.
One week to reach Askone, at the extreme borders of which the vigilant warships speared out to meet him in converging numbers.
Whatever their detection system was, it worked - and well.
They sidled him in slowly, without a signal, maintaining their cold distance, and pointing him harshly towards the central sun of Askone.