PART IV THE TRADERS

TRADERS?..  and constantly  in advance  of the  political hegemony  of theFoundation were  the Traders, reaching out  tenuous fingerholds through thetremendous distances  of the Periphery. Months  or years might pass betweenlandings on Terminus; their  ships were often nothing more than patchquiltsof  home-made repairs  and improvisations;  their honesty  was none  of thehighest; their daring...
Through   it  all   they   forged  an   empire  more   enduring   than  thepseudo-religious despotism of the Four Kingdoms...
Tales  without end  are  told of  these  massive, lonely  figures who  borehalf-seriously, half-mockingly a motto  adopted from one of Salvor Hardin'sepigrams, "Never  let your sense of  morals prevent you from  doing what isright!"  It  is difficult  now  to  tell which  tales  are  real and  whichapocryphal.  There   are  none   probably  that  have   not  suffered  someexaggeration....
ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICALimmar Ponyets was completely a-lather when the call reached his receiver ?
which proves  that the old bromide about  telemessages and the shower holdstrue   even  in   the  dark,   hard  space   of  the   Galactic  Periphery.
Luckily that  part of  a free-lance trade  ship which is not  given over tomiscellaneous merchandise  is extremely snug. So  much so, that the shower,hot water  included, is located in  a two-by-four cubby, ten  feet from thecontrol  panels. Ponyets heard  the staccato  rattle of the  receiver quiteplainly.
Dripping suds  and a growl, he  stepped out to adjust  the vocal, and threehours later  a second  trade ship was  alongside, and a  grinning youngsterentered through the air tube between the ships.
Ponyets  rattled  his  best  chair  forward  and  perched  himself  on  thepilot-swivel.
"What've you  been doing, Gorm?" he asked, darkly.  "Chasing me all the wayfrom the Foundation?"Les Gorm  broke out a cigarette, and shook his  head definitely, "Me? Not achance. I'm just a  sucker who happened to land on Glyptal IV the day afterthe mail. So they sent me out after you with this."The   tiny,  gleaming   sphere  changed   hands,  and  Gorm   added,  "It'sconfidential. Super-secret. Can't be trusted to the sub-ether and all that.
Or  so I  gather. At  least, it's  a Personal  Capsule, and won't  open foranyone but you."Ponyets regarded  the capsule distastefully,  "I can see that.  And I neverknew one of these to hold good news, either."It opened in his  hand and the thin, transparent tape unrolled stiffly. Hiseyes swept the message  quickly, for when the last of the tape had emerged,the first  was already  brown and crinkled. In  a minute and a  half it hadturned black and, molecule by molecule, fallen apart.
Ponyets grunted hollowly, "Oh, Galaxy!"Les  Gorm  said  quietly,  "Can I  help  somehow?  Or  is  it too  secret?""It  will bear  telling,  since you're  of the  Guild.  I've got  to  go toAskone.""That place? How come?""They've imprisoned a trader. But keep it to yourself.''
Gorm's  expression  jolted  into  anger, "Imprisoned!  That's  against  theConvention.""So is the interference with local politics.""Oh! Is  that what  he did?" Gorm  meditated. "Who's the  trader'? Anyone Iknow?""No!" said Ponyets sharply,  and Gorm accepted the implication and asked nofurther questions.
Ponyets  was up  and staring  darkly out  the visiplate. He  mumbled strongexpressions at  that part of the  misty lens-form that was  the body of theGalaxy,  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'tbuy nuclear gadgets of any sort. With my quota dead on its feet, it'smurder to go there.""Can't get out of it?"Ponyets shook his head absently, A know the fellow involved. Can't walk outon a friend. What  of it? I am in the hands of the Galactic Spirit and walkcheerfully 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 ReverendFathers, though, They expelled  me, for reasons sufficient to promote me toa 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 lastcargo 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 onething  to tell  a curious youngster  a diluted  version of the  business tothrow him  off and send  him about his own.  It was a thing  of a differentsort to face the truth.
For  Limmar Ponyets was  one of the  few people  who happened to  know thatMaster  Trader Eskel  Gorov  was not  a trader  at  all; but  that entirelydifferent thing, an agent of the Foundation!