PART V THE MERCHANT PRINCES

TRADERS-...  With  psychohistoric inevitability.  economic  control of  theFoundation  grew. The  traders grew  rich; and  with riches  came power....
It  is sometimes  forgotten  that Hober  Mallow began  life as  an ordinarytrader. It is never forgotten that he ended it as the first of the MerchantPrinces....
ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICAJorane Sutt put the  tips of carefully-manicured fingers together and said,"It's something  of a  puzzle. In fact  ?and this  is in  the strictest ofconfidence   ? it   may  be   another  one   of  Hari   Seldon's  crises."The  man opposite felt  in the pocket  of his  short Smyrnian jacket  for acigarette.  "Don't know about  that, Sutt.  As a general  rule, politiciansstart   shouting   'Seldon    crisis'   at   every   mayoralty   campaign."Sutt  smiled  very  faintly, "I'm  not  campaigning,  Mallow. We're  facingnuclear   weapons,  and   we  don't   know  where  they're   coming  from."Hober   Mallow   of  Smyrno,   Master   Trader,   smoked  quietly,   almostindifferently. "Go  on. If you have more to say,  get it out." Mallow nevermade the  mistake of being overpolite  to a Foundation man.  He might be anOutlander, but a man's a man for a?that.
Sutt  indicated the  trimensional star-map  on the  table. He  adjusted thecontrols  and a  cluster  of some  half-dozen stellar  systems  blazed red.
'That," he said quietly, "is the Korellian Republic."The trader  nodded, "I've been  there. Stinking rathole! I  suppose you cancall it a republic but it's always someone out of the Argo family that getselected Commdor each time. And if you ever don't like it ?things happen toyou."   He   twisted   his   lip   and   repeated,   "I've   been   there.""But  you've come back,  which hasn't  always happened. Three  trade ships,inviolate under  the Conventions, have disappeared  within the territory ofthe  Republic in the  last year. And  those ships  were armed with  all theusual nuclear explosives and force-field defenses.""What was the last word heard from the ships?""Routine reports. Nothing else.""What did Korell say?"Sutt's  eyes  gleamed  sardonically,  "There  was  no way  of  asking.  TheFoundation's greatest  asset throughout the Periphery  is its reputation ofpower.  Do  you  think  we  can  lose  three  ships  and   ask  for  them?""Well, then, suppose you tell me what you want with me."Jorane Sutt did not waste his time in the luxury of annoyance. As secretaryto the mayor, he had held off opposition councilmen, jobseekers, reformers,and  crackpots who  claimed to have  solved in  its entirety the  course offuture history  as worked out by  Hari Seldon. With training  like that, ittook a good deal to disturb him.
He said  methodically, "In a moment. You see, three  ships lost in the samesector  in  the same  year  can't be  accident,  and nuclear  power can  beconquered only by more nuclear power. The question automatically arises: ifKorell has nuclear weapons, where is it getting them?""And where does it?""Two alternatives. Either the Korellians have constructed them themselves?
"Far-fetched!""Very! But the other possibility is that we are being afflicted with a caseof treason.""You think so?" Mallow's voice was cold.
The  secretary   said  calmly,   "There's  nothing  miraculous   about  thepossibility. Since the Four Kingdoms accepted the Foundation Convention, wehave had to deal  with considerable groups of dissident populations in eachnation. Each former kingdom has its pretenders and its former noblemen, whocan't very  well pretend to love the Foundation.  Some of them are becomingactive, perhaps."Mallow was a dull red. "I see. Is there anything you want to say to me? I'ma Smyrnian.""I  know. You're  a  Smyrnian ? born in  Smyrno,  one of  the  former FourKingdoms. You're  a Foundation man  by education only. By  birth, you're anOutlander and  a foreigner.  No doubt your  grandfather was a  baron at thetime of the wars  with Anacreon and Loris, and no doubt your family estateswere taken away when Sef Sermak redistributed the land.""No, by  Black Space,  no! My grandfather was  a blood-poor son-of-a-spacerwho died heaving coal  at starving wages before the Foundation took over. Iowe  nothing to  the old  regime. But  I was  born in  Smyrno, and  I'm notashamed of either Smyrno or Smyrnians, by the Galaxy. Your sly little hintsof treason  aren't going to  panic me into licking  Foundation spittle. Andnow you can either  give your orders or make your accusations. I don't carewhich.""My good  Master Trader, I don't care  an electron whether your grandfatherwas King  of Smyrno  or the greatest  pauper on the planet.  I recited thatrigmarole about your birth and ancestry to show you that I'm not interestedin  them. Evidently,  you missed  the point.  Let's go  back now.  You're aSmyrnian. You  know the  Outlanders. Also, you're  a trader and  one of thebest.  You've been  to  Korell and  you know  the Korellians.  That's whereyou've got to go."Mallow breathed deeply, "As a spy?""Not at  all. As a trader  ?but with your  eyes open. If you  can find outwhere  the power  is  coming from  ?I  might  remind you,  since  you're aSmyrnian,  that  two  of  those  lost  trade  ships  had  Smyrnian  crews.""When do I start?""When will your ship be ready?""In six days.""Then that's when you start. You'll have all the details at the Admiralty.""Right!"   The  trader   rose,  shook   hands  roughly,  and   strode  out.
Sutt waited, spreading his fingers gingerly and rubbing out the pressure;then shrugged his shoulders and stepped into the mayor's office.
The mayor deadened the visiplate and leaned back. "What do you make of it,Sutt?""He could be a good actor," said Sutt, and stared thoughtfully ahead.