raych had no trouble seeing that he was being treated with special care. the whole group of would-be gardeners was now quartered in one of the hotels in the imperial sector, although not one of the prime hotels, of course.

the gardeners were an odd lot, from fifty different worlds, but raych had little chance to speak to any of them. andorin, without being too obvious about it, had managed to keep him apart from the others.

raych wondered why. it depressed him. in fact, he had been feeling somewhat depressed since he had left wye. it interfered with his thinking process and he fought it-but not with entire success.

andorin was himself wearing rough clothes and was attempting to look like a workman. he would be playing the part of a gardener as a way of running the "show"-whatever the "show" might be.

raych felt ashamed that he had not been able to penetrate the nature of that "show." they had closed in on him and prevented all communication, so he hadn't even had the chance to warn his father. they might be doing this for every trantorian who had been pushed into the group, for all he knew, just as an extreme precaution. raych estimated that there might be a dozen trantorians among them, all of them namarti's people, of course, men and women both.

what puzzled him was that andorin treated him with what was almost affection. he monopolized him, insisted on having all his meals with him, treated him quite differently from the way in which he treated anyone else.

could it be because they had shared manella? raych did not know enough about the mores of the wye sector to be able to tell whether there might not be a polyandrous touch to their society. if two men shared a woman, did that make them, in a way, fraternal? did it create a bond?

raych had never heard of such a thing, but he knew better than to suppose he had a grasp of even a tiny fraction of the infinite subtleties of galactic societies-even of trantorian societies.

but now that his mind had brought him back to manella, he dwelled on her for a while. he missed her terribly and it occurred to him that missing her might be the cause of his depression, though, to tell the truth, what he was feeling now, as he was finishing lunch with andorin, was almost despair-though he could think of no cause for it.

manella!

she had said she wanted to visit the imperial sector and presumably she could wheedle andorin to her liking. he was desperate enough to ask a foolish question. "mr. andorin, i keep wondering if maybe you brought miss dubanqua along with you. here, to the imperial sector."

andorin looked utterly astonished. then he laughed gently. "manella? do you see her doing any gardening? or even pretending she could? no no, manella is one of those women invented for our quiet moments. she has no function at all, otherwise." then "why do you ask, planchet?"

raych shrugged. "i don't know. it's sort of dull around here. i sort of thought-" his voice trailed away.

andorin watched him carefully. finally he said, "surely you're not of the opinion that it matters much which woman you are involved with? i assure you it doesn't matter to her which man she's involved with. once this is over, there will be other women. plenty of them."

"when will this be over?"

"soon. and you're going to be part of it in a very important way." andorin watched raych narrowly.

raych said, "how important? aren't i gonna be just-a gardener?" his voice sounded hollow and he found himself unable to put a spark in it.

"you'll be more than that, planchet. you'll be going in with a blaster."

"with a what?"

"a blaster."

"i never held a blaster. not in my whole life."

"there's nothing to it. you lift it. you point it. you close the contact and someone dies."

"i can't kill anyone."

"i thought you were one of us, that you would do anything for the cause."

"i didn't mean-kill." raych couldn't seem to collect his thoughts. why must he kill? what did they really have in mind for him? and how would he be able to alert the imperial guard before the killing would be carried out?

andorin's face hardened suddenly, an instant conversion from friendly interest to stern decision. he said, "you must kill."

raych gathered all his strength. "no. i ain't gonna kill nobody. that's final."

andorin said, "planchet, you will do as you are told."

"not murder."

"even murder."

"how you gonna make me?"

"i shall simply tell you to."

raych felt dizzy. what made andorin so confident?

he shook his head. "no."

andorin said, "we've been feeding you, planchet, ever since you left wye. i made sure you ate with me. i supervised your diet. especially the meal you just ate."

raych felt the horror rise within him. he suddenly understood. "desperance!"

"exactly," said andorin. "you're a sharp devil, planchet."

"it's illegal."

"yes, of course. so's murder."

raych knew about desperance. it was a chemical modification of a perfectly harmless tranquilizer. the modified form, however, did not produce tranquillity but despair. it had been outlawed because of its use in mind control, though there were persistent rumors that the imperial guard used it.

andorin said, as though it were not hard to read raych's mind, "it's called desperance because that's an old word meaning `hopelessness.' i think you're feeling hopeless."

"never," whispered raych.

"very resolute of you, but you can't fight the chemical. and the more hopeless you feel, the more effective the drug."

"no chance."

"think about it, planchet. namarti recognized you at once, even without your mustache. he knows you are raych seldon and, at my direction, you are going to kill your father."

raych muttered, "not before i kill you."

he rose from his chair. there should be no problem at all in this. andorin might be taller, but he was slender and clearly no athlete. raych would break him in two with one arm-but he swayed as he rose. he shook his head, but it wouldn't clear.

andorin rose, too, and backed away. he drew his right hand from where it had been resting within his left sleeve. he was holding a weapon.

he said pleasantly, "i came prepared. i have been informed of your prowess as a heliconian twister and there will be no hand-to-hand combat."

he looked down at his weapon. "this is not a blaster," he said. "i can't afford to have you killed before you accomplish your task. it's a neuronic whip. much worse, in a way. i will aim at your left shoulder and, believe me, the pain will be so excruciating that the world's greatest stoic would not be able to endure it."

raych, who had been advancing slowly and grimly, stopped abruptly. he had been twelve years old when he had had a taste-a small one-of a neuronic whip. once struck, no one ever forgets the pain, however long he lives, however full of incidents his life is.

andorin said, "moreover, i will use full strength so that the nerves in your upper arms will be stimulated first into unbearable pain and then damaged into uselessness. you will never use your left arm again. i will spare the right so you can handle the blaster. -now if you sit down and accept matters, as you must, you may keep both arms. of course, you must eat again so your desperance level increases. your situation will only worsen."

raych felt the drug-induced despair settle over him and that despair served, in itself, to deepen the effect. his vision was turning double and he could think of nothing to say.

raych only knew that he would have to do what andorin would tell him to do. he had played the game and he had lost.