seldons eyes shifted briefly. the man to his right was rather thin and seemed quite old. he had dark brown eyes and a swarthy complexion, and seldon was sure that he would have had black hair if he had not been depilated. he faced front again, thinking. this brother was rather atypical. the few brothers he had paid any attention to had been rather tall, light-skinned, and with blue or gray eyes. of course, he had not seen enough of them to make a general rule.

then there was a light touch on the right sleeve of his kirtle. seldon turned hesitantly and found himself looking at a card on which was written lightly, careful, tribesman!

seldon started and put a hand to his skincap automatically. the man next to him silently mouthed, "hair."

seldons hand found it, a tiny exposure of bristles at his temple. he must have disturbed the skincap at some point or another. quickly and as unobtrusively as possible, he tugged the skincap, then made sure that it was snug under the pretence of stroking his head.

he turned to his neighbor on his right, nodded slightly, and mouthed, "thank you."

his neighbor smiled and said in a normal speaking voice, "going to the sacratorium?"

seldon nodded. "yes, i am."

"easy guess. so am i. shall we get off together?" his smile was friendly.

"im with my--my--"

"with your woman. of course. all three together, then?"

seldon was not sure how to react. a quick look in the other direction showed him that dorss eyes were turned straight ahead. she was showing no interest in masculine conversation--an attitude appropriate for a sister. however, seldon felt a soft pat on his left knee, which he took (with perhaps little justification) to mean: "its all right."

in any case, his natural sense of courtesy was on that side and he said, "yes, certainly."

there was no further conversation until the direction plaque told them they were arriving at the sacratorium and seldons mycogenian friend was rising to get off.

the gravi-bus made a wide turn about the perimeter of a large area of the sacratorium grounds and there was a general exodus when it came to a halt, the men sliding in front of the women to exit first. the women followed.

the mycogenians voice crackled a bit with age, but it was cheerful. he said, "its a little early for lunch my ... friends, but take my word for it that things will be crowded in not too long a time. would you be willing to buy something simple now and eat it outside? i am very familiar with this area and i know a good place."

seldon wondered if this was a device to maneuver innocent tribespeople into something or other disreputable or costly, yet decided to chance it. "youre very kind," he said. "since we are not at all familiar with the place, we will be glad to let you take the lead."

they bought lunch--sandwiches and a beverage that looked like milk--at an open-air stand. since it was a beautiful day and they were visitors, the old mycogenian said, they would go to the sacratorium grounds and eat out of doors, the better to become acquainted with their surroundings.

during their walk, carrying their lunch, seldon noted that, on a very small scale, the sacratorium resembled the imperial palace and that the grounds around it resembled, on a minute scale, the imperial grounds. he could scarcely believe that the mycogenian people admired the imperial institution or, indeed, did anything but hate and despise it, yet the cultural attraction was apparently not to be withstood.

"its beautiful," said the mycogenian with obvious pride.

"quite," said seldon. "how it glistens in the daylight."

"the grounds around it," he said, "are constructed in imitation of the government grounds on our dawn world ... in miniature, to be sure."

"did you ever see the grounds of the imperial palace?" asked seldon cautiously.

the mycogenian caught the implication and seemed in no way put out by it. "they copied the dawn world as best they could too."

seldon doubted that in the extreme, but he said nothing. they came to a semicircular seat of white stonite, sparkling in the light as the sacratorium did.

"good," said the mycogenian, his dark eyes gleaming with pleasure. "no ones taken my place. i call it mine only because its my favorite seat. it affords a beautiful view of the side wall of the sacratorium past the trees. please sit down. its not cold, i assure you. and your companion. she is welcome to sit too. she is a tribeswoman, i know, and has different customs. she ... she may speak if she wishes."

dors gave him a hard look and sat down.

seldon, recognizing the fact that they might remain with this old mycogenian a while, thrust out his hand and said, "i am hari and my female companion is dors. we dont use numbers, im afraid."

"to each his ... or her ... own," said the other expansively. "i am mycelium seventy-two. we are a large cohort."

"mycelium?" said seldon a bit hesitantly.

"you seem surprised," said mycelium. "i take it, then, youve only met members of our elder families. names like cloud and sunshine and starlight--all astronomical."

"i must admit--" began seldon.

"well, meet one of the lower classes. we take our names from the ground and from the micro-organisms we grow. perfectly respectable."

"im quite certain," said seldon, "and thank you again for helping me with my ... problem in the gravi-bus."

"listen," said mycelium seventy-two, "i saved you a lot of trouble. if a sister had seen you before i did, she would undoubtedly have screamed and the nearest brothers would have bustled you off the bus--maybe not even waiting for it to stop moving."

dors leaned forward so as to see across seldon. "how is it you did not act in this way yourself?"

"i? i have no animosity against tribespeople. im a scholar."

"a scholar?"

"first one in my cohort. i studied at the sacratorium school and did very well. im learned in all the ancient arts and i have a license to enter the tribal library, where they keep book-films and books by tribespeople. i can view any book-film or read any book i wish to. we even have a computerized reference library and i can handle that too. that sort of thing broadens your mind. i dont mind a little hair showing. ive seen pictures of men with hair many a time. and women too." he glanced quickly at dors.

they ate in silence for a while and then seldon said, "i notice that every brother who enters or leaves the sacratorium is wearing a red sash."

"oh yes," said mycelium seventy-two. "over the left shoulder and around the right side of the waist--usually very fancily embroidered."

"why is that?"

"its called an obiah. it symbolizes the joy felt at entering the sacratorium and the blood one would spill to preserve it."

"blood?" said dors, frowning.

"just a symbol. i never actually heard of anyone spilling blood over the sacratorium. for that matter, there isnt that much joy. its mostly wailing and mourning and prostrating ones self over the lost world." his voice dropped and became soft. "very silly."

dors said, "youre not a ... a believer?"

"im a scholar," said mycelium with obvious pride. his face wrinkled as he grinned and took on an even more pronounced appearance of age.

seldon found himself wondering how old the man was. several centuries?--no, theyd disposed of that. it couldnt be and yet, "how old are you?" seldon asked suddenly, involuntarily.

mycelium seventy-two showed no signs of taking offense at the question, nor did he display any hesitation at answering, "sixty-seven."

seldon had to know. "i was told that your people believe that in very early times everyone lived for several centuries."

mycelium seventy-two looked at seldon quizzically. "now how did you find that out? someone must have been talking out of turn ... but its true. there is that belief. only the unsophisticated believe it, but the elders encourage it because it shows our superiority. actually, our life expectancy is higher than elsewhere because we eat more nutritionally, but living even one century is rare."

"i take it you dont consider mycogenians superior," said seldon.

mycelium seventy-two said, "theres nothing wrong with mycogenians. theyre certainly not inferior. still, i think that all men are equal.--even women," he added, looking across at dors.

"i dont suppose," said seldon, "that many of your people would agree with that."

"or many of your people," said mycelium seventy-two with a faint resentment. "i believe it, though. a scholar has to. ive viewed and even read all the great literature of the tribespeople. i understand your culture. ive written articles on it. i can sit here just as comfortably with you as though you were ... [tit]."

dors said a little sharply, "you sound proud of understanding tribespeoples ways. have you ever traveled outside mycogen?"

mycelium seventy-two seemed to move away a little. "no."

"why not? you would get to know us better."

"i wouldnt feel right. id have to wear a wig. id be ashamed."

dors said, "why a wig? you could stay bald."

"no," said mycelium seventy-two, "i wouldnt be that kind of fool. id be mistreated by all the hairy ones."

"mistreated? why?" said dors. "we have a great many naturally bald people everywhere on trantor and on every other world too."

"my father is quite bald," said seldon with a sigh, "and i presume that in the decades to come i will be bald too. my hair isnt all that thick now."

"thats not bald," said mycelium seventy-two. "you keep hair around the edges and over your eyes. i mean bald--no hair at all."

"anywhere on your body?" said dors, interested.

and now mycelium seventy-two looked offended and said nothing.

seldon, anxious to get the conversation back on track, said, "tell me, mycelium seventy-two, can tribespeople enter the sacratorium as spectators?"

mycelium seventy-two shook his head vigorously. "never. its for the sons of the dawn only."

dors said, "only the sons?"

mycelium seventy-two looked shocked for a moment, then said forgivingly, "well, youre tribespeople. daughters of the dawn enter only on certain days and times. thats just the way it is. i dont say i approve. if it was up to me, id say, go in. enjoy if you can. sooner others than me, in fact."

"dont you ever go in?"

"when i was young, my parents took me, but--he shook his head--"it was just people staring at the book and reading from it and sighing and weeping for the old days. its very depressing. you cant talk to each other. you cant laugh. you cant even look at each other. your mind has to be totally on the lost world. totally." he waved a hand in rejection. "not for me. im a scholar and i want the whole world open to me."

"good," said seldon, seeing an opening. "we feel that way too. we are scholars also, dors and myself."

"i know," said mycelium seventy-two.

"you know? how do you know?"

"youd have to be. the only tribespeople allowed in mycogen are imperial officials and diplomats, important traders, and scholars--and to me you have the look of scholars. thats what interested me in you. scholars together." he smiled delightedly.

"so we are. i am a mathematician. dors is a historian. and you?"

"i specialize in ... culture. ive read all the great works of literature of the tribespeople: lissauer, mentone, novigor--"

"and we have read the great works of your people. ive read the book, for instance.--about the lost world."

mycelium seventy-twos eyes opened wide in surprise. his olive complexion seemed to fade a little. "you have? how? where?"

"at our university we have copies that we can read if we have permission."

"copies of the book?"

"yes."

"i wonder if the elders know this?"

seldon said, "and ive read about robots."

"robots?"

"yes. that is why i would like to be able to enter the sacratorium. i would like to see the robot." (dors kicked lightly at seldons ankle, but he ignored her.)

mycelium seventy-two said uneasily, "i dont believe in such things. scholarly people dont." but he looked about as though he was afraid of being overheard.

seldon said, "ive read that a robot still exists in the sacratorium."

mycelium seventy-two said, "i dont want to talk about such nonsense."

seldon persisted. "where would it be if it was in the sacratorium?"

"even if one was there, i couldnt tell you. i havent been in there since i was a child."

"would you know if there was a special place, a hidden place?"

"theres the elders aerie. only elders go there, but theres nothing there."

"have you ever been there?"

"no, of course not."

"then how do you know?"

"i dont know that theres no pomegranate tree there. i dont know that theres no laser-organ there. i dont know that theres no item of a million different kinds there. does my lack of knowledge of their absence show they are all present?"

for the moment, seldon had nothing to say.

a ghost of a smile broke through mycelium seventy-twos look of concern. he said, "thats scholars reasoning. im not an easy man to tackle, you see. just the same, i wouldnt advise you to try to get up into the elders aerie. i dont think youd like what would happen if they found a tribesman inside.--well. best of the dawn to you." and he rose suddenly--without warning--and hurried away.

seldon looked after him, rather surprised. "what made him rush off like that?"

"i think," said dors, "its because someone is approaching."

and someone was. a tall man in an elaborate white kirtle, crossed by an even more elaborate and subtly glittering red sash, glided solemnly toward them. he had the unmistakable look of a man with authority and the even more unmistakable look of one who is not pleased.