Eto Demerzel was not frequently seen, except by the Emperor Cleon. It was his policy to remain in the background for a variety of reasons, one of which was that his appearance changed so little with time.

Hari Seldon had not seen him over a period of some years and had not spoken to him truly in private since the days of his early time on Trantor.

In light of Seldon’s recent unsettling meeting with Laskin Joranum, both Seldon and Demerzel felt it would be best not to advertise their relationship. A visit by Hari Seldon to the First Minister’s office at the Imperial Palace would not go unnoticed, and so for reasons of security they had decided to meet in a small yet luxuriously appointed suite at the Dome’s Edge Hotel, just outside the Palace grounds.

Seeing Demerzel now brought back the old days achingly. The mere fact that Demerzel still looked exactly as he always had made the ache sharper. His face still had its strong regular features. He was still tall and sturdy-looking, with the same dark hair with the hint of blond. He was not handsome, but was gravely distinguished. He looked like someone’s ideal pictures of what an Imperial First Minister ought to look like, not at all like any such official in history before his time ever had. It was his appearance, Seldon thought, that gave him half his power over the Emperor, and therefore over the Imperial Court, and therefore over the Empire.

Demerzel advanced toward him, a gentle smile curving his lips without altering in any way the gravity of his countenance.

“Hari,” he said. “It is pleasant to see you. I was half-afraid you would change your mind and cancel.”

“I was more than half-afraid you would, First Minister.”

“Eto—if you fear using my real name.”

“I couldn’t. It won’t come out of me. You know that.”

“It will to me. Say it. I would rather like to hear it.”

Seldon hesitated, as though he couldn’t believe his lips could frame the words or his vocal cords sound them. “Daneel,” he said at length.

“R. Daneel Olivaw,” said Demerzel. “Yes. You will dine with me, Hari. If I dine with you, I won’t have to eat, which will be a relief.”

“Gladly, though one-way eating is not my idea of a convivial time. Surely a bite or two—”

“To please you—”

“Just the same,” said Seldon, “I can’t help but wonder if it is wise to spend too much time together.”

“It is. Imperial orders. His Imperial Majesty wants me to.”

“Why, Daneel?”

“In two more years the Decennial Convention will be meeting again. —You look surprised. Have you forgotten?”

“Not really. I just haven’t thought about it.”

“Were you not going to attend? You were a hit at the last one.”

“Yes. With my psychohistory. Some hit.”

“You attracted the attention of the Emperor. No other mathematician did.”

“It was you who were initially attracted, not the Emperor. Then I