Dors said, “That wasn’t a very long interview, Hari.”

“I know. The surroundings were terribly unpleasant and I felt I had learned enough. Amazing how these folktales tend to magnify.”

“What do you mean, ‘magnify’?”

“Well, the Mycogenians fill their Aurora with human beings who lived for centuries and the Dahlites fill their Earth with a humanity that lived for millions of years. And both talk of a robot that lives forever. Still, it makes one think.”

“As far as millions of years go, there’s room for—Where are we going?”

“Mother Rittah said we go in this direction till we reach a rest area, then follow the sign for CENTRAL WALKWAY, bearing left, and keep on following the sign. Did we pass a rest area on the way in?”

“We may be leaving by a route different from the one we came in. I don’t remember a rest area, but I wasn’t watching the route. I was keeping my eye on the people we passed and—”

Her voice died away. Up ahead the alley swelled outward on both sides.

Seldon remembered. They had passed that way. There had been a couple of ratty couch pads resting on the walkway floor on either side.

There was, however, no need for Dors to watch passersby going out as she had coming in. There were no passersby. But up ahead in the rest area they spotted a group of men, rather large-sized for Dahlites, mustaches bristling, bare upper arms muscular and glistening under the yellowish indoor light of the walkway.

Clearly, they were waiting for the Outworlders and, almost automatically, Seldon and Dors came to a halt. For a moment or two, the tableau held. Then Seldon looked behind him hastily. Two or three additional men had stepped into view.

Seldon said between his teeth, “We’re trapped. I should not have let you come, Dors.”

“On the contrary. This is why I’m here, but was it worth your seeing Mother Rittah?”

“If we get out of this, it was.”

Seldon then said in a loud and firm voice, “May we pass?”

One of the men ahead stepped forward. He was fully Seldon’s height of 1.73 meters, but broader in the shoulders and much more muscular. A bit flabby at the waist, though, Seldon noted.

“I’m Marron,” he said with self-satisfied significance, as though the name ought to have meaning, “and I’m here to tell you we don’t like Outworlders in our district. You want to come in, all right—but if you want to leave, you’ll have to pay.”

“Very well. How much?”

“All you’ve got. You rish Outworlders have credit tiles, right? Just hand them over.”

“No.”

“No point saying no. We’ll just take them.”

“You can’t take them without killing me or hurting me and they won’t work without my voiceprint. My normal voiceprint.”

“That’s not so, Master—see, I’m being polite—we can take them away from you without hurting you very much.”

“How many of you big strong men will it take?