“I know,” said Andorin. “They always have.”

“They've done so since before the beginning of history. The word ‘gods’ is of unknown origin. It is, apparently, a hangover from some primeval language no trace of which any longer exists, except that word. -Do you know how many different varieties of beliefs there are in various kinds of gods?”

“Approximately as many as the varieties of fools among the galactic population, I should say.”

Namarti ignored that. “Some people think the word dates back to the time when all humanity existed on but a single world.”

“Itself a mythological concept. That's just as lunatic as the notion of supernatural influences. There never was one original human world.”

“There would have to be, Andorin,” said Namarti, annoyed. “Human beings can't have evolved on different worlds and ended as a single species.”

“Even so, there's no effective human world. It can't be located, it can't be defined, so it can't be spoken of sensibly, so it effectively doesn't exist.”

“These gods,” said Namarti, continuing to follow his own line of thought, “are supposed to protect humanity and keep it safe, or at least to care for those portions of humanity that know how to make use of the gods. At a time when there was only one human world, it makes sense to suppose they would be particularly interested in caring for that one tiny world with a few people. They would care for such a world as though they were big brothers, or parents.”

“Very nice of them. I'd like to see them try to handle the entire Empire.”

“What if they could? What if they were infinite?”

“What if the sun were frozen? What's the use of ‘what if'?”

“I'm just speculating. Just thinking. Haven't you ever let your mind wander freely? Do you always keep everything on a leash?”

“I should imagine that's the safest way, keeping it on a leash. What does your wandering mind tell you, Chief?”

Namarti's eyes flashed at the other as though he suspected sarcasm, but Andorin's face remained good-natured and blank.

Namarti said, “What my mind is telling me is this-if there are gods, they must be on our side.”

“Wonderful, if true. Where's the evidence?”

“Evidence? Without the gods, it would just be a coincidence, I suppose, but a very useful one.” Suddenly, Namarti yawned and sat down, looking exhausted.

Good, thought Andorin. His galloping mind has finally wound itself down and he may talk sense now.

“This matter of internal breakdown of the infrastructure-” said Namarti, his voice distinctly lower.

Andorin interrupted. “You know, Chief, Kaspalov was not entirely wrong about this. The longer we keep it up, the greater the chance that Imperial forces will discover the cause. The whole program must, sooner or later, explode in our faces.”

“Not yet. So far, everything is exploding in the Imperial face. The unrest on Trantor is something I can feel.” He raised his hands, rubbing his fingers together. “I can feel it. And we are almost through. We are ready for the next step.”

Andorin smiled humorlessly. “I'm not asking for details, Chief. Kaspalov did, and you had him eliminated. I am not Kaspalov.”

“It's precisely because you're not Kaspalov that I can tell you. And because I know something now I didn't then.”

“I presume,” said Andorin, only half-believing what he was saying, “that you intend a strike on the Imperial Palace grounds themselves.”

Namarti looked up. “Of course. What else is there to do? The problem, however, is how to penetrate the grounds effectively. I have my sources of information there, but they are only spies. I'll need men of action on the spot.”

“To get men of action into the most heavily guarded region in all the galaxy will not be easy.”

“Of course not. That's what has been giving me an unbearable headache till now-and then the gods intervened.”

Andorin said gently (it was taking all his self-restraint to keep him from showing his disgust), “I don't think we need a metaphysical discussion. What has happened-leaving the gods to one side?”

“My information is that his Gracious and ever to be Beloved Emperor, Cleon I, has decided to appoint a new Chief Gardener. This is the first new appointee in nearly a quarter of a century.”

“And if so?”

“Do you see no significance?”

Andorin thought a bit. “I am not a favorite of your gods. I don't see any significance.”

“If you have a new Chief Gardener, Andorin, the situation is the same as having a new administrator of any other type-the same as if you had a new First Minister, or a new Emperor. The new Chief Gardener will certainly want his own staff. He will force into retirement what he considers dead wood and will hire younger gardeners by the hundreds.”

“That's possible.”

“It's more than possible. It's certain. Exactly that happened when the present Chief Gardener was appointed, and the same when his predecessor was appointed, and so on. Hundreds of strangers from the Outer Worlds-”

“Why from the Outer Worlds?”

“Use your brains, if you have any, Andorin. What do Trantorians know about gardening when they've lived under domes all their lives, tending potted plants, zoos, and carefully arranged crops of grains and fruit-trees? What do they know about life in the wild?”

“Ahhh. Now I understand.”

“So there will be these strangers flooding the grounds. They will be carefully checked, I presume, but they won't be as tightly screened as they would be if they were Trantorians. And that means, surely, that we should be able to supply just a few of our own people with false identification, and get them inside. Even if some are screened out, a few might make it-a few must make it. Our people will enter despite the super-tight security established since the failed coup in the early days of Seldon's First Ministry.” (He virtually spat the name, “Seldon,” as he always did.) “We'll finally have our chance.”

Now it was Andorin who felt dizzy, as if he'd fallen into a spinning vortex. “It seems odd for me to say so, Chief, but there is something to this gods business after all, because I have been waiting to tell you something that, I now see, fits in perfectly.”

Namarti stared at the other suspiciously and looked about the room as though he suddenly feared a breach of security. But such fear was groundless. The room was located deep in an old-fashioned residential complex, and was well-shielded. No one could overhear and no one, even with detailed directions, could find it easily-nor get through the layers of protection provided by loyal members of the organization.

Namarti said, “What are you talking about?”

“I've found a man for you. A young man-very naive. A quite likeable fellow, the kind you feel you can trust as soon as you see him. He's got an open face, wide-open eyes; he's lived in Dahl; he's an enthusiast for equality; he thinks Joranum was the greatest thing since Mycogenian candy; and I'm sure we can easily talk him into doing anything for the cause.”

“For the cause?” said Namarti, whose suspicions were not in the least alleviated. “Is he one of us?”

“Actually, he's not one of anything. He's got some vague notions in his head that Joranum wanted Sector Equality.”

“That was his lure. Sure.”

“It's ours, too, but the kid believes it. He talks equality and popular participation in government. He even mentioned democracy.”

Namarti snickered. “In twenty thousand years, democracy has never been used for very long without falling apart.”

“Yes, but that's not our concern. It's what drives the young man and I tell you, Chief, I knew we had our tool just about the moment I saw him, but I didn't know how we could possibly use him. Now I know. We can get him onto the Imperial Palace grounds as a gardener.”

“How? Does he know anything about gardening?”