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They tell me that this planet's going to be a fine place to live. Quiet and peaceful, and serene.... Gwenlyn will be living on Tralee, most likely, and I don't want to be underfoot. I'll probably settle down here. Retire, you know." "Splendid," said the king, politely, his mind occupied with the prospect of a warless future.
"It's most interesting," admitted Bors. "But " "Now Harms," said Morgan, "reads news-reports. He's specialized on those brought back by Gwenlyn and by you. He guesses at the news behind the news and he knows when he's hit it. He'll tell Madame Porvis the facts, she'll weave them into a fantasy and they'll spread like wildfire. Of course she can't plant new subjects in people's minds.
He realized that he was waiting for Gwenlyn to enter. He turned back to Morgan. "They don't make sense to me," he said dourly. "You have a precognizer, you say. He foresees the future. I admit that he has. But the future is uncertain. It can't be foreseen unless it's pre-ordained, and in that case we're only puppets imagining that we're free agents.
His mind works that way! We've got a woman who knows, infallibly, who's going to marry whom! That's why the ship-arrival precognizer can say a ship's coming in. His mind works on such things, and he has a talent besides!" "There are definite limits, then." "What is there that's real and hasn't limits?" demanded Morgan. The door opened and Gwenlyn came in. Bors rose, looking pleased.
"I think," said Gwenlyn amiably, "that Father himself has a talent, which makes him not too easy to get along with. But it has had some good results. I hope it will have more here. The whole business is unbelievable, though, unless you think of some very special facts." Bors nodded. He puffed again and waited. "He told you some of it," said Gwenlyn. "About the ship arrival Talent and the dowser.
You haven't had any prophecies from me! Prophecy's absurd! All we've told you is about events whose probability approaches unity." "But " "What Father means," Gwenlyn told him, "is that you can't be told beforehand about anything you can prevent, because if you can prevent it you can make your knowledge false. So it isn't knowledge. What we want to say, though, is that we aren't through."
Space-yacht Sylva reports breakout from overdrive and asks coordinates for landing. Purpose of visit, pleasure-travel." Bors swore, then smiled to himself. Gwenlyn had threatened to do something drastic! "Say landing's forbidden," he commanded an instant later. "Advise immediate departure." He pressed a button and said evenly: "One minute gone! In two minutes more we send our bombs and take off."
He wiped sweat from his forehead with one hand while he thrust Bors on with the other. They came to a cabin evidently assigned to him. Gwenlyn waited there. "Craziness!" said Morgan bitterly. "Craziness! I get the finest group of Talents that ever existed! I teach them to think! I instruct them! And they can't think of what is going to happen. And everything depends on it! Everything!"
And they would gather emissaries to be carried to the fleet as it rode in orbit about Mekin. The fleet and the representatives of the twenty-two worlds, together, would firmly rearrange the government and the policies and the ambitions of Mekin. There was still the matter of Gwenlyn.
"I'm telling him the facts of life about precognition," Morgan told her. "I think he understands now." "I don't agree," said Bors. Gwenlyn said amusedly, "Two of our Talents want to talk to you, Captain. You might say that they want to measure you for rumors." "They what?" demanded Bors, startled.
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