Raych sat in the anteroom of a public building in Dahl into which he had never ventured-never could have ventured-as a ragamuffin youth. He felt, in all truth, a little uneasy about it now, as though he were trespassing¹.
    He tried to look calm, trustworthy, lovable.
    Dad had told him that this was a quality he carried around with him, but he had never been conscious of it. If it came about naturally, he would probably spoil it by trying too hard to seem to be what he really was.
    He tried relaxing while keeping an eye on the official who was manipulating a computer at the desk. The official was not a Dahlite. He was, in fact, Gambol² Deen Namarti, who had been with Joranum at the meeting with Dad that Raych had attended.
    Every once in a while, Namarti would look up from his desk and glance at Raych with a hostile glare. This Namarti wasn't buying Raych's lovability. Raych could see that.
    Raych did not try to meet Namarti's hostility³ with a friendly smile. It would have seemed too artificial. He simply waited. He had gotten this far. If Joranum arrived, as he was expected to, Raych would have a chance to speak to him.
    Joranum did arrive, sweeping⁴ in, smiling his public smile of warmth and confidence. Namarti's hand came up and Joranum stopped. They spoke⁵ together in low voices while Raych watched intently and tried in vain to seem as if he wasn't. It seemed plain to Raych that Namarti was arguing against the meeting and Raych bridled⁶ a bit at that.
    Then Joranum looked at Raych, smiled, and pushed Namarti to one side. It occurred to Raych that, while Namarti was the brains of the team, it was Joranum who clearly had the charisma⁷.
    Joranum strode toward him and held out a plump, slightly moist hand. "Well well. Professor Seldon's young man. How are you?"
    "Fine, thank you, sir."

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