Onum  Barr  was  an  old  man,  too  old  to  be  afraid.  Since  the  lastdisturbances, he had lived alone on the fringes of the land with what bookshe had saved from  the ruins. He had nothing he feared losing, least of allthe  worn  remnant of  his  life,  and so  he  faced  the intruder  withoutcringing.
"Your door was open," the stranger explained.
His  accent was  clipped and  harsh, and  Barr did  not fail to  notice thestrange blue-steel  hand-weapon at his hip. In the  half gloom of the smallroom,  Barr   saw  the   glow  of  a  force-shield   surrounding  the  man.
He  said, wearily,  "There  is no  reason to  keep it  closed. Do  you wishanything of me?""Yes." The  stranger remained  standing in the  center of the  room. He waslarge,  both in  height and  bulk. "Yours  is the  only house  about here.""It is a desolate  place," agreed Barr, "but there is a town to the east. Ican show you the way'.""In a while. May I sit?""If the  chairs will hold you,"  said the old man,  gravely. They were old,too. Relics of a better youth.
The stranger  said, "My name is Hober Mallow. I  come from a far province."Barr nodded  and smiled, "Your tongue convicted you of  that long ago. I amOnum   Barr   of   Siwenna   ? and   once   Patrician   of  the   Empire.""Then this is Siwenna. I had only old maps to guide me.""They would  have to be  old, indeed, for star-positions  to be misplaced."Barr sat  quite still, while the other's eyes  drifted away into a reverie.
He noticed  that the nuclear  force-shield had vanished from  about the manand admitted  dryly to himself that his  person no longer seemed formidableto  strangers   ? or  even,  for  good  or   for  evil,  to  his  enemies.
He said, "My house  is poor and my resources few. You may share what I haveif your stomach can endure black bread and dried corn."Mallow shook his head,  "No, I have eaten, and I can't stay. All I need arethe directions to the center of government.""That is easily enough  done, and poor though I am, deprives me of nothing.
Do  you  mean the  capital  of  the planet,  or  of  the Imperial  Sector?"The  younger man's  eyes narrowed,  "Aren't the  two identical?  Isn't thisSiwenna?"The old  patrician nodded slowly,  "Siwenna, yes. But Siwenna  is no longercapital of the Normannic Sector. Your old map has misled you after all. Thestars may  not change even  in centuries, but political  boundaries are alltoo fluid.""That's too  bad. In  fact, that's very  bad. Is the new  capital far off?""It's on Orsha II. Twenty parsecs off. Your map will direct you. How old isit?""A hundred and fifty years.""That old?"  The old  man sighed. "History  has been crowded  since. Do youknow any of it?"Mallow shook his bead slowly.
Barr said,  "You're fortunate. It has been an  evil time for the provinces,but for  the reign of Stannell VI, and he died  fifty years ago. Since thattime, rebellion  and ruin,  ruin and rebellion."  Barr wondered if  he weregrowing  garrulous. It was  a lonely life  out here,  and he had  so littlechance to talk to men.
Mallow said with sudden  sharpness, "Ruin, eh? You sound as if the provincewere impoverished.""Perhaps not  on an  absolute scale. The physical  resources of twenty-fivefirst-rank planets  take a long time  to use up. Compared  to the wealth ofthe last  century, though, we have gone a long way  downhill ?and there isno sign  of turning, not yet. Why are you so  interested in all this, youngman? You are all alive and your eyes shine!"The trader  came near enough to blushing, as the  faded eyes seemed to looktoo deep into his and smile at what they saw.
He said, "Now look here. I'm a trader out there ?out toward the rim of theGalaxy.  I've located  some  old maps,  and I'm  out  to open  new markets.
Naturally, talk of impoverished  provinces disturbs me. You can't get moneyout  of a  world unless  money's there  to be  got. Now how's  Siwenna, forinstance?"The old  man leaned forward, "I  cannot say. It will  do even yet, perhaps.
But  you a trader?  You look more like  a fighting man. You  hold your handnear your gun and there is a scar on your jawbone."Mallow jerked his head,  "There isn't much law out there where I come from.
Fighting and  scars are part of  a trader's overhead. But  fighting is onlyuseful when there's money  at the end, and if I can get it without, so muchthe  sweeter. Now  will  I find  enough money  here  to make  it  worth thefighting?   I  take   it   I  can   find  the   fighting   easily  enough.""Easily enough," agreed Barr. "You could join Wiscard's remnants in the RedStars. I don't know,  though, if you'd call that fighting or piracy. Or youcould  join our  present gracious  viceroy ? gracious by right  of murder,pillage,  rapine,  and  the   word  of  a  boy  Emperor,  since  rightfullyassassinated." The  patrician's thin  cheeks reddened. His  eyes closed andthen opened, bird-bright.
"You  don't  sound very  friendly  to  the viceroy,  Patrician Barr,"  saidMallow. "What if I'm one of his spies?""What if you are?"  said Barr, bitterly. "What can you take?" He gestured awithered   arm   at   the   bare   interior  of   the   decaying   mansion.
"Your life.""It would leave me  easily enough. It has been with me five years too long.
But you  are not  one of the viceroy's  men. If you were,  perhaps even nowinstinctive    self-preservation    would    keep    my   mouth    closed.""How do you know?"The old man laughed,  "You seem suspicious ?Come, I'll wager you think I'mtrying  to trap  you  into denouncing  the government.  No,  no. I  am pastpolitics.""Past politics? Is a man ever past that? The words you used to describe theviceroy  ?what  were  they? Murder,  pillage, all  that. You  didn't soundobjective.   Not   exactly.   Not   as   if  you   were   past   politics."The  old man  shrugged, "Memories  sting when  they come  suddenly. Listen!
Judge  for yourself!  When  Siwenna was  the  provincial capital,  I was  apatrician and  a member of the provincial senate. My  family was an old andhonored one.  One of my  great-grandfathers had been?No,  never mind that.
Past glories are poor feeding.""I  take  it," said  Mallow,  "there was  a  civil war,  or a  revolution."Barr's face darkened. "Civil wars are chronic in these degenerate days, butSiwenna  had kept  apart.  Under Stannell  VI, it  had almost  achieved itsancient  prosperity. But  weak  emperors followed,  and weak  emperors meanstrong viceroys,  and our last  viceroy ?the same  Wiscard, whose remnantsstill  prey on the  commerce among the  Red Stars  ?aimed at  the ImperialPurple. He  wasn't the first to  aim. And if he  had succeeded, he wouldn'thave been the first to succeed.
"But he  failed. For when the Emperor's  Admiral approached the province atthe head of a fleet, Siwenna itself rebelled against its rebel viceroy." Hestopped, sadly.
Mallow found  himself tense  on the edge  of his seat,  and relaxed slowly,"Please continue, sir.""Thank you,"  said Barr,  wearily. "It's kind  of you to humor  an old man.
They rebelled;  or I  should say, we rebelled,  for I was one  of the minorleaders. Wiscard left Siwenna, barely ahead of us, and the planet, and withit  the province,  were thrown open  to the  admiral with every  gesture ofloyalty to the Emperor. Why we did this, 朓'm not sure. Maybe we felt loyalto  the symbol, if  not the person,  of the  Emperor, 朼 cruel  and viciouschild. Maybe we feared the horrors of a siege.""Well?" urged Mallow, gently.
"Well, came  the grim reto............