Dors said, "Well, let me think. Hummin says I must protect you and I interpret that as meaning I must help you when I can. What do I know about religion? That's nowhere near my specialty, you know. I have always dealt with economic forces, rather than philosophic forces, but you can't split history into neat little nonoverlapping divisions. For instance, religions tend to accumulate wealth when successful and that eventually tends to distort the economic development of a society. There, incidentally, is one of the numerous rules of human history that you'll have to derive from your basic Laws of Humanics or whatever you called them. But..."
And here, Dors's voice faded away as she lapsed into thought. Seldon watched her cautiously and Dors's eyes glazed as though she was looking deep within herself.
Finally she said, "This is not an invariable rule, but it seems to me that on many occasions, a religion has a book-or books-of significance; books that give their ritual, their view of history, their sacred poetry, and who knows what else. Usually, those books are open to all and are a means of proselytization. Sometimes they are secret."
"Do you think Mycogen has books of that sort?"
"To be truthful," said Dors thoughtfully, "I have never heard of any. I might have if they existed openly-which means they either don't exist or are kept secret. In either case, it seems to me you are not going to see them."
"At least it's a starting point," said Seldon grimly.
42.
The Sisters returned about two hours after Hari and Dors had finished lunch. They were smiling, both of them, and Raindrop Forty-Three, the graver one, held up a gray kirtle for Dors's inspection.
"It is very attractive," said Dors, smiling widely and nodding her head with a certain sincerity. "I like the clever embroidery here."
"It is nothing," twittered Raindrop Forty-Five. "It is one of my old things and it won't fit very well, for you are taller than I am. But it will do for a while and we will take you out to the very best kirtlery to get a few that will fit you and your tastes perfectly. You will see."
Raindrop Forty-Three, smiling a little nervously but saying nothing and keeping her eyes fixed on the ground, handed a white kirtle to Dors. It was folded neatly. Dors did not attempt to unfold it, but passed it on to Seldon.
"From the color I should say it's yours, Hari."
"Presumably," said Seldon, "but give it back. She did not give it to me."
"Oh, Hari," mouthed Dors, shaking her head slightly.
"No," said Seldon firmly. "She did not give it to me. Give it back to her and I'll wait for her to give it to me."
Dors hesitated, then made a half-hearted attempt to pass the kirtle back to Raindrop Forty-Three.
The Sister put her hands behind her back and moved away, all life seeming to drain from her face. Raindrop Forty-Five stole a glance at Seldon, a very quick one, then took a quick step toward Raindrop Forty-Three and put her arms about her.
Dors said, "Come, Hari, I'm sure that Sisters are not permitted to talk to men who are not related to them. What's the use of making her miserable? She can't help it."
"I don't believe it," said Seldon harshly. "If there is such a rule, it applies only to Brothers. I doubt very much that she's ever met a tribesman before."
Dors said to Raindrop Forty-Three in a soft voice, "Have you ever met a tribesman before, Sister, or a tribeswoman?"
A long hesitation and then a slow negative shake of the head.
Seldon threw out his arms. "Well, there you are. If there is a rule of silence, it applies only to the Brothers. Would they have sent these young women-these Sisters-to deal with us if there was any rule against speaking to tribesmen?"
"It might be, Hari, that they were meant to speak only to me and I to you."
"Nonsense. I don't believe it and I won't believe it. I am not merely a tribesman, I am an honored guest in Mycogen, asked to be treated as such by Chetter Hummin and escorted here by Sunmaster Fourteen himself. I will not be treated as though I do not exist. I will be in communication with Sunmaster Fourteen and I will complain bitterly."
Raindrop Forty-Five began to sob and Raindrop Forty-Three, retaining her comparative impassivity, nevertheless flushed faintly. Dors made as though to appeal to Seldon once again, but he stopped her with a brief and angry outward thrust of his right arm and then stared gloweringly at Raindrop Forty-Three.
And finally she spoke and did not twitter. Rather, her voice trembled hoarsely, as though she had to force it to sound in the direction of a male being and was doing so against all her instincts and desires. "You must not complain of us, tribesman. That would be unjust. You force me to break the custom of our people. What do you want of me?"
Seldon smiled disarmingly at once and held out his hand. "The garment you brought me. The kirtle."
Silently, she stretched out her arm and deposited the kirtle in his hand. He bowed slightly and said in a soft warm voice, "Thank you, Sister." He then cast a very brief look in Dors's direction, as though to say: You see? But Dors looked away angrily.
The kirtle was featureless, Seldon saw as he unfolded it (embroidery and decorativeness were for women, apparently), but it came with a tasseled belt that probably had some particular way of being worn. No doubt he could work it out.
He said, "I'll step into the bathroom and put this thing on. It won't take but a minute, I suppose."
He stepped into the small chamber and found the door would not close behind him because Dors was forcing her way in as well. Only when the two of them were in the bathroom together did the door close.