A Flying Wrench(1)

Daneel waited for the red-robed man to pull him, kick him, or at least snap him around using the shackle that could dictate his moments with just a flick of the holder's wrist.

None of that happened.

Ignoring him as thoroughly as the elf had done, the man led him to one of the round buildings along the path. It was different from the rest, with a crimson teleportation matrix inside and nothing else, unlike the others which had either refreshments for travelers or places to sit down and rest after a long journey. Not anyone could enter the Empire as they wished: sometimes, permission was required, and hence, the waiting period was designed to be as pleasurable as possible.