“But the Bluebird,” Malone said doggedly, “was right at home all the time, while everyone searched for it far away. And I had to go far away to find a telepath, when you were the one who ordered me to do it.”
“Right,” Burris said. “So you went and found Her Majesty. And, when you did find her, she forced acceptance on you simply by being Her Majesty and proving to you, once and for all, that she could read minds.”
“Great,” Malone said. “Of course, I could have got myself killed taking these lessons—”
“We were watching you,” Burris said. “If anything had happened, we’d have been right on the spot.”
“In time to bury the body,” Malone said. “I think that’s very thoughtful of you.”
“We would have arrived in time to save you,” Burris said. “Don’t quibble. You’re alive, aren’t you?”
“Well,” Malone said slowly, “if you’re not sure, I don’t know how I can convince you.”
“There,” Burris said triumphantly. “You see?”
Malone sighed wearily. “Okay,” he said. “So you sent me out to find a telepath and to prove to me that there were such things. And I did. And then what happened?”
“You had a year,” Burris said, “to get used to the idea of somebody reading your mind.”