“Aye, I am here. Because of a rumor, a report—furnished initially by you—that the long training course demanded by the Terran adepts is unnecessary. That it is a screen, designed to cover Terra’s secret monopoly of certain drugs, hormones or what-have-you, which are the real and only road to esper power.”
Duke Harald paused and leaned forward in his chair.
“So,” he went on, “I decided I could gamble a few months absence from Arkady, to check that story in the only place where it can be checked. Inside the Esper Institute itself.”
“And?”
“And I have found certain curious, but on the surface negative evidence. For example; only today one of the senior Terran students, who is due to stand his vigil shortly, joked with me about something he called TPH. And then proceeded to explain it away as a sort of planetary myth, which no one should take seriously. That,” said Duke Harald, “is a tale which I have run into at least twice before, in almost the same terms.”
“Still—” Count Godfrey sounded doubtful.
“Oh, it’s slim enough, I admit. However—” Duke Harald’s voice trailed off. He rose to his feet and crossed to the long polished table where he had placed his military crossbelt. From the pouch he extracted the small wire-wound spool.
“Have you a playback that will handle this?”
“In the desk yonder.” The old ambassador nodded to the corner of the room. “Second drawer on the right—it’s built in.”
“Good.” Duke Harald strode over and began to insert the spool. “This,” he said, fingers busy threading wire between magnets, “may hold the answer—I hope. There, that does it.”