“I,” Melton went on, “decided rather early that this training—or something very like it—was necessary. First, as a question of ethics; and then as a matter of survival.”
“No need to hesitate. I know what you are going to say; and you are right, of course.”
“Well, then. Ethics—because it concerns the fundamental Rule of Privacy. That Rule is basically, I think, an ethical conception. And I doubt,” said Melton warmly, “that, without a thorough training in stability, in psychological self-knowledge, any human could be trusted to observe without exception the Prime Rule. The temptation to pry, to peek, to take a furtive mental glance—all, of course, for the best of reasons!—would otherwise be irresistible.”
“What harm?” quizzed Master Elwyn. “What danger, in a small infraction?”
“Only the danger that in small infractions lies the seed of great abuses of the esper skill. And could society trust such power in unscrupulous hands? A power-seeking adept would have to be destroyed!”
(“By Khrom!” Duke Harald muttered, listening at the end of his secret wire, “now I wonder if Duke Charles used arguments like that, when he talked the Council into voting my recall?”)
“And so,” came Melton’s voice again, “observance of the Rule of Privacy is a matter of survival for the Esper Guild.”
Master Elwyn spoke.
“But now,” he said, “you know there is another reason for the training. A reason which has little to do with ethics or society, but which concerns most nearly your ability to take the final step?”
“I studied the papers you gave me; I understand.”