sister, "Ideal or not, she would tire of him and manage to escape, though she might come back. What damage could she do while she were loose, Cordelia? Surely she would strive to achieve the anarchists' goals and, even more certainly, her own. She would continue to disturb the peace, seek to assassinate the monarch, slay people whenever they were in her way or could not be controlled, and generally wreak havoc."
Despite his words, though, Cordelia could see that hope drowned out reason, and the pain of seeing Finister with another man would be far less than living with the guilt of executing her. "There might be some way to purge her of those desires."
Hope ebbed; Gregory gave her a sad and weary smile. "How might we do that? We speak of impulses inculcated throughout childhood, perhaps even inborn, probably so deeply ingrained that she is not fully aware of them. How can we purge her of such as that?"
Grasping at straws, Cordelia protested, "There must be some way! If telepaths cannot do it, who could? It only remains to learn more of the workings of the mind!"
Gregory stared, scandalized. "Do you speak of reaching into her mind to cure all the mental deformities that have made this damsel a ruthless killer?"
Cordelia looked down, abashed. "I know it goes against every telepath's rule of right and wrong—that we must never peer into others minds against their wishes, unless they are enemies and the danger they present is immediate—and that we may never meddle with their minds unless they attack and we act in self-defense." Her head snapped up; she glared into her little brother's eyes. "But Gregory, she is an enemy, and though the danger she presents is no longer immediate, it is sure and drastic! As to meddling with her mind to cure her homicidal ways, surely that is self-defense! There is no question that she will attack—only a doubt of when!"
Gregory showed not the slightest sign of scandal or disgust; he only looked thoughtful. "Such an outcome is most surely desirable, and I have been tempted to try it once myself."
Cordelia's hopes soared. "Why did you withhold?"
"Why, because of the very ethics of which you have spoken," Gregory said, "but more out of concern that I might make things worse instead of better, for I know so little of the mind."
"You know so little of the mind?" Cordelia stared. "You who have studied it all your life?"
"I have studied psi powers," Gregory clarified. "I know a great deal about that, though never enough. Of the rest of the mind's workings, I am ignorant."
Cordelia knew that Gregory had immense knowledge of people and the twists and turns of their thinking, but she could understand his feelings of incompetence—the mind was an amazingly complicated thing, after all. Nonetheless, she seized on his uncertainty. "Then it is only a matter of how to cure her, not of its lightness."
Gregory took his time answering that one. "True—but that 'how' is so complex as to make the task impossible, or at least too chancy to risk—is it not?"
"But it is only a matter of how, not of lightness!" Cordelia insisted. "You do not doubt that if we could cure her instead of killing her, we should!"
Again, Gregory was slow to answer. "We should if we could, that is true—but what if our efforts fail? What if she seems to be cured but is not?"
"We may still let her dwell in that prison she will not wish to leave! Between the two, it should be safe to let her live!"
"Perhaps," Gregory mused, "but if we could so cure Mor-aga, ought we not to spare every convicted murderer in like fashion?"
"We should," Cordelia agreed, "but I think medieval justice will be a long time accepting the idea. This Moraga, however, has not been given into the hands of that justice yet. She is our prisoner still, and if it was right of you to execute her without regard to the Queen's Justice, then it is surely our right to cure her instead!"
"Only if we can be sure she will be rendered as harmless as the dead."
Despite his words, though, Cordelia could see that hope drowned out reason, and the pain of seeing Finister with another man would be far less than living with the guilt of executing her. "There might be some way to purge her of those desires."
Hope ebbed; Gregory gave her a sad and weary smile. "How might we do that? We speak of impulses inculcated throughout childhood, perhaps even inborn, probably so deeply ingrained that she is not fully aware of them. How can we purge her of such as that?"
Grasping at straws, Cordelia protested, "There must be some way! If telepaths cannot do it, who could? It only remains to learn more of the workings of the mind!"
Gregory stared, scandalized. "Do you speak of reaching into her mind to cure all the mental deformities that have made this damsel a ruthless killer?"
Cordelia looked down, abashed. "I know it goes against every telepath's rule of right and wrong—that we must never peer into others minds against their wishes, unless they are enemies and the danger they present is immediate—and that we may never meddle with their minds unless they attack and we act in self-defense." Her head snapped up; she glared into her little brother's eyes. "But Gregory, she is an enemy, and though the danger she presents is no longer immediate, it is sure and drastic! As to meddling with her mind to cure her homicidal ways, surely that is self-defense! There is no question that she will attack—only a doubt of when!"
Gregory showed not the slightest sign of scandal or disgust; he only looked thoughtful. "Such an outcome is most surely desirable, and I have been tempted to try it once myself."
Cordelia's hopes soared. "Why did you withhold?"
"Why, because of the very ethics of which you have spoken," Gregory said, "but more out of concern that I might make things worse instead of better, for I know so little of the mind."
"You know so little of the mind?" Cordelia stared. "You who have studied it all your life?"
"I have studied psi powers," Gregory clarified. "I know a great deal about that, though never enough. Of the rest of the mind's workings, I am ignorant."
Cordelia knew that Gregory had immense knowledge of people and the twists and turns of their thinking, but she could understand his feelings of incompetence—the mind was an amazingly complicated thing, after all. Nonetheless, she seized on his uncertainty. "Then it is only a matter of how to cure her, not of its lightness."
Gregory took his time answering that one. "True—but that 'how' is so complex as to make the task impossible, or at least too chancy to risk—is it not?"
"But it is only a matter of how, not of lightness!" Cordelia insisted. "You do not doubt that if we could cure her instead of killing her, we should!"
Again, Gregory was slow to answer. "We should if we could, that is true—but what if our efforts fail? What if she seems to be cured but is not?"
"We may still let her dwell in that prison she will not wish to leave! Between the two, it should be safe to let her live!"
"Perhaps," Gregory mused, "but if we could so cure Mor-aga, ought we not to spare every convicted murderer in like fashion?"
"We should," Cordelia agreed, "but I think medieval justice will be a long time accepting the idea. This Moraga, however, has not been given into the hands of that justice yet. She is our prisoner still, and if it was right of you to execute her without regard to the Queen's Justice, then it is surely our right to cure her instead!"
"Only if we can be sure she will be rendered as harmless as the dead."
Similar Books
