"Well," said Joe, "let's hope most of the worlds of space have outward-looking cultures." He turned back to his transmitter.
Pehn found himself lying on a couch. He tried to get up, and felt his father's hands at his shoulders restraining him.
"Don't move, Pehn," said his mother. "You fainted, and they brought you home." She lifted his head, and let him sip a cup of the hot akhlai.
After a time his father addressed him with unusual kindness.
"We cannot delay any longer, Pehn. Your mother and sister and I are all agreed. You must undergo Ceremony. What is proper thing to do for you, I don't know, but Bidagha believes he can help you. This crisis in our world is making us all ill, and it is no wonder that you, being young, should suffer more acutely than rest of us."
Pehn tried to laugh. "Would you trust me to Bidagha?"
"Yes, I would. Although his views on world affairs are perverse and dangerous he is good Healer, and he has your best interests at heart."
"Your son is very ill, Lord Karn. If I am able to help him, would you be willing to consider possibility, at least, that wisdom of Healer is not confined to human body alone?"
Premier Karn brushed his hand across his eyes. In the last few days he had suddenly become an old man, and his mouth was drawn and tense. "I cannot tell, Bidagha. I am tired, and confused. I no longer seem to be sure what is true, and what is right."