"Oh!" cried the older man understandingly, and a smile tugged at his mouth, which relaxed somewhat. "Then it does not please you that the Hygiene Board has decreed a marriage union be officially recorded in a few short star-periods to—"
"It's not that I hate Nyrilla," burst out Ilon. "Not that she isn't as attractive as all women of Coralinth. It's simply that I don't have anything to say about it. There's no demand for agreement from either party. It just happens that her gene-patterns match up and supplement mine. Our children would be benefited by the mating. At a given time, some official moves a hand across a sheet. Two names are written down and whether or no—it's happened. Besides, I don't love Nyrilla. Don't you understand, father?"
"You don't—" began the older man, and suddenly his astonishment melted into a sunshine of laughter. "Love—eh—you say, boy? Love."
He repeated the word softly, as if testing the sound and depth of a meaning almost forgotten. "Yes, I remember the term now. So it's that." Then a growing concern replaced his merriment. "But that's a thing of bygone ages, son. You are having a trend. Why not take it to a psych-treater, son? Have it removed from your mind. You'd be surprised what a beautiful and understanding girl Nyrilla of Coralinth is, once—"
"Psych-treater! Psych-treater! That's all you hear! If you have something that bothers you, you forget it in a psych-treater! If you have an original thought that tantalizes you—go to a psych-treater! Is that sensible, father, to forget the problems that may affect the entire future of your life? Besides, the girl of the silver sphere—"
The words had leaped out impatiently. Now Ilon stopped suddenly, clasping his hand to his temple from where the mental words had burst. But too late. Old Nyo was looking intently at him and then was moving toward him with sudden wrath on his high brow, his hand upraised as if to strike him.
Ilon ducked, fearing the blow, but his eyes did not leave the angrily pulsing blood vessels that throbbed on his father's forehead.
"Fool!" spat out Nyo Karth in horrified anger. "Then you have been breaking the laws of the Mentors. Plumbing the universe, seeking contact with life in lesser forms. Don't you realize the gravity of this offense? Don't you realize you may lose your princeship, be banished from the Galax, or even executed?"
Ilon recoiled. "But, father, you wouldn't reveal—"