He could take a second hvee and offer it to Coquina. This one would not die.

He came into sight of the house. A dim light burned in the window.

Doubt continued to nag him. Why had she sent him out prematurely? Why had she refused to touch him? After she had devoted three years of her life to the care of a dying father and a terribly living son, with the end of torture so near—why had she been crying?

Think of the date...

Yes, the date had been premature. But why? Bedside must have intended something.

He reached the house and pushed open the door without a pause. A man turned to meet him—a stranger. He was husky, perhaps fifty, at the prime of life, with a solemn visage and work-soiled hands. There was power in his bearing, unobtrusive but immovable. This was Benjamin Five, the uncle he had almost forgotten.

“Where have you been, Aton?” Benjamin inquired gravely, his tone disconcertingly like that of Aurelius. Behind him a woman’s form was lying on the couch.

“Coquina!” Aton exclaimed, passing Benjamin with disrespectful haste. She did not stir. Her pale hair fell limply over the edge of the couch and almost touched the floor. “Coquina—I will give you another hvee—”

“Young man, it is too late for that,” Benjamin said.

Aton ignored him. “Coquina, Coquina—I won the battle! The evil one is gone.” Her eyelids flickered, but she did not speak. “Coquina.” He put his hand on hers.

Her hand was cold.

Think of the date...This was the year and the month of the chill. The chill! She was dying, far past the point of return.

“Did you think her love was less, young cousin,” Benjamin murmured, “Because it did run smoothly?”

Aton understood at last. The chill had struck Hvee in the first month of §305, and was due again in the second month of §403. Coquina knew this well, as every resident of Hvee knew it, and could have left the planet—if she had not had a virtual invalid to care for. There had been no place off the planet where she could hide Aton—not from the scrutiny that quarantine officials still gave every ship leaving a planet under siege. And so she had stayed, and had risked the chill with him, and had lost. Instead of leaving the moment she contracted it, Coquina had remained, caring for him—and had finally roused him so that he would not wake alone, confused and helpless, or die from neglect under the drugs.

No—her love had not been less.

She had wanted him to win his freedom while she lived, while her support was with him.