His speech became slow and precise; he had difficulty moving his lips. “I hate to abandon you,” he said. “If there was another way…” He shook his great head and reached to massage a shrinking shoulder. His skin, normally gray and rich purple, had darkened to reddish brown.

And then he smiled—most unexpectedly. I had not seen him smile since we had been Manipulars, and did not know he still had it in him. Perhaps the mature musculature was being liberated by this awful process. Perhaps he was simply expressing a final ironic amusement.

“I know you’ve made plans best carried out in my absence,” he said.

“Our own plans are not finished,” I said.

“There will be many voices,” the Didact said. “The Master Builder may not find me, but that does not mean he won’t find a means by which to invoke my support.”

“He will hold off such treachery for a good long while,” I suggested.

“And if he does not, still you’ll carry out your pact with him.”

“Probably.”

“To save your beloved species.”

“Yes.”

“And your humans.”

“Those as well.”

“Even those who killed our children.”

“You told me it was honorable, that they fought well—and you agreed this was our best strategy.”

“You agreed too quickly.” Again that odd, tightening smile. The Didact meant his words kindly. The pain we had suffered during the long war—and the loss—had inured us to such recrimination. Our children had followed the way of their Warrior-Servant father. They had proved themselves capable and courageous. It was the Warrior’s creed within the Mantle to honor one’s finest enemies, and humans had been that. “I sometimes wish you were more bloody-minded, more vengeful, Wife.”

“Not the way of the Warrior or of the Mantle—and of course not mine.”

“Of course.”

The Didact’s discomfort increased. He swallowed half of the second cup of inchukoa, then lifted the cup and turned it in his fingers. “The ecumene has become confused. The Council steeps itself in lies and dishonor. But … you foresee my return, in one form or another, and the resumption of our struggle.”

“There is often a sickness before the purge.”

“That sounds gross and bloody-minded.” He returned the cup to his lips and swallowed the last measure. “I am reminded of why I sought our love in the first place.”

“You sought it?”

“I did.”

“That isn’t how I remember it, Warrior. An unlikely love, at any rate—so your fellows said.”

“But we knew. As you have instructed me often, we play out our parts in Living Time and accept all that life brings, and all that it takes away. So we support the Mantle: Daaowa maadthu.”

His use of that human phrase, so ancient and fraught with meaning, caught me by surprise.