Chapter Six

As they entered Shorakapkok, Sky knew she had done something unprecedented by the stares their little procession collected. The stares grew more intense the longer she spent walking around, studying Ceti’s aquila. If she dared, she would have kept Ceti with her to question him about how it worked, especially how he had gotten it into the air.

She had a feeling Ceti would be happy to provide answers. But the unvoiced hostility from the villagers prevented her from fetching Ceti from the longhouse. She’d already browbeaten the others into taking Ceti prisoner instead of killing him. She didn’t know if she could push for more than that.

These people were scared.

Ceti’s arrival had made a war, only previously a possibility, far more real to them. They feared for their homes. They feared the Romans. And they were scared of the aquila because they didn’t understand it.

Sky had always wanted to learn new things, to question traditions. She’d come to understand that not everyone was like that.

The larger question was whether Deep Water would share the hostility. She was the one Sky had to convince to...what? Sky frowned, realizing that beyond keeping Ceti alive and somehow eventually flying herself, she had no plan.

That would not do. She had to present Deep Water with a solution. Let Ceti go? Allowing the Roman to walk away with his aquila would be simple enough. He’d go back to his life. She would go back to hers, as if nothing had even happened.

No, that was the wrong answer. Ceti was important to what happened next to her and her people.

As the saying went, if the skies brought snow, one didn’t curse the gods and wish that snow would stop falling in the winter. One learned to live with the snow and make use of it.

What use could be made of Ceti?

Her father came up to stand next to her. He remained silent for a long time as she walked around the aquila, committing every line to memory. She didn’t think she could build one like it herself. Her people lacked that hollow wood, for one. And she suspected it was very precisely built. Spears had to be just the right length to fly true. The same principle likely applied to the aquila.

“Daughter, come with me,” Nighthawk said. “We have to talk in private.”

She nodded and followed him to a small wigwam set against the cliffs, the private residence of honored guests. She ducked under the low doorway and sat down on the furs inside. Her shoulders ached. Her forearms were stiff and sore. The cuts on her arms and hands stung. The hurts from retrieving Ceti’s aquila were going to sting for a while.

But the real sting was that her actions seemed to have caused such anger in Nighthawk.

He sat down with a deep sigh. “You were almost killed. For no reason.”

“There was good reason,” she said.

“Did you ever think the omen of a Roman falling out of the sky doesn’t necessarily mean he has to live?”

She smiled. “No.”

“What if he’s not the only Roman who can fly these things? What if they attack from above?”

“Ceti’s the only one who has an aquila,” she said. “He told me.”

“And you’re so sure he’s telling the truth?”

“Yes.” She was certain inside that Ceti hadn’t lied. Apparently, that was not good enough for her father.

Nighthawk shook his head. “I can’t make you follow my orders, Sky. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to remain silent while you make poor decisions, ones that set you against our best interests.”

“I am the one who decides what our best interests are. I’m the one in charge here, not you, by Lake Wolf’s decree.”

Nighthawk’s back stiffened. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Lake Wolf isn’t always right. She makes mistakes far more often than you realize. She should listen to good advice more often. So should you.”

Meaning that Sky and her mother should listen more to his advice. She’d heard her father make this argument with her mother before. She hadn’t expected him to use it with her.

Sky slapped the furs with the flat of her hand. “I’m not harming anyone. I’m trying to find a way for us to survive in the middle of a war not of our own making.” She sighed, letting her temper flow away. Nighthawk wanted to help. But he still saw her as his little daughter, his eager helper, and his apprentice in storytelling.

His lesser.

She was more than that. She needed to make him realize it.

“You’re determined to speak for the Roman, against all reason?” he asked.

“It might be against reason, but it’s not without foundation. Father, tell me the story of the night I was born.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve always said that understanding the future depended on knowing what happened in the past,” she said. “You’re the keeper of our history. Help me understand. Tell me my story.”

He sighed. But he did as she asked, likely because the familiar tale would relax the tension between them.

“On the night you were born, your arrival was early and unexpected. Your mother was having a difficult time with your birth. In her pain, she called for me but I was still traveling and couldn’t help her.”

His voice settled into the singsong pattern that lulled his listeners. “When I heard her plea on the wind, I was in the middle of the Mahicanituck River, planning to stop for the night with the Turtle Clan. I abandoned that plan. I knew in my heart that I must hurry home or risk losing you and your mother.

“The water carrying my canoe was swift. The gods sensed my urgency. The night sky had no moon but the stars lit my way. The red star shone the brightest, eclipsing all the others.”

For years, this had been her bedtime story. Sky closed her eyes, picturing Nighthawk on the river under the stars rushing home. Home. The smell of stew at the fire. The warmth and voices of family in the longhouse. The feel of her mother’s arms around her.

“As I set foot on land, the sky burst into beautiful light,” Nighthawk continued. “Color streaked across the paths of the stars. Streaks of blue and of red and of the brightest yellow. I ran along the path from the river to the village, fearing for your mother, our child, and my home.

“I arrived at our longhouse, out of breath, my heart nearly bursting, dropped to my knees, and called your mother’s name,” he said. “It was then that the streaks across the sky changed from yellow to bright orange flame. The heavens were on fire.

“At that very moment, a baby drew in her first breath and cried out.” He smiled. “I went inside our home to find a healthy, strong daughter in my wife’s arms, the heir we’d all hoped for.”

Sky nodded, wishing she could answer “Me!” as she had as a child. But she was grown now. “And so I came into the world.”

He nodded. “And then the lights vanished and all was dark again.”

“And there has never been another night like that,” she said.

He smiled. “No. Else there would be more like you, Sky, and I don’t think I would survive that.”

She smiled back. Her three brothers had never been such a trial to her parents. They listened. “Then why don’t you believe that a flying man landing at my feet is a sign, finally, that relates to my birth omen? Especially with war coming?”

“He’s Roman,” Nighthawk said. “I believe he’s a warning of a danger that you have to oppose. You must guard against him and protect the skies above us.”

She frowned. She hadn’t considered that interpretation. “Many Romans were born on this sacred island. Perhaps by letting the Romans stay, the Corn Goddess is bringing them into her protection. Ceti falling at my feet might be a message to take up his cause.”

Nighthawk made a noise that sounded like choking. “The Romans only honor what they can take. Our gods would never honor them, especially the Corn Mother who brings life.”

“Then why did the wind itself allow Ceti to fly?”

“As I said, it could be a sign to watch the skies, to beware the Romans. The wind did drop him at your feet, after all.”

“He fell at my feet, alive. Why let him survive?”

Nighthawk put his hand over his face, as if trying to drive away his displeasure. She knew that look. It meant he was at the end of his patience.

“On the strength of one man falling at your feet, would you order our warriors to take up arms for Manhatos against a Roman fleet that can attack and burn our villages at will?” Nighthawk shook his head. “Have some sense. Think.”

I’m working on it. Trust her father to realize that she didn’t have a fully-formed plan.

“I want to talk more with Ceti. I want find out everything I can about from him. As you and my mother taught me, information is as much a weapon as a spear. It’s power.”

“That’s not what you’re interested in.” Nighthawk’s lips thinned. “I saw the way he looked at you. And I saw the way you smiled at him.” He sighed. “This is my fault. You’re long past due to be married. I should have agreed with your mother for once and pushed for the union with Quiet Dog.”

Sky felt her face heat. How had her father hit the mark so closely again? Anger and shame threatened to close her throat. “You think I’ll make my decisions based on whether I want the Roman as a lover?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I believe. It’s childish and irresponsible.”

She wanted to scream or rush out of the wigwam. That would hardly convince him that she wasn’t a child any longer. She took at deep breath and stared at him instead. His mouth rose in a slight smirk.

The snake. He’s doing this to me on purpose. He wants me to behave like a child.

“Lake Wolf gave me authority and I will use it, no matter what you say.”

“If you can’t learn to heed good advice, how can you lead?”

“It’s not good advice,” she snapped. “I want to talk to Ceti of Seneca. I want to find out what he knows of us. Mother forbade me to go near the Romans, even though we need to know about them. Ceti’s arrival is a gift, a chance to learn. I won’t waste it.”

“If you won’t listen to me, then remember that you have no more standing than I do to decide Ceti’s fate. That will be for the elders of Shorakapkok,” Nighthawk said. “They’ll listen to Deep Water, not you.”

Sky nodded, conceding the point. Like her, Deep Water was another one who had been chasing her destiny since birth. The shaman had been born with the parts of both the male and female sex. She was that rare being, someone being perfectly in balance with all human nature. The shaman had children of her own body. She also lived with a woman and, rumor had, functioned sexually as a man with her. Whether Deep Water was also the father of this woman’s children was cause for debate among the clans. Her wife claimed that she was. But it didn’t matter if it was true, it only mattered that people believed it was. Double fertility was a true sign of favor from the gods.

If Deep Water wanted Ceti killed, he would die.

I will have to act quickly, then, while she is secluded in prayer.

Nighthawk reached for a bowl to his right and a pipe to his left. He packed the pipe with dried leaves from the bowl and lit the pipe with a glowing stick from the fire that burned in the small hearth of the wigwam.

He set the bowl between them.

“If you claim the gods have a hand in what the Romans do, then how can we claim to be the god’s chosen People? Are you ready to call the Romans your equal?”

Sky flushed. “No.” That went against all she’d been taught. “That’s not what I said earlier.”

He offered her the pipe. “That is where you are going.”

She refused the pipe. He wanted her to absorb its fumes and relax. Relaxation was the last thing she needed. She waved a hand at the pipe smoke billowing toward her.

“When the wolves menaced us, many generations ago, we made friends of some of the young ones. Now we have dogs that protect our villages.”

Nighthawk smiled. “You think the Romans can be turned from wolves to dogs? Hah!”

“We turned the wolves by offering them shelter and protection from harm by larger predators. Legate Makki is one such. Would you rather have the wolf continue to stalk our doors or try and tame the ones that have come close without too much harm?”

Nighthawk shrugged and went back to smoking his pipe.

Sky swallowed her anger just enough so she wouldn’t appear to be stomping out.

Curse whatever the villagers and her father said. She was going to talk to Ceti now before Deep Water made her decision.

****

A crowd had gathered around the aquila in her absence. Sky smiled. So others were curious after all. She slipped past them and curled her hand around the hollow wood frame. What a wise choice to echo the hollow bones of the birds.

She ran her fingertips over the wing coverings, remembering how hard the cloth had been to cut. The ripped edge at the end of one wing showed her that it was many tiny fibers sewn together, but where such material had come from, she had no idea. The only resemblance she could think of was a spider’s web. Did Roman looms somehow produce this from the fabric taken from the short, hooved animals they called sheep? Or did it come from some strange animal that lived overseas in their Empire?

But the biggest question was how Ceti had gotten the wind to catch and lift the aquila to the sky. She tilted her head, wondering if he’d simply waited for a strong burst of wind. But it seemed too heavy for that to be enough.

The secret, she guessed, was not in any of the materials but in the man who made it.

She strode over to the longhouse where Ceti was being kept. The warrior standing guard outside called to someone inside.

A woman appeared in the doorway.

“I must talk to the Roman,” Sky said.

The woman, likely the owner of the home, nodded. “You may come in.”

“I need to see him out here, with his aquila,” Sky said.

The woman frowned.

“He’ll be visible to everyone in the village,” Sky said. “And I’ll be responsible for him.”

The woman nodded. “Fine, take him off my hands. He stares at me while I prepare the food. And he’s already asked when he can see this flying thing of his.”

Sky smiled. “Thank you.” She called out to Ceti through the doorway.

From the corner of the long house, a dark shape appeared, taking form as it approached the light. Ceti. They stepped back outside together.

His clothing was rumpled and dirtier than earlier. Yet the cut on his shoulder had been treated—there was a clean cloth over it. His arms were covered in scratches, with a few more on his face. Hair had started to grow around his chin and jaw line. She’d seen Romans with beards before but not this close. She almost reached out a hand to touch it before catching herself.

He smiled at her, either not noticing or pretending not to notice her aborted gesture, and his blue eyes seemed kind. His wavy hair made him appear young and she wondered how old he truly was. She’d thought he must be older to have accomplished so much, but there were no age lines around his eyes or mouth.

“How is your shoulder?” she asked.

“Stiff but not badly injured.” He rolled his shoulders and flexed his arms. Her impression of his strength deepened. He was so big. The forearms were thick and strong—perhaps double the size of any of the Lenape men. And he was a full head taller than Nighthawk. She swallowed, wondering if the rest of him was similarly big.

She should not be thinking that. It would only prove her father right.

“I’ll recover in time,” Ceti said. “Thank you for asking.”

“We’re going to your Aquila, but you must stay with me,” she said. “If you try to run away, you’ll be killed. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She almost asked for his promise. But she didn’t know yet if that would be worth anything. She could hear her father’s imagined voice in her ear, saying a Roman’s word couldn’t be trusted.

They walked to the damaged aquila.

“How long did it take to create this?” she asked.

“This one? Six moons.”

“There are more?”

“Not anymore.” He grinned. “The others were damaged or destroyed after the tests. At the beginning, I made miniatures and gradually built larger. Along the way, I altered the wing spans to discover which design would fly the highest and stay in the sky the longest. Then I took what I learned from the scale models and built this.”

Part of her had thought this idea had sprung full-force from Ceti’s mind. But, no, he’d created the aquila in steps. A very patient man.

A very stubborn man.

“How long have you been working on this?” she asked.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw children with the afternoon’s snack of cornbread in their hands, eating and listening intently. She tried hard not to smile at their curiosity.

If Ceti was aware of his other listeners, he didn’t show it. She decided not to tell him.

“It took over ten winters to run all the tests and finally build the aquila,” he said.

Ten winters? She couldn’t think of a single thing she’d worked on for ten winters. “Where did you get the cloth?”

He grinned. “Ah, I hired a tailor to weave silk in with sail cloth fibers.”

“Silk?”

“It’s imported from overseas. It comes from a type of worm.”

“A worm?” She shook her head. “You are teasing me.”

“Not about this.” He smiled again. “I thought the silk would work by itself but it performed better once we added the stronger sail cloth fibers.”

“And what is this hollow wood?”

“It’s called bamboo and is common in southern climates,” he said. “Though I think no one else has used it to make an aquila.”

“You are the only one?”

“I believe so,” he said.

He had done something unprecedented. No wonder he refused to leave the aquila where it had fallen. “That is a task worthy of a story.”

He grinned looked up at the sky. “It was definitely worth all the work.”

She craned her neck to look up with him. “Tell me how it felt.”

“I...” He frowned. “Not like I expected. I thought it would be like sailing when the ship moves fast but with no seeming effort but...it was more like floating but without the weight of the water around you.” He looked down and shook his head. “I’m not good with words. It felt...” He put a hand on the broken wing, his gaze unfocused. “Free. I was alone and yet not alone. I know that doesn’t make sense.” He tapped at the cracked frame and grimaced. “Now I have a question for you, Sky.”

“It’s not decided yet when or if you can go. I’m sorry.”

“It’s a question that concerns you, not me,” he said. “Tell me why.”

“Why what?” she asked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. You risked your life for my aquila and you spoke up for me after I was captured. Tell me why.”

She glanced around. Most of the crowd was gone, even the children, pulled away by the mid-day tasks of gathering wood and preparing for dinner. Or maybe they’d not wanted to be too close to the Roman for too long. She lowered her voice. She wanted only Ceti to hear this.

“I always wanted to fly,” she said. “It’s been part of my destiny since I was born.”

“Destiny can be an odd thing to understand.” He ducked down to study the broken frame. “Are you destined to be the Domina of these people, then?”

“Not of this clan. The Wolf Clan, when I settle down with my own longhouse.” She shook her head. “But the story of the fire in the sky on the night I was born leads me to believe that the sky itself is my place.”

“A fire in the sky? Like a falling star?” he asked.

“No, not a simple light. The entire night was filled with colors.”

He frowned.

“You don’t believe me.” She glared at him.

“I believe you. I was thinking of what could cause such lights. I’ve heard tales from mariners who sail the northern seas. They talk of something similar. Most think it’s just another sea story.”

“It’s true.”

He nodded. “Some of the record keepers in Manhatos might have written it down. How long ago was this?”

“Twenty changes of the seasons,” she said. “You weren’t here then?”

“I was too young to be with the Legion that many years ago. I sailed across the sea some years later.”

So he was older than she was, but not as much as she’d thought. She was pleased.

“Are you valuable to your people? You said you needed to get back to them. Will they come to retrieve you and the aquila?”

He turned away. Avoiding her question, possibly.

“I don’t know. If they can spare the men and if they can discern where I landed, they’ll come. But it won’t be today, I think. I flew too far.”

“If they come, will they attack?”

“No, not without cause. They would ask for me first before attacking.”

She turned and put her back to him, wondering again if she could trust him. The only way to know was to keep him talking.

“Tell me exactly how this works.” She tapped the beak of the painted eagle. “Does the wind simply catch it on the ground and lift you up?”

“If only it were that easy. But, no, I have to fling it into the sky.”

“Fling it?” Her mouth fell open. She had guessed that perhaps he’d jumped off a hill or one of those tall Roman buildings. “I would love to see that.”

“I can’t show you here. It takes another special piece of equipment, called a catapult, and that’s at my workshop.” Ceti shook his head, displaying the broken ends of the frame. “And even then, this will not fly until I get it repaired.”

“That is too bad.” I want to see this workshop.

He looked up at the cliffs above them. “I can help you build a model aquila, if you can bring me the right materials.”

Yes, please! “What do we need?”

Ceti spread out his hands. “I need a piece of wood, this long, but only this thick. It should also be the lightest wood that you have.”

“That’s it? No cloth?”

“With the models, a fixed wing is enough. I’ll also need a small knife or some other sharp object to carve the wood.”

Sky looked around. “My knife will do for me but...” She stared at him. Providing him with the knife would be arming him. Deep Water would be appalled.

“Give me your word that you will use the knife only to its intended purpose and that you’ll give me it back when you’re done. Swear you will not try to escape when you are with me. If you do escape, I’ll be held responsible.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

She swallowed, hard. “It means that I will receive the punishment meant to you.”

His eyes widened. “Understood.” He hit his chest with his first in what she assumed was a Roman salute. “You have my word, Sky, that I will give the knife back and will not try to escape when I’m with you.”

She almost smiled. He hadn’t promised not to escape. He simply promised that he wouldn’t run away from her. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Stay here.”

He nodded gravely.

It took her only a short time to collect the right wood because the children who’d gathered around after their chores were eager to help.

She borrowed her father’s carving knife, left with his traveling pack in the wigwam, for Ceti to use. She would have asked Nighthawk’s permission but he was not there. He was likely consulting with the elders, pushing for Ceti’s death.

There was not much time.

Sky settled with Ceti under the double protection of one wing of the aquila and the canopy above them. Some of the children quietly watched just out of Ceti’s line of sight. Good. Amusing the children, even teaching them, might cause the elders to think well of Ceti. It was one of the best ways to show he wasn’t dangerous.

“You brought more wood than I needed,” he said.

“I wanted to make one myself, not just watch you make one for me,” she said.

Ceti stared at her for a long time, as if he’d decided something about her and was looking to have it confirmed. It was rude to stare so long yet she did not sense any insult from his scrutiny. He looked at her the same way he looked at the aquila, as if she was one of his projects, something that he did not understand yet but wanted to.

In its way, she suspected this was a compliment.

“So,” she said. “Show me what to do.”

He picked up the wood and the knife she had bought for him and began to carve. She watched, then started on her own wood but she could not seem to mimic the smoothness of his strokes.

“You’re digging too deep,” he said. “You are used to forming the wood, forcing it to your will to make a new object. That is not what we do. We merely want to refine the shape enough for it to channel the wind currents.”

She held out her knife hand. “Show me. Guide my hand.”

He closed his large, wide fingers around her slimmer ones. He leaned closer, until she could almost feel his breath on her face. She swallowed, surprised at the gentleness of his touch.

“Hold it just so.” He adjusted her thumb along the hilt of the knife. “And do not grip so tight.”

He held up the wood to her other hand and changed the grip of her fingers around it. “Use this thumb and hold it tight, unyielding. It must stay in one place while your strokes alter the contours of the wood.” He gently held both her hands and guided them into the stroke that he wanted. She mimicked his movements. He relaxed his grip on her hands but did not let go.

“Good. Try again,” he said. “I’ll correct you if you go wrong.”

She nodded, her throat unexpectedly tight, determined that she do this right. She carved off one long, thin strip of wood.

“Better,” he said. “But remember to make the carving thinner still.”

“If I do that, I might lose the grip on the knife,” she said.

“If this part is not done right, your creation will not fly,” he said.

She did as he said and tried again.

He nodded and let go of her hands. “Better. Much better.”

“How long did it take you, the first time?”

He grinned and settled on the ground, cross-legged. “My first model was a failure. The fifth time, on the other hand, worked well. Plus, I had the help of a friend who knew how to coax the wood. I was far more used to bashing metal things, she said, and needed to learn a lighter touch.”

She. Who was this Roman woman? His wife?

Argh. She shouldn’t care, yet she did. She took several deep breaths, admitting to herself that for the first time in a long time, she desperately wanted a man’s hands on her. She wanted Ceti. It could be his size, so intriguing, but it was also the gentleness of his touch, and the way he talked to her with such respect.

Her father would lose no chance to crow to her about being right. He would point out the long line of men that she’d dismissed as uninteresting, only to find herself fascinated by a Roman, of all people. Her clan would never accept Ceti. A daughter of the daughter of the eldest of wolves did not lie with Romans.

But Sky wanted to.

They sat carving under the canopy for the rest of the afternoon until her fingers and wrists grew tired and her back cramped up. Some of the bolder children came to Ceti after a time, holding out their pieces of wood, clearly wanting instruction.

He got them started, much as he’d helped her, and treated their questions seriously. They lost their shyness quickly and started chattering to him and among themselves.

“Your children listen carefully,” he said.

“Roman children don’t?” she asked.

“Some of them do.” He frowned. “It depends on their parents.”

“Their parents only? Not their clan?”

“We don’t have clans as you do,” he said.

“What a strange place a Roman town must be.”

He nodded. “Sometimes, it is.”

By late afternoon, the sun had started to set and his small aquila looked nearly done. The children were called away to help prepare dinner for the common table. They called their thanks as they scattered. Many of them held their new little aquilas tight in their hands like a prized possession.

“I need some water.” She stood. “You must be thirsty as well. If you fetch and carry with me, we will only need one trip.”

“Of course.”

She handed him two ceramic pots. He examined them with great interest.

“You use these to carry water?”

“Yes, and for cooking.”

“Not for bathing?”

“We do that in the river.” She frowned. “What do Romans do?”

He smiled. “We bring the water to us, which has caused some problems with your people, Domina. It can be disruptive to the land to build aqueducts though I think the baths are worth it.” He looked up at the cliffs. “Here, though, it would be easy to construct a system to automatically water your crops and provide drinking water.”

She shook her head. “We have water here.”

“But it’s not at your command. I could save your people time and effort.” He took two of the jugs in his hand.

“Even if it would, the village elders would call it Roman and therefore wrong,” she said.

“That is too bad,” he said.

****

“I think they’re finished as they can be in one day, Domina,” Ceti said, holding the small aquila out to her. Despite drinking the ice-cold water, his body felt warm. That was due to proximity to Sky, no doubt.

She took it back, holding it lightly. “Where can we launch them?”

He pointed at the cliffs. “At the top of that would be the best place to catch the wind.”

She smiled. “Up, then, Ceti. Follow me.” Her smile turned to a frown. “But remember your promise.”

“Of course.” He had no intention of hurting her or causing her trouble. Ever.

Sky shooed away the children who were left. He told them to try waiting for a strong wind before trying to fly their aquilas.

He’d been surprised at how well they’d paid attention to his instructions. But he should’ve known better after his work with the Mahicans and the Vikings. Just because they weren’t Roman, it didn’t mean they weren’t intelligent. These children were certainly more well-behaved as a group than Roman children.

The cleverness of the Lenape was visible in other ways. The village didn’t have running water, but it had been built within easy distance of fresh water fed from the cliffs. They’d also been very careful with the longhouse construction. The wooden slats of the walls and roof had been cut the exact same length, a feat since they lacked good measuring instruments. And the use of natural clay and caked earth sealed the homes from the elements. The only thing the longhouses lacked was an air-tight door.

He could construct one for them in only a few hours but, as Sky said, they would never use it.

Sky led him up a steep trail cut into the side of the hill. The Lenape had placed rocks here and there on the dirt path, for better footholds. Romans would have carved steps in the cliffs. Ceti had to admit the Lenape way preserved the cliff’s natural state better.

He had trouble keeping up with her brisk pace. She must be used to climbing.

It was a joy to watch her move. All his life he’d studied ways to make machines move easily, to provide power. And all his work would never compare to how perfectly a human body moved.

Especially Sky’s body.

Her personality reminded him of Dinah, but physically, Sky reminded him of Sif, the Vikings’ spiritual leader. Like Sif, Sky had long, dark hair that fell straight all the way to her waist. The real difference from Sif lay in the color of Sky’s skin. Sif was as pale as any of the Vikings. Sky’s skin was like the bark of a young tree, warm and light brown.

Ceti used a low branch to brace himself on a sharp curve in the trail. He continued to watch Sky, remembering the touch of her hand. Her skin was soft and her fingers nimble. Her mind was so quick that she grasped concepts faster than any he knew in Seneca, save perhaps for Dinah.

He could teach her so many things about engineering.

His body wanted to teach something completely different. He frowned. Maybe she was already familiar with sex. For all he knew, Sky had more experience with lovemaking than he did. The Mahicans married, but they seemed to have few restrictions on behavior among single adults, save that the parents must take responsibility for a child.

And those children stayed with their mothers, the opposite of what would happen among Romans, where the patriarch had full authority. If he were Lenape, he suspected Sky would rank far above him. Worse, to their minds, he was a Roman and therefore an enemy.

He had little to offer Sky, save his knowledge.

Keep it that way. Anything else would only lead to trouble.

They stopped about three-quarters of the way up. She pointed to some bushes off to the side, under a tree growing sideways on the steep hill.

“Those produce the best berries on the island,” she said.

He stepped closer.

“Careful. Watch for the thorns.”

He frowned. “I thought blueberries didn’t have thorns.”

“The smooth berries don’t. These are blacker and bumpier. They have a slightly different taste as well.” She sighed. “Too bad we will have to wait for the summer to taste them.”

She started walking again.

Too bad I will not be here to pick them with you, Domina.

Dinah would be amused at his infatuation. She’d often teased him about being interested in nothing but his toys, as she called them. He sighed. It would be nice, someday, to have a partner, as Dinah and Gerhard shared their lives.

Sky reached forward and grabbed the edge of a large rock. “The last part is treacherous. Careful. Keep low to the ground and don’t lose balance.”

He could feel the sweat dripping down his back as he pulled himself up the side of the massive rock jutting out from the hill. Hill, hah. This was a cliff.

A few more steps and they cleared the trail and stood at the top. He brushed dirt off his knees and looked up.

It was worth the view.

To one side, he could see the Manhanituck River that flowed past Seneca, down to Manhatos and out to the ocean. Directly ahead, he could see all the way west to Manhatos. He could even see the small tower that he’d erected on the hill that held his workshop.

He tried to memorize the direction. It would be useful to know which way to escape.

There seemed to be a new ship at anchor just out from the docks of the East River. He squinted, wishing for his far viewer. The sails were furled, telling him nothing.

But his stomach dropped as he made out the imperial eagle carved into the ship’s prow.

Tabor had been right. The empire was coming for them. But Tabor had said there would be a fleet. This was one ship. Where were the others?

He pointed. “Sky, have you seen any of these types of ships recently?”

She frowned and half-turned away from him. “Which ship? I don’t know what you mean.”

Maybe her eyes weren’t as good as his. “The one at anchor in the East River.”

She squinted and took a long look. Finally, she said, “No, I can’t say I’ve seen it before. Doesn’t one Roman ship look more or less like the other?”

“Mostly but...” He shook his head. She was right. How would she know a merchant ship from an Imperial Navy vessel, especially at this distance?

But he knew what it was. It meant he had to get back. Fast.

Sky waved her hand. “This view must pale before what you saw when flying.”

He shook his head. “No, it was...different. I couldn’t see that well.”

“Why not?”

“I was moving so fast everything was a blur.” He smiled, remembering how surprised he’d been by that. He shouldn’t have. He’d known how fast the aquila would be going. He’d just not connected it to how his eyes would water in the wind.

“It was only at the end of the flight, as I began to slow down, that I could see clearly.”

Now, if he’s had some sort of eye guard to protect his vision...He needed to put that on his list of projects.

Imperial Fleet first. Focus, Ceti.

“Would you do it again?”

He grinned. “Definitely. But I need to work on the landings.”

She laughed, a happy sound that made him want to push aside the worry about the imperial ship.

“Why do you want to go back so quickly, other than work on your aquila?” she asked.

He frowned. How much should he tell her? “I need...I have a job to do.”

“A...job?”

The word didn’t translate exactly. “I’m charged with tasks that help protect my people.”

“Ah. I understand that.” She nodded and looked out in the direction of Manhatos again. She frowned, all sign of her earlier laughter gone.

“Can we launch the aquilas now?” She handed him the models that she’d kept in the pouch slung over her shoulder.

“Hold them a bit. I need to check the wind.”

Their fingers brushed as she took them back. He swallowed, and wished he dared touch her again. He cleared his throat and thrust a hand in the air. A slight breeze stirred the trees near them.

“You see the way the leaves are being blown?” he asked.

She nodded. “We throw them in that direction?”

“Yes, otherwise you launch them against the wind and the model will be tossed about by the breeze.”

“How did you insure that you were not flying against the wind with your aquila?”

“I set the launch platform on a rotating circle,” he said. “I adjusted it depending on the wind currents.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

She didn’t understand. He wished he could show her. “Why don’t you launch both of our models, one at a time?”

“With pleasure.” She grinned, animated once again. She stepped to the very edge of the cliff, not seeming to care about the steep drop, and tossed the first model over the edge.

It was the one she’d made. He watched, holding his breath, as the wind caught it and pushed it higher. He wanted it to have a good, long flight. But the model flipped after a few seconds and tumbled in the air, falling fast. It began a slow, lazy descent, nose downward, to the fields stretched out before them.

She sighed. “What went wrong?”

“Likely one side is heavier than the other. I made that mistake, too, the first five times. It’s hard to do this without instruments to measure width and weight. Try the other,” he said.

“Yours will work better,” she said.

He smiled. “Only because I’ve had practice. It’s no trick or special talent, just hard work.”

“If it were no special talent, everyone would do it, Ceti,” she said.

She drew back her arm and tossed it harder than she had the first one. It flew out straight from the cliff longer than the first model, then the wind current caught it, pushing it toward the river. He held his breath, hoping it would make it to the water but then it too flipped. Not from wing to wing, like the first, but from back to front.

Sky’s eyes widened. “What was wrong with that one?”

“Too much weight at the back. As I said, I did it by memory.”

She put her hand over her eyes, to watch as his model aquila was tossed toward the river by the wind. “It’s a lifetime’s work, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I’ll do what I can to get you back to it, Ceti,” she said.

“Why do your people hesitate to let me go?”

She turned away from him and crossed her arms over her chest. “What you know about Shorakapkok could be reported to your people and used in an attack on them.”

“We won’t attack you.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” She shrugged. “But, eventually, Romans will gobble up the land on this island like a greedy shark, leaving nothing but a carcass with your buildings on it.”

All we want is more farmland. But that was not a persuasive argument. “Most of the Romans in Manhattan were born here, as your people were born here,” he said. “Why shouldn’t they try to survive and feed themselves?”

“The Romans consider themselves owners who have every right to keep it all for themselves,” she said.

“Not all the Romans believe that.” He bit his tongue. He didn’t want to argue with her, not when this might be the last chance they had to talk.

“I hope you’re right,” she said. “Deep Water, who leads here, feels you are an enemy. I fear she won’t free you.”

“How do I convince her that I’m not a danger?”

“Being good to the children helped,” Sky said. “That is, unless their parents become annoyed at little aquilas being tossed all over the place.” She smiled again.

He nodded.

If they wouldn’t let him go, he had to escape. That imperial ship was only the first of many.

But he could not escape tonight. His body ached too much and he suspected the climb down the cliffs would finish him.

He sighed. When he did run, he’d have to leave his aquila behind.

He’d also have to leave Sky behind. He would miss her more than the aquila.

He could recreate the aquila from his notes, though it would take a long while.

He could never recreate Sky.