The woman smiled and pointed up. When Julio and the others followed her gesture, they found a large aircraft hovering motionless directly overhead. It was not like any aircraft the old farmer had ever seen in the skies above his mountains and it hadn’t been there a second ago. There were no wings, just a silvery oval shape like a pallar bean, what the Americans might call a lima bean. It was three times larger than the Land Rover and totally silent as it now descended to touch lightly upon the ground.

“I do not understand? Why did you have us drive you up here if you had that?” Julio Valez asked.

“For many reasons. To make a proper introduction to Julio Hyncho. To see the land and get its feel. To work with the Peruvian government, not around it. There is a proper way to approach apu, and rushing it is not correct. Even now, the best way to meet Pitusiray and Sahuasiray would be on foot, climbing there ourselves. But we just do not have the time. So we will cheat a little, at this stage, and hope they are not affronted,” Declan said.

The military officer spoke, Spanish words, Julio thought, but the machine translated everything into Quechua. “You cannot fly there. The winds are too powerful for even military helicopters,” he said, worry on his face.

“It is not a problem for our craft, Colonel,” Declan said. “It has abilities that even the military cannot match.”

A door opened in the side of the sleek machine, appearing from the smooth metal as if by magic.

“We will be back in a few hours, Colonel. If you and Julio wish to head back now, that is fine. Or we will ride back down with you if you prefer,” the girl, Stacia, said, following the young man into the silent vehicle.

The odd, scary beast, the Air apu, leapt suddenly from the ground, its big wings flapping hard to climb in the thin mountain air. With a sharp cry, it turned toward the mountains and flew straight at them.

When he turned back to the odd aircraft, Julio found the young man smiling at him from the doorway. “He will go ahead to announce us to your mountains. I am confident that your aid will smooth the way for us, Julio. Thank you.”

He gave a little nod to the young man, his capacity for words limited by the unceasing shocks of the day. The youthful shaman nodded back, the door sort of flowed shut, and the silver craft floated up without a sound. Then it shot toward Pitusiray and Sahuasiray, the mountain gods themselves, disappearing in an instant.

Julio Valez helped with the chores for the next three hours while the colonel stayed with the vehicle, making calls on what must have been a satellite phone.