“Oh.” He looked abashed. “She told you about that?”

“It’s still hurting her.”

“What happened was that Klio had been telling me about this German philosopher—”

“The Germans have philosophers?” Porphyry interrupted, astonished. I was astonished too. I’d read Tacitus. I imagined some hairy barbarian debating in the forests while avoiding the axes of his companions.

“This was later, after they were civilized,” Ikaros said, waving away the distraction. “They conquered Italy and claimed to be the heirs of Rome like everyone else. Anyway, this German had interesting theories about how minds work, and I was interested in them for a time, as best Klio could remember what she’d read years before. And one of his theses seemed to me to explain Maia’s behavior, and I was foolish enough to mention this to her. I can see now how it was unkind. At the time I thought she’d be glad of an explanation.”

“You should tell her you were wrong,” I said.

“I will. I’m sorry that’s still upsetting her.” He meant it. “Is that what Pytheas was talking about when he told me people have equal significance?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But can I trust you that you won’t tell anyone about me being able to fly?”

Ikaros laughed again. “You’re safe even if you can’t trust me. I’ve never seen anything so lovely as the two of you coming in to land just then. But while I’ve tried to keep everyone from knowing how bad my eyes are, they know enough to know I’m not a reliable witness on something like this.”

“How much can you see, really?” I asked.

Ikaros sighed. “I can see shapes and colors, in sunlight,” he said, truthfully. “No detail. And the middle distance is where I can see best. I could see you better when you landed than I can now. It’s just strain from reading too much in bad light.”

I wondered if Phaedrus would be able to heal him. I didn’t want to raise his hopes without being sure.

“He doesn’t want people to know. But I know, because I read to him and write things he dictates,” Porphyry said.

“Some things,” Ikaros teased, smiling. There was something about the way he said this that made me realize that he and Porphyry had the same kind of close teacher-pupil friendship that Ficino and I had had. “And I have a lot memorized. It’s not so bad.”

“I trust you not to tell,” I said. “And Porphyry knows enough to tell you if your guesses are good.”

“Get the head,” Porphyry suggested to me, waving at the cave.