His arms flexed and then relaxed again. He smoothed the hair away from her face and cleared his throat. "You're thinking about Sarah," he said. "But you're afraid to ask."

She didn't respond.

"It wasn't right of me, the way I flew at you today when you brought up her name."

"No," Elizabeth agreed. "It wasn't right."

"I ain't exactly proud of what it is I've got to tell you."

"Tell me anyway," Elizabeth said. "Or we'll never get past this."

When he didn't answer, she lifted her head to look into his face. "Nathaniel. I promise I'll do my best not to judge you unfairly," she said.

"That's what I'm afraid of," he said. Then he cleared his throat, and began.

"When Barktown burned, Sky—Wound—Round and Falling—Day took the younger children and they went north to Canada to winter with Falling—Day's people, because there was no food. I wanted to go along with them, but Sarah didn't. She had been trying to talk me into taking her home to live at Lake in the Clouds ever since we married, and it looked like the right time to go. I couldn't argue with her anymore. Didn't want to, really, not with the village wiped out the way it was."

Nathaniel turned a little so that he was lying on his side curled around Elizabeth's length. In the flickering candlelight his features seemed more animated than they really were. She lay with one hand at rest on her abdomen, and he covered it with his own.

"So we went home, and they took us in. Glad to have us, too. My ma especially had always wanted a daughter and she was pleased with Sarah. That's what you have to understand about Sarah, she had the gift of making folks love her. There was a childlike quality to her when she was pleased that went to the heart, and I guess that would be the simplest truth: she had a girl's way of looking at the world and she never learned to settle for less than that." He paused. "Or to cope with more.

"Don't misunderstand me, now. She was a good worker and never shirked, but she could play harder than anybody I ever saw. Learned every song my Mother knew in three months' time, and my mother had an ear for a song. My mother, now, you'd have to understand that she was hard on her own kind, she demanded a lot. But Sarah won her over, and it was the music that built the bond between them."

"That's how she learned Scots," Elizabeth noted.

"Aye. They sang together in the evenings." His voice trailed oft, and Elizabeth felt a deep sadness for him.

"I remember my mother's voice very clearly," Elizabeth said. "And it's still with me after all these years."

He had been staring toward the ceiling, but he looked down to Elizabeth. "You haven't told me much about your mother."

"Another time," she said quietly. "Go on, please."

"Well, let's see. Sarah settled in at Lake in the Clouds real fast. Some in the village weren't glad to see her and didn't make her welcome, at first. But when she put her mind to it she could win over anybody. Sometimes I had the feeling that she felt obligated to prove to the world that she could be a Kahnyen’keháka and a human being, too. The trouble started then, because I like the Kahnyen’keháka way of life, and she didn't. We were both young, you see. Young enough to think we could just decide what we wanted to be, that it didn't take any more than that, the wanting.

"It went on for a long time before I took real note of what was happening. She wanted to be called Sarah, and if I forgot and called her by her Kahnyen’keháka name she would get pretty mad. I remember my mother asking once how the Mohawk keep raccoon out of the corn and Sarah just looked at her with a blank face, and then claimed she didn't remember. And then one day she wouldn't answer me if I spoke to her in Kahnyen’keháka, and I suppose that's when I couldn't pretend anymore.

"It was about that time, maybe three years since we had settled down at Lake in the Clouds, that Sky—Wound—Round took his people back to Barktown to rebuild it. Just after the war had quieted down, it was. Schuyler gave them safe passage—the Wolf and the Turtle and a few Bear clan, they went back to the Big Vly in the spring. It was the first Sarah had seen of her mother or her people in all that time. She was glad to see them, no question, but in the end she didn't want to be there, in the long house.

"But you did?" Elizabeth asked.

He said, "I did, at that time. You're wondering why I wanted to give up my own place and take on her people when I had folks of my own, but don't know if I can explain it to you. I guess the only thing I can say is that the life suited me. And I was at that age where I didn't want to be living under my father's rule. Now, you might be thinking that we get along fine, and that's true enough. But I was a son then and now I'm a father myself and things look different to me." He shook his head.

"Sarah got what she wanted, in the end. Not so much because her will was stronger than mine."

Elizabeth made a small sound, and he grinned, reluctantly.

"But because it wasn't clear we would have been welcome, anyway. Or that I would have been."

"Wouldn't have been welcome?" Elizabeth asked, surprised and more than a little insulted for him. "After all the time you had lived with them?"

"That's it, you see. Falling—Day had come back expecting to find her oldest daughter with a child at the breast and she hadn't ever even shown the signs of starting one. The Kahnyen’keháka take the business of getting children serious."