“Whatever you said to him,” said Ta-Kumsaw, “you made a decision.”

  “How soon can you launch canoes to take us back to the eastern shore?” asked Alvin.

  “The canoes are waiting at the river’s edge,” said Ta-Kumsaw.

  “You knew what I would decide.”

  “Everybody knew it,” said Ta-Kumsaw. “Only this one had the courage to say it outright.”

  “How did you know?” asked Alvin. “I didn’t know.”

  “The Maker is the one who is part of what he makes,” said Ta-Kumsaw. “Isn’t that the rule?”

  “And I’m part of Crystal City,” said Alvin.

  The goodbyes were brief as the Whites all returned to the shore. Alvin looked at the Prophet and his brother up on the bank, watching the canoes launch. His heart was full of love for them. So much of his life had been shaped by them. They had been true to him, and kind. They were his friends, and they would keep their oath to save his people, if it was possible.

  But they can’t save me.

  Then they came out of the fog, three canoes paddled by silent young Red warriors—or farmers, or herdsmen, or hunters, or all those things. There was some splashing, because Verily and John hadn’t had as much experience with canoes as Alvin, Measure, and Arthur.

  Alvin was the last out of his boat. He bade a silent farewell to the Red paddlers, who solemnly acknowledged him.

  Then Alvin turned toward the wharf, where a large, powerful man was standing. “Alvin, you son of fools with all the wit of your ancestros!”

  “Mike Fink!” cried Alvin. “Does the Hio even flow when you’re this far away?”

  “I told it to keep up its work till I got back,” said Mike.

  By now Alvin was on the shore, then up on the wharf, and Mike wrapped him in a huge embrace. Alvin thought of Davy Crockett and his bear, and wondered if the bear would have been a match for Mike Fink.

  While Mike held him, the riverman spoke softly in his ear—softly for him, because there was no chance he wasn’t heard by the other men gathered on the wharf.

  “That boy told me you’re expecting to die,” said Mike.

  “He spoke out of turn,” said Alvin. “I’m not giving up any time soon.”

  “You can say that again,” said Mike, “because while I can still draw breath, no harm will come to you.”

  “That’s a comfort,” said Alvin, “because if you ain’t been kilt yet, you’re never going to die.”

  31

  “THIS HERE WOMAN says she knows your brother.”

  Calvin sneered. “Everybody knows my brother.”

  “She says that Alvin was sweet on her.”

  “A ridiculous lie,” said Calvin. “She might believe it, but it doesn’t mean it was ever true.”

  “She says he put a baby in her.”

  Calvin laughed. “Would her name be Amy Sump?” he asked.

  “So you know who she is!”

  “She and her family have been trying to sue my brother for paternity and breach of promise. My brother wasn’t even in the same state as her when she got herself pregnant.”

  Amy’s eyes flashed. “He can walk like the wind! He can go through walls! He don’t even have to be in the same continent as me. He came into my room when I was dressing—”

  “Stop that,” said the calm man on horseback. “We’re not in court.”

  “I used to be a pretty, slender young thing,” said Amy.

  Calvin chuckled.

  “Enough!” said the man. “We’re here to serve papers on Alvin Smith.”

  “And all you found was me,” said Calvin.

  “For all I know, you are him.”

  “That’s not him,” said Amy.

  “Since your star witness has just exonerated me from the crime of being Alvin Smith, could your brutes let go of me now?” asked Calvin.

  The leader nodded, and the hands that had dragged Calvin out of the inn let go of him.

  “He’s got knacks, too!” cried Amy. “He’s a witch, too!”

  Calvin shook his head. “If you think my brother’s a witch, why do you want him to be the father of your bastard? The lad must be what, ten years old?”

  “You have no right to interrogate her,” said the man.

  “And you had no right to drag me away from my dinner,” said Calvin. “What’s your authority?”

  The man held up a folded paper. “A summons.”

  “You can give it to me, and I’ll serve the paper on him as soon as he comes back to Crystal City.”

  “He’s back,” said the summoner.

  “Then you know more than I do,” said Calvin. “Mostly when people go over the river, they never come back.”

  The summoner’s horse stamped and moved to the side a little. The men on foot also shuffled their feet or took a step left or right. Or back. Nobody stepped closer to Calvin.

  “Do you have any so-called ‘knacks’?” asked the summoner.

  “Nary a one,” said Calvin. “I was a great disappointment to my family, and to myself, I must add. I wish I had me a knack, but is wishing a crime now?”

  “Alvin’s brother, and no knack at all?”

  “I’m the runt of the litter. Anybody who knows me can tell you.”

  “I heard you call yourself a seventh son, too.”

  Calvin laughed. “You never knew a man to brag about things he cannot do? You’ve never been on the river, have you. Yes, I’ve bragged like that. I’ve also said I’m hung like a horse.”

  “Enough!” shouted the summoner. “We came all the way from Carthage City to serve these—”

  “You’re a liar,” said Calvin, as sweetly as those words could be said. “You may have come from Carthage, but the men with you, they’ve been lurking around Crystal City for days. You hired them after you got here.”

  “I hired nobody,” said the summoner. “These is volunteers.”

  “What are they hoping for? To hang Alvin Smith, or get at his golden plow?”

  “Ain’t no golden plow,” said one of the brutes.

  “The first true thing that’s been said here today,” said Calvin. “Never was a plow, still doesn’t exist, because even Alvin Smith can’t turn iron into gold.”

  “I know it exists,” said the summoner. “Makepeace Smith saw it himself.”

  “Makepeace Smith only wanted to keep Alvin on as his apprentice past his time.”

  By now, everybody from inside the inn had spilled out onto the dooryard, which had been incompetently cobbled fairly recently, and was as likely to send you to the ground as keep you out of the mud. The inn’s customers considerably outnumbered the summoner’s crew. “You’ve done your business,” said the innkeeper from the door. “You assaulted one of my guests without provocation, and—”

  The summoner waved his paper again. “I have a summons to serve! From Carthage City!”

  “Carthage?” asked the innkeeper. “You got no jurisdiction here.”

  “You a lawyer?” asked the summoner. “Jurisdiction is a pretty fancy word.”

  “Whatever you imagine your authority to be,” said the innkeeper, “I sent a runner to the city the minute you dragged this man out of my public room, and your authority, if you have any, will end when the deputy arrives and we charge you with assault and unlawful detainment and any other damn felony we decide to lay against you. These are my witnesses!”

  The whole company from the inn’s common room murmured or growled their affirmation.

  Calvin found that he actually felt very happy right now. It hadn’t often happened in his life that a group of people were on his side.

  The sound of hoofbeats not far off intruded into the silence of the standoff.

  “Here they come,” said the innkeeper. “Sounds like ten or a dozen, and they’ll be men trained to shoot from the saddle.”

  The summoner wheeled his horse. Amy Sump’s horse followed suit. The men on foot turned around and jogged toward him, followed him as he trotted his horse away.

  Calvin turned and walked up to the innkeeper. “You were an uncommon good friend today.”

  “Nobody abducts a body from my common room,” said the innkeeper.

  Other guests were going back in, sidling past the innkeeper, who still stood in front of the door.

  The horses came closer, and then they were in the road just beyond the dooryard, where the summoner had been only a minute or two before.

  “Thanks for coming, lads,” said the innkeeper.

  “Deputy’s not here,” said one of the posse, “but we decided not to wait for him.”

  “That was well done,” said the innkeeper. “Man claiming to be a summoner from Carthage City was fixing to take this fellow to jail. I said he got no jurisdiction here.”

  “A lawful summons from a Carthage judge has legal force throughout the United States,” said one of the posse.

  “You a lawyer?” asked the innkeeper.

  “I happen to have that honor. Verily Cooper, Esquire, at your service, sir.”

  “So he did have a right to—”

  “He had no right to do anything to Calvin Miller,” said Verily. “He only had the right to serve his summons on Alvin Smith in person, and no authority to use any kind of force to do it.”

  “Well, then, he exceeded his authority. Dragged this man—”

  “Calvin Miller,” said Verily.

  “And now his dinner’s gotten cold, I bet,” said the innkeeper.

  “Then you might give a thought to going inside and getting Calvin Miller a fresh hot serving of … whatever you’re serving. Thank you for looking after one of our citizens.”

  “My pleasure. By the way, Mr. Cooper, I have a knack myself.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” said Verily.

  “Sure ain’t a knack for cooking,” said the last of the guests as he went inside.

  “Then why do you always ask for seconds?”

  “As an act of Christian charity, to keep someone else from eating it.”

  Members of the posse chuckled at that.

  “What’s your knack, Mr. Keeper?” asked Verily.

  “I have a way with iron,” said the innkeeper. “Not a powerful knack, but I think that summoner is going to find that his mount has a nail worked up into the quick.”

  “You pushed a horseshoe nail deeper into the hoof?” asked Verily. “What did that horse ever do to you?”

  “It carried a Carthage summoner into my dooryard,” said the innkeeper.

  Verily chuckled. “Well done, sir, and I hope the horse recovers soon.”

  “I reckon he will,” said the innkeeper.

  “With a knack for iron, sir,” said Verily, “why do you keep a roadhouse?”

  “Cause who would look for an iron knack in an innkeeper?” The innkeeper smiled. “Thanks for coming so quick, on only the word of my boy.”

  “We wouldn’t be worth much as defenders if it took us an hour to show up when a mob is causing trouble.”

  Calvin stood in the dooryard, with only the posse for company.

  “Calvin,” said Verily.

  “Mr. Miller to you, Mr. Cooper,” said Calvin.

  “So be it, Mr. Miller,” said Verily. “What are you doing out here on the fringe of the city?”

  “I was eating my dinner before I carried on my journey.”

  “Where are you headed?” asked Verily.

  “To the place where I will conduct my private business,” said Calvin.

  “Margaret Larner told me something about your business of late,” said Verily.

  “That woman is such a gossip,” said Calvin.

  Now it was the posse that murmured and growled.

  Calvin turned to them, holding his hand out to his sides. “No need to get angry. If a man can’t tease his sister-in-law, there’s not much freedom left in the world.”

  “Do you want a ride back into the city?” asked Verily.

  Calvin was pretty sure that Verily knew perfectly well that Crystal City was not where Calvin wanted to be about now, with Alvin back from across the river. “Why, I’d gladly ride behind any of these gentlemen here.”

  Verily held out his hand and pulled his foot out of the stirrup. Calvin raised his foot into the stirrup, took hold of Verily’s forearm with both hands, and leapt up onto the horse’s back just behind the saddle.

  “You’re a fine leaper, Mr. Miller,” said Verily. “Is that a knack of yours?”

  “I’m an athletic sort of fellow,” said Calvin. “But I have enough knacks for my needs.”

  * * *

  Alvin sat on the settee in his own parlor for the first time in months. He had a copy of the Crystal Times open, but he was reading only about three words in ten. Margaret came in, set down a tray of cold cuts and rolls, and sat down beside Alvin.

  “You spread a nice meal for such short notice, Miz Larner,” said Alvin.

  “You look like a man who’s missed too many dinners, Mr. Smith,” said Margaret.

  “I didn’t think to come back over the river so soon,” he said.

  “I know. But the people have been clamoring. Panicking. A few have left on the train, some with wagons on the north road.”

  “How many?”

  “Eight families, but if you hadn’t come back, it would have been more and more all day.”

  “Maybe leaving is the wise thing to do,” said Alvin.

  “Could be. How did it work out for you?”

  Alvin rolled his eyes and took a bite of the bread with mustard and cabbage and a fine fat sausage.

  “That should put some meat on your bones,” said Margaret.

  “Don’t know about that,” said Alvin, with his mouth full, “but it’s putting pork in my belly.”

  “Talking with your mouth full—”

  “Makes a muddle of chewing and talking,” said Alvin.

  “You should know that a summoner came with papers to arrest you and take you to Carthage City.”

  “An actual summons? Not a pus of assassins?”

  Margaret smiled at Alvin’s term. “A pus of assassins,” she echoed.

  “Seemed like the right word,” said Alvin.

  Margaret changed tone. Business now. “We’re not making a public announcement of the funeral for the three slain yesterday, because we think that might invite a raid on the mourners.”

  “Wise choice,” said Alvin. “And yet I imagine every soul in Crystal City is planning to be there.”

  “Armed to the teeth,” said Margaret.

  “Not so wise.”

  “Unarmed people are so much easier to massacre, if that’s what our enemies have in mind.”

  “Is it?”

  “No,” said Margaret. “They will come demanding a conversation with you.”

  “A friendly chat right here in our parlor,” said Alvin. “Serving papers on me?”

  “They have papers, if they get a chance to serve them. Alvin, I’m glad you came back. You are the heart and confidence of these people.”

  “People who are almost all blessed with knacks,” said Alvin, “yet they depend on me to protect them.”

  “Yes,” said Margaret. “They do.”

  They both bit into their sandwiches and chewed in silence for a moment.

  “Don’t smack your lips,” said Margaret.

  “She said, with her mouth full.”

  Margaret chewed a few more times and then swallowed. “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds,” she said.

  “Emerson again?” asked Alvin. “Just because he wrote it elegantly doesn’t make it wise.”

  “It became wise the moment I decided to quote him,” said Margaret.

  “The last time you recited that, he went on and on, until he was pointing out how great minds are always misunderstood. His examples were Socrates, Jesus, and other people who were killed for their wisdom.”

  “Most of his examples were not killed.”

  “But Socrates and Jesus were.”

  “And Galileo went before the Inquisition,” said Margaret.

  “I know an inquisitor,” said Alvin.

  “I know. A good man, helping you save so many lives. Galileo’s inquisitors were not so good-hearted.”

  Alvin sighed. “Margaret, it is my considered opinion that by coming back here, I sealed my death warrant.”

  Margaret set down her sandwich and embraced him. He was still holding his sandwich, and took another bite.

  “Your wife hugs you and you don’t even stop eating?” asked Margaret.

  “You said I was too thin.”

  “Alvin, I don’t know what to tell you. Your heartfire is dark to me. Befogged. I catch glimpses but I don’t know what causes what. You might die, yes, but that has always been true of your heartfire.”

  “What does it mean that you can’t see clearly?”

  “It means that I can’t see clearly. My knack is not as reliable as yours. Sometimes I can’t see anything. Right now I can’t see anything useful.”

  “So when I need guidance the most…”

  She hugged him tighter. “You don’t need guidance from me,” said Margaret. “You always do the right thing.”

  Alvin rolled his eyes.

  “I heard you roll your eyes,” she said, her face still pressed against his shoulder.

  “I don’t always do the right—”

  “You always do a good thing. A right thing, when there is no one best thing.”

  “You’re saying, I should do what I think is best.”

  “I don’t have to say that. When have you not done that?”

  “I want to be there for little Vigor to grow up with a father. I want the baby you’re carrying right now to know my face.”

  Margaret pulled away from him. “I’m pregnant?” she asked.

  “You didn’t know?”

  “You’ve only been home from Ireland a few days,” said Margaret.

  “Well, we couldn’t have made that baby before I went to Ireland, or you’d be swoll up like you were toting a watermelon by now.”

  “Swoll,” said Margaret.

  “Do you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl?” asked Alvin.

  “I’ll know soon enough,” said Margaret. “This is happy news.”

  “Yes, I needed something good.”

  “When did you detect my pregnancy?” she asked.