It didn’t take him long to find the man. Mike Fink had realized that Alvin was gone, and he went to the only person he could be sure would know where he was. Margaret Larner.

  Mike was sitting on the top step of the front stoop of the house.

  “Miz Larner isn’t home?” asked Arthur Stuart as he approached.

  “She’s home.”

  “She won’t talk with you?” asked Arthur.

  “We had a talk,” said Mike. “She told me to trust Alvin and not try to find him.”

  “You know where he is,” said Arthur Stuart. “There’s no mystery about that.”

  “Carthage City. Keeping his word to that damnable slaver,” said Mike.

  “So why are you just sitting here?” asked Arthur Stuart.

  “Even if I could find a horse willing to let me ride her,” said Mike, “I don’t know the way and it would still take a couple of days to get there.”

  “What do you think you could do if you got there in time?” asked Arthur Stuart.

  “Save his damn fool life,” said Mike Fink.

  Arthur held out his hand. “Then let’s go.”

  Mike hesitated. “You can take me into the Greensong, like Alvin?”

  Mike got up from the porch and let Arthur Stuart lead him. Arthur felt like a pebble dragging a boulder along behind him.

  But as they walked, Arthur Stuart felt the Greensong tugging at him, and he let the melody of it, the harmony, flow into him, through him, until it ran like his own blood through his arteries and veins, away from his heart, then back again, with every beat of his pulse.

  “Good Lord,” muttered Mike.

  They were in the Greensong. And Arthur Stuart started running, pulling Mike along, and they both began running as lightly as deer, Mike right along with Arthur, and they were surrounded by green on every side, and the branches and briers parted for them, and the ground came up easy to their feet, with no obstruction to trip on.

  The world moved around them rapidly, faster and faster, as the miles fell behind them.

  Alvin wouldn’t want me to do this, thought Arthur Stuart. But I’m a free man, and so is Mike Fink, and maybe we can make our own plans sometimes, not just follow what Alvin tells us to do or not do. Maybe we can save that good man in spite of himself. Did he ever think of that?

  36

  “AM I THE only one as wants breakfast?” asked Measure.

  All three of the others had been sound asleep. John Binder and Marty Laws stirred at once, but Alvin remained absolutely still.

  Alvin’s stillness lasted until the others were nearly dressed. “Come on, Alvin,” said Measure. “We’re not going to go eat without you, and the rest of us are hungry.”

  With a sigh, Alvin rolled over and spilled himself onto the floor, guiding his feet into his boots, pulling them on.

  “You’re going to put your trousers on over your boots?” asked Marty Laws.

  John Binder looked again. “He slept in his trousers,” he said.

  “I don’t like changing clothes to no purpose,” said Alvin. “Why take them off if I’m just going to put them back on in the morning?”

  “So they don’t look slept in,” said Marty.

  John Binder smiled. “Marty, your clothes always look slept in.”

  Meanwhile, Measure laughed. “Well, gentlemen, it looks as if Alvin found him an all-night laundry and clothes-press.”

  John Binder sighed. “Alvin, you’ve got these fabulous powers, and you use them to press your trousers?”

  “My shirt, too,” said Alvin. “And make them shed their road-dust and sweat-stains. And my bootsoles repair themselves to my specifications. I’d say that’s a right demanding set of accomplishments for my knackery.”

  “Didn’t clean my clothes,” said Marty.

  “You didn’t ask me to,” said Alvin.

  “As if any of us would ask the Maker to do our laundry,” said John Binder.

  “What if I did it wrong?” asked Alvin. “Don’t want to be liable for any weaknesses in your apparel down the road.”

  “We going somewhere on some road today?” asked Measure.

  “We’ve got a good while till we come before the judge,” said Alvin. “Nothing in that paper required us to come at ten in the morning. And by whose watch, anyway?”

  “I think I’m the only one with a watch,” said John Binder, pulling it by the fob out of his waistcoat.

  “Alvin keeps the time ticking in his brain day and night,” said Measure. “Waking and sleeping.”

  “Do not. I’m just a good guesser.” Alvin made a point of looking at the window. “Some morning clouds, but it’ll be a right sunny day.”

  “What time is it?” asked Measure.

  “Half past seven,” said Alvin.

  “Which you knew without looking,” said Measure.

  “Do you know what I found out by looking?” asked Alvin. “There’s no bars on that window. Just a counterhung sash. No locking mechanism, no blocks, it’s just a regular window.”

  “I hope you don’t plan to escape that way,” said Marty Laws, looking out and down. “This is a right high window, and the ground below it is paved with cobbles so if a body jumps, they’ll split their head.”

  “Or break every other bone in their bodies,” said John Binder. “No way to jump out and hit the ground running and get away.”

  “Alvin can do it if he wants,” said Measure.

  “But he doesn’t want,” said Alvin. “You think I’d run away, and leave you three here for the mob to vent their anger on?”

  “Right now, we aren’t even locked in. We just open the door,” said Marty, “go down the stairs, and go on our way.”

  “To the tavern for breakfast,” said John Binder.

  “Taverners don’t know how to cook an egg,” said Alvin. “They always break the yolk and wind up scrambling the eggs, like any lazy, incompetent parlor maid what got assigned to breakfast because the cook was sick.”

  “Where do you think we should eat, then?” asked Measure. “Plead with some hens to lay us soft-boiled eggs this morning?”

  “If there’s one group that knows less about cooking eggs, it’s hens,” said Alvin.

  “Where, then?” said John Binder.

  “Why don’t we set out on my morning errand, and see if we come upon breakfast along the way,” said Alvin.

  It’s not like any of them had any reason to disagree, beyond the impatience of hunger.

  Alvin had his waistcoat on, but no tie or collar.

  “Don’t you feel naked?” asked John Binder.

  “I been naked,” said Alvin. “This is different.”

  “No collar?” asked Marty Laws.

  “Collars are all scratchy,” said Alvin.

  “It just makes you look like a condemned man,” said John Binder.

  “The noose works best when there’s no collar in the way,” Alvin agreed.

  “I imagine you’ve made a study of hangings,” said Marty.

  “Just common sense,” said Alvin. “If I ever seen a hanging, I’d remember, I think.”

  They weren’t ten steps out of the jail building when a huge creature bounded up and threw its arms around Alvin.

  “You didn’t think you could get away from your bodyguard, did you?” By the voice, they all knew it was Mike Fink.

  “Thought you was up between lakes,” said Alvin.

  “Heard it was time for you to go to Carthage to get arrested,” said Mike. “No way that was going to happen without me beside you.”

  “Didn’t Margaret tell you—”

  “Margaret told me some nonsense about you not wanting me put at risk. And I told her, my being at risk was the life I chose for myself.”

  “And she told you to stay in Crystal City.”

  “Because she told me you told her to say that. If you got instructions for me, Alvin, tell me to my own face.”

  “If you’re here,” said Alvin, “I won’t have a free hand to do the things I must.”

  “My being here is why you’ll have a free hand,” said Mike Fink.

  “Mike, if anybody wants to get to me, what do they need to do first?”

  Mike Fink thought a bit longer than the others would have found necessary. “I reckon if I was them, I’d say, kill that big man as is always looking after Alvin Smith, so we can get to the Maker without any of us getting kilt.”

  “That’s my problem, having you here, Mike,” said Alvin. “I don’t want anybody getting kilt to save me from what nobody can save me from.”

  “Then why did you come here?” demanded Mike Fink.

  “Because my promise to come bought my people time to get their wagons and their companies and prepare to cross the Mizzippy.”

  “Without boats,” said Marty.

  “Won’t need boats,” said Alvin.

  “Wings?” asked John Binder.

  “A sudden hard freeze,” said Alvin. “Solid ice, roll the wagons right across.”

  “Then you need to be back there,” said Mike Fink. “To freeze that river.”

  “There are two good freezers in the city,” said Alvin. “One among the Irish, one among the folk we brought up from the South.”

  “Why haven’t I heard of them?” asked John Binder.

  “We didn’t need their knacks until now. And Calvin will strengthen whatever they freeze.”

  They all fell silent at the mention of Calvin.

  “Why do you go on picking people to lead who never led anybody before?” asked John Binder.

  “Everybody has to do everything for the first time, once, anyway,” said Alvin.

  “But Calvin,” said John Binder.

  “Calvin isn’t leading, because he’s not crossing the river,” said Alvin. “He’ll know that the two freezers can’t reach far enough or make it thick enough, but he can help them reach, and so he will.”

  “Miz Larner told me you like to pick people she warned you against trusting,” said Mike Fink.

  “I don’t pick them because she warned me.”

  Measure gave an abrupt little “Ha!”

  “I pick them because I don’t know as anybody’s ever given them a chance to show their character,” said Alvin.

  “Calvin’s shown his character about three hundred times so far,” said Measure.

  “Calvin’s never shown his own character,” said Alvin. “You’ll see. He knows more than you think. He is better than you know.”

  “I’m trying to figure out,” said Measure, “how Mike Fink got here so quick.”

  Mike looked away.

  “Greensong,” said Measure. “And since Alvin and I were here, it had to be Arthur Stuart.”

  Mike’s blush gave it away. “I bet he’s back in Crystal City by now,” said Mike.

  “He’s waiting right where you left him,” said Alvin, “at the forest edge.”

  “Why?” asked Mike Fink.

  “To take you back to Crystal City by the same road you came on.”

  Mike looked defeated. He also looked angry. “Who says you always get to have your way?”

  “It’s not my way,” said Alvin. “I don’t have a way. Things don’t go by my plan. I just make the best of what comes up.”

  “And this … asinine thing is ‘making the best’?”

  “As far as I can figure it out,” said Alvin.

  “Start your figgering over at the beginning, then,” said Mike Fink.

  “Done that many times,” said Alvin. “I even crossed the river, but some of my friends came to tell me I needed to come back.”

  “We didn’t know you’d accept a summons and a warrant and show up here, which is like the northernmost bit of the slave-owning South,” said John Binder.

  “I made the best deal I could for my people—with the Prophet and with his wicked counterpart, Cavil Planter.”

  “You got the time you needed. Why did you keep your word?” demanded Mike Fink.

  “Because it was my word,” said Alvin. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Mike, I need to find us some breakfast and go to a place in Carthage that means something to me, before I go see the judge.”

  “You inviting me to breakfast?” asked Mike Fink.

  Alvin was already walking down the road.

  “No, he’s not,” said Measure. “He’s inviting you to go to Arthur Stuart and get him to guide you home.”

  “My home is wherever Alvin is, when he needs me,” said Mike Fink.

  “Your home is wherever he needs you to be,” said Measure, “and he’s told you where that is.”

  Mike Fink burst into tears. Big and mean-looking as he was, it still wasn’t incongruous, the tears streaming down his face. Like a big disappointed toddler.

  He turned away, not so much to hide his tears as to get started walking back to where Arthur Stuart was waiting.

  This moment had been foreshadowed multiple times in the crystal blocks of the tower. It was always known that Mike would come, and that Alvin would send him away. Did that mean they were on the right track? wondered Measure. Or did it mean that they had been warned again and again not to let this happen?

  Back at the forest edge, Arthur Stuart saw Mike approaching and ran to him, embraced him, let him weep into his shoulder. “You knew this was coming,” said Arthur Stuart.

  “Knowing ain’t liking,” said Mike Fink.

  Arthur pulled away from the larger man. He was weeping, too.

  “Can we still run with the Greensong even when we’re both all blurry with tears?” asked Mike Fink.

  “Let’s find out.”

  * * *

  Alvin and his companions walked a couple of blocks up the road from the jailhouse when they came upon a woman hanging clothes on the line. “A right nice day for drying clothes,” said Alvin.

  “From your mouth to God’s ears,” said the woman.

  “You think God minds how quick your clothes dry on the line?” asked Alvin.

  “God minds the little sparrow,” said the woman.

  Alvin laughed a little. “Goodwife,” said Alvin, “I reckon I smell bacon from inside your house.”

  “That’s my daughter,” said the woman. “She’s cooking, that is, not being cooked. She’s making up breakfast for her da.”

  “All that bacon and all them eggs, just for one man?” asked Alvin.

  “For me, too, and her, and the little-uns.”

  “The little-uns are two boys, twins, thirteen years old, am I right?” asked Alvin.

  “How did you know?” she said.

  “Just seemed logical,” said Alvin. “Just like I figure you got enough breakfast in there to add four hungry grown men, without depriving anybody of anything they wouldn’t’ve et anyway.”

  “I don’t think we have that much extra,” said the woman.

  “Goodwife,” said Measure, “when Alvin Maker says you got enough, you got enough.”

  The woman mouthed the words “Alvin Maker” and then she looked over to see that Measure and John Binder had already put three sheets on the line, with good, secure-looking pegwork. “You set to finish this basket’s worth?” she asked them.

  “Think we can manage it,” said Measure.

  “But how will you eat if you’re doing my work?”

  “We’ll be in before you say grace over the food,” said Measure. “We don’t aim to miss such a good breakfast.”

  The woman harrumphed, but it was partly amusement, almost a laugh. She walked away from her basket of laundry and walked inside.

  Three quarters of an hour later, the man of the house, the daughter, the twin boys, and the goodwife herself had eaten to satiation, as had their four guests from the jailhouse. “Alvin promised us he’d find us a better breakfast than anything in the tavern,” said Marty Laws.

  “They don’t know how to cook an egg,” said the daughter.

  “But miss, you sure enough do,” said John Binder.

  Alvin rose from the table. “Madam,” he said, “I think I can say that even if this turns out to be the last breakfast I eat upon this Earth, it could not have been better.”

  “Let’s all pray that it’s not the last!” said the daughter, a little outraged.

  “Oh, we been praying,” said Measure. “But the breakfast was as good as my brother said.”

  “And we had Alvin the Maker as a guest at our table,” said the husband. “It has been an honor, sir.”

  Alvin knew but did not say that he had paid for the breakfast by clearing up the arthritis in the man’s knees, straightening up the stoop in the daughter’s posture, and taking out the cancer in both the goodwife’s breasts, long before it could grow dangerous and spread throughout her body. The twins had nothing but a bunch of scrapes and scabs, but Alvin healed the skin without leaving any scars. It seemed to him the least he could do.

  It was only another couple of blocks till they came to Alvin’s real destination. The roads all came together in a circle going around a steep cone of earth rising up like an arrow.

  “What is that?” asked Marty Laws.

  “It’s a Red mound,” said Measure. “Seen them all across Hio and Wobbish.”

  Alvin walked across the road, jumped the low fence, and started to climb the mound. The others joined him. It was steeper than any Red mound any of them had seen, yet it wasn’t hard to climb.

  “Have you been here before?” asked John Binder, when they were gathered on the top.

  “Not with my body,” said Alvin. “But I saw it from Eight-Face Mound. In fact, you can’t help but see it, since it’s visible from there no matter which face you climb and no matter which way you face.”

  “Sounds impossible,” said Marty Laws.

  “Sounds miraculous,” said Measure.

  “It’s just the way of the Reds with the land,” said Alvin. “Not that this was built by any of the Reds that live around here now. This is near four thousand years old, older than Eight-Face Mound, though not by much. The Reds who built it didn’t speak any language that’s being spoken now. From this mound, these people ruled an empire that went all the way to the mountains and across the Mizzippy to the mountains on the other side.”

  “How do you know all this?” asked Marty Laws.

  “I saw it all, years ago, from Eight-Face Mound,” said Alvin. “This was all built before Rome started up their empire. Before Alexander conquered half the world.”