“He might surprise you,” said John Binder.

  Margaret looked down at one of the coffins. John wondered if that was the box that held Alvin.

  “I don’t know which body is in which box. It doesn’t matter. They will lie side by side in this cellar, with paving stones laid over the whole floor, and crates and shelves of supplies and seeds and tools and stored food. No one would think there was even room enough under the floor to hold one coffin, still less two.”

  “When did you think of all this?”

  “When you arrived,” said Margaret. “When you carried Marty into the house. My mind was out with the bodies of my husband and his brother. I knew I had to find a way to bury something for all to see, and yet bury them somewhere safe. In this house, I can watch over them.”

  “Some would think you were inviting them to haunt you,” said John Binder, with a chuckle to show that he didn’t believe in haunting, though of course, like everyone else, he did.

  “I would love it if Alvin and Measure would both haunt me. I miss our conversations already.”

  John Binder nodded.

  “But there’ll be no haunting,” she said. “These are not restless souls. God will have lots of things for them to do. The afterlife, in my opinion, will be a busy life. This nonsense about playing lutes and singing praises all day long—how quickly do you think God would weary of such time-wasting nonsense. If heaven is joyful, it’ll be because there are things for us to do, jobs that must be done.”

  “Is this what Alvin believed?” asked John Binder.

  “Right now, Alvin is no longer living by faith. He knows whatever there is to be known, but he won’t tell me.”

  “So you’ll watch over his grave by living in the house that stands over it.”

  “I can’t think of a more convenient arrangement.”

  “When will the other men come to help me wrestle these boxes into the ground?”

  “Well, John, as Abraham said to Isaac on the mountain, ‘The Lord will provide.’”

  “You mean it’s just you and me.”

  “We’ll see if we can do it. Notice that both graves are dug with a slope at one end, so perhaps we can slide them down into position.”

  “Steep ramps.”

  “But not vertical. We’ll slide them and see.”

  “When?” asked John Binder.

  “I don’t see any other heartfires coming to join us. Everybody’s mind is on the exodus and driving wagons and leading children on that icy road.”

  “They’re all thinking about you and Alvin.”

  “And whenever they do, their emotions will overcome them and they’ll weep and stop worrying.”

  “I don’t think you have any idea how much people love you,” said John Binder.

  “How sweet of you to say that,” said Margaret, “but if there’s anyone on God’s green Earth who absolutely knows exactly how much the people of Crystal City love everybody they love, it’s me.”

  John chuckled. “I don’t know how you’ve borne the burden of such knowledge all your life.”

  “I haven’t borne it all my life. Only up to now. We’ll see about the rest of my life later.”

  * * *

  Because there was a good moon that night, the wagons began assembling near the river long before dawn. Everybody wanted to go into action. They couldn’t fight their enemies, they couldn’t avenge the Maker’s death, but they could do something, so they roused their children early and took their wagons and handcarts and formed up wherever Arthur Stuart told them to be. They were remarkably quiet, for such a large assemblage with so many animals and, above all, children.

  Calvin watched as Arthur quietly assigned every company its place, and then went about checking everything to be sure nobody had left a barrel of flour behind. I could help him with that, thought Calvin, but he stopped himself from offering. Arthur probably had the whole design already in his head, and the last thing he would need would be someone who kept thinking of ways to “improve” it.

  “Do you think the King will come all the way from Camelot to wish us well?” asked Eliza.

  Calvin smiled. “Wouldn’t that be lovely. Then he would think he was in charge of this whole rebellion against his own authority.”

  “The best conflicts are the ones that can be and are entirely settled, peacefully, indoors of one’s own house,” said Eliza.

  “How gnomic of you,” said Calvin. “But Alvin did a very bad job of settling the succession before he died.”

  “Everybody will do their part,” said Margaret.

  “There has to be one leader,” said John Binder. “I know there are several aspirants, but I always thought it would be you, Miz Larner.”

  “I’m worn out. I’ve lost heart. Quite literally.”

  John Binder smiled wanly. Yes, Alvin had been her heart, her life, her purpose, and he was gone.

  “Do you think everyone is here?” asked Calvin.

  “Have you counted the wagons and handcarts?” asked Margaret.

  “We have a decent count, but not a reliable one. For instance, what do we call the people from the showboat who want to come with us?” Calvin shook his head. “I welcome them—indeed, I hope they all come. But are they one company, or just one household? Do I make the boat’s captain the captain of their company on the road? They have lots of supplies, but they don’t have their own wagon, they’re sharing it out among whatever wagons still have any room left.”

  “Very resourceful of them,” said Margaret.

  “Why aren’t you coming?” asked Calvin. “John Binder, have you even asked her?”

  “I believe you know the answer,” said Margaret. “I’m not leaving my Alvin behind, to go gallivanting across the prairies and through the mountains.”

  “Calvin,” asked John Binder, “are you going to assemble the travelers into a meeting, so you can prove your leadership by telling them things they already know?”

  “Well,” said Calvin. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  “If it turns out to be a genuinely good idea, remember who suggested it,” said John.

  “Well, of course, I did,” said Calvin, grinning.

  “So it’s going to be like that,” said John Binder.

  “Quite the contrary. I only wish I were going with you. Once you’ve left me behind, you don’t have to mention my name again. Nobody but Eliza will miss me, or maybe not even her.”

  “I’ll miss you,” said Margaret.

  “In a pig’s eye,” said Calvin with calm amusement. “We’ll both be left behind here.”

  “But with the tower gone, and the people emigrated, there’s no reason for you to stay here with the empty city.”

  Calvin said nothing. Margaret looked into his heartfire and saw the futures he aspired to—being the bulwark of Margaret’s life, looking after her and the children. He thought he owed that to Alvin.

  “Do you know if Measure’s family is staying or going?” asked John Binder.

  “They have their own wagon. What they don’t have is anything but food and tools and seed to put in it. All donated. Did you know how very poor Measure and his family are?”

  “Children with such a father can never be poor,” said Calvin. “And a father and mother with such children are well provided for.”

  “A very noble observation,” said John Binder.

  “Arthur has assured me,” said Margaret, “that he will take special notice of Measure’s family.”

  Calvin muttered, “That should be my job.”

  “Yes,” said Margaret, “it should. But for some reason, the river doesn’t want to let you by.”

  This time, what Calvin muttered was unintelligible.

  Margaret could only shrug mildly. It had not been a matter of her choosing, whatever Calvin thought.

  “Isn’t it time to call the meeting to order?” asked John Binder.

  “Meeting?” said Calvin. “Everyone knows what to do.”

  “But everyone knows that it isn’t yet time to do it,” said John Binder. “Let’s offer some counsel, some wisdom, whatever we can dredge up from our wasted hearts.”

  “Don’t fall into the Mizzippy,” said Calvin. “Drinking it will make you sick.”

  “Oh, there’s nothing in it but a little dirt,” said Margaret.

  John Binder took up her challenge. “Let’s see. There’s also urine and feces from all the water creatures from the head of the river down to here. Plus whatever body parts and fragments have rotted and fallen away from the corpses of all the animals and humans in the river upstream.”

  “Well, if you’re going to let things like that bother you,” said Margaret.

  “Plenty of dead fish eyeballs, too,” said John.

  “And the eggs of mosquitos, midges, gnats, and flies,” added Margaret, joining the game.

  “It’s a crowded river,” said Calvin. “Let’s have this meeting.”

  The captain of the showboat used his penetrating voice to call them all to listen. Many of the people were expecting to hear the order to move forward. But Calvin stood beside the captain and held up a hand to stay those who were eager to get their equipage onto the ice.

  “Here’s where we stand,” said Calvin. “With Alvin gone, I’m the closest thing to a Maker that we have. I just came here from healing Marty Laws. I drew out from his body enough lead and brass to be the roof of a small shed. And his body is healed. He will be able to walk onto this ice like anyone else. I only wish Alvin had allowed me to come with him. Between us, maybe we could have stopped all the musket balls. And stopped up the muskets, too. But Alvin made up his own mind, and gave me no role to play. I don’t think he really believed that he could be killed. I think he saw salvation coming, but did not know from where.”

  Calvin went on, candidly discussing the difficulties of the road ahead. “From the start, we need to be sparing in our meals, so the food will last all the way to the valley. We need to go to sleep early, so that everyone has plenty of time to sleep. Sleep will be precious on this journey.”

  But after much good counsel, and a few witticisms that won him some laughter, it came down to this. “I believe that Tenskwa-Tawa doesn’t understand how tightly our city, our culture, is involved with the presence of a Maker among us. I believe that if several of our leaders go to him and ask him to let me go with you, he’ll relent. Eventually. And until he does, why not wait on the other side, near the shore, so that when I do cross over, there you are, ready for me to take, not Alvin’s place—no one can do that—but the place of an apprentice Maker who can still do useful things, like saving Marty Laws from his injuries, and helping McEddy and Grampus make a bridge of ice that would cross the river all the way. When you get to the valley, who will make crystal blocks to rebuild the tower, the Crystal City? Who among you has made such blocks of water?”

  And it was clear that he was making sense to many. When he finished, there was applause from many, shouts of acclamation from some.

  Then Arthur Stuart came forward to stand beside Calvin. “We’ve heard from the Maker’s brother, and I know he can do all the things he said he could do, and maybe more. But look yonder,” said Arthur. “The sun’s about to rise above the trees in the east. It’s time for us to make our way across the river.”

  When Arthur pointed to the sunrise, many turned to look. But when they turned back to him, they realized that Arthur was speaking in Alvin’s voice. And many would later say that Arthur Stuart wore Alvin’s face while he spoke to them, giving instructions on which companies should prepare to come forward, with McEddy and Grampus guiding them onto the ice, so they could widen the ice road if need be. It was Alvin’s voice, it was Alvin’s face, and in that moment, all who saw this knew that whatever Calvin was, he was not the one to lead them as Alvin would have.

  But Arthur Stuart, nobody cared now about his dark skin or his youth or the fact that he was not a Maker of any kind, or at least made no claim to be such. What they knew was that Arthur Stuart had been Alvin’s choice, and in this miraculous appearance of Alvin’s similitude and the sound of Alvin’s voice, they saw a sign that it was Arthur Stuart who was Alvin’s true successor, the natural leader of the Crystal City. It was Arthur Stuart whom they wanted to follow into the uttermost West.

  “All of you who won’t be moving onto the river until later today,” said Arthur Stuart, “if you want to, you can come to the city cemetery to see Alvin’s and Measure’s coffins lowered into the ground in the place they worked so hard to build.”

  It seemed as if they all intended to come to the burial.

  “Measure was not the Maker, but only the Maker’s brother. But such a brother! Who was more loyal to Alvin than Measure was? As Alvin’s older brother, he never resented his younger brother’s leadership. And at the time when Alvin sent me away and made me bring Mike Fink back with me, there was a long moment when I stood there, looking at the brothers. And I thought I could hear Measure saying—though he never spoke a word—some of the words that Ruth said to her mother-in-law, Naomi. ‘Entreat me not to leave thee, nor to depart from following after thee’—for I think that Measure feared that Alvin would send him away, too, as he was sending me. And in Measure’s heart, I still heard these words: ‘The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.’”

  There was some weeping, soft weeping, for no one wanted to miss any more of the words coming in the voice of Alvin, from the lips of Arthur Stuart.

  “But death did not part them, did it?” said Arthur Stuart. “First Measure, as the older brother, took the musket ball that killed him. He even said, ‘I am a dead man,’ because Alvin had to know that Measure had fulfilled the covenant between them. I don’t think Alvin ever decided to die, but John Binder and Marty Laws both attest that Alvin was trying as hard as he could to heal Measure’s wound before the life entirely left him. But as Measure himself had said, he was a dead man, and it was not in Alvin’s power to raise his brother from the dead, not while bullets still threatened to kill his other companions. Who knows what Alvin meant to accomplish when he rushed to the window and cried out, ‘O Lord my God,’ and a score of bullets took him there in the window, and dozens more after he was on the ground. Too many, too fast for Alvin to heal himself, and there on the ground outside Carthage Jail he died. The most powerful Maker in the world could not vanquish the Unmaker that last time.”

  Now the weeping was louder, so Arthur modulated his voice, using the technique that he had seen the showboat captain use to cast his voice directly to the ears of everyone present. They all heard Arthur Stuart say, in Alvin’s voice, “How many times the Unmaker tried to kill Alvin from childhood on up, how close he came, how many people he enlisted to try to kill Alvin Maker. And yet he failed—until that very moment outside Carthage Jail. Then the Unmaker celebrated his triumph. He had accomplished his mission! The Maker no longer stood against him, making a mockery of all the Unmaker’s brutal, destructive work.”

  The weeping was silent now. There were growls and grumbles as Arthur talked about the triumph of the Unmaker.

  “But the Unmaker’s triumph was misplaced. The Unmaker was wrong. Alvin was dead, but his work remained after him. Not the Crystal tower—what was that, but water and a few drops of Alvin’s blood? No, Alvin’s finest work was you. The people of Crystal City, who had worked together in loyalty and love to make a city of harmony and peace, where no one was poor or rich, but all were free to use their gifts, their knacks, and all their other works to sustain each other in harmony.” Arthur paused, his arms outstretched as if to embrace them all. Then he went on, his voice even clearer.

  “You have gathered here, ready to cross the uncrossable river, to venture into unknown lands, but with perfect confidence because you know these people who will travel with you, you know they have all been touched by the Maker’s hand and word and heart. You who have known him—generations of children will rise up and hear your stories and account you a most blessèd generation, because you knew him, you spoke to him, you heard him, you heeded him, and together you built a godly city, a city of vision and hope. When we cross the river, those who hated you and Alvin for your gifts, your powers, your knacks, will think, like the Unmaker, that they have triumphed. But they have lost, they have failed, they are defeated, because you are still alive in your thousands, and in a generation, your tens of thousands, to carry his work forward into the future. I am proud that I will be one of you. We will go to the place that Ta-Kumsaw and the Prophet have chosen for us, and we’ll make our winter quarters there, and then as spring begins, we will go on westward until we have crossed over the mountains and come down into the green and grassy valley that was shown to Alvin and the Prophet, as the place where we will continue to use and celebrate our knacks, to make the desert blossom as the rose, to bring water down from the canyons to water our fields and orchards. Is this not what Alvin wanted?”

  Arthur Stuart gestured toward Calvin. “I am glad that Alvin’s brother, who is also a seventh son of a seventh son, wants to support his work. I don’t know if Tenskwa-Tawa will grant our petition to let Calvin cross the river and join us. But if that be impossible, then can’t Calvin stay behind, to gather and guide others with knacks, who want to move to the free land of the Great Salt Lake Valley, where none shall come to hurt or make afraid. Calvin can guide them to the river, and help them cross. Because if the Prophet cannot make the river let Calvin pass over, perhaps he will allow the knackles who still live in hiding to gather up their courage and come to this shore and throw their lot in with the Maker’s people. With you. Will you welcome them?”

  The answer was a roar of acclamation.

  And in that moment, Calvin knew that he would never cross that river. He was not needed in that peaceful land; these were a people who could govern themselves. And in Arthur Stuart, they had a leader they could love and follow.