The Crystal City Part 34

"How you gonna do that?"

"By watching where that boy goes. Do you think Bowie's going to let him lead them out of the valley without taking him first to his lucky knife?"

Several of the men laughed.

And sure enough, as Calvin kept track of Bowie's heartfire, he saw when they got to a nearby building and Arthur Stuart opened the door and Bowie picked up his knife and the other men armed themselves.

"It's only one street over, just outside the walls of this church," said Calvin.

"Then let's go," said Steve Austin. "But let's get organized first."

"Let's get armed first," said Calvin.

"Doesn't do any good to have guns if we don't have a plan!" said Austin.

Ten minutes later they were still talking when the Mexica soldiers poured in through the open door.

"Fools!" shouted Calvin. "I told you to go!"

Two of the Mexica aimed their muskets at Calvin and fired.

Their guns blew up in their faces.

But the others were bringing their weapons to bear too fast for Calvin to plug them all.

So he did the only sensible thing. He stepped backward through the wall.

He'd done it before, back when Napoleon had him imprisoned in Paris. Softening the stone enough to slide through it, like pushing his hand through clay, and then letting it harden again behind him. He heard the bullets. .h.i.t the wall just as it was hardening, so they sank into the stone with a soft thunk and the wall hardened behind the bullets without so much as a dent.

And there stood Calvin on the outside of the church.

Where was Arthur Stuart? Calvin found the boy's heartfire, though it took some hard searching, and he was at the limit of Calvin's range. Well, the boy said he knew how to get out of the city, and that's what Calvin needed, now that these fools had wasted the opportunity Calvin gave them. They didn't deserve deserve to live. to live.

He took off at a run. He had to pa.s.s near where the Mexica were dragging the white men out of the front of the church, but he didn't even have to make up some kind of fog-n.o.body saw him.

And why should they even be looking? With him gone, there was nothing these unarmed men could do. And waiting for them there in the plaza in front of the church was that same high priest who had met them on the causeway. One by one the men were dragged to him and thrown onto a wooden altar that had been placed in the square. Two priests cut their clothing open and laid bare their chests, and Calvin could hear the screaming as one by one they had their hearts torn from them and held up as an offering to whatever G.o.d the Mexica thought might prevent the eruption of Popocatepetl.

What a stupid end to Steve Austin's dream. But that's all the man was, a dreamer, a planner. Even now, when he could have turned this all to victory, he chose planning instead of action and now he'll die for it and ain't that just too bad.

Calvin turned his attention to the streets of the city. There were people running every which way, and with Arthur Stuart so far away, it was all Calvin could do to keep track of where he was. Nor did he know which of these labyrinthine streets would take him there, so there was always the danger that Calvin would guess wrong and make a turn that took him out of range.

Instead, though, he was lucky and chose right every time, or at least right enough, and instead of getting weaker, his vision of Arthur Stuart's heartfire got stronger. He was gaining on them.

When they reached the wall of the city, they stopped, and Calvin's running was now pure gain. Arthur Stuart was opening a gap in the wall, and in his clumsy way he was making it take ten times longer than it needed to. Well, good for me, thought Calvin. And he got there just as the last of them was pa.s.sing through an opening in the wall. Calvin ran straight up to it and plunged through.

Outside the wall at this spot was an orchard, and Arthur Stuart and Bowie and the others were running through it. But running oddly-they were all holding hands, for heaven's sake, which was about as stupid a thing as Calvin could imagine. n.o.body made his best speed holding hands.

Only they were running awfully fast. No one tripped. No one stumbled. And they gained speed and kept speeding up and no matter how hard Calvin ran, he couldn't catch up. Nor did the ground prove as smooth for him as it had for them. Branches whipped his face and he stumbled over a root and fell and by the time he got up, they were out of sight. And when he looked for Arthur Stuart's heartfire, he couldn't find it. Couldn't find any of them. It was like they had ceased to exist. There was only the trees and the birds and the insects, and the distant sound of shouting from the city and the roads.

Calvin stopped and looked back. The ground outside the city had sloped up enough, and he had run far enough, that he could see over the walls, though not down into the streets. Somewhere back there most of the men he had journeyed with were having their hearts ripped out, while in the other direction Arthur Stuart had run off with the ten best of them-the ones who were smart enough to act instead of plan. Why do I always get stuck with the fools on my side? thought Calvin.

Beyond the city, Popocatepetl spewed thick plumes of white ash into the air. And now it was beginning to fall onto the city like hot grey snow. It got into his lungs almost at once, and it felt like it was burning him. So Calvin turned his attention to keeping the air in front of his face clear of ash, as he began to jog on in the direction that he had last seen Arthur Stuart's group going.

He ran and jogged and, when he was too tired to do more, he walked and staggered and never once caught a glimpse of Arthur Stuart's group or saw any sign of what path they took. But he climbed ever higher up the slopes of the valley into the hills, and when darkness came he found an adobe house with n.o.body home. He sealed it to keep ash from seeping in, except for a few airholes through the thick walls. Then he fell onto cornstalk mat on the floor and slept.

When he woke it was still night. Except it wasn't. The sun was was up-but it was only a dim red disk in the ashes that filled the air. Morning. How long till the eruption? What time of day had it been when the smoke first started? up-but it was only a dim red disk in the ashes that filled the air. Morning. How long till the eruption? What time of day had it been when the smoke first started?

Doesn't matter. Can't control that. Keep walking. There was no running in him today, especially since his path led inexorably uphill, and the ground kept shaking so much that if he'd been running he would have fallen down.

He was still far from the crest when the volcano blew up. He only had time enough to burrow his way into an outcropping of rock, which took the brunt of the shockwave. It struck with such force that the rock he was hiding in would have given way and crumbled and collapsed into the valley, but Calvin held it firm, kept all but a few shards and slivers of rock in place. And when the hot fiery air blew past, incinerating all life in its path, Calvin kept a bubble of air around him cool enough to bear, and so he did not die.

And when the shock wave pa.s.sed, he stepped out into the burning world, keeping that cool bubble around him, and turned back to see lava pouring down the slopes of the mountain like a flood from a burst dam. Only it wasn't heading toward the city, because there was no city. Every building had been blown flat by the blast. Only a few stone structures stood, and then only in ruins, most of the walls having been broken down. There was not a sign of life. And the lake was boiling.

Calvin wondered, for a moment, whether any of the men of Austin's expedition had lived long enough to be killed by the eruption. Probably not. Who was to say which was the better way to die? There was no good way to die. And Calvin had come this close. this close.

But close to death was still not death.

Cooling the ground under his feet so his shoes didn't burn, he slowly made his way up the slope until, before nightfall, he reached the crest and started down the unburnt side. Ash had fallen here, too, but this land had been sheltered from the blast, and he could eat the fruit from the trees, as long as he got the ash off it first. The fruit was partly cooked-the ash had been that warm when it fell-but to Calvin it tasted like the nectar of the G.o.ds.

I have been spared alive yet again. My work is not yet done in the world.

Might as well head north and see what Alvin's doing. Maybe it's time I started learning some of the stuff he taught to Arthur Stuart. Anything that half-black boy can learn, I can learn, and ten times better.

16

Labor

TENSKWA-TAWA WATCHED from the trees as Dead Mary, Rien, and La Tia uncovered the crystal ball.

"We got to do something good for Alvin, all he do for us," said La Tia.

"Maybe we should ask him what he wants," said Dead Mary.

"He not here," said La Tia.

"Men never know what they want," said Rien. "They think they want one thing, then they get it, then they don't want it."

"Your life story, Mother?" asked Dead Mary.

"I name her Marie d'Espoir," said Rien to La Tia. "Marie of hope. But maybe Marie de la Morte is the right name. She the death of me, La Tia."

"I don't think so," said La Tia. "I think men be the death of you, and that don't come from the crystal ball, no."

"I'm too old for men," said Rien.

"But they never too old for you, Caterina," said La Tia. "Now we look to see what Alvin want the most in his heart."

"Can you command it to show what you want?" asked Dead Mary.

"It always show me the right thing," said La Tia.

"But I would still find a way to do do the wrong thing," said Dead Mary. the wrong thing," said Dead Mary.

"You see?" said Rien. "My fille n'a pas d'espoir."

"I have hope, Mother," said Dead Mary. "But I have experience too."

"Look," said La Tia. "Do you see what I see?"

"We never do," said Dead Mary.

"I see Alvin with a son. That what he want most."

"I see him with a woman," said Rien. "That is what he miss the most."

"I see him kneeling by a child's grave," said Dead Mary. "That is what he fears the most."

"I can make a charm for this," said La Tia.

Tenskwa-Tawa stepped out from the tree. "Don't make a charm for him, La Tia."

"I knew you was there, Red Prophet."

"I knew you knew," said Tenskwa-Tawa. "That crystal shows you want you you want to see, not always the truth." want to see, not always the truth."

"But the truth what I want to see," said La Tia.

"Everybody thinks they want to see the truth," said Tenskwa-Tawa. "That's one of the lies we tell ourselves."

"Him heart more dark than Dead Mary, him."

"Alvin knelt by the grave of his firstborn," said Tenskwa-Tawa. "The child came too early to live. Don't meddle this time."

"Give him the woman he love," said Rien. "I know you have the charm for this."

"He has the woman he loves," said Tenskwa-Tawa. "She's carrying his child right now."

"Give him the power to keep the child from dying," said Dead Mary.

"He has the power," said Tenskwa-Tawa. "He figured out what the baby needed. He just couldn't do it fast enough. The baby suffocated before he could get its little lungs to breathe."

"Ah," said La Tia. "Time what he need. Time."

"You have a charm for this?" said Rien.

"I got to think," said La Tia.

"Leave him alone," said Tenskwa-Tawa. "Let his life be what it is. Let it be what he makes of it."

"Did he leave our lives as they were?" said Dead Mary. "Or did he heal my mother?"

"He heal me better than I was before," said Rien. "I had the Italian disease, long time, long before the yellow fever, but he fix that too."

"Did he leave black people in chains, him?" asked La Tia.

"But he he knew what he was doing," said Tenskwa-Tawa. knew what he was doing," said Tenskwa-Tawa.

La Tia reared back and roared with laughter. "Him! He don't know what he do! He do the best thing he think of, and when that go wrong he do the best thing he can think of then. then. Like all us, him!" Like all us, him!"

Tenskwa-Tawa shook his head. "Don't meddle with his baby or his wife," he said. "Don't do it."

"The Red Prophet command the Black Queen?" said La Tia.

"Lolla-Wossiky was a slave to hate, and blind with rage, and Alvin made me free, and Alvin let me see. I never set him him free. I never gave free. I never gave him him sight. He is in the world to bless sight. He is in the world to bless us, us, not the other way." not the other way."

"You do what you think with him," said La Tia. "I gonna bless him back, me."

Margaret spent all day preparing for her journey to Vigor Church. Not that she owned that much-packing was the least of it. But she had letters to write. People to summon from here and there. Those who should know that Alvin was going to build the City of Makers now. People who should come and take their place beside him, if they wanted, if they could get away.

And then there was the carriage to arrange. She had seen many paths in which the journey was too much for her, and caused the baby to come early. This baby must not come early again. Already it had lasted longer in the womb than their firstborn, but not long enough. If he was born on this journey the child would die.

So she hired the finest carriage in town, the one belonging to the young doctor. He tried to refuse, telling her that any carriage was out of the question in her condition. "Stay here and have this baby," he said. "To travel now would only endanger you and and the child. Do you think you're made of iron?" the child. Do you think you're made of iron?"

No, she had no such fancy. Nor did her torchsight show her everything clearly. The futures of this child were as foggy and confused, almost, as Alvin's futures. There were great gaps. So even though the child had nothing like Alvin's gifts, it was caught up in the same mystery, the same defiance of the laws of cause and effect. She did not know with any kind of certainty what would happen to the child if she stayed or went. But she knew that Alvin needed her in Noisy River, and on the far side of the fog, she saw a few paths that had her holding a baby in her arms, standing with Alvin on a bluff overlooking a fogbound river. Those were the only paths where she saw herself holding that baby. So she was going to Vigor Church, to Alvin's family, to invite them-and any others from the school of the makers-to come to Noisy River to help Alvin build the Crystal City. And with them traveling with her, she would go the rest of the way well accompanied.

Alvin's brother Measure was the one in the world most like him. Not in power-though Measure was a good student of makery, within his limits. He was like Alvin in goodness. Perhaps he was Alvin's better in compa.s.sion and patience. And far Alvin's better in judgment about other people's character. Let Measure stand beside Alvin, and Alvin would never lack for wisdom. Who could know better than I that foreknowledge is a poor chooser, for it gives too great a weight to fear. While a generous heart will make choices that, at the very worst, do not poison the heart of the chooser.

Perhaps that was why she was sure she had to go to Vigor Church and on to where Alvin was. Because fear told her to stay, but hope told her to go. Her hope of being a good wife to Alvin and a good mother to her baby. A good mother being, at the very least, one that gave birth to a living child. As a woman who had given birth to a child too soon born to live, surely she should be a one fit to make such judgment.

So she spent her day cushioning the carriage while workmen resprung it. Choosing a team of horses that would pull evenly and not run faster than she could bear. Packing her few things, writing her letters. Until at the end of the day she was ready to drop with exhaustion. Which was good, she would sleep without fretting, she would rise early and refreshed and set out to meet her husband and put a baby in his arms.

She was just undressing for bed when the first labor pain came.

"No," she cried softly. "Oh, please, G.o.d, no, not yet, not now." She laid her hands upon her own womb and saw that the baby was indeed coming. He faced in the right direction, all was well with him, but she saw no future for him. He was going to be born, like his brother, only to die.