The Crystal City: The Tales of Alvin Maker, Volume VI

by Orson Scott Card

  “I reckon so,” said Arthur Stuart proudly.

  “There’s war fever, and those as want to prevent the war, they might decide to sacrifice this town.”

  “As if they could,” said Arthur Stuart. “With Alvin watching out for us!”

  Taleswapper only shook his head.

  They found Alvin down by the river, up to his knees in mud, helping with the sinking of posts to support a riverboat dock. “Howdy, Taleswapper!” cried Alvin. “About time you got here! You’ve missed all the best stories already, poor fellow. Too old to keep up with us boys, I reckon!”

  “Reckon so,” said Taleswapper. “But I got sense enough not to stand up to my neck in mud.”

  “This ain’t just ordinary mud,” said Alvin. “This is Mizzippy clay. It gets ahold of you and steals the boots right off your feet.”

  “Well, that’s a recommendation for it. Make a cup out of such clay and it’ll suck the tea right out of your mouth, is that the way of it?”

  Alvin and all the men laughed. “Make a jar from it and it’ll collect water from dry air.”

  “So you carry a bit of the Mizzippy with you even into dry land,” said Taleswapper. “Why, with advertising like that, I reckon you could sell such jars for a dollar each and make fifty bucks in every town, as long as you hightailed it out before they found out the jars don’t work.”

  “They’d work if Alvin made ’em!” shouted a man. That was enough to rouse a bit of a cheer for Alvin Maker, much to his embarrassment.

  “Well, if you’re gonna waste time cheering a man covered in mud, I reckon I’ll leave you to your own work and go show my good friend just what a perfect baby looks like.”

  “Show him your son, too, while you’re at it!” shouted one of the workers, which was good for another laugh and another cheer for Alvin.

  Alvin clambered out of the water and up the bank, and Arthur took due note that the mud just slid off his clothes and the water dried while he was watching and thirty steps from the river you’d never guess what Alvin had been working on not two minutes before. He won’t use his knack to spare these men a moment’s work, but he’ll use it to spare himself a bath! Or at least to spare Peggy the task of cleaning up after a muddy husband…so that was all right.

  They passed Measure, who was leading a team of men and horses doing stump removal. Arthur Stuart knew perfectly well that Measure was using as much makery as he had mastered to help free up the roots from the deep soil. But since there was still plenty of hard work for the men and teams to do, Alvin didn’t say anything about it to him, and Arthur Stuart figured that as long as Measure kept his makery secret, nobody would give him the credit for how fast the clearing of the land was going.

  But Measure left the work and came along. And when they got to Alvin’s cabin, there inside it were a gaggle of women. La Tia seemed like the president of the women of Furrowspring County, and what had gathered here might have been the great council: the leading women of the exodus, including Marie d’Espoir, Rien, and Mama Squirrel, and some of the women who had known Alvin and Peggy in years past, come to be part of the long-awaited city. Purity, a young preacher against Puritanism from New England, who still seemed to be in love with Verily Cooper—who hardly noticed she was there—and Fishy, a former slave from Camelot who had become something of a great woman among the abolitionists of the north in the years since her escape. And, of course, Peggy.

  “I can’t stay in this room,” said Taleswapper. “So many glorious women, I have no choice but to be in love with all of you at once. It’ll tear me apart.”

  “Live with it,” said Peggy dryly. “I think you know them all.”

  “Them as I don’t know, I hope I soon will,” said Taleswapper. “If I don’t die in the next few minutes from pure happiness.”

  “That man talk some,” said La Tia appreciatively.

  “I didn’t know there was a meeting,” said Alvin.

  “You wasn’t invite,” said La Tia. “My meeting. But you welcome a stay.”

  “What’s the topic?” asked Alvin.

  “The name of that thing what you build,” said La Tia. “I don’t like what Verily call it, me.”

  Peggy laughed. “Nobody likes what anybody calls it,” she said. “But La Tia was reading in the Bible and she has a name.”

  “You lead us out like Moses,” said La Tia. “And Arthur Stuart, he lead us like Joshua when you gone. Not like Aaron, no! We got no golden calf! But we the book of Exodus, us. So this thing you build, I find out in the Bible, she a tabernacle.”

  Alvin frowned. “Makes it sound like a church meeting place.”

  “Oui!” cried Rien. “Only instead of you go and a priest pretend to be God, we go inside and find out where he live in our heart!”

  “For a building that don’t exist yet, everybody’s got a good idea of how it’s gonna work,” said Alvin.

  But of course they did. Alvin had already made thirty-two of the crystal blocks—big ones, heavy, hard to haul. They were stacked up waiting to be laid down as foundation stones, but there was hardly a soul in Furrowspring County what hadn’t walked the corridor between those blocks and looked into their infinite depth. You walk among them and it feels like you’re in a place larger than the whole world, with all of what was and is and is yet to come beside you on either hand, and the ordinary world looks so small and narrow, when you see it at the end of that glistening corridor. But then you walk away from the stacked up blocks and they get to looking small, and quite plain. Shimmery, yes, reflecting the trees and the sky, the clouds and the river, if you’re standing where the reflection of the Mizzippy could be seen. Small on the outside, huge on the inside—oh, they all knew what this building was going to be like, when it was done.

  “In the Bible,” said Marie d’Espoir, “the tabernacle was a place where only the priest could go. He’d come out and tell everyone what he saw. But our tabernacle, everybody’s the priest, everybody can go inside, man and woman, to see what they see and hear what they hear.”

  “It suits me fine,” said Alvin. “I know I don’t want it to be a church or school or such. Tabernacle’s as fitting a name as any, and better than most. Though I know Verily’s gonna be disappointed to find out you didn’t like ‘observatory.’”

  “I like it,” said La Tia. “But I don’t can say it, me.”

  That issue decided, the women went on talking about which families didn’t have clothes enough for their children, and which houses weren’t big enough or warm enough, and who was sick and needed help. It was a good work they were doing, but the men weren’t needed in the discussion and soon Arthur Stuart found himself outside. But not with Alvin and Taleswapper—they were off looking at the big house where Papa Moose’s and Mama Squirrel’s family were living even as the house was still being built. “Fifty-seven children,” said Taleswapper. “And all of them born to this Mama Squirrel herself.”

  “We have the legal documentation,” said Alvin. “Not only that, but we know of another half dozen on the way.”

  “A remarkable pregnancy,” said Taleswapper. “And such a small woman, she seemed, from what I saw of her.”

  Arthur Stuart stood outside the house and looked up at the bluff. The house was well placed. At the back door, you could look out onto the river and see any boat that might tie up at the new dock. And out the front door, you could see where the…tabernacle would stand, and even now you could see the two rows of stacked up crystal blocks waiting to be laid in place.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder.

  He jumped. “Marie,” he said. “You startled me.”

  “I meant to,” she said. “All your makery, but you still don’t notice a woman at all.”

  “Oh, I notice you,” said Arthur Stuart.

  “I know,” said Marie. “You notice me all the time. You make sure you know exactly where I am, so you can always be somewhere else.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s what I’m…”

  But it was what he
was doing. He just hadn’t realized it.

  “You afraid I kiss you again?” asked Marie.

  “I didn’t mind it, you know,” he said.

  “Or you afraid I won’t?”

  “I can live without it, if that’s how you want it.”

  “Ignorant boy,” she said. “You are supposed to say, I can’t live without your kisses.”

  “But I can,” said Arthur Stuart.

  “All right,” said Marie. She playfully slapped his shoulder as if brushing dust from it. Then she started to walk back to the house.

  “But I don’t want to,” said Arthur Stuart.

  He wasn’t quite sure where he had found the courage to say it. Except maybe the fact that it was true, that he hardly went an hour without thinking about her and wondering whether she had kissed him to tease him or whether it meant something and how would he go about finding out. And so the words just spilled out of him.

  She turned around and came back to him. “How much do you not want to live without my kisses?”

  He gathered her into his arms and kissed her, with perhaps more fervor than skill, but she didn’t seem disposed to criticize. “Enough to do that in front of God and everybody,” he said.

  “Ah, look what you’ve done now,” said Marie.

  “What?”

  “You kiss me so hard, now I’m going to have a baby.”

  It took him a moment to realize that she was joking, but in the meantime he’d been standing there with such a stupid look on his face that no wonder she laughed at him. “Why are you always so serious?” she said.

  “Because when I kiss you,” he said, “it’s not a game to me.”

  “Life is a game,” she said. “But you and me, I think we can win it together.”

  “You proposing something?” asked Arthur Stuart.

  “Maybe,” she said.

  “Like marriage?” asked Arthur Stuart.

  “Maybe a man should propose such a thing.”

  “And if I did, would you say yes?”

  “I will say yes,” said Marie, “as soon as Purity says yes to Verily Cooper.”

  “But he ain’t asked her,” said Arthur Stuart.

  Marie laughed gaily and darted back into the cabin.

  Leaving Arthur Stuart convinced that something really deep was going on between him and Marie d’Espoir, and he didn’t have the least idea what it was.

  He turned around and looked back at the rows of crystal blocks up on the bluff, and saw two men standing between them, looking into the walls. He knew them at once, without even sending his doodlebug out to confirm their identity. Jim Bowie and Calvin Miller.

  “Alvin,” he murmured softly, then jogged around the cabin to where he could see the new house of Moose and Squirrel. Alvin and Taleswapper were out front, with Papa Moose talking all about this and that—he had so many plans for the house that now and then people had to remind him it was just a building—but Arthur Stuart could see that Alvin was looking up at the blocks and seeing just what Arthur Stuart had seen.

  Alvin started moving away from the others and jogging toward the bluff. Taleswapper and Papa Moose followed behind, more slowly.

  Arthur Stuart ducked inside the cabin again. “Peggy,” he said, and beckoned.

  “No, don’t do that way,” said La Tia. “You take her, all we talk about is why she go. Take us all!”

  “Calvin’s back,” said Arthur Stuart. “And the man that’s with him, he’s a killer. I knew him on the river and in Mexico. “I should’ve known when I left him in True Cross that he’d join up with Calvin again.”

  The women started out of the house behind him, but Arthur Stuart didn’t wait for them. He ran up the bluff and arrived just as Alvin did. They stood at the end of the corridor between the blocks.

  “Calvin,” said Alvin softly. “Glad to see you here.”

  “Could you lend a hand here?” said Calvin. “Seems old Jim Bowie here just can’t tear himself away from whatever he’s seeing in these mirrors of yours.”

  “He’s seeing himself,” said Alvin. “Like you did.”

  “I think he’s seeing more than that,” said Calvin. “Though I can’t think what.”

  Was it possible that Calvin saw nothing but his own reflection, as simple as a mirror, when he looked into these walls? Arthur Stuart thought it might just be possible—Calvin wasn’t known for being a deep thinker, and maybe the walls had no more depth than the person looking into them. But it was more likely that Calvin saw the same kinds of visions as everyone else, but just couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth about it, any more than he could tell the truth about much of anything else.

  Alvin walked between the blocks, and when he reached Jim Bowie, put a hand on his shoulder. Immediately Bowie looked at him, grinned. “Why, I was seeing you in there, and seeing you out here, it’s like the same vision. With just one tiny difference.”

  “I don’t want to hear about it,” said Alvin. “Come on out of here, both of you.” He began to lead them along.

  “The difference was, in the wall there I saw you full of bulletholes,” said Jim Bowie. “But how could a thing like that happen? Imagine the bullet that could hit you!”

  “Just wishful thinking on your part,” said Alvin.

  “Bulletholes!” said Calvin. “What a cheerful mural to put on public display, Alvin.”

  They reached the end of the corridor where Arthur Stuart was waiting.

  “Howdy, Calvin,” said Arthur. “I see you made it out of Mexico City after all.”

  “No thanks to you,” said Calvin. “Leaving me there to die like the others.”

  Arthur didn’t bother to argue. He knew Alvin already knew the truth, and would not be inclined to believe Calvin’s version, which was naturally designed to pick a fight between Alvin and Arthur Stuart.

  “I know Alvin’s glad you lived,” said Arthur Stuart. No need to say that Alvin was about the only one, apart from their mother and father.

  “And I’ve forgiven Jim here for leaving me to have my heart ripped out.”

  Jim Bowie didn’t rise to the bait, either. His attention was directed entirely toward Alvin. “Calvin told me what you’re building here,” said Bowie. “I want to be part of it.”

  “Yes,” said Calvin. “If it’s a city of makers, how could you think to do it without the only other living maker.” He grinned at Arthur.

  “We’re all makers here,” said Alvin, ignoring the fact that Calvin already knew how offensive his words were. “Come on along, my house is just down here.”

  They met the women on the way, and Alvin introduced everybody to everybody. Jim Bowie was, to Arthur’s surprise, quite a charmer, able to put on elegant Camelot manners when there was someone to impress. Calvin was his normal saucy self—but Rien seemed to enjoy his banter, much to Arthur’s disgust, and when Calvin showered flattery on Marie d’Espoir, Arthur Stuart thought about causing him a subtle but permanent internal injury—but of course did nothing at all. You don’t start a duel with a maker who has more power and fewer scruples than you.

  They got to the house and Alvin invited them inside to sit down. The furniture, except for Peggy’s rocking chair, was all rough-hewn benches and stools, but they were good enough to sit on—and Arthur had heard Peggy say that she didn’t wish for more comfortable furniture, because if the chairs were softer, company would be inclined to stay longer.

  Calvin seemed to want to talk about his narrow escape from Mexico City, but since Tenskwa-Tawa had already told Alvin and Arthur Stuart all about it as soon as Arthur got back from his mission there, they were not inclined to hear a version of the story that made Calvin out to be something of a hero. “I’m glad you got out all right,” said Alvin—and meant it, which was more than Arthur Stuart could say for himself. “And Jim, I think you know that your going along with Arthur Stuart here probably saved the lives of all the other men who went with you, since they might not have gone if you had refused.”

  “I don’t
plan to die for any cause,” said Jim Bowie. “Nor any man, excepting only myself. I know that ain’t noble, but it prolongs my days, which is philosophy enough for me.”

  He expected, Arthur thought, a bit more amusement or admiration for his attitude—but this wasn’t a saloon, and nobody here was drunk, and so it rang a little hollow. There were people here who would die for a cause, or for someone else’s sake.

  It was Peggy, bless her heart, who came right to the point. “So where will you go now, Calvin?”

  “Go?” said Calvin. “Why, this is the city of makers, and here I am. I had some experiences—I was just about to get to them, but I know when it’s not time for a tale—I had some experiences that made me realize how much I wished I’d paid more attention to Alvin back when he was trying to teach me stuff. I’m an impatient pupil, I reckon, so no wonder he kicked me out of school!”

  Even this was a lie, and everyone there knew it, and it occurred to Arthur Stuart once again that Calvin seemed to lie just because he liked the sound of it, and not to be believed.

  “I’m glad to have you,” said Alvin. “Whatever you’re willing to learn, I’ll be happy to teach, if I know it, or someone else will, if it’s something they know better than me.”

  “That’s a short list,” said Calvin, chuckling. It should have been a compliment to the breadth of Alvin’s knack—but it came out sounding as if it were an accusation of vanity.

  Arthur didn’t have to be told that his sister was furious that Calvin was staying and Alvin was welcoming him. He knew Peggy thought that Calvin would one day cause his brother’s death. But she said nothing about that, and instead turned to Jim Bowie. “And you, sir? Whither now?”

  “I reckon I’ll stay, too,” said Bowie. “I liked what I saw up there. Well, no, not what I saw in the glass—don’t misunderstand me, Alvin—but the manner of seeing. What an achievement! There’s kings and queens would give up their kingdoms for an hour in that place.”

  “I’m afraid,” said Alvin, “that you won’t be welcome inside when the tabernacle is built.”