Orson Card - Heartfire

"I give you my word not to flee," said Alvin. "How would I get away from so many men even if I had a mind to? Running would do me no good."

"Then why did your companions flee?" demanded Purity.

Alvin looked at the men with consternation. "I got no one with me, I hope you can all see that."

Purity grew angry. "You had them, four of them, three men and a half-Black boy who you saved from slavery by changing his nature, and another one a French painter who's a papist pretending to be mute, and a riverman who tried to kill you and you used your powers to take a tattooed hex right off his skin, and the last was an English barrister."

"Excuse me, miss, but don't that sound more like a dream than an actual group of folks what might be traveling together? How often do you see barristers from England with country boys like me?"

"You killed a man with your knack! Don't deny it!" cried Purity, furious, near tears at his obvious lies.

Alvin looked stricken. "Is it murder I'm charged with now?" He looked at the men again, showing fear now. "Who am I supposed to have killed? I hope I'll have a fair trial, and you have some witnesses if I'm to stand for murder."

"No one's been murdered here," said Peaseman. "Miss Purity, I'll thank you to keep silent now and let the law take this man."

"But he's lying, can't you see?" she said.

"The court can decide the truth."

"What about the plow? The Black boy told how this man made a golden plow that he carries with him always, but doesn't show to anyone, because it's alive and his very companions saw it move of itself. If that's not proof of Satanic power, what is?"

Peaseman sighed. "Sir, do you have a plow like the one she describes?"

"You can search my sack," Alvin answered. "In fact, I'd take it kindly if someone would carry it along, as it has my hammer and tongs, which is to say it holds my livelihood as a journeyman smith. It's yonder on the far side of the fallen maple."

One of the men went and hefted the bag.

"Open it!" cried Purity. "That's the one the plow was in."

"Ain't no plow in that sack, gold or iron or bronze or tin," said Alvin.

"He's right," said the man with the sack. "Just hammer and tongs. And a loaf of dry bread."

"Takes an hour of soaking before it can be et," said Alvin. "Sometimes I think my tongs might soften up faster than that old hardtack."

The men laughed a little.

"And so the devil deceives you bit by bit," said Purity.

"Let's have no more of that talk," said Peaseman. "We know you accuse him, so there's no need to belabor it. There's no plow in his sack and if he walks along peaceful, there's no need to tie him."

"And thus he leadeth them carefully down to hell," said Purity.

Peaseman showed wrath for the first time, walking boldly to her and looking down at her from his looming height. "I say enough talk from you, miss, while we lead the prisoner back to Cambridge. Not one of us likes to hear you saying we are deceived by Satan."

Purity wanted to open her mouth and berate all the men for letting this slick-talking "country bumpkin" win them over despite her having named him for a servant of hell. But she finally realized that she could not possibly persuade them, for Alvin would simply continue to act innocent and calm, making her look crazier and crazier the angrier she got.

"I'll stay and search for the plow," she said.

"No, miss, I'd be glad if you'd come along with us now," said Peaseman.

"Someone needs to look for it," she said. "His confederates are no doubt skulking nearby, waiting to retrieve it."

"All the more reason that I won't let you stay behind alone," said Peaseman. "Come along now, miss. I speak by the authority of the village now, and not just by courteous request."

This had an ominous ring to it. "Are you arresting me?" she asked, incredulous.

Peaseman rolled his eyes. "Miss, all I'm doing is asking you to let me do my work in the manner the law says I should. By law and common sense I can't leave you here exposed to danger, and with a prisoner who can't be tied I need to keep these men with me." Peaseman looked to two of his men. "Give the young lady your arms, gentlemen."

With exaggerated courtesy, two of the men held their arms to her. Purity realized that she had little choice now. "I'll walk of myself, please, and I'll hold my tongue."

Peaseman shook his head. "That was what I asked many minutes and several long speeches ago. Now I ask you to take their arms and argue no further, or the next step will not be so liberal."

She hooked her hands through the crooks of their elbows and miserably walked along in silence, while Alvin talked cheerily about the weather, walking freely ahead of her on the path. The men laughed several times at his wit and his stories, and with every step she tasted the bitterness of gall. Am I the only one who knows the devil wears a friendly face? Am I the only one who sees through this witch?

"What is it that you think you're looking for?" asked Honor‚. They had spent the heat of the day on the docks and were dripping with sweat. It was getting on toward evening without a sign of relief from the heat.

"Souls," said Calvin. "In particular, the theft of souls."

They stood in the scant shade of a stack of empty crates, watching as a newly arrived ship was moored to the dock. Honor‚ sounded testy. "If the transaction I saw on the docks has something to do with missing heartfires-- which are not souls as the priests describe them-- then it was not theft at all. The dolls were freely given."

"Sometimes theft doesn't look like theft. What if they think they're lending them, but they can't get them back? What about that?"

"And what if you are getting us in the path of something dangerous? Did you think of that?"

Calvin grinned. "We can't get hurt."

"That statement is so obviously false that it is not worth answering," said Honor‚.

"I don't think you understand what I can do," said Calvin.

A gangplank was run up from the dock to a gap in the ship's gunwale.

"These are a filthy-looking crew, don't you think? Portuguese, perhaps?"

"If I decide you and I aren't going to get hurt, we won't," said Calvin.

"Oh, so you can read minds like your sister-in-law?"

"Don't have to read minds when you can melt the knife right out of a man's hand."

"But Monsieur le Genius, not all knives are seen in advance."

"I see 'em."

"Nothing ever surprises you?"

Before Calvin could get farther than the first sound of the word nothing, Honor‚ slapped him on the back of the head. Calvin staggered forward and whirled around, holding his neck. "What the hell do you think that proved!"

"It proved that you can be harmed."

"No, it proved you can't be trusted."

"You see my point?" said Honor‚. "It is when you feel safe that you are most vulnerable. And since you are stupid enough to feel safe all the time, then you are vulnerable all the time."

Calvin's eyes became narrow slits. "I didn't feel safe all the time. I felt safe with you."

"But lately we have been together all the time." Honor‚ grinned again. "You are safe from me. I am not the proud owner of any useful knack and I carry no weapon and I am too busy studying humanity to bother harming any individual human. But being safe from me does not mean you are safe with me."

"Don't lecture me, you French fart."

"You praise me too much. Garlic, wine, onion soup, rich cheese, these combine to make the fart fran‡aise the best of all possible farts. Voltaire said so."

Calvin didn't laugh. "Look," he said. "Look at that slave. Got nothing to do."

"You have a sharp eye. He is waiting."

"Is he your man?"

"I observe what men do. I do not pretend to be able to tell whether two Black men, one seen from behind, the other from the face, both from a distance, and their clothes identical to the costume of half the slaves in Camelot, are in fact the same man."