“I don't know,” said Measure. “I'm pretty cute.”
“You have my bags packed yet, Taleswapper?” asked Alvin.
“Ain't as if you need much luggage,” said Taleswapper. “You're going to be traveling small and fast. I reckon there's only one burden that will weigh you down much. A certain farm implement.”
“I couldn't leave it here?” asked Alvin.
“Not safe,” said Taleswapper. “Not safe for your family, to have the rumor get about that the Maker is gone but he left the golden plow behind.”
“Not safe for him to have the rumor say he took it with him,” said Mother.
“Nobody on this planet is safer than Alvin, if he wants to be,” said Measure.
“So I just pick up the plow, put it in a gunnysack, and head on out?” asked Alvin.
“That's about the best plan,” said Armor-of-God. “Though I bet your ma will insist on you taking some salt pork with you, and a change of clothes.”
“And me.”
They all turned to the source of the small piping voice.
“He's taking me with him,” said Arthur Stuart.
“You'd only slow him down, boy,” said Father. “You got a good heart, but short legs.”
“He ain't in no hurry,” said Arthur, “specially figuring as he don't know where he's going.”
“The point is you'd be in the way,” said Armor-of-God. “He'd always have to be thinking of you, trying to keep you out of harm's way. There's plenty of places in this land where a free half-Black boy is going to get folks' dander up, and that won't be much help to Alvin either.”
“You're talking like you think you got a choice,” said Arthur. “But if Alvin goes, I go, and that's it. You can lock me in a closet, but someday I'll get out and then I'll follow him and find him or die trying.”
They all looked at him in consternation. Arthur Stuart had been near silent since coming to Vigor after his adopted mother was murdered back in Hatrack River. Silent but hardworking, cooperative, obedient. This was a complete surprise, this attitude from him.
“And besides,” said Arthur Stuart, “while Alvin's busy looking after the whole world, I'll be there to look after him.”
“I think the boy should go,” said Measure. “The Unmaker plainly ain't done with Alvin yet. He needs somebody to watch his back. I think Arthur's got it in him.”
And that was pretty much it. Nobody could size up a fellow like Measure could.
Alvin walked to the hearth and pried up four stones. Nobody would have guessed that anything was hid under them, because until he raised the stones there wasn't so much as a crack in the mortar. He didn't dig in the earth under the stones; the plow was buried eight feet deep, and shoveling would have taken all day, not to mention the dismantling of the entire hearth. No, he just held out his hands and called to the plow, and willed the earth to float it up to him. A moment later, the plow bobbed to the surface of the soil like a cork on a still pond. Alvin could hear a couple of sharp breaths behind him– it still got to folks, even his own family, when he showed his knack so openly. Also, the gold had such a luster to it. As if, even in the pitch black of the darkest moonless stormy night, that plow would still be visible, the gold burning its way even through your closed eyelids to imprint its shining life straight onto your eyes, straight into your brain. The plow trembled under Alvin's hand.
“We got us a journey to take,” Alvin murmured to the warm gold. “And maybe along the way we'll figure out what I made you for.”
An hour later, Alvin stood at the back door of the house. Not that it took him an hour to pack– he'd spent most of the time down at the mill, fixing the pumps. Nor had he spent any of the time on farewells. They hadn't even sent word to any of the family that he was going, because word would get out and the last thing Alvin needed was for folks to be lying in wait for him when he headed into the forest. Mother and Father and Measure and Armor would have to carry his words of love and Godblessyou to his brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews.
Alvin hitched the bag with the plow and his change of clothes in it over his shoulder. Arthur Stuart took his other hand. Alvin scanned the hexes he'd laid in place around the house and made sure they were still perfect in their sixness, undisturbed by wind or meddling. All was in order. It was the only thing he could do for his family in his absence, was to keep wardings about to fend off danger.
“Don't you worry about Amy, either,” said Measure. “Soon as you're gone, she'll notice some other strapping boy and pretty soon the dreams and stories will be about him and folks'll realize that you never done nothing wrong.”
“Hope you're right,” said Alvin. “Because I don't intend to stay away for long.”
Those words hung in the silence for a moment, because they all knew it was quite possible that this time Alvin might be gone for good. Might never come home. It was a dangerous world, and the Unmaker had plainly gone to some trouble to get Alvin out of here and onto the road.
He kissed and hugged all around, taking care not to let the heavy plow smack into anybody. And then he was off for the woods behind the house, sauntering so as to give anyone watching him the impression that this was just a casual errand he was on, and not some life-changing escape. Arthur Stuart had ahold of his left hand again. And to Alvin's surprise, Taleswapper fell into step right beside him.
“You coming with me, then?” asked Alvin.
“Not far,” said Taleswapper. “Just to talk a minute.”
“Glad to have you,” said Alvin.
“I just wondered if you've given any thought to finding Peggy Larner,” said Taleswapper.
“Not even for a second,” said Alvin.
“What, are you mad at her? Hell, boy, if you'd just listened to her…”
“You think I don't know that? You think I haven't been thinking of that this whole time?”
“I'm just saying that you two was on the verge of marrying back there in Hatrack River, and you could do with a good wife, and she's the best you'll ever find.”
“Since when do you meddle?” asked Alvin. “I thought you just collected stories. I didn't think you made them happen.”
“I was afraid you'd be angry at her like this.”
“I'm not angry at her. I'm angry at myself.”
“Alvin, you think I don't know a lie when I hear it?”
“All right, I am angry. She knew, right? Well, why didn't she just tell me? Amy Sump is going to tell lies about you and force you to leave, so get out now before her childish imaginings ruin everything.”
“Because if she said that, you wouldn't have left, would you, Alvin? You would have stayed, figuring you could make everything work out fine with Amy. Why, you would have taken her aside and told her not to love you, right? And then when she started talking about you, there'd be witnesses who remembered how she stayed after class one day and was alone with you, and then you would be in trouble because even more people would believe her story and–”
“Taleswapper, I wish you sometime would learn the knack of shutting up!”
“Sorry,” said Taleswapper. “I just don't have any gift for that. I just blather on, annoying people. The fact is that Peggy told you as much as she could without making things worse.”
“That's right. In her judgment, she decided how much I was entitled to know, and that's all she told me. And then you have the gall to tell me I should go marry her?”
“I'm not following your logic here, Al,” said Taleswapper.
“What kind of marriage is it, when my wife knows everything but she never tells me enough to make up my own mind! Instead she always makes up my mind for me. Or tells me exactly what she needs to tell me in order to get me to do what she thinks I ought to do.”
“But you didn't do what she said you ought to do. You stuck around.”
“So that's the life you want for me? Either to obey my wife in everything, or wish I had!”