“It's easy to build a city when you arrange the rules so that bad men can get rich without getting caught,” said Verily. “You build such a place and greed will bring you your citizens, if you can stand to live with them.”

“It ought to be possible to do the same for decent folks,” said Alvin.

“It ought to be and is,” said Verily. “It's been done, and you can learn from the way they did it.”

“Who?” asked Mike Fink. “I never heard of such a town.”

“A hundred towns at least,” said Verily. “I'm speaking of New England, of course. Massachusetts most particularly. Founded by Puritans to be their Zion, a land of pure religion across the western ocean. All my life, growing up in England, I heard about how perfect New England was, how pure and godly, where there were neither rich nor poor, but all partakers of the heavenly gift, and where they were free of distraction from the world. They live in peace and equity, in the land most just of all that have ever existed on God's Earth.”

Alvin shook his head. “Verily, if Arthur can't go to Camelot, it's a sure bet you and I can't go to New England.”

“There's no slavery there,” said Verily.

“You know what I mean,” said Alvin. “They hang witches.”

“I'm no witch,” said Verily. “Nor are you.”

“By their lights we are.”

“Only if we do any hexery or use hidden powers,” said Verily. “Surely we can restrain ourselves long enough to learn how they created such a large country free of strife and oppression, and filled with the love of God.”

“Dangerous,” said Alvin.

“I agree,” said Mike. “We'd be insane to go there. Isn't that where that lawyer fellow Daniel Webster came from? He'll know about you, Alvin.”

“He's in Carthage City making money from corrupt men,” said Alvin.

“Last you heard of him, maybe,” said Mike. “But he can write letters. He can come home. Things can go wrong.”

Arthur Stuart looked up at Mike Fink. “Things can go wrong lying in your own bed on Sunday.”

Alvin at last opened his eyes. “I have to learn. Verily's right. It's not enough to learn Makering. I have to learn governing, too, and city building, and everything else. I have to learn everything about everything, and I'm just getting farther behind the longer I sit here.”

Arthur Stuart looked glum. “So I'm never going to meet the King.”

“Far as I'm concerned,” said Mike Fink, “you are the real Arthur Stuart, and you've got as much right as he has to be king in this land.”

“I want him to make me a knight.”

Alvin sighed. Mike rolled his eyes. Verily put a hand on Arthur's shoulder. “The day the King knights a half-Black boy…”

“Can't he knight the White half?” asked Arthur Stuart. “If I do something real brave? That's how a fellow gets hisself knighted, I hear.”

“Definitely time to go to New England,” said Alvin.

“I tell you I got misgivings,” said Mike Fink.

“Me too,” said Alvin. “But Verily's right. They built a good place and got good people to come to it.”

“Why not go to that Tennizy place as calls itself Crystal City?” asked Mike.

“Maybe that's where we'll go after we get run out of New England,” said Alvin.

Verily laughed. “You're an optimist, aren't you.”

They mostly packed before they went to bed that night. Not that there was that much to put in their satchels. When a man is traveling with only a horse to carry himself and his goods, he gets a different idea of what he needs to carry from place to place than does a man riding a coach, or followed by servants and pack animals. It's not much more than a walking man would be willing to tote, lest he wear down the horse.

Alvin woke early in the morning, before dawn, but it took him no more than two breaths to notice that Arthur Stuart was gone. The window stood open, and though they were on the top floor of the house, Alvin knew that wouldn't stop Arthur Stuart, who seemed to think that gravity owed him a favor.

Alvin woke Verily and Mike, who were stirring anyway, and asked them to get the horses saddled and loaded up while he went in search of the boy.

Mike only laughed, though. “Probably found him some girl he wants to kiss good-bye.”

Alvin looked at him in shock. “What are you talking about?”

Mike looked back at him, just as surprised. “Are you blind? Are you deaf? Arthur's voice is changing. He's one whisker from being a man.”

“Speaking of whiskers,” said Verily, “I think the shadow on his upper lip is due to become a brush pretty soon. In fact, I daresay his face grows more hair on it already than yours does, Alvin.”

“I don't see your face flowing with moustachery, either,” said Alvin.

“I shave,” said Verily.

“But it's a long time between Christmases,” said Alvin. “I'll see you before breakfast is done, I wager.”

As Alvin went downstairs, he stopped into the kitchen, where Mistress Louder was rolling out the dough for morning biscuits. “You didn't happen to see Arthur Stuart this morning?” asked Alvin.

“And when wast thou planning to tell me ye were leaving?”

“When we settled up after breakfast,” said Alvin. “We wasn't trying to slip out, it was no secret we were packing up.”

Only then did he notice the tears running down her cheeks. “I hardly slept last night.”

Alvin put his hands on her shoulders. “Mistress Louder, I never thought you'd take on so. It's a rooming house, ain't it? And roomers come and go.”

She sighed loudly. “Just like children,” she said.

“And don't children come back to the nest from time to time?”

“If that's a promise, I won't have to turn these into salt biscuits with my silly tears,” she said.

“I can promise that I'll never pass a night in Philadelphia anywhere other than your house, lessen my wife and I settle down here someday, and then we'll send our children to your house for breakfast while we sleep lazy.”

She laughed outright. “The Lord took twice the time making thee, Alvin Smith, cause it took that long to put the mischief in.”

“Mischief sneaks in by itself,” said Alvin. “That's its nature.”

Only then did Mistress Louder remember Alvin's original question. “As for Arthur Stuart, I caught him climbing down the tree outside when I went out to bring in firewood.”

“And you didn't wake me? Or stop him?”

She ignored the implied accusation. “I forced some cold johnnycake into his hands before he was out the door again. Said he had an errand to run before ye boys left this morning.”

“Well, at least that sounds like he means to come back,” said Alvin.

“It does,” said Mistress Louder. “Though if he didn't, thou'rt not his master, I think.”

“Just because he's not my property don't mean I'm not responsible for him,” said Alvin.

“I wasn't speaking of the law,” said Mistress Louder, “I was speaking the simple truth. He doesn't obey thee like a boy, but like a man, because he wants to please thee. He'll do nowt because thou commandest, but does it only when he agrees he ought to.”

“But that's true of all men and all masters, even slaves,” said Alvin.

“What I'm saying is he doesn't act in fear of thee,” said Mistress Louder. “And so it won't do for thee to be hot with him when thou find him. Thou hast no right.”

Only then did Alvin realize that he was a bit angry with Arthur Stuart for running off. “He's still young,” said Alvin.

“And thou'rt what, a greybeard with a stoop in his back?” she laughed. “Get on and find him. Arthur Stuart never seems to know the danger a lad of his tribe faces, noon and night.”

“Nor the danger that sneaks up behind,” said Alvin. He kissed her cheek. “Don't let all those biscuits disappear before I get back.”

“It's thy business, not mine, what time thou'lt choose to come back,” she said. “Who can say how hungry the others will be this morning?”

For that remark, Alvin dipped his finger into the flour and striped her nose with it, then headed for the door. She stuck her tongue out at him but didn't wipe the flour away. “I'll be a clown if thou want me to,” she called after him.