“How did you get in here!” cried several men at once. But the stranger answered not a word. He walked up to Margaret and kissed her gently on the lips. Then he looked steadily into the gaze of one of the soldiers holding her by the arm. Shuddering, he let go of her and backed away. So did the other soldier.

“Well, Margaret,” said the man, “it looks like I can't leave you alone for a few minutes.”

“Who are you?” asked the King. “Her foreign-policy adviser?”

“I'm her husband, Alvin Smith.”

“It was thoughtful of you to show up just as we've arrested your wife. No doubt you're part of the conspiracy as well. As for this Black boy– it's not proper to bring your slave into the presence of the King, especially one too young to have been reliably trained.”

“I came here to try to keep you from making the mistake that will eventually take you off your throne,” said Margaret. “If you don't heed the warning, then I at least am blameless.”

“Let's get her out of here,” said Calhoun. “We've got hours of work ahead of us, and it's obvious she needs to be interrogated as a member of the conspiracy. Her husband, too, and this child.”

Margaret and Alvin looked at each other and laughed. Arthur, on the other hand, was too busy gazing at the magnificence of the council room to care much about what was going on. He didn't really notice the King until now, when Alvin pointed him out. «There you are, Arthur Stuart. That's the man you were named for. The King of England, in exile in the Crown Colonies. Behold the majesty of the crownЉd head.»

“Nice to meet you, sir,” said Arthur Stuart to the King.

Calhoun's outrage reached a new level. “You dare to mock the King in this fashion? Not to mention naming a Black child after him in the first place.”

“Since you've already got me hanged in your mind,” said Alvin, “what harm will it do if I compound the crime?”

“Compound nothing, Alvin,” Margaret said to him. “He's been warned that if he takes retribution against this revolt that didn't even happen, killing slaves without reference to guilt or innocence, it will lead to war.”

“I have no fear of war,” said Arthur Stuart. “That's when kings get to show their mettle.”

“You're thinking of chess,” said Margaret. “In war, everyone has their chance to bleed.” She turned to Alvin. “My message was delivered. It's out of my hands. And your brother needs you.”

Alvin nodded. He turned to the company surrounding him. “Gentlemen, you may return to your deliberations. I ran down here from New England this afternoon and I have no more time to spend with you. Good evening.”

Alvin took Arthur by one hand and Margaret by the other. “Make way please,” he said.

The men blocking his path didn't move.

And then, suddenly, they did. Or rather, their feet did, sliding right out from under them. Alvin took another stride toward the door.

The King drew a sword. So did the other men, though they had to get them from the wall where they hung during the meeting. And two guards by the door drew pistols.

“Really, Your Majesty,” said Alvin, “the essence of courtesy is that one must allow one's guests to leave.”

Before he finished talking, he already reached out to change the iron in the swords and the pistols. To their horror, the armed men found their weapons dissolving and dribbling into pools of cold wet iron on the floor. They dropped their weapons and recoiled.

“What are you, sir!” cried the King.

“Isn't it obvious?” said Calhoun. “It's the devil, the devil's dam, and their bastard son!”

“Hey,” protested Arthur Stuart. “I may be a bastard, but I'm not their bastard.”

“Sorry we have to be on our way so quickly,” said Alvin. “Have a nice future, Your Majesty.” With that, Alvin reached down, pulled the lockset out of the massive door, and then pushed gently on it, making it fall away from its dissolving hinges and land with a crash on the floor outside the council room. They walked away unmolested.

The stink of Calvin's dead body filled the attic when Margaret led Alvin and Arthur into the place. Alvin went at once to the corpse and knelt by it, weeping. “Calvin, I came as fast as I could.”

“You want to cry,” said Denmark, “cry for the dead.”

“I already explained to him about holding Calvin's heartfire in the box,” Margaret said.

“I can't repair the body without the heartfire in it,” said Alvin. “And it can't hold the heartfire until it's repaired.”

“Do both at once,” said Margaret. “You can do it, can't you, Gullah Joe? Feed the heartfire back into the body, bit by bit?”

“You lose you mind?” asked Gullah Joe. “How many miracle you want tonight?”

“I'll just do my best,” said Alvin.

He worked on Calvin's body for three hours. No sooner did he start in on one repair than the one he just completed started to decay again. Working steadily and methodically, though, he was able to get the heart and brain back into working order. “Now,” he said.

Gullah Joe slid off the box, carried it close to Calvin's body, and opened it.

Alvin and Margaret both saw the heartfire leap into the body. The heart beat convulsively. Once. Twice. Blood moved through the collapsing arteries. Alvin paid no heed to that problem– it was the lungs he had to repair now, quickly, instantly. But with the heartfire inside the body, it became far easier, for now he could make a pattern and the body would imitate it, passing the information along through the living tissues. A half-ruined diaphragm contracted, then expanded the lungs. The blood that pumped feebly through the body now bore steadily increasing amounts of oxygen.

That was only the beginning. Dawn had fully come before Alvin's work was done. Calvin breathed easily and normally. The flesh had healed, leaving no scars. He was as clean as a newborn.

“What I see this night,” said Gullah Joe. “What god you be?”

Alvin shook his head. “Is there a god of weariness?”

Someone started pounding on the door downstairs.

“Ignore them,” said Margaret. “There are only two of them. They won't break in until there are more soldiers to back them up.”

“How long do we have?” asked Alvin.

“Not long,” said Margaret. “I suggest we leave now.”

“Is there no rest for the devil?” asked Alvin.

“You a devil too?” asked Gullah Joe.

“That was a joke,” said Alvin. “Margaret, who are these people?”

“Time enough to explain on the road.” Margaret turned to the others. “It's not safe for you to stay here, Denmark, Gullah Joe. Come away with us. Alvin can keep you safe until you're in the North, out of this miserable place.” She turned to Fishy and Denmark's wife. “You aren't in the same danger, but why should you stay? We'll take you north with us. If you like, you can go on to Vigor Church. Or Hatrack River.” Margaret looked at Gullah Joe and smiled. “I'd like to see what all the knackish folk in Hatrack River would make of you.”

Denmark tugged at Alvin's sleeve. “What you done for your brother. Raise him from the dead. What about my wife?” He brought her forward.

Alvin closed his eyes and studied her for a few moments. “It's an old injury, and it's all connected with the brain. I don't know. Let's get away from here, and when we're safely in the North, I'll do what I can.”

They all agreed to come along. What choice did they have? “Can't you take all us?” asked Fishy. “All the slave in this place, take us!”

Margaret put her arm around Fishy. “If it was in our power, we'd take them. But such a large group– who would take so many thousands of free Blacks all at once? We'd bring them north, only to have them turned away. You we can bring with us.”

Fishy nodded. “I know you mean to do good. It never be enough.”

“No,” said Margaret. “Never enough. But we do our best, and pray that in the long run, it will be enough.”