Orson Scott Card - Alvin Maker 5 Heartfire

HEARTFIRE

HEARTFIRE

The Tales of Alvin Maker, Part 5

by Orson Scott Card

1998 by Orson Scott Card - ISBN: 0812509242

Hezekiah Study could notconcentrate on the book he was trying to read, or the sermon he needed towrite, or even on the pear he knew he ought to eat. There were several bitestaken out of it, and he knew he must be the one who had taken them, but all heremembered was fretful, wandering thoughts about everything. Purity, you youngfool. Hell come now, dont you know? Hell come, because he always comes, andbecause your name is on it, and he knows who you are, oh yes, he knows you, hewants your life, he wants to finish the job he started before you were born.

This is how he spent theafternoon, until at last a breeze arose, rattling the papers pinned under thepaperweight on his writing desk. A breeze, and a shadow of cloud that dimmedthe light in the room, and then the sound he had been waiting for: thetrot-trot-trot of a horse drawing a little shay behind it. Micah Quill. Micahthe Witcher.

Hezekiah rose and walkedto the window. The shay was only just passing on the street below; Hezekiahcaught but a glimpse of the face in profile, from above. So sweet and open, sotrustworthyHezekiah had once trusted it, believed the words that came out ofthe shyly smiling mouth. God will not permit the innocent to be punished,said that mouth. Only the Lord Savior was foreordained to suffer innocently.The first of a thousand lies. Truth flowed to Micah Quill, was sucked in anddisappeared, and emerged again looking ever so much like it used to, butchanged subtly, at the edges, where none would notice, so that simple truthbecame a complicated fabric indeed, one that could wrap you up so tightly andclose you off from the air until you suffocated in it.

Micah Quill, my bestpupil. He has not come to Cambridge to visit his old schoolmaster, or hear thesermons he now preached on Sundays.

Leaning out his window,Hezekiah saw the shay stop at the main entrance of the orphanage. How likeMicah. He does not stop for refreshment after his journey, or even to void hisbladder, but goes instead directly to work. Purity, I cannot help you now. Youdidnt heed my warning.

Purity came into theroom, relieved to see that the witcher was not some fearsome creature, somedestroying angel, but rather was a man who must have been in his forties butstill had the freshness of youth about him. He smiled at her, and she was atonce relaxed and comfortable. She was much relieved, for she had feared thetorment of conscience it would cost her, to have Alvin Smith, who seemed such anice man, examined and tried by some monster. Instead the proceeding would befair, the trial just, for this man had no malice in him.

You are Purity, saidthe witcher. My name is Micah Quill.

Im pleased to meetyou, said Purity.

And I to meet you, saidQuill. I came the moment your deposition was sent to me. I admire yourcourage, speaking up so boldly against a witch so dire.

He made no threat tome, said Purity.

His very existence is amenace to all godly souls, said Quill. You could feel that, even if heuttered no threat, because the spirit of Christ dwells in you.

Do you think so, sir?asked Purity.

Quill was writing in hisbook.

What do you write, sir?

I keep notes of allinterviews, said Quill. You never know what might turn out to be evidence.Dont mind me.

Its just that... Iwasnt giving my evidence yet.

Isnt that silly of me?said Quill. Please, sit down, and tell me about this devil-worshiping slave ofhell.

He spoke so cheerfullythat Purity almost missed the dark significance of the words. When she realizedwhat he had said, she corrected him at once. I know nothing of what or how theman worships, said Purity. Only that he claims to have a witchy knack.

But you see, MissPurity, such witchy knacks are given to people only because they serve thedevil.

What Im saying is Inever saw him worship the devil, nor speak of the devil, nor show a sign ofwishing to serve him.

Except for his knack,which of course does serve the devil.

I never actually saw theknack, either, with my own eyes, said Purity. I just heard tales of it fromthe boy who traveled with him.

Name the boy, saidQuill, his pen poised.

Arthur Stuart.

Quill looked up at her,not writing.

It is a joke, sir, toname him so, but the joke was made years ago by those who named him. I do notjest with you now.

He wrote the name.

Hes a half-Black boy,she began, and

Singed in the fires ofhell, said Quill.

No, I think hes merelythe son of a White slave owner who forced himself on a Black slave girl, orthats the implication of the story I was told.

Quill smiled. But why doyou resist me? he said. You say hes half-Black. I say this shows he wassinged by the fires of hell. And you say, no, not at alland then proceed totell me he is the product of a rape of a Black woman by a White man. How couldone better describe such a dreadful conception than by saying the child wassinged in the fires of hell? You see?

Purity nodded. I thoughtyou were speaking literally.

I am, said Quill.

I mean, that you literallymeant that the boy had been to hell and burned there a little.

So I say, Quill said,smiling. I dont understand this constant insistence on correcting me when wealready agree.

But Im not correctingyou, sir.

And is that statementnot itself a correction? Or am I to take it some other way? I fear youre toosubtle for me, Miss Purity. You dazzle me with argument. My head spins.

Oh, I cant imagine youever being confused by anybody, said Purity, laughing nervously.

And again you feel theneed to correct me. Is something troubling you? Is there some reason that youfind it impossible to feel comfortable agreeing with me?

Im perfectlycomfortable to agree with you.

A statement which, whilesweet of sentiment, does constitute yet another disagreement with my own priorstatement. But let us set aside the fact that you are unable to accept a singleword I utter at face value. What puzzles me, what I must have your help toclarify, is the matter of some missing information, and some extra information.For instance, your deposition includes several extraneous persons whom no oneelse has seen. To wit: a lawyer named Verily Cooper, a riverman named MikeFink, and a half-Black boy named Arthur Stuart.

But Im not the only onewho saw them, said Purity.

So the deposition iswrong?

I never said in thedeposition that I was the only one who saw them.

Excellent! Who else wasthere at this witches sabbath?

What witches sabbath?Purity was confused now.

Did you say you stumbledupon this coven of witches as they frolicked naked on the banks of the river?

Two of them werebathing, but I saw no sign of anything more dire than that.

So to you, when witchescavort naked before your eyes, it is innocent bathing?

No, I just... I never thoughtof it as a... it wasnt a worship of any kind.

But the tossing of thechild toward heavena Black child, no lessand the way the naked man laughed atyou, unashamed of his nakedness...

Purity was sure she hadneither spoken of nor written down any such description. How could you know ofthat?

So you admit that youdid not include this vital evidence in your deposition?

I didnt know it wasevidence.

Everything is evidence,said Quill. Beings who frolic naked, laugh at Christians, and then disappearwithout a tracewhich part of this experience would not be evidence? You mustleave nothing out.

I see that now, saidPurity. I reckon I didnt know what a witches sabbath might look like, so Ididnt know when I saw it.

But if you didnt know,why would you denounce them? asked Quill. You havent brought a falseaccusation, have you?