The Crystal City: The Tales of Alvin Maker, Volume VI by Orson Scott Card Page B

themselves that they will control whatever evil they use to try to bring about their dream.
    But soon his reflections on Austin and Bowie were stopped cold by a bright familiar heartfire that was just about the last one he expected—or wanted—to find here in Barcy.
    His younger brother Calvin.
    Calvin had been the closest companion of Alvin’s childhood. They had been inseparable, and whatever Alvin did, Calvin had to try. Alvin, for his part, rarely succumbed to the temptation to tease his brother, but instead included him and watched over him.
    What neither had counted on was Calvin’s jealousy. He, too, was a seventh son of a seventh son—though Calvin was seventh only because the firstborn, Vigor, had died in crossing the river Hatrack on the very day, in the very hour that Alvin was born. So whatever gifts were conferred by that powerful position of birth, Calvin’s were never as great as Alvin’s.
    But to have a knack that was less than Alvin’s was no great disappointment, surely—most human beings suffered from the same deficiency. And Calvin’s were remarkable enough.
    The problem was that Calvin had never worked at his knack. He had expected to be able to do whatever Alvin did, and when he couldn’t, he grew sullen and angry. Angry at Alvin, which was ridiculous and unfair, Alvin thought. And said.
    Calvin didn’t have much of an ear for argument or criticism. He couldn’t bear it, and avoided it, and so the brothers who once had been close had spent the last few years with little contact. It didn’t help that Margaret disliked Calvin. Or perhaps not that—perhaps she merely feared him, and didn’t want him to be near Alvin.
    And yet here Calvin was. The coincidence was too pointed. Calvin had probably been sent here. And the only person likely to do such a sending was Margaret. Had she decided that Calvin’s presence was actually good for Alvin right now? More likely she through it necessary to accomplish whatever her purpose was.
    As he drew nearer to the dock, Alvin felt the moment when Calvin noticed his heartfire. There was a quickening in his heart. The old love still burned there. Calvin might be annoying, disappointing, and sometimes even a bit frightening. He might have done some dark deeds that made his heartfire seem hooded and flickery sometimes. But he was still that young boy that Alvin delighted in through the best hours of his childhood, before he understood the dark enemy that sought his life.
    Before Calvin began to be seduced by that same enemy.
    So Alvin’s pace quickened through the crowded streets, and he jostled people now and then, though none thought to challenge him once they saw his height and the size of his blacksmith’s shoulders.
    Behind him Arthur Stuart trotted to keep up. “What is it? What’s happening?”
    And then they emerged from the street and saw the endless row of ships and riverboats tied up along the dock, the stevedores loading and unloading, the cranes lifting and lowering, the passengers milling about—few arriving, many leaving—the vendors shouting and pushing, the thieves and whores skulking and strutting, and in the midst of them all, standing alone and gnawing on a baguette, was Calvin.
    He had finally reached his adult height. Not as tall as Alvin, but lankier, so he looked more like a tall man, while Alvin looked like a big one. His hair was light in the sunshine. And his eyes twinkled when he saw Alvin approaching.
    “What are you doing here, you great oaf!” cried Alvin, reaching out to embrace his brother.
    Calvin laughed and hugged him back. “Came to save you from some dire peril, I gather, though your wife wasn’t more specific than that.”
    “It’s good to have you here,” said Alvin. “Even if neither of us has any idea why we’re here.”
    “Oh, I know why we’re here,” said Calvin. “I just don’t know why Peggy sent us.”
    “So…are you going to tell me ?”
    “We’re here because it’s time for us to get