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boy's knack is, I'd like to see him try."

"Margaret never said he'd kill me," said Alvin. "In fact she never said I'd die, exactly. But that's what I gather. She doesn't want me there until she can assure me that Calvin is out of town. But I'd like to meet the King my own self."

"Not to mention seeing your wife," said Verily.

"I could use a few days with her."

"And nights," murmured Mike.

Alvin raised an eyebrow at him and Mike grinned stupidly.

"Biggest question is," Alvin went on, "could I safely take Arthur Stuart down there? In the Crown Colonies it's illegal to bring a free person of even one-sixteenth Black blood into the country."

"You could pretend he's your slave," said Mike.

"But what if I died down there? Or got arrested? I don't want any chance of Arthur getting confiscated and sold away. It's too dangerous."

"So don't go there," said Verily. "The King doesn't know a thing about building the Crystal City, anyway."

"I know," said Alvin. "But neither do I, and neither does anyone else."

Verily smiled. "Maybe that's not true."

Alvin was impatient. "Don't play with me, Verily. What do you know?"

"Nothing but what you already know yourself, Alvin. There's two parts to building the Crystal City. The first part is about Makering and all that. And I'm no help to you there, nor is any mortal soul, as far as I can see. But the second part is the word city. No matter what else you do, it'll be a place where people have to live together. That means there's got to be government and laws."

"Does there have to be?" asked Mike wistfully.

"Or something to do the same jobs," said Verily. "And land, divided up so people can live. Food planted and harvested, or brought in to feed the population. Dry goods to make or buy, houses to build, clothes to make. There'll be marrying and giving in marriage, unless I'm mistaken, and people will have children so we'll need schools. No matter how visionary this city makes the people, they still need roofs and roads, unless you expect them all to fly."

Alvin leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed.

"Have I put you to sleep, or are you thinking?" asked Verily.

Alvin didn't open his eyes when he answered. "I'm just thinking that I really don't know a blame thing about what I'm doing. White Murderer Harrison may have been the lowest man I ever knowed, but at least he could build a city in the wilderness."

"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