HeartFire Page 0,67

of them. Most particularly, Margaret could not see anything about where his doodlebug was.

"Let's take my dear brother-in-law out into the garden for our chat," said Margaret.

Balzac nodded, clearly relieved that she had so readily grasped the situation.

The garden lay in the hot deep shadow the house cast in the afternoon. With no one nearby to overhear, Margaret listened as Balzac poured out his story; even as he spoke, she followed the same events in his memory. The day on the docks; the unloading of the slaves; the waterboy named Denmark; the little bits of knotted this-and-that which were handed over or spat into the dipper; Calvin following Denmark with his doodlebug.

"I warned him," said Balzac. "He wouldn't listen."

"He never has," said Margaret.

"Never?" asked Balzac. "I thought you hadn't met him till this week."

"It is my misfortune to be deeply acquainted with everyone I meet," said Margaret. "Calvin is not a prudent man. Nor are you."

"As a pebble is to the moon, so is my imprudence compared to Calvin's," said Balzac.

"When you're dying of the disease that you call 'English' and the English call 'French,' when your mind is failing you, when you are blind and decaying, you will not be able to remember thinking of your imprudence as a slight thing," said Margaret.

"Mon dieu," said Balzac. "Have I heard my fate?"

"A very likely ending to your life," said Margaret. "Many paths lead there. But then, there are also many paths on which you are more prudent with the company you keep."

"What about luck?" asked Balzac.

"I'm not much of a believer in luck," said Margaret. "It wasn't luck that lost our friend Calvin his soul."

"How could it be lost, if the devil already had it?" Balzac was only half joking.

"What do I know of souls?" said Margaret. "I've been trying to understand what it is that the slaves in this city have given up. In Appalachee they don't do this, and I wonder if it's because they have some hope of escape. Whereas here, hope is nonexistent. Therefore, to remain alive, they must hide from their despair."

"Calvin wasn't despairing."

"Oh, I know," said Margaret. "Nor did he provide his captor with bits of string and whatnot. But then, those devices may be the Blacks' way of accomplishing what Calvin can do on his own, by his inborn knack: to separate some part of himself from his body."

"I am persuaded. But what part? And how can we get it back?"

Margaret sighed. "Monsieur Balzac, you seem to think I am a better person than I really am. For I am still quite uncertain whether I wish to help Calvin recover himself." She looked at Calvin's empty face. A fly landed on his cheek and walked briefly into and out of his nostril. Calvin made no move to brush it away. "The slaves function better than this," said Margaret. "And yet he seems not to be suffering."

"I understand," said Balzac, "that the better one knows Monsieur Calvin, the more one may wish to leave him in this docile state. But then, you must consider a few other things."

"Such as?"

"Such as, I am no blood kin of this man, and feel no responsibility for him. You, however, are his sister-in-law. Therefore, I can and will walk away from this garden without him. What will you do with the body? It still breathes - there are those who might criticize you for burying it, though I would never speak ill of you for such a decision."

"Monsieur Balzac, you should consider a few things yourself."

"Such as?" Balzac echoed her with a smile.

"Such as, you have no idea how much of our conversation Calvin is overhearing, however inattentive he might seem. The slaves hear what is said to them. Furthermore, there is no place on this earth where you could go that Calvin could not find you to wreak whatever vengeance he might wish to exact from you."

Balzac deflated slightly. "Madame, you have caught me in my deception. I would never leave my dear friend in such a state. But I hoped that a threat to leave you responsible for him might persuade you to help me save him, for I have no idea how to find where his soul is kept, or how to free it if I find it."

"Appeals to decency work much better with me than threats of inconvenience."

"Because you are a woman of virtue."

"Because I am ashamed to appear selfish," said Margaret. "There is no virtue that cannot be painted as a vice."

"Is