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the White boss want."

"I already paid the sixpence," said Denmark.

The valet looked at him like he had lost his mind. "If you done that, why you be giving me more? This tuppence not enough anyway." Huffily, he handed the coin back. "You crazy." Then he was gone.

Denmark sauntered along, keeping them in sight. A couple of times the slave girl looked back and gazed at him. But he wasn't worried. She'd know who he was, and there was no chance of a Black girl telling this White lady anything about the taker of names.
* * *

"That him," said Fishy. "He take the names."

Margaret saw at once in Denmark's mind that he could not be trusted for a moment. She had been looking for him, and he had been looking for her. But he had a knife and meant to use it. That was hardly the way to restore Calvin's heartfire.

"Let's go down to the battery. There are always plenty of people there. He won't dare harm a White man in such a crowd. He doesn't want to die."

"He won't talk to you, neither," said Fishy. "He just watch."

"He'll talk to me," said Margaret. "Because you'll go ask him to."

"He scare me, ma'am."

"Me too," said Margaret. "But I can promise you, he won't harm you. The only one he wants to hurt is Calvin here."

Fishy looked at Calvin again. "Look like somebody done hurt him most all he can be hurt till he be dead." Then she realized what she had said. "Oh."

"This name-taker, Denmark Vesey, is quite an interesting fellow. You know that he isn't a slave?"

"He free? Ain't no free Blacks in Camelot."

"Oh, that's the official story, but it isn't so. I've already met another. A woman named Doe. She was given her freedom when she became too old to work."

"They turn her out then?" demanded Fishy, outraged.

"Careful," said Margaret. "We're not alone here."

Fishy at once changed her demeanor and looked down at the street again. "I seen too many damn cobblestones in my life."

"They didn't turn her out," said Margaret. "Though I have no doubt there are masters cruel enough to do so. No, she has a little room of her own and she eats with the others. And they pay her a small wage for very light work."

"They think that make up for taking her whole life away from her?"

"Yes, they think it does. And Doe thinks so, too. She has her name back, and I suppose she has reason enough to be angry, but she's happy enough."

"Then she a fool."

"No, she's just old. And tired. For her, freedom means she doesn't have to work anymore, except to make her own bed."

"That won't be enough for me, Miz Margaret."

"No, Fishy, I'm quite sure it won't. It shouldn't be enough for anyone. But don't begrudge Doe her contentment. She's earned it."

Fishy looked back and became agitated. "He coming closer, ma'am."

"Only because he's afraid of losing track of us in the crowd." Margaret steered Calvin toward the seawall. Out in the water they could see the fortresses: Lancelot and Galahad. Such fanciful names. King Arthur indeed. "Denmark Vesey is free and he earns his living by keeping the account books of several small businesses and professional offices."

"A Black man know his numbers?"

"And his letters. Of course he pretends that he works for a White man who really does the work, but I doubt any of his clients are fooled. They maintain the legal fiction so that nobody has to send anyone to jail. They pay half what they would for a White man, and he gets paid far more than he needs to live in Blacktown. Clever."

"And he take the names."

"No, actually, he collects them, but he takes them somewhere and gives them to someone else."

"Who?"

Margaret sighed. "Whoever it is, he knows how to shut me out of just that part of Denmark's memory. That's never happened to me before. Or perhaps I simply didn't notice it. I must have skimmed past this man's heartfire before, searching for the taker of names, but because only part of his memory was hidden, I would never have noticed." Then she thought a little more. "No, I daresay I never looked in his heartfire, because he has his name, and so his heartfire burns brightly enough that I would have assumed he was a White man and not looked at all. He was hidden right out in the open."

"You a witchy woman, ain't you, ma'am?"

"Not in the sense that White folks use