The Crystal City: The Tales of Alvin Maker, Volume VI Read Online Free PDF Page B

know.”
    “In front of witnesses, no less.” He looked at the two girls.
    “They don’t know what I done,” said Arthur Stuart.
    “Which makes it all the more pathetic that you were showing off for them.”
    “Someday I’ll get sick of you bossing and judging me all the time,” said Arthur Stuart.
    “Maybe then you won’t come along on journeys I told you not to come on.”
    “That would be obeying,” said Arthur Stuart. “I got no particular interest in doing much of that.”
    “Well then set your butt down and wait here and don’t help me one bit while I go haul water from the public fountain.”
    “I’m not that easily fooled,” said Arthur Stuart. “I’ll obey you when you tell me to do what I already want.”
    “And I thought all you were was pretty.”
    This being water day, and the neighborhood having no shortage of people who could use some water beyond what their rain barrels held, Alvin didn’t need to ask directions. Each of them held a couple of empty water jars. Alvin wasn’t sure Arthur could carry them both full—but it would be better to have two half-full jars and balance the load on his shoulders than to have just one full one that he’d have to carry in front.
    Alvin wasn’t much impressed when they got to the fountain. It was pretty enough, in a simple kind of way: a watering trough for animals around the base, and two spigots to let down water from the main basin. But the water in the trough was greenish, and swarms of skeeters hovered around the main fountain.
    Alvin examined the water closer, and as he expected, it was all aswarm with tiny animals and plants and the eggs of skeeters and other kinds of insects. He knew from experience that water like this was likely to make folks sick, if they didn’t boil it first to kill these things. But since they were invisible to most folks, who couldn’t see so small, they wouldn’t feel much urgency to do it.
    He reckoned that Mama Squirrel’s law against killing animals didn’t apply this far from her house, and besides, what she didn’t know wouldn’t offend her. So he spent a few minutes working on the water, breaking down all the tiny creatures into bits so small they couldn’t do no harm. Not that he broke them one by one—that would have taken half his life. He just talked to them, silently, showing them in his mind what he wanted them to do. Break themselves apart. Spill their inner parts into the water. He explained it was to keep folks from coming to harm by drinking. He wasn’t sure just what these tiny creatures actually understood. What mattered was that they did Alvin’s will. Even the skeeter eggs.
    As if the skeeters understood that he’d just wiped out their progeny, they made him pay in blood for having cleaned the water. Well, he’d live with that, itch welts and all. He didn’t use his knack to make himself comfy.
    “I know you’re doing something,” said Arthur Stuart. “But I can’t tell what.”
    “I’m fetching water for Mama Squirrel,” said Alvin.
    “You’re standing there looking at the fountain like you was seeing a vision. Either that or trying real hard not to break wind.”
    “Hard to tell those things apart,” said Alvin. “It gives visionaries a bad name.”
    “Get bad enough gas, though, and you can start a church,” said Arthur Stuart.
    They filled the jugs, taking their turns along with the other folks, some of whom looked at them curiously, the rest just minding their own business. One of the lookers, a young woman not much older than Arthur Stuart, bumped into Alvin as she reached to fill a jar. Then, her jar full, she walked up to Arthur with a bit of a swagger and, in a French accent, said, “Person rich enough to own a slave got no right to draw from this fountain. There is cisterns uptown for them with the money.”
    “We’re not drawing for ourselves,” said Arthur Stuart, mildly enough. “We’re hauling this for Mama Squirrel’s house.”
    The girl spat in