He left them a few other things； too。 A beloved son he pulled from under a falling millstone。 A father who now had the strength to send away his son before he killed him。 A name for a young man's nightmare； so he could understand that his enemy was real。 A whispered encouragement for a broken child to heal himself。
And a single drawing； burnt into a fine slab of oakwood with the tip of a hot knife。 He'd rather have worked with wax and acid on metal； but there was neither to be had in this place。 So he burnt lines into the wood； making of it what he could。 A picture of a young man caught in a strong river； bound up in the roots of a floating tree； gasping for breath； his eyes facing death fearlessly。 It would have earned nothing but scorn at the Lord Protector's Academy of Art； being so plain。 But Goody Faith cried out when she saw it； and hugged it to her； dropping her tears over it like the last drips from the eaves after a rainstorm。 And Father Alvin； when he saw it； nodded and said； 〃That's your vision； Taleswapper。 You got his face perfect； and you never even saw him。 That's Vigor。 That's my boy。〃 Then he cried； too。
They set it right up on the mantel。 It might not be great art； thought Taleswapper； but it was true； and it meant more to these folks than any portrait could mean to some fat old lord or parliamentarian in London or Camelot or Paris or Vienna。
〃It's fair morning now；〃 said Goody Faith。 〃You've got long to go before dark。〃
〃You can't blame me for being reluctant to leave。 Though I'm glad you trusted me with this errand； and I won't fail you。〃 He patted his pocket； wherein lay the letter to the blacksmith of Hatrack River。
〃You can't go without you say good…bye to the boy；〃 said Miller。
He'd put it off as long as it could be delayed。 He nodded once； then eased himself from the fortable chair by the fire and went on into the room where he'd slept the best nights of his life。 It was good to see Alvin Junior's eyes wide open； his face lively； no longer slack the way it was for a while； or winced up with pain。 But the pain was still there； Taleswapper knew。
〃You going？〃 asked the boy。
〃I'm gone； except for saying good…bye to you。〃
Alvin looked a little angry。 〃So you ain't even going to let me write in your book？〃
〃Not everybody does； you know。〃
〃Pa did。 And Mama。〃
〃And Cally； too。〃
〃I bet that looks good；〃 said Alvin。 〃He writes like a； like a〃
〃Like a seven…year…old。〃 It was a rebuke； but Alvin had no intention of squirming。
〃Why not me； then？ Why Cally and not me？〃
〃Because I only let people write the most important thing they ever did or ever saw with their own eyes。 What would you write？〃
〃I don't know。 Maybe about the millstone。〃
Taleswapper made a face。
〃Then maybe my vision。 That's important； you said so yourself。〃
〃And that got written up somewhere else； Alvin。〃
〃I want to write in the book；〃 he said。 〃I want my sentence in there along with Maker Ben's。〃
〃Not yet；〃 said Taleswapper。
〃When！〃
〃When you've whipped that old Unmaker； lad。 That's when I'll let you write in this book。〃
〃What if I don't ever whip him？〃
〃Then this book won't amount to much； anyway。〃
Tears sprang to Alvin's eyes。 〃What if I die？〃
Taleswapper felt a thrill of fear。 〃How's the leg？〃
The boy shrugged。 He blinked back the tears。 They were gone。
〃That's no answer； lad。〃
〃It won't stop hurting。〃
〃It'll be that way till the bone knits。〃
Alvin Junior smiled wanly。 〃Bone's all knit。〃
〃Then why don't you walk？〃
〃It pains me； Taleswapper。 It never goes away。 It's got a bad place on the bone； and I ain't figured out yet how to make it right。〃
〃You'll find a way。〃
〃I ain't found it yet。〃
〃An old trapper once said to me； 'It don't matter if you start at the bung or the breastbone； any old way you get the skin off a panther is a good way。'〃
〃Is that a proverb？〃
〃It's close。 You'll find a way； even if it isn't what you expect。〃
〃Nothing's what I expect；〃 said Alvin。 〃Nothing turns out like anything I figured。〃
〃You're ten years old； lad。 Weary of the world already？〃
Alvin kept rubbing folds of the blanket between his thumb and fingers。 〃Taleswapper； I'm dying。〃
Taleswapper studied his face； trying to see death there。 It wasn't。 〃I don't think so。〃
〃The bad place on my leg。 It's growing。 Slow； maybe； but it's growing。 It's invisible； and it's eating away at the hard places of the bone； and after a while it'll go faster and faster and〃
〃And Unmake you。〃
Alvin started to cry for real this time； and his hands were shaking。 〃I'm scared to die； Taleswapper； but it got inside me and I can't get it out。〃
Taleswapper laid a hand on his； to still the trembling。 〃You'll find a way。 You've got too much work to do in this world； to die now。〃
Alvin rolled his eyes。 〃That's about as dumb a thing as I've heard this year。 Just because somebody's got things to do don't mean he won't die。〃
〃But it does mean he won't die willingly。〃
〃I ain't willing。〃
〃That's why you'll find a way to live。〃
Alvin was silent for a few seconds。 〃I've been thinking。 About if I do live； what I'll do。 Like what I done to make my leg get mostly better。 I can do that for other folks； I bet。 I can lay hands on them and feel the way it is inside； and fix it up。 Wouldn't that be good？〃
〃They'd love you for it； all the folks you healed。〃
〃I reckon the first time was the hardest； and I wasn't partickler strong when I done it。 I bet I can do it faster on other people。〃
〃Maybe so。 But even if you heal a hundred sick people every day； and move on to the next place and heal a hundred more； there'll be ten thousand people die behind you； and ten thousand more ahead of you； and by the time you die； even the ones you healed will almost all be dead。〃
Alvin turned his face away。 〃If I know how to fix them； then I got to fix them； Taleswapper。〃
〃Those you can； you must；〃 said Taleswapper。 〃But not as your life's work。 Bricks in the wall； Alvin； that's all they'll ever be。 You can never catch up by repairing the crumbling bricks。 Heal those who chance to fall under your hand； but your life's work is deeper than that。〃
〃I know how to heal people。 But I don't know how to beat down the Un the Unmaker。 I don't even know what it is。〃
〃As long as you're the only one that can see him； though； you're also the only one who has a hope of beating him。〃
〃Maybe。〃
Another long silence。 Taleswapper knew it was time to go。
〃Wait。〃
〃I've got to leave now。〃
Alvin caught at his sleeve。 〃Not yet。〃
〃Pretty soon。〃
〃At least at least let me read what the others wrote。〃
Taleswapper reached into his bag and pulled out the book pouch。 〃I can't promise I'll explain what they mean；〃 he said； sliding the book out of its waterproof cover。
Alvin quickly found the last； newest writings。
In his mother's hand： 〃Vigor he push a log and he don die til the boy is bornd。〃
In David's hand： 〃A mil ston splits in two then it suks bak not a crak。〃
In Cally's hand： 〃A sevent sunn。〃
Alvin looked up。 〃He ain't talking about me； you know。〃
〃I know；〃 said Taleswapper。
Alvin looked back at the book。 In his father's hand： 〃He dont kil a boy cus a stranjer in time。〃
〃What's Pa talking about？〃 asked Alvin。
Taleswapper took the book from his hands and closed it。 〃Find a way to heal your leg；〃 he said。 〃There's a lot more souls than you who need it to be strong。 It's not for yourself； remember？〃
He bent over and kissed the boy on the forehead。 Alvin reached up and held him with both arms； hanging on him so that he couldn't stand up without lifting the boy clear out of bed。 After a while； Taleswapper had to reach up and pull the boy's arms away。 His cheek was wet with Alvin's tears。 He didn't wipe them away。 He let the breeze dry them as he trudged along the cold dry path； with fields of half…melted snow stretching left and right。
He paused a moment on the second covered bridge。 Just long enough to wonder if he'd ever e back here； or see them again。 Or get Alvin Junior's sentence for his book。 If he were a prophet； he'd know。 But he hadn't the faintest idea。
He walked on； setting his feet toward morning。
Chapter Thirteen Surgery
The visitor sat fortably upon the altar； leaning casually on his left arm； so that his body had a jaunty tilt。 Reverend Thrower had seen just such an informal pose taken by a dandy from Camelot； a rakehell who clearly despised everything that the Puritan churches of England and Scotland stood for。 It made Thrower more than a little unfortable to see the Visitor in such an irreverent pose。
〃Why？〃 asked the Visitor。 〃Just because the only way you can maintain control over your bodily passions is to sit straight in your chair； knees together； hands delicately arranged in your lap； fingers tightly intertwined； does not mean that I am required to do the same。〃
Thrower was embarrassed。 〃It isn't fair to chastise me for my thoughts。〃
〃It is； when your thoughts chastise me for my actions。 Beware of hubris； my friend