47

"How would we be able to distinguish ourselves from the Calash if I were to do such a thing?" John's single voice asked. "There are plants and fish and insects…" at each mention of a life form the image appeared before the great congregation. And every time the little people beheld the beauty of life on Earth they tittered and cooed. "… there are men and bears and eagles flying," John continued, "and we will not end them because that would mean that we would be doing the Calash's work for them."

"N'Clect is right!" a thousand thousand thousand voices proclaimed. "Let the one called Forty-seven go forward and do battle with Wall. Let us put our faith in Life."

And there I was, a small slave boy from the Corinthian Plantation, being cheered by a number that added up to a billion. And even though I couldn't count nearly that high I was loved and applauded by them. John leaped on my shoulder and shouted out my name. And then the name Forty-seven was on the lips of the whole hive.

I didn't know it at the time but N'Clect was John's real Talamish name.

14.

Sunlight glittering through the leaves roused me. I sat up, rubbed the sand out of, my eyes, and realized that I was alone. Looking around for my friend I saw that there was a young doe at the edge of the empty space created by the tree. Timidly it looked at me. It was equally afraid and curious and so moved forward and back, keeping its place but at the same time still ready to flee. A mother deer emerged from the bushes then. She cast a wary eye on me and then nuzzled her little fawn. Instantly the young deer calmed down. I could see that there was a berry bush where the two stood. They were eating the sweet fruit and so dared the danger that I represented.

Even though I was afraid of being alone and scared of what Tobias would do when he caught me, I was still enthralled by those deer. I wondered what it would have been like if my mother, Psalma, had lived. Would she have stood over me, protecting me while we ate sweet berries?

While I lamented the loss of my mother Tall John strode

into view. Not the tiny orange and violet John with flames above his head but the colored slave boy with the ski

In his right hand he carried the napkin that Flore had wrapped my cookies with. He held the big handkerchief by the corners like it was a sack.

"Good morning, Forty-seven," he said upon reaching me. "Did you sleep well?"

"They go

"Would you like to flee to the north?" he asked.

"I ain't jokin' wit' you, fool."

"I'm not telling a joke," he said. "If you wish we can head north right now. By day after tomorrow we'll be in a place that doesn't have slavery and doesn't return slaves."

"Ain't no sucha place," I said.

"There are many lands that don't have slaves, Forty-seven. Canada, Vermont."

I could tell that he was serious, that he was willing, with no more than a shrug and a nod, to take me away from all the chains and chiggers and cotton. All I had to do was say yes and the misery of my daily existence would have fallen away.

"What you got in that napkin?" I asked him.

"I went back to my bag in the tree and got a chemical that will kill the virus in Eloise's brain. I also collected various fungi that will carry the serum through her blood."

"So if we run away she'll die?"

"Probably."

"But if we wait and run away later can we take Flore and Champ and Mud Albert with us?"

"No," John said. "Only you."

If I ran Miss Eloise would die, and my friends would remain slaves no matter what I did. I couldn't imagine a life where Eloise was dead and where I'd never lay eyes on Big Mama Flore again. The only choice I had was to go back to Corinthian, and I knew that I would at least get bull-whipped for ru

I could feel the lash on my back even as I stood there in that primal paradise. Fear of the whip brought tears to my eyes. But the thought of leaving my friends and the thought of the Master's daughter dying was too much for me.

That was the way it was for the short while that I knew Tall John from beyond Africa. Everything he said to me was both a test and a lesson. Being his friend was my first experience with the responsibilities of freedom.

"We bettah get back," I said.

"But you said that they would kill us," John argued. "Wouldn't it be better to run?"

"But that girl is dyin'."

"But she's related to people that make Negroes into

slaves. Wouldn't it be better to let her die? Wouldn't it be better for Tobias to feel like you do about the suffering of your people? Anyway, Flore and Mud Albert will be slaves if you go back or not."

I looked up at the strange boy who had befriended me. At first I thought that he was making fun of me. But when I looked into his face I saw that he really expected me to have no feelings for Eloise and even the other slaves.

"No," I said. "I wa

"One day you will have to leave the plantation, Forty-seven. Your destiny is far from here."

"Come on," I said. "Let's get back before I change my mind about ru

The sun was out and John was able to move fast again. So it wasn't too very long before we got to the plantation. I wanted to go right out in the fields and start working, pretending that nothing had happened. But John ran us right up to the front porch of the Master's home and knocked on his door.

Fred Chocolate answered. I knew we were in trouble when a worried look came into his sour face. I knew we were dead.

"Run," Fred said. "Run away from here you stupid niggers. Run."

15.

"I've come to see Tobias," John said.

"Tell this soft-headed fool to run from here," Fred said to me.

I grabbed John's arm but his feet were planted like tree roots. There was no moving him.

"Bring Tobias Turner to me," John said in a stern tone.

Fred fell back a step and then a voice came from somewhere in the house.

"Who is that you're talkin' to, Fred Chocolate?" It was Master Tobias.

My guts turned to water and my knees were no sturdier than blades of grass. Tobias came to the door, pushing the butler aside.

"What's this?" he cried. "The runaways. Call Mr. Stewart, Fred. I will have these boys whipped in front of all the slaves out here. Whipped until their backs is bloody and their heads hang down dead."

"No!" Big Mama Flore cried.

I saw her run into the big sitting room behind our enraged Master.

"They just boys, Master Tobias," Fred said.

And even though I was afraid for my life I was amazed that the snooty house Negro would have stood up for two pieces of field trash like us.

"Mr. Stewart!" Tobias cried.

"You can kill us, Tobias Turner," John said in a voice that could not be ignored. "But will you allow us save your daughter's life before you do?"

The russet-hued lad held up his napkin-sack of medicine.

"What are you sayin', Number Twelve?" the Master asked.

"You sent us to find medicine," my friend said proudly. "We've done that. We had to go far away and we got stuck in the rain. I couldn't let the herbs we carried get wet and so we had to hide until the rain stopped."

"The rain quit late last night, nigger!" Mr. Stewart said from behind us.

He had just gained the porch in answer to Tobias's call. I could feel the stamping of his hard boots on the wood beneath our feet. Every time his shod feet hit the planks I imagined him trampling on my bones.