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〃But your oath was clear； wasn't it？ Never to your own benefit。 So why not satisfy one oath with another； Alvin？ Take an oath now； that you will devote your whole life to building up against the Unmaker。 If you keep that oath and you will； Alvin； you're a boy who keeps his word if you keep that oath； then saving your own life is truly for the benefit of others； and not for your private good at all。〃
Taleswapper waited； waited； until at last Alvin nodded slightly。
〃Do you take an oath； Alvin Junior； that you will live your life to defeat the Unmaker； to make things whole and good and right？〃
〃Yes；〃 whispered the boy。
〃Then I tell you； by the terms of your own promise； you must heal yourself。〃
Alvin gripped Taleswapper's arm。 〃How；〃 he whispered。
〃That I don't know； boy；〃 said Taleswapper。 〃How to use your power； you have to find that out inside yourself。 I can only tell you that you must try； or the enemy has his victory； and I'll have to end your tale with your body being lowered into a grave。〃
To Taleswapper's surprise； Alvin smiled。 Then Taleswapper understood the joke。 His tale would end with the grave no matter what he did today。 〃Right enough； boy；〃 said Taleswapper。 〃But I'd rather have a few more pages about you before I put finis to the Book of Alvin。〃
〃I'll try；〃 whispered Alvin。
If he tried； then surely he would succeed。 Alvin's protector had not brought him this far only to let him die。 Taleswapper had no doubt that Alvin had the power to heal himself； if he could only figure out the way。 His own body was far more plicated than the stone。 But if he was to live； he had to learn the pathways of his own flesh； bind the fissures in the bones。
They made a bed for Taleswapper out in the great room。 He offered to sleep on the floor beside Alvin's bed； but Miller shook his head and answered； 〃That's my place。〃
Taleswapper found it hard to sleep； though。 It was the middle of the night when he finally gave up； lit a lantern with a match from the fire； bundled on his coat； and went outside。
The wind was brisk。 There was a storm ing； and from the smell in the air； it would be snow。 The animals were restless in the big barn。 It occurred to Taleswapper that he might not be alone outside tonight。 There might be Reds in the shadows； or even wandering among the buildings of the farm； watching him。 He shuddered once； then shrugged off the fear。 It was too cold a night。 Even the most bloodthirsty； White…hating Choc…Taws or Cree…Eks spying from the south were too smart to be outside with such a storm ing。
Soon the snow would fall； the first of the season； but it would be no slight trace。 It would snow all day tomorrow； Taleswapper could feel it； for the air behind the storm would be even colder than this； cold enough for the snow to be fluffy and dry； the kind of snow that piled deeper and deeper； hour after hour。 If Alvin had not hurried them home with the millstone in a single day； they would have been trying to sledge the stone home in the midst of the snowfall。 It would have bee slippery。 Something even worse might have happened。
Taleswapper found himself in the millhouse； looking at the stone。 It was so solid…looking； it was hard to imagine anyone ever moving it。 He touched the face of it again； being careful not to cut himself。 His fingers brushed over the shallow dress cuts； where flour would collect when the great water wheel turned the shaft and made the grindstone roll around and around atop the millstone； as steadily as the Earth rolled around and around the sun； year after year； turning time into dust as surely as the mill turned grain into flour。
He glanced down； to the place where the earth had given way slightly under the millstone； tipping it and nearly killing the boy。 The bottom of the depression glistened in the lantern light。 Taleswapper knelt and dipped his finger into a half…inch of water。 It must have collected there； weakening the ground； carrying away the soil。 Not so that it would ever be visibly moist。 Just enough that when great weight was placed on it； it would give way。
Ah； Unmaker； thought Taleswapper； show yourself to me； and I'll build such a building that you'll be trussed up and held captive forever。 But try as he might； he could not make his eyes see the trembling air that had shown itself to Alvin Miller's seventh son。 Finally Taleswapper took up the lantern and left the millhouse。 The first flakes were falling。 The wind had almost died。 The snow came faster and faster； dancing in the light of his lantern。 By the time he reached the house； the ground was grey with snow； the forest invisible in the distance。 He went inside the house； lay down on the floor without removing even his boots； and fell asleep。
Chapter Twelve Book
They kept a three…log fire； night and day； so the stones of the wall seemed to glow with heat； and the air in his room was dry。 Alvin lay unmoving on his bed； his right leg heavy with splints and bandages； pressing into the bed like an anchor； the rest of his body afloat； adrift； pitching and rolling and yawing。 He was dizzy； and a little sick。
But he hardly noticed the weight of his leg； or the dizziness。 The pain was his enemy； throbs and stabs of it taking his mind away from the task that Taleswapper had set him： to heal himself。
Yet the pain was his friend； too。 It built a wall around him so he scarce knew he was in a house； in a roof； on a bed。 The outside world could burn up and turn to ash and he'd never notice it。 It was the world inside that he was exploring now。
Taleswapper didn't know half what he was talking about。 It wasn't a matter of making pictures in his mind。 His leg wouldn't get better from just pretending it was all healed up。 But Taleswapper still had the right idea。 If Alvin could feel his way through the rock； could find the weak and strong places and teach them where to break and where to hold firm； why couldn't he do it with skin and bone？
Trouble was； skin and bone was all mixed up。 The rock was pretty much the same thing through and through； but the skin changed with every layer； and it wasn't no easy trick figuring where everything went。 He lay there with his eyes closed； looking into his own flesh for the first time。 At first he tried following the pain； but that didn't get nowhere； just led him to where everything was mashed and cut and messed up so he couldn't tell up from down。 After a long while he tried a different tack。 He listened to his heart beating。 At first the pain kept tearing him away； but after a while he closed in on that sound。 If there was noise in the world outside he didn't know about it； because the pain shut all that out。 And the rhythm of the heartbeat； that shut out the pain； or mostly； anyway。
He followed the tracks of his blood； the big strong stream； the little streams。 Sometimes he got lost。 Sometimes a stab from his leg just broke in and demanded to be heard。 But by and by he found his way to healthy skin and bone in the other leg。 The blood wasn't half so strong there； but it led him where he wanted to go。 He found all the layers； like the skin of an onion。 He learned their order； saw how