Orson Scott Card - Alvin SS - Grinning Man

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TALES

OF ALVIN

MAKER

ORSON SCOTT

CARD

The Tales of Alvin Maker:

Book One: Seventh Son (1987)

Book Two: Red Prophet (1988)

Book Three: Prentice Alvin (1989)

Book Four: Alvin journeyman (1996)

Book Five: Master Alvin (1998)

In the Tales of Alvin Maker series, an alternate-history view of an

America that never was, Orson Scott Card postulated what the world might have

been like if the Revolutionary War had never happened, and if folk magic

actually worked.

America is divided into several provinces, with the Spanish and French

still having a strong presence in the New World. The emerging scientific

revolution in Europe has led many people with 'talent', that is, magical

ability, to emigrate to North America, bringing their prevailing magic with

them. The books chronicle the life of Alvin, the seventh son of a seventh son

- a fact that marks him right away as a person of great power. It is Alvin's

ultimate destiny to become a Maker, an adept being of a kind that has not

existed for a thousand years. However, there exists an Unmaker for every Maker

- a being of great supernatural evil - who is Alvin's adversary, and strives

to use Alvin's brother Calvin against him.

During the course of his adventures, Alvin explores the world around him

and encounters such problems as slavery and the continued enmity between the

settlers and the Native Americans who control the western half of the

continent. The series appears to be heading towards an ultimate confrontation

between Alvin and the Unmaker, with the fate of the entire continent, perhaps

even the world, hinging on the outcome.

GRINNING MAN

BY ORSON SCOTT CARD

The first time Alvin Maker run across the grinning man was in the steep

woody hills of eastern Kenituck. Alvin was walking along with his ward, the

boy Arthur Stuart, talking either deep philosophy or the best way for

travellers to cook beans, I can't bring to mind now which, when they come upon

a clearing where a man was squatting on his haunches looking up into a tree.

Apart from the unnatural grin upon his face, there wasn't all that much

remarkable about him, for that time and place. Dressed in buckskin, a cap made

of coonhide on his head, a musket lying in the grass ready to hand - plenty of

men of such youth and roughness walked the game trails of the unsettled forest

in those days.

Though come to think of it, eastern Kenituck wasn't all that unsettled

by then, and most men gave up buckskin for cotton during summer, less they was

too poor to get them none. So maybe it was partly his appearance that made

Alvin stop up short and look at the fellow. Arthur Stuart, of course, he did

what he saw Alvin do, till he had some good reason to do otherwise, so he

stopped at the meadow's edge too, and fell silent too, and watched.

The grinning man had his gaze locked on the middle branches of a scruffy

old pine that was getting somewhat choked out by slower-growing flat-leaf

trees. But it wasn't no tree he was grinning at. No sir, it was the bear.

There's bears and there's bears, as everyone knows. Some little old

brown bears are about as dangerous as a dog - which means if you beat it with

a stick you deserve what you get, but otherwise it'll leave you alone. But

some black bears and some grizzlies, they have a kind of bristle to the hair

on their backs, a kind of spikiness like a porcupine that tells you they're

just spoiling for a fight, hoping you'll say a cross word so's they can take a

swipe at your head and suck your lunch back up through your neck. Like a

likkered-up river man.

This was that kind of bear. A little old, maybe, but as spiky as they

come, and it wasn't up that tree 'cause it was afraid, it was up there for

honey, which it had plenty of, along with bees that were now so tired of

trying to sting through that matted fur that they were mostly dead, all stung

out. There was no shortage of buzzing, though, like a choir of folks as don't

know the words to the hymn so they just hum, only the bees was none too

certain of the tune, neither.

But there sat that man, grinning at the bear. And there sat the bear,

looking down at him with its teeth showing.

Alvin and Arthur stood watching for many a minute while nothing in the

tableau changed. The man squatted on the ground, grinning up; the bear

squatted on a branch, grinning down. Neither one showed the slightest sign

that he knew Alvin and Arthur was even there.

So it was Alvin broke the silence. 'I don't know who started the ugly

contest, but I know who's going to win.'

Without breaking his grin, through clenched teeth the man said, 'Excuse

me for not shaking your hands but I'm abusy grinning this bear.'

Alvin nodded wisely - it certainly seemed to be a truthful statement.

'And from the look of it,' says Alvin, 'that bear thinks he's grinning you,

too.'

'Let him think what he thinks,' said the grinning man. 'He's coming down

from that tree.'

Arthur Stuart, being young, was impressed. 'You can do that just by

grinning?' .

'Just hope I never turn my grin on you,' said the man. 'I'd hate to have

to pay your master the purchase price of such a clever blackamoor as you.'

It was a common mistake, to take Arthur Stuart for a slave. He was half-

Black, wasn't he? And south of the Hio was all slave country then, where a

Black man either was, or used to be, or sure as shooting was bound to become

somebody's property. In those parts, for safety's sake, Alvin didn't bother

correcting the assumption. Let folks think Arthur Stuart already had an owner,

so folks didn't get their hearts set on volunteering for the task.

'That must be a pretty strong grin,' said Alvin Maker. 'My name's Alvin.

I'm a journeyman blacksmith.'

'Ain't much call for a smith in these parts. Plenty of better land

farther west, more settlers, you ought to try it.' The fellow was still

talking through his grin.

'I might,' said Alvin. 'What's your name?'

'Hold still now,' says the grinning man. 'Stay right where you are. He's

a-coming down.'

The bear yawned, then clambered down the trunk and rested on all fours,

his head swinging back and forth, keeping time to whatever music it is that

bears hear. The fur around his mouth was shiny with honey and dotted with dead

bees. Whatever the bear was thinking, after a while he was done, whereupon he

stood on his hind legs like a man, his paws high, his mouth open like a baby

showing its mama it swallowed its food.

The grinning man rose up on his hind legs, then, and spread his arms,

just like the bear, and opened his mouth to show a fine set of teeth for a

human, but it wasn't no great shakes compared to bear's teeth. Still, the bear

seemed convinced. It bent back down to the ground and ambled away without

complaint into the brush.

'That's my tree now,' said the grinning man.

'Ain't much of a tree,' said Alvin.

'Honey's about all et up,' added Arthur Stuart.

'My tree and all the land round about,' said the grinning man.

'And what you plan to do with it? You don't look to be a farmer.'

'I plan to sleep here,' said the grinning man. 'And my intention was to

sleep without no bear coming along to disturb my slumber. So I had to tell him

who was boss.'

'And that's all you do with that knack of yours?' asked Arthur Stuart.

'Make bears get out of the way?'

'I sleep under bearskin in winter,' said the grinning man. 'So when I

grin a bear, it stays grinned till I done what I'm doing.'

'Don't it worry you that someday you'll meet your match?' asked Alvin

mildly.

'I got no match, friend. My grin is the prince of grins. The king of

grins.'

'The emperor of grins,' said Arthur Stuart. 'The Napoleon of grins!'

The irony in Arthur's voice was apparently not subtle enough to escape

the grinning man. 'Your boy got him a mouth.'

'Helps me pass the time,' said Alvin. 'Well, now you done us the favour

of running off that bear, I reckon this is a good place for us to stop and

build us a canoe.'

Arthur Stuart looked at him like he was crazy. 'What do we need a canoe

for?'

'Being a lazy man,' said Alvin, 'I mean to use it to go downstream.'

'Don't matter to me,' said the grinning man. 'Float it, sink it, wear it

on your head or swallow it for supper, you ain't building nothing right here.'

The grin was still on his face.

'Look at that, Arthur,' said Alvin. 'This fellow hasn't even told us his

name, and he's a-grinning us.'

'Ain't going to work,' said Arthur Stuart. 'We been grinned at by

politicians, preachers, witchers, and lawyers, and you ain't got teeth enough

to scare us.'

With that, the grinning man brought his musket to bear right on Alvin's

heart. 'I reckon I'll stop grinning then,' he said.

'I think this ain't canoe-building country,' said Alvin. 'Let's move

along, Arthur.'

'Not so fast,' said the grinning man. 'I think maybe I'd be doing all my

neighbours a favour if I kept you from ever moving away from this spot.'

'First off,' said Alvin, 'you got no neighbours.'

'All mankind is my neighbour,' said the grinning man. 'Jesus said so.'

'I recall he specified Samaritans,' said Alvin, 'and Samaritans got no

call to fret about me.'

'What I see is a man carrying a poke that he hides from my view.'

That was true, for in that sack was Alvin's golden plough, and he always

tried to keep it halfway hid behind him so folks wouldn't get troubled if they

happened to see it move by itself, which it was prone to do from time to time.

Now, though, to answer the challenge, Alvin moved the sack around in front of

him.

'I got nothing to hide from a man with a gun,' said Alvin.

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