Hosea nodded. “When he came, he brought the technology with him. It wasn’t viable when he left the North, but he continued to develop it for our use.”

I frowned—our use? The KTC was the hub of Kongo Technology. However, it did not produce technology for our use. Technology was known to engender discontent.

I’d completed my Silver Award research under Teacher Saxon, a scholar of old- and new-world technology, so I had some expertise on the subject. In her office, she had ferreted away relics of the old world. She had a computer, a cellular phone, a VCR and more. I’d heard her advocate for the broader use of technology in the Schoolhouse, but even she would have drawn the line at a KTC development center. To begin with, the KTC was serviced by the Vine House. The risk of knowledge leaking into the village would have been untenable.

“What do you mean, he developed bioweapons for our use?” I said. “It almost sounds like the Director is interested in distributing arms.”

Hosea stared at me. “The Director is an advocate of an independent Kongo nation. Surely you’ve put that together by now. He developed the Helix for years, and it just recently—in the past year—became viable.”

“In the past year,” I repeated, my heart thudding. “Just as Voltaire’s Army turned violent.”

Voltaire glared at me. “The so-called ‘Voltaire’s Army’!” he said. “Get it right—English—or keep my name from your mouth. Those white-faced villains have nothing to do with the real Voltaire!”

I ignored Voltaire’s interruption. Hosea was about to hand over the exact information Jones had requested. “Does the Director have a plan to use the weapons to stop the New Seed from passing muster in the Assembly?”

“I don’t know,” Hosea said. “Perhaps he’ll answer that himself.”

“Then we’re still going to meet him at—” I bit my tongue before I said the Obi Forest. I would not expose that I knew our original destination. “—at the end of our journey?” I finished.

“No, we’re not traveling to meet him anymore.”

“Well then, he must be traveling here to the oasis,” I said, trying to appear casual.

“I believe so,” Hosea said. “He protects the Helix technology. The development of each sword is an expensive endeavor. He’ll want to know the warriors I entrust them to.”

I bit my lip and turned away, wanting to write down all I’d heard—nothing lost in translation.

Voltaire stood and shouted triumphantly. “We will have our swords, tomorrow! Do you hear that, men? Tomorrow!”

* * *

We all sat awaiting supper, when the bandit who’d guarded William returned to the fire. He had a beak nose that hooked sharply at the end. He carried a jug of alcohol.

“Booster, not too much drink,” Voltaire cautioned.

The burly man took a swig from the jug. “I’m man enough to hold my spirits, Voltaire.”