“The device is small, but the three-dimensional holograph it produces is life-sized. I hold it in my hand and the image projects up from the center of the coin. It’s like talking face to face.”

“They told us there was only one comm-unit in the Kongo,” I said, bitterly.

Hosea smiled, sympathetically. “They lie.” He took a worn strip of bambi from his back pocket and came forward. He held it out, along with the ruby knife. “Keep it,” he said.

I took the knife. It was warm from his hand. And I felt warm as he knelt to show me how to tie the strap into a holster for the blade.

“If you wear it around your calf, like this, you’ll never have to take it off,” he said, his hand still wrapped around my ankle.

Bending at the waist, I admired it, invisible beneath the leg of my britches “When will my sword come?” I asked, adjusting the laces of my moccasins.

“It came hours ago.” He smiled and held up a hand when he saw my excitement. “No—no more questions for now. We’ll start training later this morning. Now, we eat breakfast.”

Breakfast was bread slathered in nut paste, an oily mixture of finely ground forest nuts and seeds. It had the consistency of drying glue, but it was high in fat which, Hosea assured us, was good for training. With that in mind, I scraped the paste from the roof of my mouth and requested more. My ability to wield the sword was my key to freedom. With a smile, Walker filled my plate again.

Hosea led us to a training field half a mile away. It smelled like freshly cut firewood. Instead of grass, a thick blanket of felled needles covered the ground.

In the middle of the clearing, Hosea stopped and pointed to a row of narrow tree stumps. “Each of you line up behind a pole,” he said.

I moved obediently. The surface of the stump was smooth, ten inches in diameter. I guessed Hosea had leveled it with his Helix. His weapon hung from his waist but, as I surveyed the field, ours were nowhere to be found.

“Step onto the post,” Hosea ordered.

I looked around. There were five of us training. William had explained, again, that he no longer lived by the club which, for him, meant he would only fight in defense of a loved one. He had no need for such a powerful weapon. Along with him, Walker and Hurley admitted to being too tired and old to train. All three had remained by the morning fire as Hosea rounded us up.

“Where is my sword?” Voltaire asked. He crossed his arms over his thin chest.

“The swords are close by,” Hosea said.

“I want mine now,” Booster said. He too remained stubbornly on the ground.

“You’ll have it when you’re ready, and not before,” Hosea said.