Voltaire was ornery, but brilliant. Pidge, possessed of a steely will, was an expert trapper. Booster was arrogant, but mighty. He could kill a desert antelope with a single blow. Walker cooked and gathered food. Hurley, when he wasn’t dozing, maintained a potted garden of vegetables that he painstakingly shuttled from camp to camp when they moved. Even Fly Man did his part by keeping the horses. Unlike the students at the Schoolhouse, they needed no prodding to work together. They had to survive.

I ate my fish slowly, ignoring the twinges in my body, which ached from my lesson with Finch. I’d picked myself up from the ground again and again, telling myself the training was less painful than returning to the Schoolhouse and playing the traitor for Jones.

My gaze moved on to Hosea Khan, who ate in silence. Earlier, I’d seen him talking to William in private. They had been too far away to hear, but William’s cross-armed stance had relaxed as they spoke. The giant had rested one affectionate hand on Hosea’s shoulder and squeezed before walking away. When he was out of sight, Hosea had turned to catch my eye. I shifted out of sight, just as he gave a mock salute. He’d known I was there all along. Just as I knew, somehow, that I was the subject of their exchange.

I took another bite of fish and let my eyes narrow on his flat abdomen as he inhaled. A flush of admiration settling in my chest. Finch switched to shallow chest breathing often, especially when frustrated at my slowness. Hosea, in contrast, breathed deeply, as if it were second nature to him. For hours now, I had tried to catch him unawares without success. How did he do it?

Just then, Booster stood and raised his cup. “I propose a toast,” he said, “to me.”

I tore my eyes from Hosea and laughed with the others.

“And why are we toasting you this time, Booster?” Pidge asked.

Booster adjusted his feet in the water bucket, so he stood taller. “We toast me because I will be our Champion at the upcoming Joust.”

Pidge stopped smiling. Confused, I set my cup aside. The Joust consisted of a Champion from each of the twelve Kongo Houses. No other group could participate. More, the bandits’ pictures had been circulating the Kongo for months on Wanted posters. They would be arrested on sight if they entered Cobane. I looked at Voltaire, certain he would refute Booster’s claim.

Voltaire remained silent.

“You speak too soon, Booster,” Pidge said. “The Joust is weeks away and we all agreed that Voltaire will pick our Champion.”

“Voltaire and I spoke today. I will be Champion,” Booster argued.

All eyes turned to Voltaire. He stood to explain. “As you all know, I plan to return to the Kongo people on the night of the Joust,” he said.