My mouth dropped. The others, however, including Hosea, weren’t surprised.

Voltaire continued. “With the help of the Hannibal Champion, who agreed to let one of us take his place, we will infiltrate the Joust, win the tournament, and prove, that the real Voltaire is the true leader of the Second Brothers’ Rebellion.”

I nodded. It was a good plan. If Voltaire’s Champion won, he would have the people’s favor.

Voltaire continued. “This morning I spoke with the Cobane Champion, William, formerly known as Crane the Conqueror. William told me that the so-called Voltaire’s Army will also fight in the Joust. Because of this, William says that Booster is our only hope of winning.”

Stationed between Hurley and Walker, William whittled a long block of wood. He did not confirm his conversation with Voltaire.

“And so,” Voltaire concluded, “Booster will be our Champion.”

Pidge threw his cup. “You base our strategy on the word of a man you’ve just met. Where do his loyalties lie? Where did he get his information?” Pidge asked.

Voltaire’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “William Whittle is not only the former Cobane Champion,” he said. “Before he gave up the club, he led the so-called Voltaire’s Army.”

My mouth dropped again. Finally, William finally set aside his whittling. The image he presented, his hands in his lap, didn’t mesh with the pictures I’d seen of the White-Face men. William, however, didn’t deny Voltaire’s claim.

“You were our leader?” Booster asked.

Eyeing Booster, William performed a series of identifying hand motions.

“You were our leader.” Booster confirmed.

“Booster! You were a White-Face soldier?” I asked.

Booster glanced at me. “Yes. I was entranced by Voltaire’s writings. I did anything for the cause, even kill. Before I learned that the true Voltaire was against the Army, I wore the white-face. Hurley and Walker saved me from a mob of Loyalists set on hanging me. Pidge, there, was always a Rebel.”

“And Finch?” I asked.

Finch stood and held up a hand to Booster. Quiet Booster, I will tell my story myself. Respectfully, Booster withdrew. Walker removed his hat, holding it to his chest as Finch cleared his throat. I sensed Finch’s tale would not end well.

* * *

“I was a household servant at House Bankhead,” Finch began. “I served with my brother. We were born from the same egg on the same day. He was shorter than me by a quarter inch, so we called him Little Finch. Each night we entertained the English diplomats at the big house, and the English treated us well in return. We ate the fat, and slept by the kitchen fire. And, because they feared we would forget our act, they shielded us from the Rebirth.

“Life was good until Little Finch found a Rebel pamphlet.