With a burst of speed, he carried us through the village, across the meadow and up to the Schoolhouse fence. I forced open the entryway with a kick then slowed to dismount. I lifted my leg over and slid down one heavily lathered flank. I landed lightly on the Schoolhouse porch. I turned on my heel and opened the front door. I came face to face with a kitchen maid. She screeched.

“You,” I said. “There’s a horse outside. Take him to the stables and have him fed and watered.” I didn’t slow or wait for her reply.

I took the stairs by threes, passing bewildered students. Thankfully, I saw no one from my class. I avoided the corridors where Teachers tended to congregate. They would try to stop me running, and I couldn’t be stopped. I had slowed the bounty hunters down, but they were greedy. They would, eventually, regroup, find William and trade him in for coin. He would be easy to track. If not for my stubborn anger, I would have known the truth. It was achingly clear to me now.

As sure as the sun, William was on his way to me. William would not leave me to the hunters any more than he had abandoned me at the Schoolhouse those many years ago. If I had ever been alone, it was because he had no choice in the matter. From the moment of my birth to this very day, he had watched over me.

Arms akimbo like a perched eagle, observing that we were not sick. He’d covered us like an ebony shade, the worst of the heat on his back. Say papa, say papa. Come now, say papa.

My eyes stung. The hunters had only to follow me, and they would have him. I could have ridden east and warned him of their plot but something, the niggling beginnings of a plan, had told me to ride to Cobane.

I would save William and win the Senator seat. It wasn’t the freedom I’d hoped for, but I would survive and, perhaps, be well positioned to protect the Kongo from the worst of the New Seed proposal. I sped up as I rounded the corner to Jones’ office.

I came to a skidding stop. My chest heaved, though not from my exertions. I told myself to calm down. For once, I thought, I had the advantage. She was not expecting me. I took a deep breath and lifted one hand. To my horror, Jones opened the door just before I made contact. Heat flooded my face as my bravado flickered and died. Instantly, I was seven years old again, at her mercy. I lowered my head. “Teacher.”

* * *