For all his size and strength, William’s power lay in his tremendous will. Once his mind was made up, he became immovable. Earlier in the evening, Hosea and I had tended patients one bed apart and William, as was his habit, was humming softly to himself—the same short tune. The song had been unfamiliar to me at first, but he sung it so persistently that I was humming along with him when Hosea, just a few feet away, paused in his ministration to ask sardonically whether our song had words. William’s face had turned to stone. He eyed Hosea and said, firmly, “We sing song.” Motioning to me to continue with him, he had begun at the top of the verse, no louder than before, but no quieter either.

Hosea puffed air through his nostrils. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

“Kha not touch Arika,” William repeated.

At his back, I smothered a smile with my fist. In just a few hours, William had changed from my guard, to my shield.

Hosea glared at me. “Look, will you call him off. I just want to talk.”

I stayed behind William and called out, “I want to know about the fire at Point Landing. How did it start?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me about Martin’s messenger.”

Hosea sighed. “There’s nothing to tell. He’s dead.”

“When? How?”

“A few minutes ago. He bled to death. There was nothing anyone could do.”

Stunned, I said nothing.

“Remember the built young man we tended tonight?”

“The cannon!” I recalled. “He was the messenger? Did he say anything before he died?”

“There wasn’t time,” Hosea said.

I deflated as the trail of information came to an abrupt end. If I wanted to know more, I would have to find and question Martin, the Rebel.

I stepped into the open. “It’s okay, William. I want to talk to Kha alone.”

William didn’t move.

“Why don’t you go back to the sick room?” I suggested, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m sure Robin could use your help.”

After a moment, William sent Hosea a dark look and strode away.

The Factions

THE FACTIONS

When William was out of sight, Hosea stalked toward me. When we were toe to toe, he pulled a pink, fragrant square from his back pocket.

“What is that?” I asked.

“An invitation. According to this, I’m the only student in residence from the Vine, which means I’m on the Joust Planning Committee by default. So, we have to go.”

I stared, nonplussed. The preliminary meeting had taken place already, and the first official Committee meeting wasn’t until Saturday night. Could it be that I’d spent the whole of Saturday in the village? “What day is it?”

“It’s Saturday, Cobane. We have thirty minutes. Now, let’s go.”