When Rollan reached the fence, he jumped and grabbed the top with both hands as if he meant to climb, then turned in midair to kick the coyote springing at him square in the muzzle. The blow connected cleanly, and the coyote hit the ground with a yelp. Rollan was up the fence and over before the animal had recovered.

The alley he landed in was wider. As he debated which direction to go, Zerif shot around a far corner, running with superhuman speed. Rollan couldn’t run half as fast as Zerif was moving. Zerif had gone around most of the block in the time it had taken Rollan to cross the lot. Rollan had heard stories about the powers the Marked could receive from their bonds. How could he escape from someone like that? He turned and ran the opposite way.

Racing around another corner, Rollan found himself sprinting toward a large man in a forest-green cloak astride a moose. There was no time to digest the bizarre sight. The moose barreled toward him, its massive antlers spanning almost the full width of the alley. The gray-haired man astride it had a thick build and a fleshy face framed by a bristly beard. He clutched a mace in one hand. A mail shirt jangled under his cloak.

“Out of my way, boy!” the Greencloak bellowed.

Lunging sideways, Rollan flattened himself against the wall of the alley as the moose charged past. He heard a shriek above him and the scrape of talons on metal as his bird landed on the roof.

Zerif and the coyote bolted around the corner, skidding to a halt when they saw the oncoming moose. The Greencloak gave a battle cry and raised his mace. Zerif shouldered through the first door he reached, probably the back entrance to some business. The Greencloak paused for a moment, as if about to give chase, before he rode back to Rollan.

“What name did he give?” he barked.

“That guy? Zerif.”

“That much was true. Do you know him?”

“I just met him. He bailed me out of jail.”

The man dismounted. “What did he tell you?”

“Not much,” Rollan said. “He wanted to take me away.”

“I expect he did,” the man said. “We call Zerif ‘the Jackal’ after his spirit animal, a cunning creature native to Nilo. He works for our archenemy, the Devourer.”

“The Devourer?” Rollan said. It seemed so improbable he almost choked. “Are you serious? Who are you?”

“My name is Olvan.”

Rollan glanced at the huge moose and back again. No way. It couldn’t be. “The Olvan?” he said, shocked into a whisper.

“If by that you mean the worldwide commander of the Greencloaks, then yes, the Olvan.”

The gyrfalcon shrieked and swooped down to land on Rollan’s shoulder. Rollan reached up to stroke her feathers. He paused a long moment before he spoke. “Suddenly everyone wants to be my friend. Both of you showed up so quickly. Is this about my falcon?”

“She is not your falcon, son. She is the Falcon.” Olvan let the words sink in. “You have summoned Essix back into the world.”

5 TRAINING

ABEKE SAT ON THE EDGE OF A FEATHER BED. HER ROOM HAD a carved desk, an elaborate sofa, cushioned chairs, and a mirror framed in what she thought might be real gold — all for her personal use. Everyone she encountered treated her respectfully and a servant delivered tasty meals. Her leopard had turned her into royalty.

The room gently rocked from side to side. To think such luxury was available on a ship! Abeke would not have believed it had she not seen it.

She appreciated the courteous treatment, but did not feel comfortable in the fancy room. It was too different from home. There were no familiar faces or even familiar ways.

Zerif had not joined her on the voyage. At the dock, he had explained that urgent matters called him elsewhere, and entrusted her in the care of a stranger, a boy named Shane. After everything she had lost, the extra separation had stung.

Less than a week earlier, Zerif had convinced her father that Abeke needed to leave Okaihee, not just for her personal safety, but for the good of the village. Pojalo had promptly agreed. Part of Abeke wished her father had struggled more with the decision. She could not help wondering whether he would have relinquished Soama so swiftly. With the approval of her father, Zerif had smuggled Abeke and Uraza away that same night.

Abeke regretted never talking to Chinwe before leaving. Chinwe had thought that Abeke would be the village’s new Rain Dancer. They certainly needed one. In the rush to heed Zerif’s advice, she had ignored the needs of her community. What if her absence meant the drought would continue? What if she had shirked her destiny? What if she had missed her chance finally to fit in?

Despite the comforts aboard the ship, Abeke missed her father and sister. Back home, they had all shared one room. They had routines, meals together, and Abeke was used to falling asleep to the sound of her father snoring. Each night on the ship, Abeke struggled to find sleep. Nothing felt familiar.

At first there had been too many new experiences to get homesick — an exciting coach ride, a busy city, a sea of endless water too salty to drink, and then a ship big enough to hold most of the people in her village. It was only after they set sail that Abeke started to feel restless. She had time to think. She had time to miss prowling the savannah. She had time to wish for familiar faces.

At least she had Uraza. Abeke rubbed the leopard’s neck and the big cat purred, the vibrations tickling her palm. Uraza was not particularly affectionate, but she never rejected Abeke’s stroking.

A knock came at her door. It had to be Shane. He was the other pleasant part of the voyage. He had been helping her learn to improve her connection with Uraza.

“Come in,” Abeke said.

Shane opened the door. At twelve, he was only one year older than she was. He was pale, but handsome, with a sturdy build and a relaxed competence that she admired. Like her, he had a spirit animal — a wolverine.

“Ready to go to the hold?” he asked.

“I thought you’d never come,” Abeke said. “I’m not used to being penned up.”

He stood in the doorway, considering her. “It’s hard to leave all you know behind. I had to leave my parents too. My uncle helped train me, and he’s not around either.”

“My mother passed away four years ago,” Abeke confided. “She was the one who understood me. My father and sister . . . it was different with them. But I do miss them. I know they care for me, as I care for them.”

Shane’s expression softened. “People here care for you as well, Abeke. We see great potential in you. Those of us with heavy burdens find family where we can. You have your spirit animal. You’ll learn to find a lot of solace there. Come.”