Major Zungu stops in front of the white door that leads to the council chamber. I feel like a hen waiting to have its neck wrung.
He opens the door and gestures with his huge hand. “After you.”
My heart is scudding. I can’t go in there. I look around, back down the passage – there must be a way out.
“Come on, Ebba,” Mr Frye says firmly. “No dillydallying.”
He puts his hand in the small of my back and propels me into the council room.
A middle-aged man is sitting at the table and looks up as we enter. I’ve seen him before. Is he Oliver’s father, Mr Adams? Cassie and Hal’s friend Oliver, who came to lunch at Greenhaven?
“Stand here, in the centre,” Major Zungu orders.
I go to the spot he points out and stand there quaking, too scared to look up.
Mr Frye and Mr Adams turn expectantly as footsteps ring in the passage. A door opens and Captain Atherton calls, “All rise.”
Two guards come in first, followed by the general. Everyone salutes. The general takes his seat between Major Zungu and Captain Atherton, and the guards stand behind him, with faces of stone.
Captain Atherton leans over and whispers in his ear. They glance at me then carry on muttering to each other. They’re discussing how to kill me …
Finally the general speaks. “Miss den Eeden, are you ready to take the oath?”
“The … the oath?”
“The oath of allegiance. You acted bravely and loyally by assassinating a corrupt leader. Without thinking of your own safety, you brought about the downfall of the previous regime. As a reward you are to be given a place on the Table Island Council.”
My mouth drops open. “I … I didn’t kill the High Priest,” I stutter. “It was an accident.”
“Repeat after me,” the general continues, my words sliding off him like oil on water. “I, Ebba den Eeden …”
What am I supposed to do? I can’t sit on the council. Micah will be furious. What will Leonid and Jasmine say?
“Do I have to do this?” I stammer.
The general stops talking and stares at me with those cold, slate-blue eyes. They drill into me like he can see inside my skull. I twist my robe, weighing up the alternatives.
Mr Frye turns and smiles encouragingly, nodding his head. I remember his words: Wealth is power. Use it.
What if they are holding Micah somewhere else? What if the general decides to arrest Letti and Fez? And the two thousand people still in the bunker? It’ll be much easier to get them out if I’m helping to make the decisions. Surely Jasmine and Leonid and Micah will understand?
“Sorry,” I say, lifting my right hand and trying to look calm. “I’m ready.”
“Repeat after me: I, Ebba den Eeden, do solemnly swear to obey General Magnus de Groot, president and supreme ruler of the Republic of Table Island City, and to serve the Council to the best of my ability. I will be loyal, diligent and untiring in the execution of my duty.”
I mumble the words after him. Am I making the biggest mistake of my life?
When I finish the oath, he gestures to the empty chair between Mr Frye and Mr Adams. I sit down, and the general, Major Zungu and Captain Atherton face me, unsmiling.
“Item one on the agenda,” Captain Atherton says, opening a leather-bound book with a thud.
“Gentlemen … and lady … we are in a crisis situation!” General de Groot says. He pauses to let his words sink in, and then thumps the table with his fist. “A crisis situation,” he repeats. “We are running out of food. The reserves in the colony are decreasing daily. Without that produce, there is nothing to trade, and no way to feed the army or the citizens. We have to find a way to produce enough food to keep our Islanders fed, or we will face rebellion. Mr Adams, the Syndicate produces grain on the mainland. Can you increase your yield? Can we import more into Table Island?”
“Unfortunately not,” Mr Adams says. “We don’t have enough water resources.”
“Hmmm.” The general steeples his fingers and then fixes his stare on me. “What is your opinion, Miss den Eeden?” He’s a big, thick-set man, and his muscles bulge beneath the sleeves of his uniform, reminding me not so subtly that he is in charge. “Can Greenhaven produce more food?”
His strange eyes shine like polished steel and I stare back at him, thoughts whirling in my mind. Is this why he wanted me on the council – for Greenhaven’s produce? And while I have to grow more to feed the citizens and the army, the people I grew up with in the bunker are starting to go hungry?
“I … er … I …”
“Let me answer that,” Mr Frye says with a smile. “Greenhaven has plenty of empty land to expand. However, labour remains a problem. Without sufficient labourers, no expansion is possible. Isn’t that right, Ebba?”
Suddenly I understand what he meant earlier about my power. Here is the general, the most important person on the island, in the whole world, and he’s asking me to help him!
Now’s my chance to get what I want.
“Well, General,” I begin. My voice sounds squeaky in the big, marble-lined chamber. “We could produce more food, but as Mr Frye says, we don’t have enough staff.”
I take a deep breath and hope he doesn’t shout at me because of what I’m about to say.
“There are two thousand people in the colony. If you released them from the slavery that the High Priest kept them in, you’d have a powerful workforce. And I could give some a place to work on Greenhaven.”
He snorts. “Ebba, Ebba, such an idealist. You’re still so young.”
He and Major Zungu smile at me like I’m an indulged two-year old. I feel my face going red.
“Just tell me,” he says, “how would we feed and clothe and house them? It would be cruel to release them with no preparation for life. The colony is all they’ve ever known – they’ve been fed three times a day, provided for. There’s not enough to go around as it is in this dangerous world. It would be dog eat dog.” He chortles. “And once they start breeding …”
But I know my idea is a good one. I eye Major Zungu and Captain Atherton, and then address the general.
“You can’t keep them there indefinitely. You’ve already told us they’re running out of food and growing medium, thanks to the High Priest’s corruption.” Micah would be proud of me for speaking out, but I break into a sweat.
The general stares at me, his eyes narrowed and hard. Have I gone too far? But then he sits back and stares into middle distance. After a pause, he nods slowly.
“You may have a point
