Читать книгу Elevation 2: The Rising Tide - Helen Brain - Страница 7

A few minutes later, Captain Atherton jumps down from the carriage and Isi growls. Grabbing her collar, I take a deep breath, lift my chin and face my enemy.

“Yes, Captain,” I say, looking him firmly in the eye. “What can I do for you?”

“Miss den Eeden,” he says, saluting. “You are to come with me.”

I swallow, adrenaline pumping. “Are you arresting me?”

“Simply following General de Groot’s orders.”

I could refuse. But Fez and Letti are in the forest, and Jasmine is hiding inside the house so the Captain won’t recognise the “boy” who escaped from prison. I can’t risk Captain Atherton searching the farm again – I’ve got to get him out of here.

Aunty Figgy comes out with a cape. “Be strong,” she whispers as she wraps it around my shoulders. “I’ll call on the Goddess to help you.”

I need all the help I can get.

Captain Atherton opens the carriage door and I climb inside, trying to block out the memory of how he and Major Zungu forced me into another carriage just two weeks ago, and how Major Zungu stole my amulet from me. And how my blood was spilt when I cut my head on the window glass, releasing dark forces that so far have made a carriage crash, caused an earthquake, killed the High Priest and possibly kept Micah away. What will they do next?

I’m terrified. I grip the edge of the seat as we set off, every nerve wound tight, and I try to read Captain Atherton’s expression. Why does the general want to see me? Why hasn’t he come back to search for Letti and Fez? Where is Hal?

And are the rumours true? Has there been a military coup?

As we turn into the road, I look at the mountain looming above us and try to think positive thoughts. Inside are over two thousand people crammed into a bunker. Maybe he’s planning to elevate them all. Maybe he wants to give me the good news in person. But in my heart I know that’s not true.

The horses take a corner too fast and I grab the leather handle as I’m flung against the window, my injured shoulder jolting with pain. My heart pounds. If more of my blood is shed, will more dark forces be released? What other damage can they do?

*

WHEN WE DRIVE past the shrine, I notice that the golden sheaves – the emblem of the Prosperites – have been ripped off the doors. The place is crawling with soldiers. We reach the offices and a group of soldiers is gathered around the statue of the High Priest, trying to pull it off the stone pedestal.

Captain Atherton’s face is impassive as he opens the carriage door and gestures to me to get out.

“Follow me.”

I look up the flight of stairs flanked by stone lions – it’s a long, long way to the top. The last time I was here, the council warned me there would be no more chances. I know that if I walk up these stairs, I may never come down again.

Another carriage drives up and Mr Frye leaps out and comes bustling towards me.

“Ebba,” he murmurs as he kisses me on both cheeks. “I’m so glad to see you looking so much better.”

“Please, Mr Frye, don’t let them …” I start to whisper but, before I can finish, Major Zungu appears in the doorway and salutes. Revulsion floods me as I look into his dark face. “Miss den Eeden,” he says with a curt nod. “This way.”

But instead of going up the stairs, he opens a door in the wall and enters a gloomy passage leading into the mountain. I follow, desperately trying to read his body language. He’s marching with his usual gait – shoulders back to balance the weight of his heavy paunch, jutting jaw, arms stiff by his sides. He seems as impenetrable as the rock walls, and as hard to read. But I know the violence this man is capable of. I adjust the strap over my sore shoulder, recalling how he grabbed my amulet, punched me in the stomach and threw me so hard against the carriage window that the glass broke.

We turn a corner and descend a steep flight of stairs lit by burning torches. My heart tightens with each step: This isn’t the way to the council chamber. When we reach the black iron gates at the bottom of the stairs, I know we’re heading towards the prison cells. They’re going to lock me up, and this time there will be no escape.

It’s over. I’m going to die in here. I’m sixteen, and my life is about to end. I falter, look back to see if I can run for freedom. But there’s a guard behind us with a rifle, and three standing in front at the gates.

“This way,” Major Zungu snaps as a guard unlocks the heavy padlock.

I shiver as we follow him through the gates and down another corridor. The air here is cold and stale. My lungs feel like they’ll never fill up. Someone nearby is whimpering, and my gut twists with fear. I want to grab Mr Frye’s hand, beg him to take me out into the sunshine again, and to set free whoever it is I can hear crying like she’s given up hope.

We turn a corner and I see who is weeping. It’s Cassie. She’s crouched in her cell but when she sees me, relief flickers in her grimy, tear-stained face. She jumps up.

“Please help us,” she whispers gripping the bars. “Help me, please, Ebba. They’re … hurting me.”

She’s been beaten. One eye is swollen shut, her hair is matted. I flinch as she reaches out – there’s a huge bruise on her arm.

“Please, Ebba, we’re your friends. I gave you my favourite robe – the turquoise one, remember? I gave you shoes too. Don’t leave me here.”

I have no words; my throat is tight with fear.

“They’re going to shoot us all!” She’s suddenly hysterical. “Stop them, Uncle Fergus, stop them!” She grabs Mr Frye’s robe and tries to pull him towards her.

“We’ll see what we can do,” Mr Frye says, untangling her fingers. “You stay strong now.”

Cassie was my friend. What are they going to do to her?

I try to swallow but there’s a stone in my throat. “I’m so sorry, Cassie, I don’t know … I …” My voice bounces off the narrow walls, sounding louder than it is.

For a moment she looks like the High Priest: She lifts her chin and her hooded eyes half close. She thinks I’m choosing not to help her.

“Come along, Ebba,” Mr Frye says, moving on.

In the next cell is Evelyn, Hal and Cassie’s mother. She’s sitting at the back, head sunken. But when she sees me she runs to the bars. She’s always been so groomed and pretty. Now she is haggard, her robe dirty and torn as though someone has tried to rip it off. When she beats on the bars with her fist I see that there’s a raw, bloody mess where her thumb-nail used to be.

I can’t look. Is Major Zungu going to pull out my nails too? He’s standing back, face blank, as Evelyn starts to scream.

“Get us out of here! Get us out!” She’s banging on the bars, and blood drips from her thumb.

Why is she telling me to let them out? I’m in as much trouble as she is.

Her face darkens. “You always were a self-absorbed little bitch, Ebba,” she snarls. “And you, Fergus Frye, you’re a spineless little creep.” She spits onto the hem of his robe.

“Yes, dear,” Mr Frye says smoothly. “And a lovely day to you too.” He flicks the spittle off, and turns away. “Come along, Ebba,” he says. “Horrible people. They deserve what they have coming.”

“We’re the chosen ones of Prospiroh!” Evelyn screeches as we move down the corridor. “He’ll punish you for this. You’ll lose everything – your house, your farm, your friends. You’ll be poorer than the dirty boat people. Especially you, Ebba den Eeden!”

Mr Frye smiles drily and leans over to murmur in my ear. “Don’t let her upset you, dear. The Prosperites are finished. The general has banned any worship of Prospiroh, and good riddance to bad rubbish, if you ask me.”

“So there’s no new High Priest?”

“No priest, no shrine, no religion. The army has taken over everything. ”

“Hurry along, please,” Major Zungu snaps. “The general does not appreciate being kept waiting.”

We’ve reached the end of the corridor. We turn left, and then left again into another row of cells – cells for three more of the High Priest’s wives. I hurry past, trying not to make eye contact, feeling each one’s gaze bore into my back. Soon I’ll be in a cell like these, cramped and smelling as bad.

Mr Frye pulls out his hanky and covers his nose. “Disgusting.”

The source of the smell is an overflowing toilet bucket in the corner of the next cell. It’s a small stone room packed with the children, all fourteen of them. The youngest is just a toddler, and like the others he’s slumped against the wall, staring at the floor.

But when they recognise me, they run up to the bars.

“Ebba, Ebba!” they chorus. “Let us out. Please, Uncle Fergus, take us home.”

The toddler runs up too, wearing just a shirt. He’s filthy – they all are. Filthy and half starved. I can’t believe this is the happy family I shared meals with after Shrine. Their cries slice into me and I pause, holding out my good arm to the toddler, but Major Zungu scowls and gestures to me to hurry up.

Around another corner, the youngest wife, Nomkhululi, is cradling a tiny baby, her haggard face wracked with worry. She ignores Mr Frye but reaches a thin arm to me through the bars. “Please, Ebba, take my baby. They’re going to kill us. She hasn’t done anything wrong …” Tears run down her face and the baby wakes up with a feeble wail. She holds the child close, rubbing her tiny back. “Please, ask the general if you can take her.”

I stare, seeing an image of my own mother holding me when she faced down the army. “Mr Frye?” I turn to him.

Major Zungu reaches in and shoves Nomkhululi in the face. “Move along,” he snaps. “Move along.”

Hal is in the next cell. His face is swollen out of shape. Some of his teeth are gone and there’s a festering sore on his cheek. Seeing me, he limps forward, his eyes fixed on mine, his face hopeful. “Ebba, I knew you’d come.”

“There’s nothing I can do, Hal,” I whisper.

“You have to.” He presses his once handsome face against the bars, just inches from me. “You said you have powers from the Goddess.”

I swallow. “Not any more. Your father stole my amulet, Hal. Where is it? I have to get it back.”

He ignores my question. “They’re hurting Cassie.” His voice cracks. “You’ve got to get her out of here.”

“I’m so sorry, Hal,” I whisper, reaching for his hand. “They’re arresting me too.”

He looks taken aback, and then the light in his eyes seems to go out. He lifts his lip and spits in my face. “Liar! You’ve joined them. I always knew you would.”

I’m stung. “What do you mean? I haven’t joined them. I loved you, Hal. I just didn’t want to marry you, and your father tried to force it.”

“You were too busy with that garden-boy scum,” he snarls. “If we’d got married, none of this would have happened. It’s all your fault. First you kill my father, and now you won’t even save a newborn baby. You fooled me, you really did, with your big-eyed innocent act! You’re nothing but a two-faced, murdering slut …”

“Keep moving, Ebba.” Mr Frye’s voice is firm in my ear. “Come along.”

We’re reaching the end of the passage. I can see the gate, thank the Goddess. But there are two cells before we get to it, and the door of the second one stands open.

Please let it be Micah in that last cell. Please let me have found him.

But then I hope it isn’t. I’d rather imagine Micah on the mountain, in the open air with the sky above him and the sun on his cheek, even if he’s dead.

Three more steps, and at first it seems there’s no one inside. Then I see a figure huddled next to the wall, arms wrapped around his long thin legs, head bowed.

He doesn’t look up.

“Lucas!” I hiss. “Lucas.” I crouch down next to the cell bars, trying to see his face.

He half lifts his head.

“What have they done to you?” I gasp.

His face is smeared with blood, there’s a gash down his chin and it looks like his nose has been broken. But it’s his eyes that shock me.

They’re dead. Totally dead.

I want to hold him until they light up again. I have to help him.

“Mr Frye,” I get up and grab his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter what they do to me, but you have to get Lucas out of here. He saved my life. He brought me the keys when the High Priest locked me up.”

Major Zungu turns. Oh Goddess, did he hear me? If he did, he’ll punish Lucas even more. He’s scowling under his thick eyebrows. So much hatred in one look.

“Hurry up,” he barks, pulling at the door of the unlocked cell. He’s going to throw me inside, I know it. This time there’ll be no Clementine and her little boy to help me, no Lucas to bring me the key or draw me a map. They’ll hurt me like they’re hurting Cassie. They’ll break my nose and pull out my nails, and I’ll be here forever until I rot and fester like Hal’s wounded cheek, until I die. Without the amulets, not even the Goddess can help me.

“Please, Mr Frye,” I half sob. “Don’t let them lock me up. Tell the general I’ll do everything he says. Everything.”

“This way, Miss den Eeden,” Major Zungu snaps, rapping the bars with his revolver.

I clutch the empty necklace with my free hand. Please, Goddess, I pray silently. I’ll do anything. Just save me.

There’s a pause. The voices of the Poladion family echo down the corridors: Cassie sobbing, Evelyn screeching ugly words, Hal calling me, ordering me to get him out. The baby starts to cry, a thin wail that shatters me.

Only Lucas is silent. Head drooping in the corner of his cell, he sits as if he is already dead, waiting to be buried.

I’m too scared to move, terrified of hearing that cell door clang shut behind me, of being locked up away from Isi, from Greenhaven and Micah and Aunty Figgy and everyone I love.

“This way,” Major Zungu’s voice is rising.

Mr Frye looks back. “Come along, dear,” he says.

“Don’t let them. Please, please, Mr Frye, for my mother’s sake, my great-aunt … I know I’ve made you angry. I can change. I –”

But Major Zungu isn’t pushing me into the last cell. He swings the door shut and stands aside as the guards open the iron gates.

“The general does not appreciate being kept waiting,” he says, pointing to the stairs.

This can only mean one thing: I’ve got to appear in front of the council again. They’re going to execute me.

I grip Mr Frye’s hand as we start the climb back up the dark stone stairway.

“Please,” I whisper, “protect me. It wasn’t my fault the High Priest died, I swear it.”

He squeezes my fingers. ‘There, there, Ebba,” he murmurs. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

Easy for him to say – it’s not him being summoned to the council chamber.

“Just remember you are extremely wealthy,” he says quietly as we reach the top of the stairs and turn down a long passageway leading deeper into the mountainside. “Wealth is power. Use it. Bargain with them.”

Me? Power? I’m a sixteen-year-old girl up against the general and his whole army. I’ve enraged every citizen in Table Island, and the people in Boat Bay don’t like me any better. I’ve no family except a half-brother who hates me and a half-sister I’ve never met. And I’ve only just learnt to read. I’d hardly call that power.

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 here, Miss den Eeden. You may have a point. But they need to be prepared for life outside of the bunker. What do you suggest?”

I exhale slowly. “They need to know the truth about the world above. And they should be taught to read and write. Also, how to keep out of the sun, how to build shelter, where to find water, basic medicine, how to –”

He laughs. “One thing at a time, one thing at a time. We can start with reading and writing. I’ll instruct the tutors to begin daily lessons. Does that make you happy, my dear?”

“Yes. Thank you.” There is something so patronising about his “my dear”.

Mr Frye beams. “Well done, General. You’re already proving to be a wise and generous leader. Now, how many of the young people in the colony could you spare for Greenhaven’s workforce?”

The general gestures to Major Zungu, who leans over. Captain Atherton passes along the leather book and the three of them bend over it, muttering. The general jabs the page with his stubby finger. At last he looks up.

“I can give you fifty girls,” he says.

“Um …” I swallow as I contemplate finding beds for fifty people. “I haven’t really got room for that many –”

Major Zungu ignores me. “They will be in the care of the army,” he growls. “They will sleep in a temporary barracks located just outside Greenhaven Farm. They will be marched to Greenhaven at 0800 hours, six days a week, and return to the barracks at 1800 hours. Guards will supervise them for the duration. And, Miss den Eeden, make no mistake: They will be under strict observation at all times. You will feed them all three meals per day – including the guards.”

“Three meals a day?” How am I supposed to find food for over fifty people a day? But I know that if I don’t, they’ll be stuck in the colony. They will probably starve to death.

“In time, the food they produce will be more than enough to feed them and you’ll still have plenty to sell to the City. I understand that Greenhaven Farm does exceptionally well under your care, Miss den Eeden. Mr Frye says it’s quite remarkable how the output has increased since you’ve arrived. It’s your duty, Miss den Eeden, to help solve this crisis.”

Under the table, I feel Mr Frye’s knee nudging mine. I remember his words: Bargain with them.

“General,” I begin, trying to sound professional, “this is an interesting opportunity, but it’s also a big adjustment for Greenhaven. I’m not certain that we want to expand so quickly. Perhaps in a year or two, when we’re a little more established …”

He narrows his eyes. I’m hitting home. I push on.

“However …” I pause. I’m thinking about how strained things have been between me and my sabenzis. It’s so unfair that I have everything and they own nothing. They can’t even live at Greenhaven unless they’re my servants. “I could perhaps be persuaded if you were to do something for me. Something to make up for the inconvenience.”

He leans forward. “What? What is it you want, Miss den Eeden?”

I swallow the boulder in my throat. If I don’t ask now I’ll never get it. “If I could have full citizenship for my friends. Please.”

He thinks a bit, then nods. “Names?”

“Jasmine Constable … um, Letti Sinxo, Fezile Sinxo … Micah Maystree …” I look to see if the general responds as I call each name, but his face doesn’t move.

Major Zungu is tapping his fingers on the table.

I bite my lip. Is that everyone? No wait – Shorty. We were so mean to him when we suspected him of being the High Priest’s spy. And then we discovered Victor was the traitor, and that Shorty had been loyal all along. This will make it up to him.

“And Shorty – I mean, Troy Julius. And …” My mind scrabbles – there’s someone I’m forgetting. Major Zungu’s finger-tapping has speeded up, and I still have so much to ask. “And …”

The general narrows his eyes. “There’s more?”

I’d better hurry up before he gets angry. “I want to select the fifty workers from the colony myself,” I blurt out quickly.

He nods. “Right. Make a note of that, Major. Now, item two on the agenda. The Poladion family will be executed by firing squad immediately after this meeting. All council members are required to attend.”

Executed.

I can’t focus on anything for the rest of the meeting. The voices around the table sound further and further away as a cold block forms in my stomach, freezing out everything except the image of – the wives, the small children, Cassie, my friend, Hal … Lucas …

I can barely breathe.

Too soon the men stop talking, and the general pushes back his chair. “Right, gentlemen and lady, we will now proceed to the courtyard.”

“General …” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper.

He turns those cold eyes on me and waves me away like an irritating insect. “No more discussion.”

The three officers glare at me, and I wither.