“And for the Keepers,” Covington added. “I don’t know how I didn’t put that together before. As soon as the Seed is harvested, some northern Senator is sure to petition for population control.”

“I agree,” I said. “We do outnumber the other two races, and we consume a lot of food. Population control is vital to the greater good.” My voice trailed off. There was nothing more to say. With the New Seed in place, the fate of the Kongo was sealed.

Covington’s mouth trembled. Her fists clenched. She looked how I felt—helpless. I glanced around to see everyone was upset. They were elitists, certain that their birthright was to rule the workers. However, it was plain to see, now, that they were not without compassion.

“We’re all safe, at least,” I said, knowing this was little consolation. Like me, they wanted everyone, all of the Kongo, to be safe. “If the Rebels don’t cut our throats tonight, we’ll go to Hasting as planned. It’ll be our job to convince the Assembly that the Second Brothers are worth saving.”

“That will never happen,” Hannibal said.

I tore my eyes from Covington. Tears dripped from Hannibal’s chin. “No,” I agreed, finding I needed to be honest. “It won’t.”

“What happens to the Keepers that stay behind at the Schoolhouse?” East Keep asked.

I looked at her curiously. There was a strange note in her voice and her face was ashen.

“They’re going to die,” I answered, unable to soften the horror of it. “Not all of them, but most will be deemed nonessential. Jones said about half is all we’ll need in the future.”

Her face grew even more severe.

“East Keep, are you okay?” I asked.

Before she could answer, a bevy of trumpets resounded, announcing the beginning of the Festival. As one, we adjourned to the window; except for East Keep, who took her seat. She heard only the tail end of my explanation and so, I assumed, she was still angry. I turned back to speak to her privately when something strange about the arena caught my eye.

“What’s that at the far end there?” I asked.

Jetson answered. “It’s a gallows. You’ve missed quite a bit in your absence.”

“Tell me,” I said.

“Do you remember that fugitive who escaped custody a few weeks back?”

“The one that broke through the line,” I said, nodding.

“Well, Jones has been on a witch hunt to discover how he was able to get through. She’s taken a dozen political prisoners since then. There’ve been rumors of torture in the Pit. A few days ago, she caught up with Martin.”

“The Rebel!” I said. “I heard him speak in the village before I left.”

“He’s not just a Rebel,” Covington said. “She believes he’s a key figure in Voltaire’s Army, and he’s been causing all sorts of trouble.”