It was much better, all the way around, to try and lose herself in the story. And in speculation: she already knew, for Mother had told her, that Elementals often differed greatly in form from one country to the next, so what form would the Elementals of the Apache take? Karl May gave no hint.

Well, he was a writer, not an Elemental Magician, so he probably didn’t know, and the Indians he had met that were would not likely have told him anything. Elemental Magicians kept their abilities secret, after all. If you weren’t around others of your kind, and hadn’t been taught, you might even think you were going mad when you saw all the strange creatures populating the world and no one saw them but you. She was very glad that Mother had taken her away from her blood family for that reason alone!

What would Mother think of the situation she was in now? Would Mother also have told her to throw herself on the mercies of the Bruderschaft?

But what else could she do?

“You’re getting hoarse, Liebchen,” the old woman said, putting aside the last bit of mending. “Time for a nice cup of tea and a cake, I think. I’m glad there’s no need to go out in that tempest; listen to that thunder!”

“I like storms,” Giselle replied, setting the book aside.

“Well, you would, your magic being Air and all.” Tante Gretchen carefully took the iron kettle off the hook over the fire and went to the little table where the teapot stood ready. “You must be careful of that, you know. Your Mother surely told you.”

Giselle went to the cupboard and took out the honey for the tea, and the plate of cakes. “That’s why she had me living away from everyone, with her, at the abbey. Until I understood my magic and how to keep it under control and all.”

“And are you doing that now?” Tante Gretchen asked, shrewdly. “Because this storm is stronger than I expected, and I can tell you’re all of a pother inside, even if you are trying not to show it.”

Inwardly, she cursed herself for not thinking of that, and hastily read the currents of magic around her.

“Yes, everything is fine,” she was able to report, with relief. “I might be all of a pother, but at least it’s not getting out.”

“Well then, in that case, I shan’t worry.” Tante Gretchen took her at her word, which did a little to soothe her anger at having to go a-begging to the Bruderschaft. It still rankled, that was the right word for it. It was more . . . her pride was being rubbed raw that she couldn’t even manage a single year alone without having to go begging for help. She could just imagine the Foresters treating her like . . . like a child, when Mother had been treating her as an adult for years and years now. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t know about the military service rolls, or she’d have found some way to avoid towns with army garrisons in them! Why hadn’t someone warned her about this, when they advised her to go to shooting contests?