She did her best to immerse herself in the story, because to tell the truth, she was having a hard time with her emotions. Anger, one minute, at the Hauptmann for spoiling her carefully made plans. Fear that she might still be caught . . . or that when she finally reached the Bruderschaft Lodge, they would have quite a different view of the situation from Tante Gretchen. Something rather like anger at the idea that even if they felt the same as the Earth Master, she would be in debt to them—because obviously Mother had wanted no such thing, or why else would she have made their home in the old abbey? Guilt, of course, because no matter how many times Tante Gretchen told her that it hadn’t been her fault, well, there was still a man dead, and it had been because of something she had done. Then anger again, because she knew very well what he would have done to her if he’d gotten the chance.

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.”