“And Almond, who has taken himself away from the trading floors to meet you! The youngest member of the Pact.”

The second man bowed gracefully, like a dancer, and when he raised his head Storm was struck by the symmetry of his face, made more striking by the blankness of the paint.

Formalities over, Talon continued their conversation: “Your fame precedes you … Storm. The chanters sing of the sinking of the pirate raft in Yanlin’s harbour last season. Is it true they attacked again, during your voyage to the Inner Sea?”

Impressed, Storm said, “Your spies are efficient.”

“Of course.” His moustaches spread in a grave smile. “We pay them well. And now,” said Talon, pressing his hands together, “I offer you the hospitality of my humble home while you are on Bellum Island. My daughter is beside herself with excitement at the idea of meeting you.”

Lake had warned her, but Storm had not expected Talon to pounce so soon. “But I could not impose!”

“No imposition, but the highest honour, I assure you.”

Custom dictated that she must accept, and Storm found she wanted to go with Talon, to see his grand house and meet his daughter. “My uncle and I would be honoured—”

“Captain Lake will be able to visit you whenever he desires, of course. He will be too busy trading to enjoy our frivolities.”

Storm glanced at her uncle. Lake was turning pink with the effort of not scowling. “Thank you,” she mumbled. “But I have not brought my things…”

Other than the clothes she wore, Storm had one change of clothing. As she considered her appearance, her face grew hot. Her tunic and trousers were made of coarse hempen cloth, patched and mended, faded with sun and sea spray. She had not given them a thought before now, but suddenly Storm imagined how she must look to Talon and his companions: a peasant in shabby rags.

“No need, Honoured Storm. We will provide everything you might wish. It will be our pleasure!”

“A private word with my niece, Talon, before you whisk her away!” Lake gave a grimace, which some might take for a smile, before grabbing her elbow and tugging her to one side. He glared over his shoulder at the nearest soldiers, and Talon, with an ironic smile, flicked his long red nails. The guards retreated out of earshot.

“Blast the old octopus!” Lake growled, a low grumble of frustration. “He’ll try to dazzle you with riches and promises. Believe none of their words! Keep your wits about you, Niece, and meet me in the Merry Whale in a five-day when the sun is six hands risen above the sea. If you can’t get away that day, then you must come the next. Make any excuse you must, but meet me at the tavern!”

“Where is it?”

“It’s in the centre of town. Ask anyone. And—”