Two guards suddenly loomed behind them, and Lake choked off his words, wheezing in irritation.

“You can continue your conversation when you visit your niece.” Talon’s voice rang out behind them, musical as a bell. “Any time, Captain Lake, any time. Only do make an appointment at the guardhouse, you know. And now I fear we must leave. It is simply too fatiguing to stand here in the sun one breath longer!”

The guards stepped between them, forcing Lake to let go of Storm’s arm. He bowed curtly, turned and stalked back towards the pier. Storm watched him go, feeling a heady mixture of excitement and trepidation. She was living Thorn’s dream. Here she was on Bellum Island, belly button of the world! And she was on her own for the first time in her life, without another Yanliner near. And the most important people in the world wanted her company! She felt grown up and important.

Talon gestured that she should walk beside him. The two other grandees stepped back to let them pass, but Storm heard their silken rustle follow close behind. The beetle-brown guards pushed a path through the gathered crowd of townsfolk and sailors as the procession climbed the hill towards the heart of Bellum Town. Storm glanced over her shoulder and had a last glimpse of the Wayfarer, bobbing gently at anchor.

4

The procession wound its way up the steep road. After weeks at sea, the smells of the island assaulted Storm: the stink of rotting seaweed; latrines; cook fires; charcoal from a forge. Hanging overhead was the green-resin scent of pine trees and the smokier perfume of the distant jungle. Under everything lay the deep smell of earth itself.

As they climbed, the vast warehouses lining the harbour became long rows of brick houses, the walls plastered yellow, red, blue or pink. It was all so different from Yanlin. Only the seagulls screaming overhead were the same.

Townsfolk crowded everywhere, carrying bundles, pulling carts, dodging and yelling. Soon the road levelled out and the procession travelled along wide streets lined with tall, rich-looking buildings. At last, the procession turned into a square, surrounded on two sides by towering buildings, and on the third by an enormous gatehouse with a tiled roof.

The open space was paved with alternating squares of red stone and yellow brick. To Storm, it looked like a giant gaming board. Only, instead of tokens, the squares were filled with tables and stalls covered in goods: pumpkins, mangoes and melons; fresh fish and dried; scarves and ribbons; boots and belts; knives and whetstones; arrows and bows; ornaments made of shells and beads; embroidered cloth; and lengths of silk dyed all the colours of the rainbow.

“Is it market day?” she asked Talon.

“You mean the stalls? No, they are here every day.”