“It’s called going for a swim!” Storm peered through the open door and saw a large bamboo tub on a raised platform in the centre of a small room. “You have inside bathing rooms!” At home they showered outside, under water stored in cisterns.

“Of course! And as for swimming at sea… You are very brave.” Betaan looked at her curiously. “But of course, being a Weather-witch…” Talon’s daughter gazed pointedly at Storm’s topknot. “Do you mind being a non-sex? Your hair, I mean. And never to have children?”

“There is no other way.” Storm spoke briskly. Betaan took the hint, merely raising an eyebrow in echo of her father.

The serving woman returned, a bucket of steaming water in each hand. She bustled into the bathing room, poured out the hot water and disappeared again with the buckets. Storm’s eyes flew wide. An extravagance of hot water!

“Let’s find some fresh clothing!” Betaan swept to the lacquered cupboard and threw open the doors, revealing piles of bright, soft silk. “I had to guess your size and what colours you might like. Come, choose what you would like to wear tonight!” She pulled out tunics and matching trousers and threw them on the bed, a heap of embroidered silk in all the colours of the rainbow.

Storm lifted up a tunic, then another. Her chest felt strangely tight. Even her Choosing tunic, lovingly embroidered by her mother, had not been as beautiful as these garments. She feared to snag the soft fabric with her calloused fingers. She knew, absolutely, that they were not for her, but she desired, oh, how she desired…

The serving woman hurried through the room, poured out more water. Lifted from her daydream, Storm said reluctantly, “These are not suitable.”

“Don’t you like them?” Betaan drew back.

“It isn’t that… They are beautiful. All of them. But … I am a non-sex. These are women’s tunics.”

“Is that all?” Betaan laughed, her voice pealing with relief. “But that is so provincial. The Pact makes the rules on Bellum. As long as you stay with us, you can be both girl and Weather-witch! Of course, if you prefer, I’ll have a seamstress come and alter them – cut the sleeves right off!”

“Oh, you mustn’t!” Storm stared at Betaan, horrified. “They’re far too beautiful.” She hesitated, heart hammering with eagerness. “Is it really true? Your people would accept a female Weather-witch?”

“Of course! Now choose. You must wear something tonight and, forgive me, but your shipboard clothes will not do.” Talon’s daughter raised both eyebrows this time, looking disdainfully at Storm’s weather-stained tunic and trousers. Storm glanced down at the tumbled clothing. Her agreement with the Yanlin Elders couldn’t matter while she was a guest of the Pact. She could be a girl again!