Still nervous, Storm bent her head towards the old woman. But instead of kissing Storm’s cheek, the old woman whispered in her ear: “You are wise to fear the children of Fire! Look for the old man with the monkey. He will help you. Fare you well, Weather-witch, and beware the Salamander’s child!” She placed the golden monkey in Storm’s hand, then stepped back into her stall and sat on her stool. The show was over.

Talon’s daughter turned to the nearest guard. “Pay the woman! She has entertained us well.”

The female guard strode to the stallholder and took out a wallet. Storm stowed the old woman’s gift carefully in her waist pouch before her companions caught her once more by the hands and pulled her along the streets of Bellum Town.

8

Like the twisting strands of her wrist cuff, side streets led off the central square to smaller ones packed with market stalls, hawkers, jugglers, musicians. Storm’s ears were battered with the cries of sellers vying for attention; buyers haggling; minstrels singing and dancing; jugglers crying at the passing crowd to stop, watch, part with a piece of silver. Several times Storm spotted ragged figures being pursued by the crowd to the call of “Thief!”

Stealing was almost unknown on Yanlin. But then, so was insulting the venerable. Her fingers pressed against her waist pouch, feeling for the wire monkey. Why had the old woman warned her to beware the Salamander’s child? A Fire-witch, replied her mind-voice. It can be no other. She pushed the thought away. Worrying would not help. She must simply be careful. Very careful. And find an old man with a monkey!

“Is there much thieving here?” Storm asked her companions, after yet another hue and cry rose above the market sounds, and she spotted a thin, grubby-looking girl of eight or nine struggling in the grasp of a stallholder.

“No more than normal.” Mer shrugged.

“What will happen to that child?”

Betaan ignored the question. “Another witch!” she cried, pointing. “I’ve never known so many in town at once. Let’s go and watch.” She marched towards a clump of loitering shoppers. The cheers and laughter stopped as the guards pushed through the crowd. Storm’s face grew hot with embarrassment as she followed Betaan and Mer to the front.

A thin young man in a sea-green robe stood on the stone ledge surrounding a fountain. The water he had been magicking fell back into the pool with a messy splash as he stared at the guards in alarm.

Ignoring the sullen faces of the townsfolk, Betaan ordered, “Perform well, Water-witch! Today you entertain two daughters of the Pact!”

The young man gazed at them gravely. As his eyes met Storm’s, they widened, and he bent his head in a slight bow of acknowledgement. He knows who I am! Storm thought. Like the old woman. But how?