Storm was about to turn back and try to retrace her path when she spotted her shipmate Cloud with a group of young men. They were bent over a gaming table in a corner of the square. Here was a bit of luck! Cloud would know the way to the main square. She drew near and stood watching as Cloud took his turn playing at roll bones, laughing and gossiping with the others. When his turn ended, she called, “Cloud! Hello. May I speak with you?”

“Storm?” He turned and stared at her. “Is that really you? You look … different. A real Bellum Town belle.”

Storm winced. She should never have let Betaan paint her face. “I’m lost. Can you show me the way back to the centre of town?”

“Well, sure … in a moment. I’m winning, you see. Why don’t you join us? I was just talking about you.” The others were staring. She saw disbelief, bemusement, excitement, curiosity and – most worrying of all – hostility. Curse Cloud! He had told these strangers that she was a Weather-witch. Yanlin’s good fortune was ill luck for other islands. Best to leave, and quickly.

Storm turned on her heel, but before she had gone more than a few paces, she heard Cloud calling after her. He caught up and darted in front of her.

“What’s wrong? They just want to meet a Weather-witch.”

“Hold on, Yanliner! You been telling a pack of lies?” A big sailor, a head taller than either of them, advanced. The other gamers left the table and encircled them.

“Ancestors!” muttered Cloud. “See what you’ve done?”

“Me?” Storm snapped. “This is your fault!”

One of the men pushed Cloud, who sprawled forward on his hands and knees. He scrambled to his feet, swearing and lunged at his attacker. Two men grabbed him and twisted his arms behind his back.

“Cowards!” shouted Cloud. “Fight fair!” But his captors just laughed.

The first man advanced until he was nose to nose with Storm. “What are you, girl? A stuck-up Bellum belle or a Yanlin witch?” He grabbed her arm and squeezed hard. His breath stank of alcohol.

“Let go of me or you’ll find out!”

The man just grinned and held on. He was hurting her arm.

Patience lost, Storm gathered her Air-magic. The music that lived in the Air shrilled in her ears. Ready! She focused a blast of wind towards the gaming table. Pressure built in her mind; the shrill became a painful shriek. Now!

A slender but fierce gust whistled through the square. It struck the table squarely, spinning it on one leg, dancing it across the square. Tokens and roll bones sprayed in all directions. Not bad! By luck or increasing skill, she had controlled her magic nicely this time.