Storm’s throat dried, and her mouthful of biscuit turned into a choking-dry lump. Cheeks bulging like a squirrel, she sieved tea into her mouth until she could swallow. And still choked. When Storm had finished coughing, she asked, “Why? Do you know why?”

“Why do you think?”

“The Balance?”

He nodded. “The Tortoise confirms it.”

“But what has the Balance to do with me?”

“Everything.” He gazed at her, his eyes dark with worry. “With you, with the Pact, with the Drowned Ones. Bellum Island is the focus of the Salamander’s ambitions. The danger lies here. The people of Bellum have been exploited by those whose ancestors grabbed power—”

“You mean the Fifteen Families. Yes, there is something wrong here … the way the townsfolk look at members of the Pact.” She shivered. “And there is poverty that our Elders would not permit. I have seen children stealing! Dirty, hungry-looking children. How can such a rich island let its children starve?” She watched the old man, hoping he would explain, but his face was impassive. “My uncle told me Bellumers have stopped making.”

“It is all true. The Fifteen grabbed power generations ago. They live only to consume, caring nothing for others. As a result, this island is about to descend into civil war. You must stop that happening.”

“Me?” Storm stared, appalled. “How can I stop a war?”

“You will have to find the answer to that riddle. You must be able to stop the conflict. That is why you were Chosen by Three.” He took a slurruping sip of tea with obvious relish, then said, “Do not look to the power of magic. You were granted magic to keep you alive, but the source of magic is the Elemental that granted it, not the human child who wields it. Magic can be taken back as easily as it was given. Your talents lie elsewhere.”

Talents? Storm knew she had no talents, other than story-telling. The goldsmith had promised that this man would help her, but he was just confusing her. She was more scared than ever. “I told you, I’m no good at riddles!”

“I hope very much that you are wrong.” He smiled. “Now you must go back to Talon’s house. We will meet again soon. Study the Pact. Find a solution,” said the old Earth-witch.

“How do the Drowned Ones come into this?”

He gazed at her, his expression patient. “A clever predator attacks when its prey is weakest.”

Her face grew warm. It seemed so obvious.

“Now it is time for you to go. It would be most unfortunate if the Pact found you here. I am too old to enjoy the prospect of playing hide-and-seek with their guards.” He got to his feet, with a renewed popping and creaking of old bones.