Storm opened her eyes and didn’t know if she was glad or sorry to find she was still in Talon’s house. The trees in the garden were being lashed by an easterly. The leafy arms of the willow outside her window waved to and fro in front of the window, casting shadows on the ceiling. Still something gnawed.

Storm pushed herself up in bed. Betaan sat on the floor a few paces away. Talon’s daughter reached a casual hand to the tray beside her, picked up a fat hazel nut and gave it to Scoundrel. She stroked his silky fur with her free hand. The cling-monkey sat in Betaan’s lap, gnawing greedily.

Traitor! thought Storm.

“How did you acquire this little scamp?” Betaan’s fingers caressed. Scoundrel chewed, his eyes darting from the tray of biscuits and nuts to Storm’s face and back. “He’s adorable!” trilled Talon’s daughter. There was no mistaking the light of battle flickering in her eyes.

Punishment for yesterday’s escape was about to be delivered. The monkey wrinkled his nose at Storm, showing his teeth in a cheeky grin. The Earth-witch’s messenger was enjoying the situation far too much.

“That flea-bitten little rogue?”

Scoundrel squeaked in outrage. His expression made Storm want to laugh.

“I bought him from a horrible man who was making him perform tricks. He was beating the animal.”

“Aren’t you the virtuous one! But in Bellum Town there are hundreds of animals – and humans, for that matter – forced to do unsavoury work. You can’t save them all, you know.”

“But you could. The Pact runs the island. Why don’t they do something about it?”

The other girl’s eyes widened in surprise. “It isn’t our responsibility to tell people how to live. The Pact was created to support trade and to make a profit for our families.”

“You’re talking about your own people! Bellum Islanders.”

A look of revulsion crossed Betaan’s face. “My people are the Pact. A flea-ridden thief is nothing to do with me!” She gave a sharp laugh, dismissing the subject. “I just hope you were joking and this little fellow is free of vermin.”

Scoundrel sat still, watching Storm.

“Where did you get the money to pay for him?” asked Betaan, far too casually.

Storm saw the trap. That smooth, doll-like face hid a mind as sharp and devious as her father’s. “A shipmate loaned me some money.”

“How very generous! Cling-monkeys are ridiculously fashionable. A young one like this costs much silver, especially in such prime condition. Those beatings must have been gentle, for he hasn’t got a mark on him.” She smiled, point scored.

“Yes,” said Storm. “Isn’t it lucky?”

Betaan changed tack. “Mer and I were very worried!” Her large, kohl-lined eyes took on an injured expression.