The cling-monkey led her past the pier and quay-side warehouses and along the strand until they reached the headland furthest from town. As she approached, Storm saw that a series of semicircular wooden doors lined the base of the cliff. They reminded her of the entrances to the shrines of the Elementals back on Yanlin. These doors must also open on to caves or rooms carved out of the rock, but if these caverns were shrines, the spirit being worshipped was that of Trade! They must be ancient warehouses. Most seemed to have fallen into disuse, the doors rotten and hanging off their hinges, showing gaping, toothless mouths.

Still Scoundrel scampered ahead, stopping regularly to see if she was following. He began to make anxious chittering noises, and she doubled her pace. The last of the caves neared. Above it sheer rock rose the height of many houses. Halfway to the falling moon, Storm thought. Surely the monkey wasn’t going to ask her to climb that!

But Scoundrel paused in front of the disused warehouse. He chirruped encouragement and, with a swish of his long tail, disappeared into its open mouth.

“Come back!” Storm paused in the entrance. She could see rotting wood scattered about the rocky floor – all that remained of the door that had once protected the gathered treasures of the world’s islands. But the slanting moonlight illuminated only a few paces of ground. And then … utter darkness.

“Scoundrel?” Her voice echoed around the invisible room, bouncing round and round. The chamber must be enormous. And then the monkey was back, scolding, bared teeth gleaming in the patch of moonlight. He reached up a long arm, grabbed her hand and tugged.

“All right,” she said. “But don’t you dare let go!”

The monkey led Storm under the earth. She walked for what seemed like an eternity, blinded by darkness. Her memory took her back to the night of her Choosing – the terrifying journeys into the shrines, alone in complete blackness.

This time a warm hand held hers tight. But for that, Storm knew, she would be running back towards the entrance. “Scoundrel?” she pleaded at last. “Are we nearly there?”

Somewhere ahead a light glimmered like a solitary star. Scoundrel gave a squeal of happiness and abandoned her. She heard the patter of his feet racing towards the light. Just as suddenly, her own fear disappeared.

I am here, Storm, said the Tortoise. Storm followed Scoundrel towards the light.

20

“Well done, my friend. Yes, you may have a cake. Now, do be quiet so we can hear ourselves think!”