The old man smiled. “I know more than you imagine. He is easily led by his desires. It is all part of the same riddle, Storm. You must also return to Talon’s house tonight because the Pact offers you some safety from the Fire-witch. While you remain on Bellum they are your best hope of survival. I will try to find a way to contact your uncle. For now, you must stall Talon or trick him. And, most of all, stay alive!”

Your first duty is to survive. Go, child.

Storm bowed her head. She had no choice – she must choose to trust the Tortoise or lose everything she believed in, everything Dain had taught her, and become like Mer.

At a nod from his master, Scoundrel bounded forward and took her hand. The cling-monkey led her out from beneath the earth, towards danger.

21

The moon plunged into the sea as Storm climbed over the crumbling wall, and its light drowned with it. In blind darkness, she crept through the back garden of Talon’s house, stumbling over tree roots, nearly falling into the carp pond.

At last her feet met paving stones, and the house rose above her, a towering presence almost invisible against the moonless sky. Storm edged in the direction she thought the wooden stairs to the attic must be, arms out, fingers searching. Guide me, Ancestors! she prayed. Don’t let me trip over something and wake the guards!

Her fingers brushed wood, splintery and rough. She had found the steps. “Hold tight, Scoundrel!” The monkey seemed to be dozing. She too was longing for her bed. She would worry about Talon tomorrow; she still had most of the day to figure out how to outwit the Pact leader. She would talk to Mer again.

Storm began the climb. From somewhere behind her in the garden came a soft thudding noise. She froze. Was someone else out there? If it was one of the guards, they would raise the alarm and she would be in even more trouble. Talon was bound to guess that she had tried to escape to the Wayfinder. Did he have something to do with the disappearance of her uncle and the fleet?

Most certainly, replied her mind-voice. But we have other things to worry about!

Storm waited, breath caught in her chest, for more sounds she wasn’t alone in the garden. Nothing. It must have been an animal. She steadied herself, began to climb, one cautious step at a time. Nearly at the top. She would soon be safely back in her room. Storm stepped on the next rung. As she did so, Scoundrel shrieked and jumped from her shoulders.

A sharp crack, a lurch, as the rung gave way beneath her foot.

The falling took forever and no time at all. She seemed to have too much time for thinking but no time for doing – no time for magic.