Storm clung to the ladder, closing her eyes as a wave of sickness swept from her head to her feet, turning her legs to mush. Mer hadn’t trusted her to keep her word not to help the Pact. Mer had decided that if Storm attempted to return to Talon’s house, she would not live to reach her bedroom.

22

Storm woke at least five times in the night from a dream where she was falling: from a cliff, a tree, the mast of the Wayfarer. Each time she struggled to keep awake. She needed to think, to plan how she would persuade Talon and the Pact to treat with the rebels. And each time sleep grabbed her by the heels and pulled her back under.

Talon’s red-and-gold gown rustled as he leaned forward. The leader of the Fifteen Families steepled his fingers and smiled at her over them. His eyes were plump and sticky with greed.

“Time is up, Storm. You must make a commitment to the Pact.”

“But I haven’t been able to contact all the Elementals!”

“The excuse wears thin. Decision time. Make sure you choose wisely.”

Storm had run out of excuses and plans. All that was left was the truth. “I will not help you,” she said. “It’s wrong.”

There was a silken stir from the fifteen councillors who sat at a long table in front of her.

“Come.” Talon raised his eyebrows. Still smiling.

He thought she was bargaining! She fought a strange desire to giggle.

“We have established that you are not stupid. You cannot turn your back on the wealth we offer – riches beyond anything you can have dreamed of on your little island! You have seen how the Fifteen live. Don’t you want a grand house with servants to wait on your every wish?”

He was so certain. His faith in wealth was unshakeable. She saw that he would think she was lying when she spoke the simple truth, but she said it anyway: “I don’t want to live in a home big enough to house a village. My answer is no.”

“If it is a question of better terms … a bigger cut—”

“It is not. You must see that no witch, however powerful, can mend what you have broken. The Fifteen have been robbing their own people for generations! The people of Bellum were bound to rebel in time. Greed such as yours is not just wrong, it’s stupid! If civil war comes to your island, the Pact will lose everything. Worse, Bellum itself may be lost to the enemy! When you have nearly done fighting and killing each other, the Drowned Ones will invade and put those who survive to the sword! I have the word of the great Tortoise itself!”