“Perhaps. But this boy is another matter. He is no witch, I think.”

“You know he isn’t.” Storm cast a sideways glance at Cloud. Someone had beaten him, but he stood stoically, chin raised. As Storm saw the extent of his bruises, anger made her heart thud.

Talon continued: “The charges are serious. His life might be forfeit. But not, of course, if you change your mind and cooperate with the minor tasks we request of you!” He smiled, certain that he had won.

Anger rose, cold as the north wind. Storm turned icy eyes on Talon. “This is how you bargain? With the life of a defenceless boy?”

Her fury burned cold. Chill music circled in her head. The oil lamps flickered. Talon’s moustaches began to flap to and fro. The air in the room grew wintry.

She saw the fourteen Pact councillors sitting either side of Talon look at each other in consternation. “I told you it wouldn’t work!” Sharp-eyed Waffa, Mer’s mother, rose to her feet.

Storm knew that her Air-magic was only waiting for her anger to set it free on a path of destruction. But the other witches had warned her. She remembered what the former Fire-witch had said: “The Salamander grows fat on hate!” She must take care … fight the desire to destroy!

Still the wind whipped around the chamber, which grew colder with each breath Storm took. The Fifteen were shivering, faces contorted with fear. One by one they abandoned their chairs, ran for the door and vanished. All but two. Waffa clung to the table, bracing herself against the wind, her hair whipping around her face, her robes flapping, and berated Talon. “Your entire strategy – concerning not only Yanlin’s Weather-witch but your refusal, despite the warnings from several of us, to open negotiations with the rebels – has been a mistake from beginning to end. You are losing your grip, Talon!”

“I don’t want to attack you!” Storm spoke with difficulty. Her voice sounded strange: deep and heavy. Frost crystals formed a shining ladder in the air as she spoke, then crackled and fell to the ground with the tinkle of breaking glass. Out of the corner of her eye, Storm noticed Cloud staring at her, eyes huge with terror.

Cloud was afraid of her. Of her, Storm. At the thought, her anger splintered. The icy wind vanished. Storm found she was shaking. Her knees softened and she staggered. When her breath returned to her, she saw a shocked Talon staring at her as though he had never seen her before.

“I … I have misjudged … um … a few details.” His voice was choked with disbelief. Disbelief that he, great Talon, could have been wrong, said her mind-voice. “The boy will not be harmed! But he will remain under guard until we negotiate terms.”

A freezing wind skirled around the floor; Talon’s robes flapped wildly.