“Well … you’re a bit more than that, Storm. I don’t know what you are, but I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of you.” He attempted a laugh, trying to turn it into a joke. Then his face grew serious. “Why not just finish them off though? If the Pact is the trouble, why not get rid of them? You always back off at the last moment. Anyone else would think you were scared.”

She stared at Cloud. This boy wasn’t who she had always assumed he was. He wasn’t like Thorn. And, she realised, she was scared. But not the way he meant.

Storm turned away. “I’m going to my room now. I need some rest.” She hadn’t slept properly for ages, she realised, and suddenly she was almost too tired to stand on her feet.

“Sure.” Cloud’s voice was careful.

“Come on, Scoundrel.” She left without a backward look. She didn’t want Cloud to see how deeply his words had shocked her. The monkey followed her without a sound.

“Fine lot of help you were!” Storm said as she shut her bedroom door behind Scoundrel. “Running off as soon as the guards came to take me to Talon!” She wasn’t quite sure what she thought the monkey should have done about it, but it made her feel a tiny bit better to have someone to scold. She tumbled into bed and only had time to wonder if she had imagined seeing the cling-monkey shrug in reply before she was soundly asleep.

The old man with the monkey was leaning over her. “Wake up, Storm! Wake up, and I’ll let you hold Scoundrel.”

Storm struggled to open her eyes. She pushed herself upright at last, and saw that the old man was holding out his cling-monkey. Eagerly she took it in her arms and felt a stab of pure happiness as the tiny creature snuggled beneath her chin.

“His fur is so soft,” she said to the old man, unable to express how she was feeling.

“Yes,” he said, “but listen to what Scoundrel is telling you. Quickly now!”

She didn’t want anything to disturb the rare happiness filling her. But the old man’s voice was urgent.

Reluctantly, Storm bent her head until her ear was near the monkey’s face.

The creature reached up, pulled her head closer with its tiny hands and whispered, in the gravelly voice of the Tortoise, “Wake up, Storm! Get out! The Salamander is here!”

The dream shattered. Storm lurched up in her bed and began to cough. Scoundrel was standing on her pillow, screaming at her. Smoke pressed down, a choking blanket. She heard the hissing crack of greedy flames and looked up to see an inferno. Sparks showered from the ceiling. The house was on fire!