The Albatross was waiting. As soon as she listened properly, Air-music filled her mind and ran through her blood. She thought about the wooden flute, but she had never tried to use one. Then it was too late: she was inside the music and it was inside her.

Storm felt the air thicken, grow restless. She felt the electricity gather high overhead. She felt water being sucked out of the sea in sheets to thicken the clouds. The night sky congealed, grew black as mud. Now! thought Storm.

The heavens opened and a deluge descended upon the burning house, the guards and officials, on Talon, Cloud and Betaan, on the raging fire.

24

Rain beat down. Fire hissed and spat. Water soaked the wooden roof and drove the flames back until they dwindled and disappeared, leaving only the stink of half-burnt wood and wet ash.

Almost at once, the clouds thinned, the stars and moon shone down in a puddle of light. Storm wished she had tried the flute; there had been nothing subtle about that magic!

“Thank the Ancestors!” exclaimed Betaan. She was shivering. Everyone was drenched to the skin.

“I think it is the Weather-witch we should thank,” said Talon. “Is that not right, Mistress Storm?”

“I did what I could,” she said, with a polite bow. Talon studied her with a calculating look. He won’t stop trying to control you. He’ll wriggle out of negotiating with the rebels at the first opportunity, her mind-voice warned.

The stares and awed exclamations of the other guests and servants began to make her feel awkward. Storm gathered her things and began to walk away into the garden.

“Do not wander far, Weather-witch!” Talon had noticed. “The damage is limited to one wing. We will have another room prepared for you before long.”

Storm gave a quick bow as answer and hurried away.

“Storm! Wait up!” It was Cloud.

Ancestors! She pretended not to hear and hurried away. She wanted to be alone to think. The Salamander had struck out at her even here – where the Earth-witch had thought she would be safe. If Scoundrel hadn’t woken her… Storm shivered. Nowhere on Bellum was safe.

Cloud caught up with her. “Hey! Didn’t you hear me?” He was soaked through, his nightclothes dripping and his hair plastered to his head. And he was buzzing with excitement. “That was an amazing bit of magic! What’s up, Storm? Are you all right? You’re shivering.” His eyes narrowed with disbelief. “Are you scared?”

Unconscious scorn laced his words. Storm saw his thoughts as though he had spoken them aloud: Why did the Elementals give her the magic? She’s weak and cowardly. I should have been the Weather-witch!

“Are you all right?” he asked again.

“I’m fine. Have you seen Scoundrel?”

“The monkey?” Cloud wrinkled his nose in amazement. “Talon’s house nearly burns down and you’re worried about a dumb cling-monkey?”