The wind hit the witch, and the woman was lifted off her feet. Storm watched, appalled at the power she had unleashed, as a small tornado sucked the woman up into the sky – into its whirling heart – and tore through the garden, digging a deep channel into the ground as it went.

“Stop!” shrieked Storm. “Don’t kill her!” But the whirlwind swept on. This magic was none of hers; the Elementals had taken over. The tornado burst through the garden wall with an explosion of stone that showered fragments of rock and dirt high into the air. On it went, until it disappeared in the direction of the sea.

Storm stood staring after, left alone with the trail of devastation. Something made her glance upwards, and she saw the Albatross flying overhead, its wingspan nearly as wide as the sky.

Later, Storm couldn’t remember how she got back to the pond, or how long she had stood there, staring down at the carp slowly circling in the moonlight. At last, she heard the sound of people running towards her. Heard gasps of shock; commands and arguments. Finally, someone approached slowly.

“You will come with us, please, Weather-witch. The chief councillor wishes to speak to you most urgently. Make no sudden moves, if you please.”

Wearily, Storm turned to face the speaker. It was a silver-haired official. The woman’s face was creased with shock. Two archers stood either side of her, arrows notched and bows drawn. Storm sighed. She had lost this roll of the dice. It was clear that Talon now knew the secret she had been trying to keep from him – that the Salamander was trying to kill her.

25

“So this attack, which has destroyed half my house and devastated an ancient garden planted by our honoured ancestors, has nothing to do with you? Is that what you expect me to believe?”

Talon was not looking as elegant as usual. He still wore his damp, sooty nightclothes beneath a robe tugged on and belted haphazardly. His forehead needed shaving and his hair was straggling down his back. Every word and gesture spoke of outrage that he should be pulled so rudely from his bed. That seemed to offend him almost as much as the fact that his ancestral house was damaged. “Well? Do you still claim not to know the witch who attacked you?”

“I didn’t see them closely,” Storm lied again.

“You don’t deny that the fire started in the wing where you were sleeping.”

“Of course not. But I wasn’t the only guest there.”

“Or that you put out the fire?”

“Given your hospitality, Councillor, how could I do less?” Storm made him a small, formal bow to take away the sting of irony in her words. She was so tired! When would this endless questioning finish?

Talon ran his hands through his hair and asked, for the hundredth time, “Why did you go into the garden?”