“I haven’t seen him since the fire.”

“Um. Do you think…”

“No!” She was surprised at how upset she felt at the suggestion. “He’s alive. I saw him climb out of the window.”

“Sure.” Cloud bent his head, busily tidying up. “Someone else has disappeared.”

“Who?”

“That girl you hung out with. Mer. Some are saying she was in league with the Fire-witch. Anyway, they’re looking for her, but no luck yet. You need to stay indoors for a while, until they catch the witch. No going off into town by yourself, understood?”

“Since when are you the boss of me, Cloud?” Shock at the thought that Mer might be working, not with the Drowned Ones, but with the Fire-witch, made her snap before she could stop herself. But Cloud almost seemed to welcome her anger, nodding with approval.

“I’m serious! You may be the witch, but I know what I’m talking about.”

He was so happy in his self-appointed role of protector of magic that she softened. “I promise, all right? Now get back to work before they beat you. I want to sleep some more.”

But she tossed and turned as sleep refused to come. Could it be true? Had Mer been working with the Fire-witch? Or had she finally decided to join the rebels in body as well as spirit? Maybe it was simply that Mer knew Storm had found the sawn rung and was frightened to meet her.

When at last exhaustion tipped her into sleep, Storm slept badly, half expecting another attempt on her life by the Salamander. What had happened to the Fire-witch? The woman could be dead, her body washed up on a distant beach. It depended on how far the whirlwind had carried her, and that depended on the whim of the Albatross.

She woke before dawn, dressed, strapped her knife around her waist and hung the flute the Air-witch had given her around her neck. She had made a soft leather case for it, which hung by a hemp cord.

She would visit the small lake to watch the white carp swim. She didn’t want to be noticed by the guest-house officials and guards, so Storm opened her window and swung herself down on to the ground. In a few heartbeats she was strolling through the garden.

She stood beside the lake for a long time, watching the white carp circle beneath the water, wondering if the Dolphin would give her a sign. Or the Albatross. Was the danger over? Was the witch dead?

But none of the Elementals spoke. The carp was plainly an ordinary fish, and had nothing to tell her either. Only the line dug through the earth like the mark of an enormous hoe – and the corpses of blasted and uprooted trees and shrubs tossed either side of it – testified that the night of fire had really happened.