At least she need not worry about being noticed. Sailors of all ages swarmed the streets. Even so, she ducked into doorways three times to watch in case she was being followed. Nothing. Ignoring her feelings of unease, Storm strode as quickly as she could the rest of the way to the tavern.

The inside of the Merry Whale was gloomy. Tallow lamps oozed yellow smoke and filled the room with distorting shadows. Storm stood against a wall near the entrance until her eyes adjusted. She spotted Mer almost at once, even though her face was bare of paint and her clothes were made of hemp instead of silk. The girl sat at a small table by herself. Her face flashed relief as their eyes met.

Storm walked as normally as she could across the room. Her heart was thudding, but now that she was here, she found she was strangely calm. What will be will be, agreed her mind-voice.

“Didn’t really expect to see you.” Mer gestured to the mat beside her and, with a last careful look around the room, Storm sat down.

“Why are we here? And why did you leave home?”

“For the same reason.” Mer leaned nearer, lowered her voice. “I’ve decided it was a good thing I didn’t kill you on the stairs. Sorry about that, by the way. In fact, I think the Ancestors may have sent you to Bellum to help us.”

Storm felt her mouth open. Was it really going to be so easy? “Are there many of you? Are you organised?”

“As many as aren’t too deep in drink or poverty to care. Or who aren’t in the pay of the Pact. Of course, we have to keep ourselves secret. If the Pact scents the slightest dissent it strikes with the viciousness of a spit-snake. Many have disappeared. Even though we are powerless to do more than watch and talk and … hate. We need a champion. Someone with the power to fight the Pact. We need you!”

“It may not come to fighting. I have news…” Something was wrong. Mer’s face had gone pale as parchment. She was staring at something behind them. Fear had flickered to life in her eyes. “The innkeeper! She keeps looking at us and pretending not to. There’s a reward out for me. I think I’ve been spotted.”

Carefully, Storm turned her head toward the spot the other girl was watching. And saw the tavern keeper, a tall strong woman with muscular arms, staring intently at the door. The woman’s eyes swivelled to them, flinched from Storm’s gaze and flicked back to the door.

“We need to get out of here,” Storm said.

But just then she saw a look of relief flash across the tavern keeper’s face. Storm’s stomach lurched. Too late!