“I never wanted your mother’s death,” said the Drowned One boy. “I liked her. I am sorry. It isn’t enough, I know, but I offer a life for a life.” Nim gestured to where Cloud lay trussed like a parcel on the beach. “You come with us peacefully, and he goes free.”

“Come with you?” She frowned, not understanding, studying his face for a clue. “Why?” And then realisation came, bringing sickness to the pit of her stomach. The Drowned Ones no longer wanted her dead. They wanted to own her, like the Pact, like Yanlin, like everyone. They wanted her magic for themselves.

Bile rose in her throat. A Drowned One’s slave? Never!

No wings overshadowed them from the sky. No giant dolphin rose from the cove’s waters. The Tortoise was silent. The Elementals were not here. Why? Always, in the past, when great danger had threatened, the spirits had appeared to her. Several times they had used their power to fight off the Salamander, saving her life. Now, when she faced her most hated enemy, they were absent.

The niggling thought returned: something Nim had just said was important. She told us you would be here, reminded her mind-voice.

“How did she know?” Storm asked him.

He frowned, puzzled, for a moment. Then realisation made him nod. “That you would be here?” He glanced at the Fire-witch, who smiled. Storm shuddered. The woman’s smile was like the grin of a jackal, her teeth white, sharp and pointed.

The witch stepped forward, fingers twining, untwining, never still. “I found them! Your conspirators. The other witches.” Her voice was melodic, beautiful. It made Storm blink with surprise.

“I knew of the traitor, the one who used to be a Fire-witch,” continued the witch. “The Salamander told me about her treachery. I followed her, made her tell me everything. Then it was easy to track down the Air-witch, the Water-witch. I let them set the peasant boy on his journey here, thinking himself safe. Then I told the pirate clan, and we followed your shipmate’s little boat. I came to meet you, Storm. You and I, we have a score to settle!”

“What did you do to them?” A chill was spreading from her heart. Her words puffed frost into the air.

“The traitress is dead: I owed that death to my master. The other two? Perhaps they live. Perhaps not. If you meet them in the land of the Ancestors, then you will know.” She smiled.

Linnet was safe at least. Scoundrel’s arms were clinging tighter and tighter. She tugged at one, trying to loosen it, impatient. Why were the Elementals keeping away when the Fire-witch had attacked their Children?