The sky cleared, although the sun had barely time to warm the air before it sank behind the treetops. Mikki joined the locals and the older traders crowded inside the Green Man tavern. The rest of us sat around campfires set outside.

“I hear you’ve met our Storm, then.”

“Almost.” I turned at the familiar voice and looked up into Samphire’s keen seafarer’s eyes. Spare and ageless, Sam was a Marin from the coast nearest to Tarn and was beautiful, but fi...