Chantress by Amy Butler Greenfield Read Free Book Online

not leap to conclusions—any of us. And I include myself. There is much in Lucy’s tale that rings true to me, but it would be wise to gather more evidence.” He turned to me. “You know nothing whatsoever about the ruby you carry?”
    “Nothing to speak of, except that when I wear it, it’s hard to hear the music.”
    “May I examine it more closely?”
    I hesitated. I felt uneasy enough not having the stone around my neck; I couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be if I actually handed it to someone else.
    “You needn’t let go of it,” he assured me. “Merely hold it up to the light, so that I may see it better. I shall keep my distance, and I shall not touch it, I promise you.”
    As I lifted the ruby, Penebrygg pushed himself up from his chair and lit a taper from the fire. Bringing it close, he peered at the stone. “Ah, yes, that’s it. And now turn it—no, stop a moment.” He squinted. “Remarkable. What a shame that you lost your mother’s letter! Let us hope that it lies undiscovered, or at least that Scargrave can make no more sense of it than you could.”
    “Is there nothing I can do?” I asked.
    “About the letter? Not at the moment. But I can suggest another test that will prove whether you are truly a Chantress. Do you wish to continue?”
    “Yes.” Whatever it took to get their help in finding Norrie, I would do it.
    “You are not too tired?”
    “No.” Despite the late hour and the smoky, shadowy room, I felt wide-awake.
    “Very good. Now take the jewel and hold it in your hand. No, not like that. Not in your fist. Let it lie on your palm, like so.”
    It was difficult to obey Penebrygg, to release my fingers and let the ruby lie there in the open. The necklace had always been my private touchstone, and I wanted to keep it safe and sound, away from prying eyes. I shifted in my chair, forcing myself to keep my palm flat.
    “Do not move,” Penebrygg commanded. “Be still, and let me try to take it from you.”
    My fingers closed over the ruby of their own accord. “But it’s mine!”
    “If it is truly magic and truly yours, no one can take it away from you. Nat tried in the shed, do you not remember? And he did not succeed.”
    No one could take my stone away from me? Curious now, I opened my hand and let the ruby lie exposed on my palm.
    Penebrygg reached for the ruby, but as his hand closed around it, a savage music rang in my ears. Penebrygg’s fingers flew back, and his owlish face turned pale.
    Nat leaped from his chair. “What have you done to him?”
    “Calm yourself, Nat,” Penebrygg said, nursing his fingers. “She did nothing. It was the stone.”
    Nat knelt beside him, his face concerned. “Does it hurt?”
    “Not unbearably.”
    “Let me try.”
    “No, Nat. I wouldn’t recommend it. Not when—”
    But even as Penebrygg spoke, Nat’s fingers were curving around the stone. The savage notes sounded in my ears again, this time more violently. Nat cried out, and his hand flew upward.
    “Ah,” Penebrygg said. “What did you feel?”
    “Nothing at all, until I was about to touch it.” Nat sounded shaken. “And then it was as if my fingers were caught in red-hot pincers.”
    “Exactly what I experienced,” Penebrygg said. “Tell me, did you feel something like that in the shed?”
    “When I reached for the necklace?” Nat considered the question. “I felt a pinch, yes. Nothing like as painful, though.”
    “But you were only reaching for the chain then, and not the stone itself. You did not come so close then.” Penebrygg nodded at me. “And what happened on your side? What ran through your mind?”
    “Nothing, except . . .”
    “Yes?”
    “Except that I heard music. Very quick and harsh.” I did not add that I had also been possessed by a strange and disturbing feeling, almost as if I were splitting into two Lucys, the oneshocked and distressed to see the others in pain, the other darkly satisfied by their failure. It had only lasted an