Chantress by Amy Butler Greenfield Read Free Book Online Page A

instant, but it was no less unsettling for that.
    “It is as I expected, then,” Penebrygg said.
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    Penebrygg pushed his spectacles along the wide bridge of his nose. “Bear in mind that I know very little about Chantresses. None of us do, not in this day and age. But some of the old stories say that Chantresses were commonly given magical stones by their mothers. And if anyone else attempted to seize that stone, he would feel the pain of fire.” He bestowed a sober glance on me. “That is the phrase that is used: ‘the pain of fire.’ ”
    “But those stories talk of plain stones,” Nat said.
    “My stone was plain until today,” I said.
    “But it’s a ruby now. And I never heard a story about a gem like that.”
    “Nor have I,” said Penebrygg. “But I once saw a manuscript about a Chantress whose stone was a pearl of immense beauty. So it would seem it is possible. And what other explanation is there for what we have seen tonight?”
    “I can think of none,” Nat admitted.
    Relieved to have proven myself, I asked the question that mattered most to me. “Will you help me find Norrie, then?”
    “Of course,” Penebrygg said. “We’ll do everything we can.”
    The fear I felt for Norrie did not diminish, but I found I was better able to shoulder it now that I knew I was not alone. I looped the necklace over my head and tucked the ruby out of sight.
    While my head was bowed, Nat said quietly, “So we have a Chantress among us, at long last.”
    Pleased he had accepted the truth of my story, I looked up and smiled. But I saw immediately that it was Penebrygg he was speaking to, not me. And his next words erased my smile entirely.
    “A Chantress—but one who knows nothing about magic.” He shook his head in frustration. “That’s not a help, sir. That’s a danger to all of us.”
    Me? A danger? Hot words rose to my lips, but before I could speak them, Penebrygg rose to my defense.
    “Patience, my lad,” he said. “To have a Chantress come after so many years of darkness—to have her arrive on our very doorstep, and enter this house safely—to my mind, that is a miracle. And if one miracle has already happened, who knows what others may be possible?”
    I had just enough time to wonder exactly what miracles he hoped for, when he leaned forward and patted my hand.
    “My dear,” he said, “I do believe you are going to save us all.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
THE DEVASTATION
    “Save you?” I regarded Penebrygg with alarm. “I don’t understand. I thought it was me who needed saving—and Norrie.”
    “We will help you there, never fear,” Penebrygg said.
    “Of course we will,” Nat said impatiently. “But there’s more at stake than just you, you know.”
    I looked from him to Penebrygg. “But that’s just it. I don’t know.”
    “Small wonder, given the circumstances.” Penebrygg pulled his spectacles down the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps it would be best to start at the beginning, then. What do you know about Chantresses?”
    I shook my head. “Almost nothing.”
    “Then I shall tell you what we know. Which is not a great deal, admittedly.” Penebrygg sighed and pushed his spectacles back into place. “According to the old stories, the wall between the mortal world and the faerie realms is a strong one, and it cannot be bridged in any enduring way. But long ago, when the wallwas easier to cross, there were a few faerie women who married mortal men and bore them children. In doing so, the women lost most of their power. Weak and frail, they rarely lived long. But something of their blood lived on in their daughters and their daughters’ daughters. Their voices were magic, and they could sing strange things into being.”
    “They were Chantresses?” I guessed.
    “Yes. Or at any rate, that is the word we use for them now,” said Penebrygg. “The old French term for it was enchanteresse . And that, in turn, has a root that goes back to Roman times.