wild tune I’d heard in the garden. This time, however, it went on and on. It spoke of the sea and of home and of times long past. It tugged at my heart and my throat and my lips. Sing me , it said.
And I did.
I had no idea what the words were, or what phrase came next. But I did not care. A dizzying sense of freedom flooded over me. All I wanted to do was give voice to the notes that came to me, one after another, in an endless stream of sound. We climbed together, strong and sure, rising ever higher. I felt as if I were flying.
Sing and the darkness will find you.
Norrie’s warning rang out in my mind. But it seemed to comefrom somewhere far away, somewhere very much farther than the music itself.
I hardly even noticed when Norrie herself banged the door open. With a horrified cry, she bounded forward and clutched my wrist, the net of seaweed dripping in her hand.
“Lucy! No!”
But already the wind was rising. It swirled through the room, midnight black, and caught us both in its grasp. As the candle went out, the song rose to a shriek, and everything around us vanished.
CHAPTER THREE
CHANTRESS BLOOD
After the wind seized us, I could see nothing whatsoever. Not the candle, not the room, not even my own bare hands. Worse still, I touched only emptiness. There was no floor beneath me, no table, no walls. From the pressure around my wrist, I guessed Norrie was still with me, yet I could not see or hear her.
I nearly broke off singing then, but the song had a powerful grasp, and it refused to leave me so easily. It filled my throat and opened my lips and insisted on being sung. In that terrible void, it was all I had left, so I clung to it, taking each note as it came, giving each its full measure. And with each note I sang, I allowed myself to trust the song a little more—to believe that I was indeed leaving the island and going home.
Just as my confidence soared, the song fractured, splitting into harmonies I did not understand.
Which line to follow? I hesitated. Only a moment, only abeat. But thick and strong as rope, the music coiled around me and pulled Norrie away.
I screamed, and the darkness closed in like a shroud on my face. Above me, I saw a gray arch, like the curve of a cresting wave. Was I about to drown?
But no, it was growing light now, and the wave above me was solid, was still, was . . .
Stone.
Above my head, the golden-gray vaulting soared, its interlocking arches meeting in exquisite geometry. And as the last of the darkness lifted, I saw to my astonishment that I was standing in a long and elegant room, facing crimson draperies that hung like drooping sails. Near me, a vast hearth glowed, its flames reflected in glass cases that lined the rest of the room. In those cases were books by the thousands. Books in chains. Books glowing with gilt. Books blackened with age. Books upon books upon books. And not a soul in sight to read them.
My throat convulsed. I had worked magic. I had sung myself off the island. That alone dumbfounded me. But where was I? This was not the small cottage I remembered, or any other place I knew.
More dreadful question still—where was Norrie? For there was no sign of her anywhere.
What have I done?
It was no use telling myself it was Norrie’s own fault for keeping secrets. I was the one who’d chosen to sing, and now Norrie was lost. That was the plain truth of it. For all I knew, my magic had killed her.
She lives. It was the merest breath of a song in my ears. I strained to hear the rest, but the notes told me only that Norrie was alive—somewhere.
Oh, Norrie, how could I have lost you?
My hand tightened around my necklace, still twined around my fingers. I could reproach myself all day, but that wouldn’t help Norrie one whit. I must act instead. I must find her. But how? With more singing?
I wasn’t sure I had the stomach for that, given what my first song had brought about. And in any case, I couldn’t hear the music anymore, not properly. It
And I did.
I had no idea what the words were, or what phrase came next. But I did not care. A dizzying sense of freedom flooded over me. All I wanted to do was give voice to the notes that came to me, one after another, in an endless stream of sound. We climbed together, strong and sure, rising ever higher. I felt as if I were flying.
Sing and the darkness will find you.
Norrie’s warning rang out in my mind. But it seemed to comefrom somewhere far away, somewhere very much farther than the music itself.
I hardly even noticed when Norrie herself banged the door open. With a horrified cry, she bounded forward and clutched my wrist, the net of seaweed dripping in her hand.
“Lucy! No!”
But already the wind was rising. It swirled through the room, midnight black, and caught us both in its grasp. As the candle went out, the song rose to a shriek, and everything around us vanished.
CHAPTER THREE
CHANTRESS BLOOD
After the wind seized us, I could see nothing whatsoever. Not the candle, not the room, not even my own bare hands. Worse still, I touched only emptiness. There was no floor beneath me, no table, no walls. From the pressure around my wrist, I guessed Norrie was still with me, yet I could not see or hear her.
I nearly broke off singing then, but the song had a powerful grasp, and it refused to leave me so easily. It filled my throat and opened my lips and insisted on being sung. In that terrible void, it was all I had left, so I clung to it, taking each note as it came, giving each its full measure. And with each note I sang, I allowed myself to trust the song a little more—to believe that I was indeed leaving the island and going home.
Just as my confidence soared, the song fractured, splitting into harmonies I did not understand.
Which line to follow? I hesitated. Only a moment, only abeat. But thick and strong as rope, the music coiled around me and pulled Norrie away.
I screamed, and the darkness closed in like a shroud on my face. Above me, I saw a gray arch, like the curve of a cresting wave. Was I about to drown?
But no, it was growing light now, and the wave above me was solid, was still, was . . .
Stone.
Above my head, the golden-gray vaulting soared, its interlocking arches meeting in exquisite geometry. And as the last of the darkness lifted, I saw to my astonishment that I was standing in a long and elegant room, facing crimson draperies that hung like drooping sails. Near me, a vast hearth glowed, its flames reflected in glass cases that lined the rest of the room. In those cases were books by the thousands. Books in chains. Books glowing with gilt. Books blackened with age. Books upon books upon books. And not a soul in sight to read them.
My throat convulsed. I had worked magic. I had sung myself off the island. That alone dumbfounded me. But where was I? This was not the small cottage I remembered, or any other place I knew.
More dreadful question still—where was Norrie? For there was no sign of her anywhere.
What have I done?
It was no use telling myself it was Norrie’s own fault for keeping secrets. I was the one who’d chosen to sing, and now Norrie was lost. That was the plain truth of it. For all I knew, my magic had killed her.
She lives. It was the merest breath of a song in my ears. I strained to hear the rest, but the notes told me only that Norrie was alive—somewhere.
Oh, Norrie, how could I have lost you?
My hand tightened around my necklace, still twined around my fingers. I could reproach myself all day, but that wouldn’t help Norrie one whit. I must act instead. I must find her. But how? With more singing?
I wasn’t sure I had the stomach for that, given what my first song had brought about. And in any case, I couldn’t hear the music anymore, not properly. It
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