“Nonsense,” Ardella said. “She has some kind of hold over him, perhaps. But you needn’t worry. He won’t marry her. Who would? No man wants to wed a woman who has the power of magic, trust me. Walbrook, least of all.”
Under my frozen hands, my coil of hair sprang free and tumbled down my back. I wrenched it tight and started putting it in order again—but an angry curiosity kept me listening to what was said about me.
“I suppose you’re right,” Lady Gillian conceded. “She’s a strange creature. Really, when you come down to it, she’s not even human, not fully.”
“Yes,” Ardella said. “And anyone who marries her has to think of the children.”
“Children?” Clemence sounded confused. “What do you mean?”
“Haven’t you ever heard the story of Melusine?” Ardella’s voice sank low, as if she were relating a juicy bit of gossip. “She was a Chantress too, or so they say—daughter of the faerie Pressina. She tried to hide her true nature from her husband, but her blood betrayed her. Her children were monstrous. One son had a lion’s foot growing out of his face. Another had a tusk for a tooth. And when her husband finally confronted her, she turned into her true form, a sea serpent.”
That wasn’t the way Lady Helaine had told the tale. According to her, Melusine’s sons had been perfectly normal on all counts, and she’d had a Chantress daughter as well.
What was the true story? I didn’t know. But I did know I’d heard enough of Ardella’s sly scandal-mongering. The woman was poison. I jabbed the last pins in, eager to get away.
“Ugh,” said Lady Gillian. “Who would want to marry a creature like that?”
“No one,” Ardella said emphatically, still in that malicious voice. “Not even dear little Lucy’s father, from what I hear.”
A pin slipped in my fingers, piercing my scalp. My father? I knew he’d been a musician, and little more. What did Ardella have to say about him?
“I know someone who used to be friends with her mother, Viviane,” Ardella went on. “She loved the man desperately, even ran away from her guardian to marry him. But when she told him she was expecting their child, he got cold feet. Maybe he thought she’d bear another tusked wonder. At any rate, he left her.”
I felt dizzy; the mirror seemed to wobble. I’d been told that my father had died before I was born, but the details had been vague. Was it just a story? Was Ardella telling the truth?
“How awful,” Clemence said.
My whole head burned. I had to get away.
Desperate for a refuge, I stabbed the last pin in and retreated toward my room. Then I remembered: I needed to see Captain Knollys. Still dazed, I turned myself around—and almost bumped into Gabriel.
“Chantress! Just the woman I wanted to see.” He flashed a smile at me, then looked more closely. “Are you all right?”
I wasn’t all right, but I worked to hide it. I touched my bracelet to his outstretched hand—a gesture of greeting that was starting to become almost routine. “I’m fine. I was just on my way to the guardrooms, and then I was planning to look for you. Did you find anything in the library?”
“Nothing much,” Gabriel said. “Though I was there till almost dawn.”
Till dawn? He didn’t look it. Freshly shaved and fashionably tailored, he wore boots so polished that I could almost see my reflection in the black leather. People said that Gabriel’s valet was the best in all England. I believed them.
“Let’s sit down, and I’ll give you my report.” Gabriel steered me into the next room and gestured toward a velvet couch—high-sided, soft, and intimate.
Thinking it looked a little too cozy, I sat myself down in the nearest chair instead. “This will do.”
“Very well.” He pulled another chair close. “I did find a reference in a fourteenth-century chronicle to wise women who talked to the creatures of the sea. A century later, another writer speaks of a group called the Well Women who practiced certain rites on the banks of the Thames.”
“Rites?”
“Chiefly wading into its waters and making offerings. There’s one mention of a wicker Flower Maiden that was set alight and given to the river. But there’s not a word about singing.”
“Nothing at all?” That was disconcerting. Of course, early chronicles were notorious for missing out important details. “Did they mention any kind of music?”
“No.” Gabriel stretched out his legs, jaw tightening as he suppressed a yawn. “One of them talked about the music of the spheres, but that was in a different section entirely.”
“The music of the spheres?” I’d heard the phrase before, but I had no idea what it meant. “What’s that?”
Gabriel, who enjoyed playing the expert, was happy to explain. “Well, some scholars argue that all heavenly bodies—the sun, the moon, the planets, even the stars—have their own unique music. Pythagoras wrote about it, and so did Plato, and plenty of others. Some think they meant it just as a metaphor, a way of talking about theories of mathematics and astronomy. But the rest say no, it’s actual music.” His hand, idly running down the chair, came close to mine.
I pulled my own hand back. “No one suggests that it’s connected with water, do they?”
“Not that I’ve read,” he admitted. “But the moon is the force behind the tides, so that’s a connection to the ocean. Come to think of it, it might be worth seeing if there’s anything about music in Paracelsus—”
“He’s the man who wrote about elementals?”
“Yes. Although he’s better known for his books on alchemy and medicine.”
The mention of alchemy made me sit up straighter. That too was something I hadn’t considered—but perhaps I should have. “Did Paracelsus think alchemy could give people power over elementals?”
Gabriel’s fingers restlessly explored the chair arm. “He thought a true master might be able to make the invisible visible. And yes, perhaps even give him control over some elementals.”
“Does he say how?”
“No.”
A dead end, then. But a suggestive one. Could alchemy be part of the puzzle I was trying to solve? Who better to ask than the man beside me? Gabriel was one of the best alchemists in the kingdom, even if he’d sworn off active pursuit of it after his talents had gotten him into serious trouble last year.
“Gabriel, do you know of anything in alchemy that might explain what’s happening now?”
His brown eyes flashed. “If I did, don’t you think I would have said so before?” There was hurt as well as anger in his face. “I’ve expressed my loyalty in a thousand ways, not only to King and country but to you personally. What more do I have to do to prove myself?”
Seeing how distressed he was, I forgot my caution and laid my hand on his. “I didn’t mean to question your loyalty. I was just hoping that you might remember some small detail that could help us now. Or that you might have heard some rumor from your alchemist friends—”
“I have no such friends.” He clasped my hand, his dark eyes fervent. “Not anymore. I swear to you that I’ve turned my back on the art forever. You must believe me.”
“I do, Gabriel. I do.” I released his hand, but he didn’t let me go.
“I don’t think you understand how I feel.” His eyes turned soulful. “Chantress—”
Behind us a library door flew open. As I pulled away from Gabriel and spun around, young Barrington galloped into the room like a stallion on the loose.
“Come quickly, Chantress! We’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Bright-eyed and panting, he gave me a brilliant smile. “We’ve found something.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BEHIND THE VEIL
The “something” my men had found turned out to be a woman.
“We haven’t taken her in yet.” Captain Knollys’s voice rang out robustly in the confines of the guardroom, but he stopped short when he caught sight of Gabriel, who had followed me down.
At a nod from me, he accepted Gabriel’s presence and went on. “The scouts sa
y she’s what you’re looking for—a wise woman with a reputation for working water magic. Keeps herself pretty much out of sight, but we’ve tracked down where she lives, in rooms right by the river.”
“People call her a miracle-worker,” Barrington added. “They pay fees for her help.”
“And there’s talk of some odd rituals, too,” Knollys said. “Riverside offerings and suchlike. Melisande’s the name she goes by.”
That took me by surprise. “Melisande” was said to be another name for Melusine. Maybe there was a Chantress connection here after all.
“Do you want us to bring her in?” Knollys asked. “Or do you want to go there yourself?”
“I’ll go.” I’d learn more that way. And if it was magic she was using—whatever it might be—then I didn’t want my men facing her without me.
Leaning languidly against a stone wall, Gabriel had listened to Knollys in silence. Now he turned to me and spoke. “I’ll go with you.”
I hesitated, not sure this was wise. Perhaps he saw my doubts, for he continued, “In fact, you could send me in first. I could pretend to be someone seeking her services. That would put her off her guard.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Knollys looked at Gabriel with new appreciation. “Might be a better chance of taking her by surprise that way.”
I had to agree. “It’s worth considering.”
Barrington glanced at Gabriel, clearly annoyed at him for stealing the limelight. “I could do it, Chantress. Send me.”
I shook my head. An actor Barrington was not. His open face revealed every emotion he felt. But Gabriel had the gift of theater; I knew he could pull off a role with aplomb.
“I want you in the crew that surrounds the house,” I said to Barrington. “I need you ready to fight.” Raising my voice, I spoke to the men ranged behind him as well. “But you all must keep back and well out of sight until Lord Gabriel and I have gone inside.”
“I thought I was going in alone,” Gabriel said.
“I have a better idea,” I told him.
And so we made our plans.
My men had reported that Melisande lived in the darkest part of the filthiest alley in the disreputable riverside neighborhood of St. Katharine’s—and they hadn’t been lying. When Gabriel and I finally reached the place, he rapped on the door and winced as he stepped on something repulsive with his once immaculate boots. Behind him, I was grateful for the gauzy scarves and oversize hood that covered most of my face. They had been meant solely as a disguise, but they helped screen out a little of the smell. The whole alley was full of stinking trash and scraps, and the rainwater that pooled everywhere was turning them into a foul-smelling stew.
A flap in the door opened up at eye level. Through my scarves, I caught the scent of magic—teasingly brief and faint.
If I’d had my godmother’s keen nose, I might well have been able to identify the type and source of magic from that single whiff. I wasn’t Lady Helaine, however, and for me the smell was impossible to categorize. All I could tell was that magic of some sort was here.
Still, that was enough. It meant we were on the right track.
Through the flap, beady amber eyes squinted at what little they could see of us. “What d’ye want?”
A gruff tone, but I was pretty certain she was female. Was it Melisande?
“Well?” Beady-eyes was growing impatient.
“My sister’s had a bad accident,” Gabriel said in a low voice, starting on the story we’d concocted. “She’s not healing, and I fear she may be disfigured for life. She needs help.” Lowering his voice still further, he added, “From Melisande.”
The beady eyes swept over me, then fixed on Gabriel again.
“I can pay.” He held up a gold sovereign.
He’d hit on the right password. The slot shut. The door opened.
“In with you,” came the gruff order. “Be quick.”
The room inside was even darker than the alley, but there was enough light to see that I was right. It had been a woman at the door, though she was younger and slighter than I’d expected. Behind my veil, I sniffed the air again. This time I smelled no magic.
The woman put out a scrawny hand and said to Gabriel, “Your sword.”
We’d expected this, but he gave a show of reluctance before pulling it out of its scabbard and turning it over.
The woman clenched her hand around the hilt. “And the gold?”
Gabriel handed it to her.
She tested it with her teeth, then eyed us both. “So what’s behind the veil?”
I shrank back, feigning maidenly shyness.
“Cat got your tongue?” She chuckled—not a pleasant sound. “Melisande’s used to grand visitors like you, you know. Even gets highborn Court ladies coming to ask for help.”
Court ladies? I wondered who.
“It’s usually love-potions they want, of course,” the woman went on. “Perhaps that’s what you really want too.”
I shook my head violently.
“No?” The woman cackled. “Well, your money’s good, so we’ll let Melisande ferret the truth out of you. I’ll see if she’s ready to receive visitors.”
Turning away from us, she opened the door to the back room. I couldn’t hear anything that sounded like magic, but I caught the scent of it again, and that was warning enough. I tensed, ready to sing at any second.
Rustles and whispers came from the back room. Then the beady-eyed woman returned. “She’ll see you now. But you’ve interrupted her work, and she’s not best pleased, so mind your manners.”
She ushered us into an even darker room, lit only by scattered candles floating in bowls, which threw weird shadows on the cluttered walls. As my eyes adjusted, I saw a steamy white plume of smoke rising from a squat cauldron in the center of the room. My head clouded as a strong smell overpowered me. Not magic, I thought dizzily. Was it incense?
Veiled by the smoke, a shape stepped forward from the darkest corner. The beady-eyed woman curtsied so low, she was almost bent double. “Melisande,” she breathed.
Trying to see the figure through the smoke, I stepped forward. For just a moment I caught sight of her. She was a woman, and very tall, but what I noticed most were her intense sea-green eyes.
At the same time, she saw me—even through the veil. She turned on her servant. “You fool! It’s the Chantress.”
Through the smoke, Melisande lunged for me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WATER AND WALL
Even before Melisande came barreling toward me, I started to sing. The boiling water in the cauldron leaped up, forming a wall around her like searing, bubbled glass. Trapped, she looked at me in fury.
As I finished singing, I heard Gabriel say, “Oh, no, you don’t! That sword is mine.” When I turned, it was safely in his hand. The servant, however, was gone.
Gabriel pointed downward. “She went out through there.”
Squinting hard, I could just make out a hole in the floor. Leaving Melisande behind her boiling wall, I knelt by it and heard the river. “It goes out to the Thames.”
“I can’t fit through the hole, or I’d follow her,” Gabriel said.
I probably would fit, but if I went down there, it would mean leaving Melisande behind. It was too big a risk to take.
Moments later, my men piled in, crowding the room. “We heard you sing,” Barrington explained.
“Well done.” That was what we’d agreed beforehand: If I sang, they were to come immediately to our aid. “Simpson, Uddersby, you’re the smallest. See if you can get through this hole. Lord Gabriel, if you could tell them what to look for?”
Leaving them to it, I turned my attention to Melisande, still trapped behind the wall of water. My men had brought torches, and in their light I could see her clearly—a woman who had several inches on me but whose bearing made her look even taller. Her hair was a rich brown flecked with silver, and her age was hard to place, especially now that the fury had ebbed from her fac
e, leaving it cool and curiously blank.
“Is Melisande your real name?” I asked.
She looked right through me.
I sang softly, and the wall of water sizzled and steamed. When it cleared, there was an angry light in Melisande’s green eyes—and also a touch of fear.
“I can make it even hotter,” I warned her. “Answer me. Is Melisande the name you were born with?”
She spat the answer at me. “Yes.”
“Some would say that’s a Chantress name. Are you a Chantress?”
“See for yourself.” She let her drooping sleeves fall back, revealing arms that were smooth and white. She had no Chantress mark, as I did—that small, bone-white spiral at the base of the forearm that set a Chantress apart.
Well, that was one issue settled. “What kind of magic do you practice?”
She gave me a wicked grimace. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“How many of you are there? How long have you been meeting?”
“How long?” A snort of contemptuous laughter. “Since the dawn of time, Chantress. We’ve been here before you, and we’ll outlast you.”
“Do you sing?”
Silence.
“Are you the one who called up the sea creatures?”
She still didn’t speak, but I saw a gleam of sly satisfaction in her eyes.
“Talk, or I’ll sing,” I said. “I can make that wall a lot hotter, you know.”
A look of pure hatred. “You and your walls! That’s the Chantress answer to everything. You did it to the Mothers, and now you’re doing it to me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know.” Her mouth twisted with venom. “The old wall let us slip through, but you put a stop to that, didn’t you? You Chantresses built a wall between us and the Mothers. We honored them; we respected them; we worshipped them in the way our own mothers taught us. But not you, oh no! You Chantresses were too high and mighty for that.”
I stared at her in confusion. What wall was this? And who were the Mothers?
“But all things come right in time,” Melisande said, eyes alight behind the bubbling wall. “We have been faithful; we knew this hour would come. Your wall is breaking down, Chantress. There’s a crack in it, and the Mothers are coming for you. And this time, you cannot stop them!”
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