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said suddenly to me, his face stern. “What is it you hide?”
    Flummoxed, I found I was covering the spot where the ruby lay hidden under my bodice. I flushed and let my hand drop. “Nothing.”
    Nat darted forward. “There’s a chain around her neck.”
    I fumbled at my kerchief, but too late. Nat’s deft fingers were already closing in.
    “Nat, you will leave this to me,” the old man said.
    As he spoke, I heard a strange snatch of song.
    “Ouch!” Nat pulled back in shock. “What was that?”
    Did he mean the music?
    “It wasn’t me.” Or had I worked some magic unconsciously? Unsettled by the thought, I whirled away from Nat, only to trip against the cart. As I tried to right myself, the stone slipped out of my bodice, flashing with red fire.
    The room went silent. Then Nat whistled and reached for the stone.
    “No!” I ducked. “It’s not yours.”
    “And you expect me to believe it’s yours?” Nat scoffed. “Who did you steal it from?”
    “It was a gift from my mother,” I said, stung.
    “She must have been a bloody princess, then. Or was she the one who stole it?”
    “No.” The accusation outraged me. “She was—”
    I stopped myself just in time. To say anything more about my mother or myself would be dangerous. And much as I wastempted to name Nat himself for a thief, that too seemed unwise.
    As Nat and I eyed each other warily, the old man spoke.
    “Neither a princess nor a thief, your mother—but something else entirely, yes? Something which you do not wish to name?”
    My heart wobbled in my chest.
    The old man’s spectacles had caught the light again, glimmering like little moons. “You will please show us your left hand.”
    I flinched and backed away.
    Quick as a wildcat, Nat clasped my left wrist and pulled me into the light. Above his long fingers, the mark showed clearly: a spiral the size of a penny piece, white as bones washed clean by the sea.
    Nat gazed at me, eyes wide with shock. “You’re a Chantress.”

CHAPTER SIX
A SMALL BUT CONVINCING DISPLAY
    “It’s an old scar, nothing more.” I wrenched my arm free and backed toward the door. “Let me go!”
    Nat stepped toward me, blocking the way out. “You’re a Chantress,” he said again. The eager note in his voice made me sick. Was he already counting the reward money in his head?
    Time to play my last card. I gave him as fierce a look as he had ever given me. “If you turn me in, I’ll tell them about the book you stole.”
    Nat halted. “What book?”
    “I saw you steal it from the library. I saw you go through the secret door, too.”
    “I didn’t—”
    “You did. I was there, and I followed you. And if you give me up to that awful Lord Scargrave, I’ll tell him everything. So for your own sake, you’d better let me go.”
    I wanted to scare him. To my dismay, his shoulders relaxed,and a glimmer of amusement appeared in his eyes. “Hand you over to Scargrave? Believe me, that’s the very last thing we’d do.”
    I let out a deep breath. “So you’ll let me go?”
    “Oh no,” Nat said. “You’re not going anywhere. Not if we can help it.”
    I looked at him in renewed alarm. What did they want from me?
    “There, there,” the old man said. “We do not mean to frighten you, Nat and I. We are glad you have come to us, Chantress—you cannot imagine how glad.”
    I could see clearly past his lenses now, and there was no menace in his eyes, only kindness and concern and eagerness.
    Or was that a trick of the light?
    “Ah, I see you are still afraid,” the old man said. “And that is to be understood, for there are many dangers before you, and you are very young. Much younger than I expected. And in trouble, too, it seems, or why would you be hiding in our cart? But we will not betray you. On my life, I, Cornelius Penebrygg, swear it to you. We wish only to help. You will take shelter in our house, yes?”
    Though his face was earnest under his floppy cap, I hesitated. What he had said was