Spark of Chaos (Spark of Chaos #1)

Chapter 4

A gust of sharp wind swept up the hillside and buffeted their wagon as they navigated the final, snaking road to Drivel. The city hadn't changed. It still huddled in its cove, safe from the turbulent seas of the Fell Coast.

Isiilde tugged her cloak firmly about her and leaned into Marsais, trying to focus on the gulls that circled over the harbor while he worked the brake and kept a tight rein on the horses.

"You look worried, my dear."

"Aren't you?" she asked.

"Aye, he's worried what's gonna happen when he tips over my barrels of brew. Ease up on the bloody brake before you snap it," Oenghus warned.

With those ominous words, the wagon lurched, and Isiilde grabbed onto Marsais' arm for support.

"By the Pits o' Mourn," Oenghus swore. "It looks like every bugger on the Isle has come today."

Curiosity won over fear, and she cracked an eye open. A long line of travelers stretched along the road, waiting to pass through the gates.

When Marsais eased the wagon to a stop at the back of the line, Isiilde stood to look past the gates to the festivities beyond.

"Why are they stopping everyone?" she asked.

Several travelers in line turned to gawk at the nymph. When she noticed, she quickly sat back down.

"They're probably confiscating weapons," Oenghus said.

He unclasped the long folds of his kilt from around his shoulder and gathered the billowing cloth. Then tucked the folds into his belt to conceal the war hammer hanging from its belt hook.

"I don't think that will work," she said.

"No, but this will." He pulled out a heavy jug from the wagon bed, and set it by her feet.

"Isn't bribery illegal?"

"Who said I was offering bribes?"

"The guards might. Then you'll be thrown into the lockup again."

Oenghus shrugged. "It's not so bad, Sprite. They know they can't really keep me locked up if I don't want to be in there. We have an agreement of sorts. I stay in their jail to make them look good, and in exchange I get free room and board. It's rowdier than a pleasure house in there."

"Do the guards dress up in corsets, or do you?" Isiilde quipped.

Marsais laughed.

"By the gods, girl, what's got into you?" Oenghus demanded, returning her glare.

"I had to spend four days with Rashk when you were thrown in jail for disorderly conduct two months back—I still don't know what you did. And now I find out you enjoyed it."

"I thought you liked Rashk."

"I never had to watch her eat before." Isiilde's stomach lurched at the memory. "I thought the little piglet in her garden pen was a pet. I didn't know she was going to eat it while it was still twitching." She wrinkled her nose, wishing she hadn't eaten earlier.

Oenghus chewed thoughtfully on his pipe. "Would it help if I told you they tortured me?"

"No, but it would help if I told Marsais that Isek had to borrow coin from his coffers to bail you out of prison three different times." Isiilde smiled sweetly at her guardian. "It would also help if Marsais knew you owed him thirty gold crowns for the bail and a hundred and fifty for the tavern you ruined."

"But you wouldn't tell him, right?"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Oen."

"Hmm, interest on a hundred and eighty crowns—that's a fair profit for not doing much," Marsais mused.