Spark of Chaos (Spark of Chaos #1)

Chapter 6

"Perhaps you should stage a puppet show," she suggested.

"A splendid idea! The crowd will have a good laugh when the Blessed Order comes to hang, draw and quarter me," Marsais said, before sinking his teeth into turkey flesh.

There was both sorrow and amusement in his voice.

"Marsais?"

"Hmm."

"Humans are confusing."

"A wise assessment, my dear." He regarded her out of the corner of his eye. "My keen perceptions whisper that you have a question for me."

"I don't understand—" Isiilde was at a loss. She was trying to put her feelings into words, but it was difficult, so she ate a strawberry. That helped. Since it seemed like a good place to begin, Isiilde told Marsais about Yasimina's warning—not to repeat his words about nymphs being favored by the Sylph.

"Ah, I believe you're perplexed by the age-old question of why," he said, smiling with gentle understanding. "Your research regarding nymphs uncovered their mistreatment, but not the reason for it."

"Yes, that's what I don't understand. The Blessed Order worships the Guardians of Iilenshar, who claim allegiance to the Sylph. So why do they mistreat faerie? Why do people cower from knowledge? Aren't the Wise Ones supposed to 'protect the past to safeguard the future'?"

It was the motto of the Order. The words were etched into the top of the table in the council chamber.

"I'm afraid there is no simple answer to your question."

"I asked Oen why nymphs were mistreated, and he told me that humans were a bunch of thick-headed idiots."

"Blunt and to the point, as always. But if I were to put a single word to it, I'd say it's a matter of convenience."

Puppet Dagenir whacked the golden ball of glitter with his sword, and it burst apart, hurling rock candy into the audience. Children scrambled for the sweets.

Marsais jerked like he'd been hit. He put a hand to his forehead, in obvious pain, his breath ragged.

She touched his shoulder. "Marsais? Are you all right?"

His eyes focused on her, and she held his gaze until his breathing calmed. Slowly, he returned from whatever nightmare he'd remembered.

Marsais had lived through the Shattering. It had broken the land and nearly snuffed out all life. What horrors did he carry?

Isiilde kept her hand on his shoulder until he offered a small smile and drew away from her touch. "I'm fine. Thank you." He swallowed, turning his back on the puppet show.

"Convenience?" she asked, nudging him back on topic.

"Yes," he sighed, looking tired.

To give him time, she sampled her custard tart, and moaned with pleasure. "You have to try this." Isiilde thrust the tart at his mouth. He took a bite, and although he wasn't quite as expressive as she'd been, some light returned to his eyes.

"History is a tapestry," he said between mouthfuls. "Every thread affects the next. So, in order to understand why nymphs are mistreated, you need to understand the past. But you can't just pluck at a single thread; first, you have to unravel all the other threads. Everything is connected."

Shouts of Thief! rippled through the crowd. And every eye looked at a boy racing away from two angry men.

Isiilde checked her own purse. It was gone. "Blast!"

"I wouldn't worry." Marsais withdrew her purse from his cloak, dangling it in front of her nose. "If I could snatch it, then someone else would." The pouch disappeared back into his cloak for safekeeping.