Spark of Chaos (Spark of Chaos #1)

Chapter 7

Dusk came swiftly. And in the last hour, Isiilde finally came across something that gave her pause. She froze, her teeth poised to sink into a caramel-coated apple, transfixed by the vacant area before her. Looking around at the evenly spaced pavilions, she found the irregular void an odd sight.

Marsais selected a chocolate from her basket. "Fascinating... an empty spot."

Isiilde realized she was drooling and quickly finished her bite. "It doesn't seem right."

"And why is that?"

"It doesn't feel empty." The words sounded foolish to her own ears. But everyone was avoiding the space.

"Have more confidence in your instincts."

His deft fingers flashed with movement before he swept a hand over her eyes. The weave tickled her skin, and she laughed in response, but her delight ended a moment later when a drab, grey pavilion shimmered into existence.

"You've found what I was looking for." Marsais popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth, which was followed by an appreciative grunt. "The Xaionian lifestyle does have its advantages."

"Marsais?"

"Hmm."

"Why would a shop be hidden?"

"Why do you think?"

They started walking towards the entrance, but she felt a strange desire to avoid the tent. The area was warded, she realized.

Isiilde pondered his question for a moment. "So ordinary people won't find it. They only want those with an arcane sight to enter, such as Wise Ones."

"Precisely."

"I should've known you'd want to go to the most interesting shop."

"I find every shop interesting when you're exploring it. I thought that poor clothing merchant was going to have a heart attack when you insisted on trying on half the garments in his shop."

"If he didn't charge such outrageous prices, I would have liked that green cloak," she admitted.

The tent was far larger on the inside than out. An entire bazaar sprawled inside, where anything and everything that might interest a Wise One could be found. Instead of having the temporary feel of a cloth pavilion, it felt solid.

Guards posted at the entryway ordered everyone to remove their masks as they entered. She took a cue from Marsais and pulled her cowl down, concealing her features.

Many people from the tower would recognize the Archlord, vagabond or no, and she doubted he wanted to deal with his fellow Wise Ones just yet. She certainly didn't want to be recognized. It'd been over a week since her incident with Crumpet and she hadn't been back to the castle since, nor had Oenghus, for that matter. It was highly unlikely that everyone would be as understanding as Coyle.

Translucent orbs full of fireflies drifted in the air, but their brilliance was magnified in the darkness of the tent, casting an ominous glow over the bazaar. And while the festival outside had had a blithe atmosphere, in here things were intense, with an undercurrent of powerful forces seething below the surface of her awareness.

When she asked Marsais about the change, he bent to whisper in her ear as he explained that Xaio was not restricted by the Blessed Order's laws. There were few boundaries to their practices, which was part of the reason that the tent was obscured. They didn't want the paladins sniffing around their wares.

The unknown put her on edge, and she stuck close to Marsais as they strolled through the shadowed tent. She could feel the tension in his body—he was brimming with awareness. He didn't like this place either. But he seemed to be looking for something, or someone.