Spark of Chaos (Spark of Chaos #1)

Chapter 7

"Oh, I got off ages ago," Marsais muttered.

Zianna ignored his vague remark. "Did you have a pleasant trip?"

As much as the woman made her life unpleasant, Isiilde was ever in awe of the way she carried herself. The suggestive eyes and coy smile that she directed at Marsais were impressive. As was the subtle way she put her attributes in full view, so that any man bending to kiss her hand would be hard-pressed to miss her plunging neckline.

"Not until I arrived on a small beach yesterday," Marsais said, slipping Isiilde's arm through his. "Would you excuse us?"

Taal gave a slight bow. As Marsais turned to leave, a man screamed. Startled, Isiilde turned to find the assistant curled at her feet. He clutched his hand in agony—a hand as black and cracked as a charred log.

Marsais glanced down at the man. "Stealing is illegal, sir."

"What'd you do!" the man screeched.

"Did I do something?" Marsais glanced around in surprise.

A ring of customers formed around the scene, calls of alarm rippled through the tent, and the guards soon appeared, pushing through the crowd.

"I only wanted a strand!"

Isiilde scuttled behind Marsais, all too aware of the audience and their stares.

"You admit to attempted theft?" Marsais asked.

"She's only a nymph," the assistant snarled.

"Did you do this?" A guard, encased in armor modeled after a scorpion, stepped forward. The guard only came to Marsais' chin, and he tried to make up the difference with a threatening posture.

"I was conversing with this couple. My back was to the fellow. Had I done something, it would have been quite a feat, wouldn't you agree? Perhaps it was divine intervention."

The guard turned to Taal for confirmation.

"It's true. When it happened, he was conversing with my apprentice," Taal said with an uneasy glance at Marsais.

"This could become rather troublesome," Marsais said. "Where nymphs are involved, paladins must be too. I'm sure they'd love an excuse to search this pavilion."

This reasoning, along with the assistant's confession, quickly settled the issue.

"Move along then," the guard ordered. "All of you get moving. There's nothing more to see."

"This thief might benefit from serving a month of penance at a temple dedicated to Chaim. It may help his ailment." And with that, Marsais led her away.

"Oh, come now," he sighed. "If you cry, I'll be forced to sing."

Isiilde laughed through her fear. "It's too late for that," she said, dabbing at tears with his offered handkerchief.

True to his word, he cleared his throat and launched into his favorite ballad about the Mule King. But Marsais couldn't hold a tune to save his life. Patrons glared at the madman and he paid them no mind.

Eventually, her tears turned to laughter. "For the love of all that is good, Marsais, please stop now," she begged.

His eyes slid over to her, and the edge of his mouth quirked. Much to her relief, he stopped singing.

Isiilde glanced over her shoulder. "What did you do to that man?" she whispered in his ear.

"It was just a trick. An illusion that will wear off in a month, whether or not he does penance at a temple."