The Mage in the Iron Mask - Brian Thomsen [42]
Rinsing his head in the shallows that would have previously brought his death, he carefully cleaned the mask and bathed as much of his face as he was able to, given the limited access afforded by the mask's apertures.
Reluctantly his vision began to clear, and he was able to look around. He first looked to the sea, and to his relief saw only the waves, and two seagulls diving for prey.
Had I not made it, he reflected, they would probably be perched on me, their beaks searching for the tender filling that lies within the iron shell of the mask. It is better that they content themselves with their regular diet.
His thoughts suddenly turned to images of his savior, the noble whale that must have beached itself to assure him of his salvation.
If it is still alive, he thought, I must return it to the surf or it will die.
Energized with what he thought to be his debt-required duty, he looked away from the waves, toward the shore, to find the beached leviathan. Out of the corner of his eye-slit he saw a large white mass that seemed to be smaller than he remembered his albino mammalian savior to be.
Staggering to his feet, his body protesting every effort, he dragged himself toward the white blob, blinking to clear his vision.
He looked down and laughed. It was his savior, he realized, but it was no whale.
It was a man.
Rassendyll continued to laugh out loud at his own misconception, a laugh that was uncontrolled and free, the first that he had allowed himself since the moment of his abduction.
The roar of his humor, coupled with the roar of the surf, and the moist lapping of its eddies, awoke the fainted-unto-sleep Passepout, who opened his eyes and, seeing Rassendyll standing above him, quickly took on a look of abject panic and fear.
Rassendyll quickly stopped laughing, and, realizing the panic that was evident in his savior's face, quickly said, "I mean you no harm."
The near valiant thespian swiftly replied, "Well, that's good. What are you doing with a coal bucket on your head?"
Rassendyll took another step closer to the still prone Passepout to assist the actor in coming to his feet. The thespian immediately misinterpreted this as a threatening act and, perhaps, a response to what the iron masked fellow inferred as an insult.
Thinking on his feet (or on his back, as it happened), the thespian quickly added, "Not that it's unattractive, I mean to say. Of course, not everyone could carry off this look, but on you it's quite impressive; one might almost say 'singular.' "
Rassendyll was amused by the verbal antics of the fellow, who undoubtedly had no idea that his natural buoyancy had not only saved his own life but Rassendyll's as well, and he was certain that his face would have conveyed this grateful amusement to the dripping and corpulent gent had it not been obscured by the infernal mask.
The mask, however, did not muffle the laughter that was once again escaping his lips.
Passepout smiled, taking the masked fellow's amusement as a good sign, and accepting his proffered hand and assistance at getting to his feet.
"Oooofff!" he exhaled as he got to his feet. "Why thank you, kind sir, for your gracious assistance!"
"Think nothing of it, my mutually waterlogged colleague," Rassendyll replied, noticing some threatening clouds that seemed to be approaching from the sea horizon. "It looks like a storm is brewing. We probably should try to find some shelter."
Passepout remembered the warm and comfortable bed back at the Traveler's Cloak, and the unceremonious exit from the inn at the urging of Dela's boot sole.
"Good idea," the soggy thespian agreed. "Any ideas where?"
Rassendyll quickly looked around, noticing a few buildings and ships in the far distance. One of the buildings was a lighthouse, and, if memory served the former Retreat student, nearby was a small barracks housing no less than thirty-six soldiers.
"That-a-way," the masked mage instructed, pointing in the opposite direction along the shore.
"Fine," Passepout