The Mage in the Iron Mask - Brian Thomsen [56]
"I do believe it's raining," McKern announced in a manner more akin to a scholar positing a theorem than a dinner guest speculating on the obviously prevailing weather conditions.
"Mason, I shall not tell you again," Honor ordered, his clipped tones revealing the slight evidence of his irritation at the continued interruptions to the silent sanctity of supper time.
Honor had no sooner resumed eating when the sound of a door knocker resonated through the hall.
McKern was about to speak the obvious, as he was prone to do, when Honor Fullstaff saved him the trouble.
"Oh, let me guess, dear Mason," the host said, not even trying to hide the sarcasm from his tone, thus revealing the quick waning of his temper over the interruptions. "I bet you believe that there is someone at the door. Poins, please see who it is, and Hal, please set a place for them."
* * * * *
Passepout and Rassendyll had just made it to the edge of the grounds that surrounded the villa of Honor Fullstaff when the storm that had been following them announced its presence overhead, and let go its torrents of rain by the barrelful.
Passepout had been drenched before, and did not fear getting wet again. The thunder and lightning however spread fear throughout his very essence. At the first crack of lightning and roar of thunder, Rassendyll was quite surprised to see his rotund traveling companion speed forward in search of cover and protection from the louder and more destructive elements of nature. In the seconds it took for his eyes to recover from the lightning's flash, Rassendyll observed that Passepout had already gained the entrance to the villa.
"Yo, Rupert!" Passepout hailed. "You'd better get that coal bucket of a head over here. Aren't you afraid that it might attract a spare lightning bolt or two?"
Rassendyll hadn't thought of the danger inherent in his head gear and acquiesced to the suggestion of the rotund thespian, quickly joining him at his side, underneath the overhang that sheltered the entrance to the opulent, yet isolated villa.
The architecture of the stately villa reminded the masked escapee of the Retreat, and its isolated location, what Rassendyll reckoned to be a quarter day's journey from Mulmaster, probably lessened the risk of it being held by one of the High Blade's minions. Still, Rassendyll thought to himself, discretion was probably the safest course to take, as one could never be too careful.
"Wow! Get a load of this knocker!" Passepout announced, impressed with the door ornament. Before his companion could recommend the modulation of his tones, the stout thespian had already picked up the hanging gargoyle from its perch and mistakenly let it slip between his fingers so that it came crashing back to its place with a reverberating thonk that was doubtlessly resonating throughout the halls of the villa.
"Oops," Passepout apologized. "Well, with any luck someone will be home and be able to offer us shelter from the storm, and maybe even something to eat. It is about supper time after all, and I am famished."
Rassendyll was at a loss for words. He knew that he lacked the time to adequately convey to his traveling companion the dangers that might lurk within. The stout fellow was obviously ruled by his appetites, and had no idea that a death sentence probably awaited them both if they were to fall back into the clutches of the High Blade and his men.
Still, the villa was isolated, the masked escapee thought. Maybe it will be safe within. It might at least be safer than it was outside, given the thunder, lightning, and rain. Maybe we can wait out the storm here inconspicuously, and, when it passes, be on our way.
Rassendyll reached to finger his beard in contemplation when his fingers struck the barrier of the mask. "Damn!" he said out loud, and then thought to himself, well, so much for my hope of just passing for an itinerant traveler.
"What's the matter?" Passepout asked. "I think I hear someone coming."
A flash of inspiration struck Rassendyll, and out of desperation