The Mage in the Iron Mask - Brian Thomsen [60]
"Selfaril's father," Chesslyn interrupted to annotate for Volo.
"Now there was a High Blade," McKern reminisced. "He wasn't the type to go off and marry some bald-headed sorceress from the east, of that I am certain."
"Indeed," Fullstaff concurred. "I miss the old devil."
The gracious and jovial host interrupted his juggling for a moment to quaff an entire goblet of the dessert wine that McKern had been slowly savoring. When the cup was empty, he removed two sabers from their stanchions and began to twirl them in close quarters.
"And you sir," Honor said to the seated Rassendyll as he resumed the show of his expertise, "by your tone, you are either quite congested or your head is bound in blankets. Which is it?"
"The latter, your honor," Rassendyll replied, "or at least something like that. It is the custom of my people."
Midway through Rassendyll's second sentence, a shocking thing occurred. There was the clang of steel on stone. Honor Fullstaff had dropped one of the blades, and was bracing the other, hilt in hand as if he was ready to deal some sort of mortal blow.
"What are you doing here?" Honor demanded of the masked and disguised escapee, the tip of his blade poised bare inches from his blanket-swathed head.
The others were speechless.
"I will not repeat the question," Honor said drawing back the blade as if readying a slash.
"Honor," the shocked Chesslyn asked, "what is it?"
"Yes, old boy," McKern added, standing up and hastening to his old friend's side. "What is the matter?"
Honor remained braced, and ready to strike. "I thought I was the only one blind here," the swordmaster declared. "Are you all deaf as well?"
"Again, I ask you," McKern repeated, concerned more for the agitation of his old friend than for the danger that loomed over the head of the turbaned guest, "what is the matter?"
Honor Fullstaff laughed out loud. This time however the tone was no longer jovial, and was, in fact, quite sinister.
"Why don't you tell them, Selfaril?" Honor said to the masked man.
"What?" the shocked escapee asked, as the onlookers stood by, puzzled at their host's actions and allegations.
"Surely I am not the only one here to recognize the High Blade through his tawdry disguise," Honor said firmly. "The custom of my people indeed. I'd recognize your voice anywhere. Prepare to die for the murder of your father."
To the shock of the others, Honor drew back the saber once more, and launched into a killing blow.
10
Reports, Instructions, & Revelations
In the High Blade's Study in the Tower of the Wyvern:
"Permission to speak frankly, your highness," Rickman requested.
"What is it now?" the High Blade demanded.
"My men apprehended a felon by the name of James just before nightfall," the captain of the Hawks explained. "In addition to having claimed to have seen the travel writer named Geddarm when he left the city, he also claimed to have spotted two men who resembled drowned rats walking away from Mulmaster along the Moonsea shoreline. The description of one of them matches that of the itinerant thespian by the name of Passepout."
"Go on."
"At first we suspected that the other drowned rat was Geddarm, but James firmly denied this, saying that it was not the same person he had earlier encountered."
"Did he talk to the two, as you call them, drowned rats?"
"No, sire," Rickman explained. "He was hiding in wait for easier prey. He didn't like the odds of two against one."
"Indeed," Selfaril commented. "Maybe he was mistaken the first time. Perhaps the fellow that he previously encountered was not Geddarm. Maybe he was mistaken then."
"I don't believe so, sire," Rickman replied, reaching into his tunic and withdrawing a throwing dagger. "He claimed to have taken this off the first fellow."
The captain of the Hawks handed the dagger to the High Blade who drew it closer to examine it. Clearly etched into the hilt of the bladed weapon was the monogram VG.
"Two