The Mage in the Iron Mask - Brian Thomsen [63]
The snores of the High Blade grew louder as he sunk into an even deeper sleep.
Shall I chance it? she thought. Why not?
The Tharchioness reached under the vanity table and carefully extracted a crystal dagger from its hiding place. Running her finger gently and gingerly across the blade to ascertain that it was razor sharp, she crept back to the bed where her husband soundly slept, blissfully unaware of his helplessness, and the danger that hovered over him.
I never thought it would be this easy, she said almost silently under her breath as she raised the blade in preparation for its intended mission.
The High Blade's eyes fluttered for a moment and his lips curved into a sly smile.
He's dreaming, she thought, probably of the subjugation of myself and all of Eltabbar.
With all in readiness, she maneuvered the blade down, slicing at her spouse with care and accuracy.
The High Blade snored again, and turned over in his slumbers.
How fortunate, she thought. You've never been this accommodating before.
With two fingers of the hand that did not hold the crystal dagger, she carefully picked up the lock of her husband's hair that she had just snipped off with the blade.
Sure that she had not left any telltale hairs behind, she stole back to her vanity table, placed the hairs in the small box with the flakes of skin, then returned the box to its hiding place among the other knickknacks.
Her mission for the evening successfully completed, she returned to her place in the marriage bed, and gleefully went to sleep, dreaming of the successful fruition of her plans.
* * * * *
In the Villa of Sir Honor Fullstaff, Swordmaster, retired:
The blind swordmaster was in the midst of his lethal swing when an invisible force came between him and the masked Rassendyll.
"Honor," the senior Cloak cautioned, "this is your home, and in it we must follow your rules, but I will not stand idly by while you behead this fellow until you explain to us what is going on."
The enraged Honor tried to swing and strike again only to find the same invisible barrier. This only added further to his rage. Quickly he turned around to face Passepout.
"And you must be one of his Hawks, ready to watch his back, and follow his murderous orders. Well, at least I can rid the world of you!" the swordmaster yelled as he took a running start to strike and cleave the petrified and portly thespian in two. When he was a half-step's distance from the thespian, his blade was at the top of its arc and just about to start its deadly descent, when the dull thud of metal hitting skull was heard, followed by the thump and thud of Honor Fullstaff hitting the ground.
Volo thought he saw an oblong blur pass through the air as the long sword flew hilt over blade through the air on its intended course.
The swordmaster's former student replaced the long sword in its appointed spot on the mantle. Her expert aim, incredible ability, and indelible accuracy had guided the long sword as if it were a simple dagger as she threw it through the air. Her split second calculations had also enabled her to judge its path and orbit so that its heavy hilt would make contact with the blind man's head, knocking him out but leaving him relatively unharmed by the deadly blade.
Volo turned to the female Harper and whispered, "I heard you were an expert at heaving long swords but I never dreamed that you could pull off an incredible maneuver like that."
"Remember," she answered in an equivalent and hasty whisper, "don't believe everything you read. From what I understand, most writers are born liars."
By this time Poins and Hal had arrived, and, after