The Mage in the Iron Mask - Brian Thomsen [67]
Accepting his tankard from Poins, Honor downed it in a single quaff and wiped away the foam from his bearded jowls.
"Ahhh!" the blind swordmaster said in appreciation as he handed the empty tankard back to his servant who immediately set off to refill it. "You can't beat the Halruaans when it comes to ale, a fact that I am sure you are more than aware of, Mr. Volo's-Guide-to-Wherever."
The master traveler was slightly startled, then amused at the sudden reference to his reputation and repertoire made by their host. Indeed, he thought, our host is quite cagey and knows much more than he lets on-about a lot of things.
"I agree," the master traveler concurred aloud, "though I personally prefer the brew from a different part of the south, Luiren."
"Ah, but too many halflings can spoil the brew," Honor replied, accepting his second brimming helping.
The masked man's fear and uncertainty gave way to his own impatience.
"All this talk of halflings and brew is well and good," Rassendyll said with impertinence, "but I really do wish you would get on with whatever you plan to get on with."
Honor stiffened, and Passepout feared that the swordsman was about to enter into another rage. His fears were quickly allayed when he saw the wide grin spread across their blind host's face.
"Told you," Honor said to McKern. "Even has his father's lack of patience."
"Indeed," the senior Cloak concurred. "More and more, I am inclined to agree with you, and set aside my own misgivings."
"I knew you would, old friend," the blind host said, then turned his attention to the rest of the group. "I'm sorry. Please forgive us. Old men are prone to share old times and memories, both the good ones, and the bad, whenever the opportunity arises, no matter how discourteous it happens to be. Still, that is no excuse, and I beg that all of you will accept my apologies on behalf of Mason and myself."
Honor downed his second tankard of ale, once again emptying it in a single quaff, whispering instructions to send his appreciation to Hotspur for a job well done, as he went about deftly refilling his own mug. Refilling it faster than a Baldur's Gate bartender, he strode over to the seated mage in the iron mask who was the focus of all their attentions, and said, "Most of all I beg your forgiveness, and request your indulgence for just a little while longer. You are among friends now. Mason and I will protect you, as we should have protected your father."
Rassendyll felt the gentle bear paw of the blind swordsman on his shoulder, and looked up into his unseeing eyes. For some reason, he felt a profound sense of security. He believed the words that the generous host spoke.
Honor gave Rassendyll's shoulder a gentle squeeze, much as a teacher would give a star pupil to signal some private affection, and took what would have been considered a sip in comparison to his earlier draughts from the brimming tankard, only draining it of half its contents. He then returned to the tap to top it off, and took his place back in the circle.
"Mason," Honor said, "why don't you fill everyone in on our friend's background? I'm sure they will find it quite interesting."
"Agreed," the old mage replied, then added, to the masked man, "I am sure that you would like to know a little about your parentage, wouldn't you?"
"Of course," Rassendyll replied. "Of the many things I learned at the Retreat, that was not one of them."
"Well, old friend," Honor encouraged Mason McKern, "get on with it."
* * * * *
In the Thayan Embassy in Mulmaster:
The worm of an ambassador had not expected to be summoned so soon after receiving the note from the First Princess. He was even more surprised to be approached in his chamber by the Tharchioness's sister.
"The Tharchioness instructed me to