The Mage in the Iron Mask - Brian Thomsen [78]
Rassendyll, despite his lack of training, parried back as the sightless swordsman rallied a nonstop series of attacks, slashing the foil through the air as if it were a saber.
Chesslyn joined Volo on the other side of Passepout and whispered over the thespian's head and into the master traveler's ear, "He's just testing him. Had old Blind Honor really meant business, he wouldn't be treating his foil as if it were a saber, and I assure you he more than knows the difference."
"I don't doubt you," the master traveler replied, "but testing him for what?"
"I'm sure we will find out," the Harper answered.
"Indeed, all three of you will," interjected the senior Cloak who had joined the onlooking threesome, "but for now, just enjoy the show."
Volo could not help but be impressed by the pure artistry of the blind man's swordsmanship. Each attack was calculated to make its appearance within the visible sight limits provided by his opponent's mask, while never appearing to be anything artificial or staged. As Rassendyll parried and launched counterattacks, Honor deftly blocked each thrust, miraculously anticipating the path of his opponent's foil without the benefit of sight.
Even Passepout was eventually impressed. "He's pretty good for a blind man," the portly thespian commented as he began to sneak bites of hot muffins that had just arrived at the table.
"There never was any question of that," Chesslyn countered, "but watch Rassendyll."
Volo immediately noticed what Chesslyn was referring to. The iron-masked man was more than rising to the occasion. His awkward blocks and haphazard attacks had been replaced by more organic moves, mirroring the fluidity of his opponent. As Honor upped the degree of difficulty of each attack, Rassendyll countered, reclaiming lost territory, and gradually forcing the swordmaster back to the center of the room from which he had originally started.
"Enough!" the master swordsman announced, dropping his guard for a moment, and then quickly raising the foil in a salute to his opponent before turning to the left and the waiting hands of Poins who returned the foil to his proper place. "Back to breakfast. My keen sense of smell has determined that the second round of succulent muffins has indeed been delivered."
A quick glance to the left by the breathless Rassendyll revealed the presence of Hal who quickly recovered the foil from his hand, and placed it in its matched home next to Honor's.
"Come, come!" Honor ordered with nary a shortness of breath. "Breakfast is waiting, and believe me there is nothing that stirs the early morning appetite like a gentle workout with an evenly matched opponent."
The exhausted Rassendyll returned to the place at the table that he had occupied the night before, and after wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel provided by the ever-present Hal, he took a long swig of juice and reached for a muffin to sate his recently incited appetite.
* * * * *
In the High Blade's Study in the Tower of the Wyvern:
"Ah, Rickman," Selfaril said as the captain of the Hawks entered the High Blade's private refuge, "I understand there was a bit of a problem last night." The High Blade had summoned Rickman at the same time that he had ordered his breakfast and, true to form, the captain of the Hawks had beaten the morning tray by a matter of seconds.
"A problem, sire," replied Rickman, adding, "I'll take that," as the valet entered the study. Slater bowed slightly and handed the tray bearing the High Blade's breakfast to the captain of the Hawks, then quickly retreated from the study.
Rickman placed the tray in front of his sovereign, and removed the napkin that covered the tray of tasty early morning delicacies.
"Care to join me," the High Blade asked in an uncharacteristically jovial tone. "Slater can easily fetch another tray."
"No, thank you, sire," Rickman replied, "I have already eaten, but thank you for your generous offer, and, if I might say, you are in a fine mood this morning; rested and renewed, if I do say so myself."