"Why are they looking for us?" Volo asked, his eyes surreptitiously darting across the room to make contact with Chesslyn. She was equally attentive for the answer.
"I'm not quite sure," McKern replied judiciously. "Something about an escaped prisoner."
"That would be me," Rassendyll confessed, seeing no reason to continue the charade. "My name is Rassendyll, formerly a student at the Retreat."
Chesslyn jumped into the conversation. "The Retreat," she offered. "That's where I met Mr. Geddarm here. We decided to travel together back to Mulmaster out of concern for our own safety"
"Why?" the senior Cloak asked with all the delicacy and demanding nature of a grand inquisitor.
"Because of what we found there," Volo answered.
"What did you find there?" Rassendyll interjected, more scared than he had been since he left the Retreat.
"Everyone was slaughtered," the master traveler explained. "Not a single person was left alive. We found a blood-encrusted crystal wand that was left behind."
"Thayan raiders, no doubt," McKern observed. "No doubt the High Blade's men will deal with them."
"That's what we thought," Chesslyn inserted, "but while we were there, we observed two of the Hawks apparently looking for the wand as if they knew what to look for. Neither of them seemed even remotely concerned about the dead bodies or what had taken place there. It was as if they already knew that it had happened."
"Indeed, that is odd," McKern agreed. "As of this morning, there was no word about an attack on the Retreat, and, given the concerns of the Cloaks, that is extremely odd indeed. No doubt if it had been an attack by Thayan raiders certain political concerns would have brought it to our attention."
"Maybe the Tharchioness had arranged a cover-up, or perhaps the High Blade was withholding the information from the public until his bride had once again returned to the east," Chesslyn posited.
"Or maybe the High Blade himself was involved,"
Honor added with a sense of knowing finality. The blind swordmaster then turned his attention back to Rassendyll. "You there," he said. "If you are a student mage of the Retreat, why were you spared, and imprisoned?"
"I have no idea," Rassendyll replied. "The best that I can remember is falling asleep on watch, and then waking up bound and blindfolded in transit. My abductors were then attacked on the road by those who I initially thought to be my rescuers. As it turned out, they were the High Blade's men, and bore me away to prison where a blind mage put this accursed mask of iron on me."
McKern interrupted, his eyebrow arching in interest, "Did you say a blind mage?"
"Yes," Rassendyll replied. "He did as he was told, under the watchful eyes of the High Blade. When he was done, I could no longer remember a single spell, let alone wield my magic."
McKern approached Rassendyll and examined the collar piece of the mask carefully.
"I thought it looked familiar," the mage replied. "It is my brother's handiwork. What else do you recall?"
"Only that the High Blade seems to be my twin."
Honor stood up, pushed McKern out of the way, and confronted the seated Rassendyll directly. A quick scan by Chesslyn revealed that he had left the numerous bladed weapons out of hand, and therefore probably did not intend a repeat performance of his prior attack.
The blind swordmaster stared with unseeing eyes into the iron-masked face of Rassendyll, and said, "What do you mean 'twin?' "
"We look exactly alike, save for his trimmed hair and beard. We are dead ringers."
Honor chuckled. "Indeed," he said, "this resemblance would have undoubtedly led to your death."
"He said that I would eventually choke on my own beard," Rassendyll recalled.
"No doubt an appealing thought to our esteemed High Blade." Honor turned toward the direction from whence he had last heard Chesslyn's voice, and said, "Chesslyn dearest, would you please bare our masked man's shoulder please."
Chesslyn complied without asking why. The sane and knowing Honor Fullstaff who had been her teacher had returned, replacing the rage-driven mad swordsman who had made an appearance earlier that evening. She knew that he had a reason.
When Honor heard her completion of the deed, he turned toward Mage McKern and said, "Do you recognize that birthmark in his armpit?"
"But I thought he was…" Passepout said, none too discreetly.
"I am, my fine epicure," Honor retorted. "I have no need for the use of my eyes to validate that which I now know to exist."
McKern raised the masked man's left arm, and gasped.
"It is the birthmark," the mage confirmed.
"I thought so," Honor said, and extended his hand to the masked man. "You have my sincerest apologies. I could have borne you no greater insult than to mistake you for your brother."
"My brother?"
"Yes," Honor said, "you are the other son of Merch, my dearest dead friend, the former High Blade. You are, therefore, the heretofore unknown twin brother of the ruthless murderer Selfaril."
Honor took a step back and called to his men. "Hal and Poins, get Hotspur and fetch us a keg of my best Halruaan ale. We have much to discuss this night!"
11
Tankards of Memories At the Villa of Honor Fullstaff, Swordmaster, retired:
As they waited for the ale to arrive, they splintered off into separate groups. Volo introduced the very confused Passepout to Chesslyn. The master traveler was careful to conceal the young lady's Harper affiliation as he was more than acquainted with the chubby thespian's pronounced lack of discretion. Poins and Hal had set off to help Hotspur with the monstrous keg of Halruaan ale that their master saved for occasions of exceptional note, while the blind swordmaster and the senior cloak argued in hushed tones.
Through all of this the iron-masked man remained silent, pondering his fate, his identity, and the recent turn of events. He was conscious of the discreet glances thrown his way by Volo, Chesslyn, and Passepout. He was forced to acknowledge that these strangers might be his only chance for reaching safety and freedom.
Hal and Poins reentered the room, helping to balance the monstrous keg that the dwarf cook bore on his back. The threesome maneuvered it over to a place next to the trophy wall, and inserted it into a sort of harness that seemed to exist specifically for this purpose. As Hotspur fiddled with the recently attached spigot, Hal and Poins distributed mugs to the rest of the group and each became filled with the delicious libation from the Shining South. By the time everyone had been served, Honor and Mason had reached some sort of agreement, and had taken their places in the impromptu circle of chairs that had formed around Rassendyll.
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."