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."
"Do you really think so?" the High Blade said. "I must say that it was a most satisfying night, if the Tharchioness's scratches on my back are any evidence. And as they say nothing stirs the appetite like…"
"… the rest of the virtuous and pure?" Rickman offered.
Selfaril, his mouth full of pastry and jam smiled, swallowed, and agreed. "But of course. But this is not why I summoned you. Slater informed me that there was a trespasser in High Road Keep last night."
"Really nothing to concern yourself with, sire," the captain of the Hawks assured, making a mental note to be more wary of the High Blade's valet. "I am afraid that I may have made myself a few too many enemies among the Thayans. One such fellow was lying in wait for me in my office, but I dispatched him easily."
"Really?" the High Blade said, "I am impressed."
"Nothing, really," Rickman replied, and began to relate his carefully constructed explanation that interweaved truth with his own clever fabrications.
"A few weeks ago I ran into this Thayan at the Warrior's Arena tavern, at least I assume he was Thayan by the tattoos and such. He claimed to be a civil servant of some sort working for the embassy. I didn't think much of it at the time, though as I recall he did seem to be trying to bait me into an altercation. Mindful of your concerns for the delicacy of diplomatic matters, I let his remarks roll off my back."
"Well done," the High Blade remarked. "All of our opposition to those bald-headed barbarians must be done in secret."
"Of course, sire," Rickman agreed, then continued with his fabrication. "Well, last night, not being able to sleep, I decided to go back to my office and get some work done, when lo and behold I found the Thayan lying in wait for me. With a cry of 'This will be for the insult of the other night, and for all my people,' he came at me with a dagger. I reacted quickly and killed him first. The body has been discreetly disposed of to avoid any diplomatic unpleasantries. It was all nothing really, though I do admit that I am more than a little surprised that word of my minor altercation has already been detected by Slater."
"Yours are not the only set of ears in service to the High Blade," Selfaril commented. "So you don't attach any significance to the event."
"None, sire," Rickman said confidently. "I have in the past, and probably always will, attract my fair share of enemies, in bars as well as on the battlefield. I can take care of myself."
"I'm glad to hear that," the High Blade replied. "Many of the Blades and the Cloaks fear for my well-being, particularly due to the presence of so many Thayans in town. Tomorrow night, the First Princess and I will be hosting a public reception, for soon she must return to Eltabbar for something to do with that earthquake. I would hate to have to postpone the reception and her departure for security reasons."
"I really don't think that will be necessary," Rickman replied. "This was only an isolated and personal matter, nothing that should concern a High Blade."
"Well then, you may go," Selfaril said. "It would appear that the unpleasantries and worries of the past few days have fairly faded away, and I can get back to the more personal matters of state."
"That is the High Blade's duty," Rickman said deferentially, adding silently, and you won't be troubled by it much longer.
In the Dining Hall of the Villa of Sir Honor Fullstaff, Swordsman, retired:
As Poins and Hal began to clear the table, and Hotspur the dwarf began the neverending task of preparing the next meal, Honor Fullstaff leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach vigorously as if to outwardly encourage the inward savoring of the breakfast feast that he had just devoured.
The group had been strangely quiet since the unannounced exhibition of Rassendyll's swordsmanship. Even Passepout seemed cowed into silence, managing to avoid any embarrassing remarks that might get him in trouble, or, even worse, make him the object of some other previously unannounced test from the swordmaster. Once, during the end of the meal, he stole an encouraging look at his former companion Rassendyll, but gave up trying to make contact as the presence of the mask seemed to make such contact impossible.
Volo continued to take in the entire scene. Throughout the meal Honor and Mason occasionally exchanged some meaningless banter on the good old days, and the good lives that they had led up to this point. The master traveler looked at Chesslyn as if to ask, what are we waiting for, which was only met with a shrug by the secret Harper. He was about to ask that same question of their host when the awkwardness was interrupted by the arrival of a fourth heretofore unseen servant who arrived in the dining hall out of breath, and hastened to deliver a folded piece of parchment to the master swordsman.
"Thank you, Bardolph," the blind host said as he accepted the message. "You may rest now. You've had a busy night."
"Thank you, milord," Bardolph said, bowing slightly and hastening out of the hall to his quarters for a well-deserved slumber.
Honor Fullstaff unfolded the note, and gently passed his fingers over its surface as if trying to detect any imperfections in the grain with his fingertips. "Yes, yes," he said aloud as his fingertips did their slow-paced dance on the parchment's surface. "It is as we discussed, Mason. Though Bardolph was unable to locate your brother, my friends in the Company of the Blind have indeed confirmed the matters at hand."
Volo looked to Chesslyn as if ready to ask a question.
The secret Harper beat him to it.
"Who are the Company of the Blind, Honor?" Chesslyn asked her former teacher.