04 The Mage In The Iron Mask by Forgotten Realms

Author:Forgotten Realms [Realms, Forgotten]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-10T15:08:15.475000+00:00

The tension in the air was palpable The stern man named Mage Mason McKern gazed ominously at the two travelers in shock Volo and Chesslyn exchanged looks, each indicating an instinctive combination of fear and readiness They were both survivors and ready for any turn of events "Now, now, there is no reason for tension here," Honor instructed. "So, I committed a social gaffe. Wasn't the first time, and it won't be the last. Besides, it's my house and this is my table, and McKern, you know very well that dining at my table requires promptness. So eat." "No," McKern answered, "please forgive me. I should have been on time. I had no idea that there would be other guests. Ms. Chesslyn Onaubra, I believe, of the Temple of Good Fortune." The mage turned slightly to face Volo, and said, "And you are?" Honor interrupted. "Eating!" he bellowed in a tone that could not be mistaken for anything but an order. "As you should be. There is plenty of time to exchange pleasantries with Chesslyn's young companion later. Besides that, it is impolite to talk with one's mouth full." The blind swordmaster resumed the filling of his cheeks with delicacies from the table. "Sor" McKern began to say, but thought better of it when he felt Honor's sightless stare drilling an accusatory hole through him. Quickly, the mage began to partake of the feast. Chesslyn and Volo exchanged glances again. Volo mouthed the words "Chesslyn's young companion?" to which the Harper agent replied with a suppressed giggle. Their silent exchange completed, both began to fill their plates, and, immediately afterwards, their mouths and stomachs. The table was set with every manner of delicacy imaginable. Volo found it hard to believe that this was just an average meal at the table of Honor Fullstaff. In all his travels throughout Toril, he had never partaken of such a feast, and prior to this he had fancied himself an expert epicure. The plates were passed back and forth like cards at a gaming table, and Poins and Hal deftly retrieved, replaced, and refilled them with new contents as dispensed by the able hands of the dwarven cook Hotspur. Only once did a dish rest on the table for longer than a minute after it had been emptied of its contents while Hal and Poins fumbled with a particularly slippery soup tureen. The host said, "Turnips," which were the contents of the empty bowl, and it was immediately refilled by the ever-ready Hotspur. Volo was amazed at the sensory superiority of his host. Without the aid of sight he could still identify the contents of an empty bowl, perhaps by scent or by the sound it made when it hit the table or by the placement of the sound in relation to the other bowls on the table. The master traveler was awed, and now realized his folly in expecting that a swordsman such as Honor would have been forced into the atrophy of sedentary retirement by a mere inconvenience such as blindness.

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