been able to complete the mission that you have been sent on, and I have been thinking…'
'About what?' the First Princess demanded.
'If, indeed, even in times of great ardor the High Blade is on his guard…'
'Yes?'
'Perhaps he needs to have that guard lowered.'
'By what means?'
'An enchanted charm perhaps.'
The First Princess threw her head back and gave forth a derisive laugh, the likes of which she usually reserved for the mentally defective, freaks, and idiots who were brought forth for her amusement (or for particularly wormlike ministers).
'Of course,' the Tharchioness said in mock-naive revelation. 'Oh, wait a minute, maybe I did. That's right, I did, and then I dismissed it because it wouldn't work, but thanks anyway dear sister. I'll remember to summon you if I have a need for someone with an acute grasp of the extremely obvious.'
'But, dear sister, why do you dismiss my suggestion so lightly?'
'Because it is doomed to failure.'
'How so?' Mischa asked in a sincere tone that masked the contempt that she felt for her half sister's deprecating manner.
'Because of the damned Cloaks who have sworn their allegiances to protecting the High Blade, that's why. They would detect such a charm the minute it was brought into the city. Even though our people are exempt from searches, we are nonetheless closely watched, and even our most sophisticated mages would be noticed bearing the necessary amulets when they entered the city gate.'
Mischa tapped her bald temple with the lacquered fingernail of her index finger, as if pausing to think deeply. After a practiced pause, she feigned revelation, and said, 'That is true, but what if nothing was brought into the city? What if the charmed object was constructed here, married with a personal piece of the High Blade himself within these walls, and cast in the privacy of your own bedroom. Surely the Cloaks are not watching you there too, and the High Blade does not exactly strike me as the type who has spent a great deal of time being schooled in the matters of high magic.'
The Tharchioness braced again, followed by a slow, ecstatic chill that went through her body as if the recognition and anticipation of the action to come was as good as the experience itself. The pink serpent of her tongue moistened her dewy lips in anticipation.
'Once charmed, he would disregard his armor,' the First Princess said softly, almost as if she were voicing her thoughts to herself.
'Possibly, dear sister,' Mischa said in encouragement.
'And then he will be mine!'
At the Villa of Honor Fullstaff, Somewhere between the Retreat and Mulmaster:
Fullstaff was enjoying the pale warmth of the day's last rays of the sun. McKern, his guest for the evening, had arrived at the expected hour, and was now busily cleaning away the road dust in preparation for the sumptuous meal that he knew would be ready at sunset. As this was not the first time that he had joined the old swordmaster for dinner, he was more than aware that Fullstaff was a creature of habit who expected his meals on the same schedule each day. A late arrival might be welcomed to join in the feast, but usually Fullstaff would extend the invitation with a full mouth and gesture to enjoy that which remained of the leavings. Time, tide, and dinner at Fullstaff's waited for no man.
The blind swordsman stood up from his chair and approached the veranda's edge. As always, he wished to absorb every sensation possible as the day drew to a close. Behind him wafted the sweet aroma of the meal to come, and in front of him the clean scent of the deserted countryside. Behind him was the cacophony of pots and pans as Hotspur, Poins, and Hal prepared the table, and in front of him the gentle sweeping brush of the wind relocating granules of the road outside of his home.
Honor took a step farther out. An unaccustomed observer might have feared that the blind man might fall off the veranda's edge, but those who knew 'old blind Honor' would entertain no such worry. Honor had long ago memorized the number of steps between his chair and the edge, and his exacting remaining senses could feel the textural difference that indicated the edge was there. As always, Honor merely wished to feel the breeze that was obscured and deflected by the villa's wall.
He felt the cool caress of the wind on his left cheek, and turned his head to face it.
'A storm's coming,' he said out loud to no one in particular. 'It will probably reach us by the second course.'
An almost nonexistent noise was picked up by his right ear when he turned his head to catch the wind.
'Two horses are approaching,' he reported, 'both bearing riders. I guess that guests are like the storm. It never rains but often pours.'
'Chesslyn, what a wonderful surprise!' Fullstaff hailed from the villa's gate. 'And just in time for dinner, too!'
'Of course,' Chesslyn replied good-naturedly as her steed approached the blind swordmaster. 'Why else do you think I'm stopping by now? Surely it's not to renew acquaintances with an old friend.'
'Of course not,' Fullstaff replied. 'And who's your young friend? By the click of his heels against his stirrups and the unusual flapping of his cape, I would say that he's not from around here.'
Volo reined his steed closer to Chesslyn and whispered, 'I thought you said he was blind.'
Chesslyn went to hush her traveling companion as the blind swordmaster boomed, 'Blind I am, though not deaf!'
Volo immediately went on the defensive and tried to apologize for his thoughtlessness.
'I'm sorry sir, I-'
'Didn't realize that a living legend such as yourself would have such acute senses to compensate for your blindness, nor that you would look so young and virile. That's what you were going to say, right?' Fullstaff said, finishing the gazetteer's sentence with words of his own choosing.
'Of course, sir,' Volo said with a smile, now set at ease in the presence of the blind swordmaster.
'Thought so,' Fullstaff replied, 'and it's not 'sir', it's Honor. Now, Chesslyn, come and give a dirty old man a hug.'
The Harper agent quickly dismounted with a facility that belied the fatigues of a long day in the saddle, and ran up to the broad old swordmaster, giving him a kiss full upon the lips, which he returned with great zeal and an accompanying bear hug. Their lips unlocked, she slid against him and turning around so that she comfortably rested her back against his chest, the hilt of her long sword barely missing the chin of her former teacher.
'Is that a long sword,' Fullstaff asked, 'or are you just happy to see me?'
'Both,' Chesslyn purred.
How original, Volo thought to himself sarcastically as he dismounted, then strode over to the embracing couple.
Chesslyn disentangled herself from the arms of her former teacher.
'Honor,' she said, 'I'd like you to meet a new acquaintance of mine, Volothamp Geddarm.'
'I knew you weren't from around here,' Fullstaff asserted, vigorously clasping the master gazetteer's hand in his muscular paw and pumping it vigorously. 'It's not often that we host a famous author in these parts.'
'Oh, you've heard of me,' Volo said in mock modesty.
'Who hasn't heard of the master traveler of all Toril, and author of Faerun's best selling travel guide series,' said the master swordsman releasing the author's hand before his writer's arm had been overtaxed too much.
'Have you read…' Volo started to ask, then thought better of it given the blindness of his host, and tried to change the subject, '… I mean…'
'Read any of your books?' Fullstaff jumped right in. 'Afraid not. I prefer potboilers and cookbooks.'
'Oh,' the master traveler answered, not quite sure as to whether to take the bear that walked like a man seriously.
'You don't do yourself justice, Honor,' Chesslyn corrected, then turned to Volo and explained. 'Honor has one of his aides read to him every night. He's read all of the major authors of the Realms.'
