Free Master (Book 5) by Robert J. Crane

spend all your time and energy convincing yourself that this battle is lost, and that you really do want to be spending your nights with Aisling, who am I to spend my time and energy trying to thump you solidly in the head until you realize the folly of your ways?” Vaste shrugged. “Supper is waiting, I’m one man, and my shoulders don’t have enough strength in them to knock the idiocy out of your thick skull.” With that, he swept out of the door, his robes trailing behind him, leaving Cyrus without a thing to say in his wake.

Chapter 9
    Cyrus walked out of the hallway that ran along the side of the Great Hall and emerged into the foyer, the smell of dinner growing more potent. He could almost taste the fresh-baked pastry crust that accompanied the meat pies, his favorite meal. The scent was heavy in the air. The doors to the outside were open across the foyer, and Cyrus stared out into the fading sunlight as a slow-moving crowd passed in front of him, the staircase emptying the upper floors as the entirety of the guild filtered down for dinner.
    One of the figures broke away from the staircase and took a right turn toward him, her gown a lovely piece of work. It revealed her shoulders, smooth, youthful skin at odds with the age of the woman who wore it. Cyrus smiled at Arydni, probably with a little more sadness than he intended. He had not seen her since presenting her offer to the Council.
    “Did it go as you anticipated?” she asked, tentative.
    “It did,” Cyrus said. “We’ll look into it.”
    “Do you have a plan?” she asked, her fingers clutching her gown to keep it from trailing on the stone floor.
    “A basic one,” Cyrus said, nodding at her. Her hair was up today, more formal, as if she were prepared for an event of some sort. “We’ll need your assistance to reach the Realm of Life. We need to at least try and ask some questions of Vidara’s servants if we’re going to investigate her disappearance for you.”
    “Of course,” Arydni said, bowing slightly from the waist. Her gown was tight-stitched around her sides in sharp contrast with what he’d seen her wear in the past. Of course, in the past, her vestments showed off almost everything, so I suppose covering all that with tight-fitting cloth is something of an improvement … or perhaps not, depending on how you look at it . “Would it just be you and myself, or did you want to bring another person along?”
    “I was thinking a small army might be best,” Cyrus said. “For safety.”
    Arydni paled, her dark complexion giving way to a milky-white sheen. “I … don’t think that’s terribly wise. The Life Mother’s guardians are already on edge. To provoke them by bringing an army into their space could be incredibly counter-productive. They very nearly attacked us last time and only restrained themselves because we were unarmed pilgrims.”
    “Which is my concern,” Cyrus said. “If they very nearly killed you and your party, who were known to them and plainly not a threat, I don’t expect they’re going to react well to utter strangers. I don’t want to get pinned in a god’s realm without any sort of assistance should things go … undiplomatically.”
    Arydni’s face fell, a tearing sort of embarrassment causing her to look away. “And I’m sure you won’t do anything to provoke their ire.”
    “Well, I’ll certainly try not to—Hey!” Cyrus said, catching the meaning of her tone. “What is that supposed to mean?”
    Arydni sighed. “It means that you are a warrior of Bellarum, and as such, your first instinct is to lead with the sword and follow with diplomacy later. If at all.”
    “That a little insulting,” Cyrus said.
    “More than a little, I would hope,” Arydni said, face bereft of amusement now, “but only because you must concede it is true.”
    “I’d concede it was true at one point,” Cyrus said. “I’m no longer the leading edge of a blade, though. I can be diplomatic. Not every