Free Master (Book 5) by Robert J. Crane Page B

feeling a slight tautness in his jaw from the burning in his face and gullet. Let it go, Cyrus. He’s raw and concerned that his goddess is missing. Put away your pride .
    “That is all I ask,” Curatio said and turned, without a word more, and slipped away into the still-moving crowd as he disappeared behind the doors to the Great Hall.
    “Cyrus,” came another voice, softer this time, and he turned his head to look.
    “Good gods,” Cyrus said and sighed upon seeing who it was. “Oh, it’s just you.”
    “I’ll let that pass because I’m in a hurry,” Erith said, “and because I need something from you.”
    “So does everyone lately, it seems,” Cyrus replied. His eyes caught sight of a blond ponytail above a group of dwarves, and a shining silver breastplate that caught the rays of sunlight filtering in through the open foyer doors. “Well, almost everyone.”
    “I have a serious problem,” Erith said.
    “All right,” Cyrus said, putting aside the jest he might have made. Erith’s face was tight, her normally mirthful eyes weighed down with some emotion. “Go on, then.”
    “They’ve gone missing,” she blurted out. “They were supposed to be on a routine patrol out of Reikonos, going west, but they left fourteen days ago and have yet to check in.” Cyrus watched a droplet of water slide down Erith’s blue cheek and tried to recall the last time he’d seen her actually shed a tear. Probably never. “The city guards have no idea where they’ve gone, and they can’t even spare anyone to go looking for a lost patrol that’s as small as they are—”
    “Who?” Cyrus asked, wondering if he’d missed the answer somewhere in the healer’s rush to unburden her mind to him.
    Erith swallowed heavily. “My old guild, the Daring. They were called into service of the Confederation because of the war, because of their homestead clause—”
    “Wait,” Cyrus said. “You mean the whole guild?” He watched her nod. “Cass? Elisabeth?”
    “All of them,” Erith said, and another tear crept down her cheek. “They’re seven days late returning. There’s no sign of them, no hint … nothing.” She bowed her head. “They’re just … gone.”

Chapter 10
    “So,” Andren said, “now you’ve got another problem to deal with.” The elf stood next to Cyrus, tankard in hand. A fresh breeze blew around them as they stood out on the archery range along the side of Sanctuary’s massive structure, the southwest tower casting its long shadow over them, the sun invisible behind it as it continued to set.
    “Yes,” Cyrus said, his left hand tautly squeezing the grip in his hand. It was a training weapon that he’d pulled it out of the nearby storage shed along with a dozen training arrows. He pulled it up and nocked an arrow, drawing it back to his cheek. There was a cool sensation as he held it there, the breeze blowing over him. His stomach rumbled at him for leaving the smells of dinner behind.
    Cyrus released the arrow and it flew at the straw target at the end of the range, lodging firmly in the torso.
    Andren let out a dry snicker. “What are you doing? Got delusions of being a ranger?”
    “Warriors were required to learn every possible weapon at the Society of Arms,” Cyrus said, drawing another arrow from the ground, nocking it and pulling it to his cheek. “I’m not as good with one of these as, say, Martaina Proelius, but I can use one in a pinch.” He let the arrow sail and it stuck in the throat of the straw man. “And not terribly badly, if I might say.”
    “I’d be more impressed if the straw man were moving,” Andren said, taking another slug. The smell of the booze washed over Cyrus. It was a thick, hearty stout that caused his stomach to rumble again. “I’ve seen Martaina on the hunt before, and it’s quite a sight to behold.”
    “Oh?” Cyrus asked. “She does seem to do well with animals, doesn’t she?”
    “I was talking about killing people, but yeah,