Master (Book 5) Read online

  “I didn’t really notice,” Arydni said. “I was more interested in the news about Sanctuary going out for hire.”

  “We have a whole city’s worth of refugees to support,” Cyrus said, biting back the hostility that threatened to enter his voice. “The Emerald Fields are not yet self-sufficient, and this is the manner through which we have to earn enough gold to support them. I suspect you’ve heard, but after what the dark elves did to the Plains of Perdamun, there’s more than a small famine going on in Arkaria, and the price of food everywhere but the Elven Kingdom has gone to ridiculous heights—”

  “You misunderstand me,” Arydni said, dropping the rag in the basin and folding her hands in her lap, smoothing the edges of her robe as she did so. “I do not judge you for what you have done. I know you to be an honorable man, and not some rudderless brigand who turns solely in the direction of coin.” He watched her hands clench on the soft cloth of her robe. “Which is why I am here.”

  “Not to judge or sway me from the path of the mercenary?” Cyrus said with only slight amusement. “Not to discourage me from involving myself in the wars and skirmishes of the day in exchange for gold?”

  “No,” she said with a slow shake of her head. “Not at all. I came here after I heard the rumor because I … I have a problem. A rather sizable one.” Her eyes met his, and he could see within her lively irises a faint hint of hope. “I came … because I wish to hire you.”

  Chapter 5

  “You want to hire me?” Cyrus asked. He felt himself slump a little and adjusted to lean against the headboard of his massive bed. It was made of dragon bones, with elephant tusks for each of the posts, and he lay back and stared at the elven priestess sitting upon the edge. “Hire me … or hire my guild?”

  “Perhaps both,” Arydni said, facing the door.

  Cyrus let the quiet fill the room for a moment. “You seem to be taking great pains to twirl your way around this without providing any detail.”

  She turned her profile so that it was visible to him, and a wistful smile curved on her mouth. “I have always enjoyed a dance from time to time.”

  “Unfortunately, I’m not very light on my feet at the moment.” Cyrus gestured to his legs, splayed on the bed. He could feel fatigue setting in, a weariness from the sick feeling the resurrection spell had left him with. “Why not just tell me?”

  “I am not sure how to say it,” Arydni said. “What I would ask of you—I am not certain it can be done, that you could do it, that anyone —” She sighed. “It is uncomfortable to even put into words.”

  “So long as you’re not asking me to father your children,” Cyrus said, wondering where the hell those words had come from even as he finished the sentence, “I think we’ll be all right.”

  Arydni gave him a sidelong look, and her smile went from wistful to amused all in one. “How old are you now?”

  “Uh … I am thirty-one.”

  “Oh, you’re as green as the first blooms of spring,” Arydni said dryly.

  “I … uh … I am seeing someone in any case,” Cyrus said, clearing his throat.

  “I hope it’s Vara,” Arydni said, watching him for a response.

  “I’m afraid it’s not,” Cyrus said. He suppressed a desire to cough, and loudly.

  “What foolishness is this—yours or hers?” Arydni asked.

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Cyrus said. “I’m sure you weren’t just here to talk about her, though. Or her and I.”

  “I am not,” Arydni said and glanced back at the door. “Where is Andren with the lef’tres and the honey? You need to inhale some of the grass, mixed with the honey and burned, in order to help keep the affliction from growing in your lungs.” She tapped on the stone floor with a foot and Cyrus’s mattress moved, giving him a slight feeling of queasiness.

  “Tell me what you need from us,” Cyrus said. “No more dancing, no more evasion.”

  She turned her head and gazed at him. “You’re in an odd position to make demands. Flat on your back, weak like a baby goat. You look more likely to fall asleep than have a discussion about what I’m after. Take your rest, we can talk after you’re better.”

  “I’d like to know,” Cyrus said, reaching over and taking her hand in his. He cupped it and she looked up at him, all seriousness. She was warm and soft, but there was strength in her fingers. “Please. I’ll help if I can.”

  Arydni sighed. “It is against my better judgment to burden a man as potentially ill as you, but as it seems you are fixated on knowing, I will explain. You may ask me questions for a few minutes, and then you will take your inhalation and sleep. If this is something you wish to pursue further, we can discuss it once you are mended.”

  “Your terms are acceptable,” Cyrus said. “Go on.”

  Arydni hesitated, pulling her hand from him. “I need … someone found.”

  “‘Someone’?” Cyrus gave her a small smile, indulgent. “And this someone has a name?”

  “Indeed they do,” Arydni said, smiling at him. She’s dodging again; nary a blade could land upon her in a battle of words.

  “All right,” Cyrus said. “Are they missing? From the war, perhaps? You can’t find them after the battle of Termina?”

  “Not exactly,” Arydni said.

  “You’re going to make the sick man guess, huh?”

  “I will tell you, if you give me a moment.” Arydni smoothed her robes again, fidgeting. “This … person … has gone missing. They are not to be found where they were before. They were not in Termina, nor in Pharesia, nor in the Elven Kingdom at all, so it has nothing to do with the war, so far as I know.”

  “Where were they?” Cyrus asked, trying to keep his patience. The fatigue was settling on him, and he struggled with his eyelids, fighting to keep them open. The line of questioning was providing entertainment enough to stave off the desire for sleep, but he was wearying of it.

  “Elsewhere,” she answered.

  “If it’s not to do with the war, I’d ask if they were in the Dwarven Alliance, the Goblin—”

  “Not there.”

  “Where in Arkaria?” Cyrus asked.

  Arydni pursed her lips. “Not in Arkaria.”

  “Now you’re just tormenting me for fun,” Cyrus said. “A different land? Because I don’t think we possess the means to go across the Torrid Sea, or anywhere much beyond a few weeks’ travel of one of the portals—”

  “No,” Arydni said. “Not terribly far.”

  “All right, I give up,” Cyrus said. “Where?”

  Arydni hesitated and stood up, taking a few tentative steps around the bed to the window, where she drew the curtain shut, shrouding the room in darkness. The lamps lit around him of their own accord, giving him enough light to see her by. “I am looking for someone … who has vanished from her home. Someone that some would not even have dared believe existed until recently.” She turned her head. “And yet I always knew it was true, even before I met her. Now she is gone, and I feel lost without her light.”

  Cyrus waited, saying nothing, and after a pause Arydni continued. “I need you to find Vidara.”

  Cyrus felt the dull, slow sense of a joke being played on him coming to rest in his mind. “This is perhaps the oddest attempt at converting me to a life-worshipper that I’ve ever heard. You want to pay me—and my guild—to ‘Find Vidara’?” His hand came up to his face and he rubbed his temples. “Look, not that I don’t appreciate your religion, I just don’t think it’s for me—”

  “The priestesses have been making regular pilgrimages to the Realm of Life since the gateways to the higher realms opened four years ago,” Arydni said, calm and slow. “We have been greeted by her servants, ushered into her presence, been given wisdom and fellowship and guidance by the Goddess herself over the last years.” Arydni turned and clutched at the seam of her robes.

  “Wait,” Cyrus said, “this isn’t metaphorical, is it?”

  “No,” Arydni said with a slight shudder, “it is
quite literal.” She took a step closer to the bed and fell to her knees. “We went on an expedition only weeks ago to the Realm of Life. Every other time we have gone, the atmosphere has been serene. There are guards, there are servants. There is respect. There are greetings and pleasantries.” Her face looked suddenly lined, as though she were aging before his eyes. “This time, they were in disarray. They threatened us, and it was only when we were about to leave that one of the servants who knew us well stopped the guards from throwing us out unceremoniously. He took us aside.” She shook her head. “The realm was in turmoil, that much was obvious from just looking around. It was …” her voice trailed off. “No matter. The servant told us one crucial thing, though. Vidara is gone. No one has seen her enter or exit the realm, but she has vanished as surely as the bread we leave outside for the poor disappears after morning worship.”

  “She’s a goddess,” Cyrus said. “Surely she can leave her realm anytime she wishes—”

  “She has never left her realm in such a way before,” Arydni said with a strong shake of her head. “Her servant was most emphatic. She does not leave in this way—and to disappear for weeks now? Out of the question. She is missing.”

  A dull certainty settled in Cyrus’s stomach. “So you want me … my guild … to …”

  “Find the Goddess of Life,” Arydni said, bowing her head. “Find Vidara, and restore her to her place in her realm—before the very balance of life itself is disrupted in our world.”

  Chapter 6

  “Oh, good, involving ourselves once more in the affairs of gods and monsters,” Longwell said, leaning back in his chair just to Cyrus’s right in the Council Chambers, a sullen look marring his handsome features, “because that surely won’t have any long-term negative consequences. You know, again.”

  “Agreed,” Vaste said, just beyond Longwell, deep voice ringing through the Council Chamber. “This time it will surely be a rollicking, fun occasion, filled with rainbows, roast mutton, and perhaps—if we are very lucky—delicious pie.”

  Cyrus looked around the chamber. It had been a few days, and the consumptive illness that had been feared for him had not manifested. He considered that fortunate but chafed under Arydni’s ministrations and had been relieved when she had pronounced him healthy enough leave her care and present her offer to the Council. He was also pleased to be back in his armor with Praelior at his side. Being without a sword for days is an unpleasant business for a warrior of Bellarum.

  The round table felt surprisingly empty, as it had for months. Curatio and Vara sat in chairs flanking Alaric’s high-backed, empty seat. J’anda was to Curatio’s right, followed by Ryin, then Terian’s old chair, also empty. Erith sat just to the other side of that, next to Cyrus. Her face looked blank, disinterested in the discussion at hand.

  “Arydni promised payment if we can discover the whereabouts of the Goddess,” Cyrus said, looking to Longwell. “Gold is gold, and it could help our people.”

  “Aye,” Longwell said after a moment’s pause, his harsh look softening slightly, “it could at that.” The young former King was prone to fits of moodiness of late, his visage habitually much darker than it had been before the Luukessia nightmare. I don’t expect I’d be handling it quite so well if it were me, Cyrus thought.

  “The Goddess of Life being missing is more than a simple mercenary job,” Vara said. “At least for some of us.”

  “Are we always going to take money for our services from now on?” Ryin asked, looking more than a little weary himself. “I had thought hiring ourselves out was to be a one-time-only thing. At least that was how it was proposed when we undertook the Prehorta assault—”

  “Which you voted against, if I recall,” Vaste said.

  “Not because I disagreed with the ends,” Ryin said, clearly irritated, “but because I dislike the thought of hiring Sanctuary out as a mercenary company. We are a guild of adventurers, and if we believed that strongly in their aims, we should have done the job for free.”

  “Like we did in Termina?” Vaste asked, looking innocently at the druid. “Because I believe you vetoed our involvement in that as well.”

  “I simply do not wish to see us traverse the road of losing our identity as a guild of adventurers because we have become focused on gold to the exclusion of all else,” Ryin said. “Do any of you care for the idea of becoming a regular army in the service of the Human Confederation, for example?”

  “So we come back to this again,” J’anda said, wearing his aged dark elven features for the Council meeting. “I accept that we have principles, but I also recognize that we have a rather large obligation to the refugees of Luukessia. Accepting jobs which carry monetary reward does not seem out of line. It seems practical.”

  “And they will continue to seem reasonable as we take step after step away from our original mission, which was to be a guild of adventurers, not soldiers for a particular religious group or nations,” Ryin said. “This missing goddess is not our problem.”

  “Except for those of us who actually worship her,” Vara said, her cheeks flushed red. She rarely said anything in Council anymore. Clearly a banner day for her.

  “As a guild, Sanctuary is religiously neutral,” Ryin said, avoiding Vara’s gaze. “We have believers of all religions here—”

  “Except for the God of Death, for some bizarre reason,” Vaste said. “No one seems to believe in him anymore. Not sure why.”

  “—and we should remain neutral,” Ryin said. “Going on some hunt for the Goddess of Life is us begging to take another step away from our principles at a time when are experiencing enough slide as it is.”

  “I think it’s another case where principle intersects with opportunity,” Cyrus said at last. Heads turned, and a hush fell over the chambers. “No, we don’t all follow Vidara, but some of our number do. No, we don’t love the idea of taking gold in exchange for our services, but we are experiencing a rapid drain of our treasury because we’re trying to make good on our commitment to the Luukessians, whose lives and well-being are in our charge.” Cyrus shrugged. “I’m not a Vidara worshipper, but I don’t have anything against her, either. Why not go searching? Why not try and find out what happened to her? It’s not like she’s Yartraak, God of Darkness,” he said with a smirk, noting that J’anda and Erith, the only dark elves at the table, soured at the mere mention of the name. “She’s not one of the evil ones, the ones that inflict pain and sorrow and suffering. She’s either neutral or good, depending on your view of things, and her followers are benevolent for the most part. Why not give comfort to some of our guildmates who believe, earn some gold from a group who has given us aid in the past, and do some right in the process?”

  “Because it’s another step toward making us a gold-grubbing band of mercenaries who are constantly looking for a higher bidder,” Ryin said, sighing in exasperation. “Do you not see what evil can come from this? Do none of you acknowledge that whatever footing we were on before the day we went to the Realm of Death has slipped away and we are falling down a steep and rocky slope? Every choice we have made since then has been in a vain effort to undo the wrong we did by that decision, ignoring that we continue to find ourselves in a worse predicament following each such action.” He folded his arms and sighed. “But you wish to traverse this road again.”

  “It’s not exactly the same road,” Cyrus said.

  “As Longwell indicated, you want to mix the affairs of men with those of gods,” Ryin cut him off. “There are places we do not belong, and this is one of them.”

  “I thought your argument was that you don’t want us to accept money for our services,” J’anda said.

  Ryin took a breath. “Are you incapable of seeing the complexity of my argument? I am opposed to both taking money for our services and further engaging in any sort of dealings with gods.”

  “I understand your argument,” Curatio said, finally speaking up. Cyrus looked to him, the regal elf who was as close to a Guildmaster as they prese
ntly had. “But I think you are outnumbered in this instance, as before.” He gave a quick look around the table. “Does anyone stand with Ryin in this matter?” When no nods were forthcoming, he turned his attention back to the druid. “Your intentions are noble, your objections are understood—”

  “I don’t understand them,” Vaste said, “but then again I’m a troll, and perhaps your complexity is just a little too much for my simple mind to comprehend.”

  Erith snickered, and J’anda echoed her. A look from Curatio snuffed it in a moment.

  “Yes, I can tell my opinions are well tolerated here,” Ryin said sourly.

  “Be that as it may,” Curatio said, “it would appear we are going to undertake preliminaries in this matter of investigation.” The healer looked around the table once more. “May I suggest we only commit to an investigation at present? No action of any sort? I would hate to see us take this on in haste and land ourselves in further trouble.” There was a murmur of agreement, and Cyrus looked at the healer to realize something for the first time—Curatio looked as though he’d aged. His eyes were a bit sunken, with dark circles underneath them. The smile that had so defined him was absent and had been for some months. “All right, that seems agreed. Any other business?”

  “We need more officers,” J’anda said.

  “Why?” Ryin asked.

  “To make fun of your blatantly stupid opinions,” Vaste said. “I try to do it all myself but it’s exhausting, as each meeting you seem to come up with new ways to trump your previous stupidities.”

  “If you don’t care for my oppositional ideals, even though I present them in a loyal manner designed to produce thought before reckless action—” Ryin began.

  “You desperately need some action right now, I think,” Vaste said.

  “Was that a personal remark?” Ryin asked, face pinched in anger.

  “Yes, I was suggesting you need to have relations,” Vaste said, straight faced. “Ever since you and Nyad parted ways, you’ve been a particularly grim son of a bitch.” He glanced at Nyad, who reddened but said nothing.