Master (Book 5) by Robert J. Crane

I’m sure she’s good with them, too.” Andren’s beard twitched, his mustache frosted with the foam of his ale. “Although the way she looked doing it …” He let his voice trail off in suggestion. “I might consider breaking my ‘No elven women’ rule for her. I bet she’s a feisty one.”
    “Where did Arydni fit into that rule?” Cyrus mused, loosing another arrow. This one lodged in the groin of the straw man.
    “She was the origin of it,” Andren muttered and gestured at the straw man. “For about that reason, I might add.”
    “Didn’t seem like you were too put off by her when she was here.” Cyrus paused, pulling an arrow from where he’d stuck it in the earth and twirling it in his fingers. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”
    “Well, you know, I have some fond memories of her,” Andren said, nodding. “Some things I wouldn’t mind reliving, if you know what I mean—”
    “I didn’t drag you away from dinner to discuss your rampant libido,” Cyrus said, turning back to the straw target. A cool breeze blew over them, cutting through the lingering heat from summer’s end.
    “Nor yours, apparently,” Andren said. “Can we talk about Aisling’s bedroom manner yet? I’m a mite curious—”
    “No,” Cyrus said and released the string. The arrow flew wide of its mark. “Dammit.” Cyrus turned to Andren. “I brought you out here to talk about the Daring.”
    The elf nodded. “Right, yeah. You’ll have to forgive me, though, as it’s not quite as exciting of a topic as dark elven sex.”
    “A missing goddess and a missing guild,” Cyrus said, drawing another arrow from the ground, “what are the odds of those two things happening at the same time?”
    “What are the odds of you being pursued by a Baroness, a thief and a paladin all at the same time?” Andren asked. “I mean, up until now you’ve not exactly been a stud horse, if you catch my—”
    Cyrus cut him off with a look. “What is wrong with you today? Can you possibly get your mind out of the rut you’re in and listen to me?” He paused. “About something that isn’t related to lusty bedroom activities?”
    “I’m sorry, we’re not all presently fending off every woman in Sanctuary with a blunt instrument, are we?” Andren said with a scowl. “Even the cook fancies you, always sending those tentative looks your way and fixing your favorite meals.” He sighed. “A couple years ago, I was on top of the world with the women around here, and you couldn’t find a scabbard for that sword in your breeches. Now, I’m sitting here competing with all these Luukessian men for a limited number of women, longing for a former wife I haven’t touched in a century, and you’ve got—”
    “The Daring,” Cyrus said, utter exasperation infusing his tone. “Forget it, I can’t talk to you about this now.”
    “Maybe you could find a sympathetic ear in Vara,” Andren said with a chortle.
    “Will you lay off?” Cyrus’s tone went acid.
    “Fine, fine,” Andren said, waving a hand at Cyrus as though to lower his temper. “So the Daring went missing. So what? We haven’t been allied with them for years.”
    “Not officially, no,” Cyrus said, plucking an arrow from the ground and drawing back. “But on the day our alliance was dissolved …” he let his voice trail off, “… an offer of help was extended to them, if ever they should need it.”
    “By Alaric, you mean,” Andren said.
    “Yes,” Cyrus said. “By Alaric. I can’t help but feel that if they’re missing, our assistance is needed.” He looked down the shaft of the arrow. “And I owe Cass Ward a debt of my own.”
    “Lovely,” Andren said, and Cyrus could hear him shuffling his feet. “What did he do, offer you advice on how to make your armor as bland as possible? I mean, you wear black, he wears grey—”
    “Har har,” Cyrus said, picking up the last arrow. “At least unlike the goddess conundrum, I actually know what to do about