Severed Souls(79)

But he didn’t have the same rather exotic cravings with which Darken Rahl had been obsessed. In fact, he considered the things he had heard about what the man did to women in the bedroom to be repugnant. Hardly a wonder they had wanted to be free of him. Ludwig’s Mord-Sith would not be plagued by the same wish to leave him just because he took them to his bed. He had simple tastes and simply enjoyed being with women the way the Creator intended. Mostly.

“Any questions? Comments?”

“No, Lord Dreier,” they all said as one.

He turned to Erika. “You pick for me. Pick which one will spend tonight with me.”

Erika pointed at the one she knew he would like best, the blonde she had used her Agiel on.

“You.”

The Mord-Sith bowed her head. “Yes, Mistress. I am yours tonight, then, Lord Dreier, and any night you would have me.”

Ludwig was pleased that, once again, given the choices that he had shaped for them, they had chosen wisely. Once again, his insistence on focusing on people had advanced his cause. It so happened that it had also gotten him a comfortable new home from where he would prepare to offer choices to Hannis Arc’s chaos.

He nodded. “It’s still early. First, show me Bishop Arc’s study—the recording room where he used the prophecy I sent to him.”

Although Ludwig had sometimes personally brought some of his important prophecies to Hannis Arc—the ones he wanted to make sure the bishop saw—the man had always insisted on meeting with him in a small secondary office, or in the grand entrance hall, sitting in the chairs, sharing tea, as they discussed the prophecy. While they sipped tea, Ludwig fed the bishop the prophecies he wanted the man to know.

Hannis Arc had never let him see the recording room, though, the place where he did most of his work. Ludwig wanted to see it himself and know why not.

The woman that Erika had picked for him held her arm out to the side. “This way, Lord Dreier.”





CHAPTER

39

Up on the top floor, an old scribe named Mohler nervously fumbled with the keys with one hand while holding a lantern in his other. Ludwig knew the man. He was the one person Hannis Arc seemed to trust, at least as much as he trusted anyone. He was the only scribe allowed to handle the prophecies that Ludwig sent to the citadel.

As Ludwig Dreier impatiently watched the man groping through all the keys on the ring, flipping them over one at a time with a thumb looking for the right one, he gave consideration to simply using his ability to blow the heavy door off its hinges. With a sigh, he reminded himself that there was no need to rush, or use his ability for trivialities.

That was one of the ways he had managed to remain hidden under Hannis Arc’s nose for so long—he didn’t use his power when he didn’t absolutely need to. No one was going to come chase him away from Hannis Arc’s office door. The whole place belonged to Ludwig, now. So he continued to wait patiently.

Mohler looked up. “Sorry, Master Dreier—”

“Lord Dreier.”

“Yes,” Mohler said, absently, his head bobbing, “Lord Dreier, I meant to say.”

Erika lifted the lantern from the man’s hand so that he could use both hands to search through his fat ring of keys. Glancing up from time to time, nervous, fearing to be too slow, he sighed with relief when he at last found the key he was looking for. He tried to poke the trembling key in the lock, but he missed several times. Erika finally took hold of the man’s gnarled hand, steadied it, and fed the key into the lock.

He looked up. “Thank you, Mistress. I’ve been opening this door nearly all my life.” He hesitated. “I’ve just never had to open it for anyone other than…”

“Understandable,” Ludwig said, peering down at the sparse gray hair that lay over the top of the hunched old scribe’s bald head. “But you are still opening it for your master.”

Mohler looked up and blinked. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

The man smiled at the notion as he started turning the key in the lock, jiggling it in a way that he apparently knew the old lock needed in order to give up the secrets beyond. With the proper touch of the scribe’s experienced hand, the bolt finally clanged back, freeing the door. Mohler pushed the door in as he stood aside to admit the new master.

Inside, the scribe took his lantern back from Erika as he plucked a long sliver from an iron holder on the wall near the door. He lit the sliver in the flame of his lantern, dropped the glass cover back down, and then rushed around the room using the flaming sliver of fat wood to light candles and lamps.

The recording room was far more expansive than Ludwig had expected, with a high beamed ceiling but no windows. Even with all the candles and lanterns Mohler was lighting, it was rather dark and gloomy. Ludwig scanned the odd collection of various things standing on display.