The Third Kingdom

That familiar tattoo covering the top of the man’s bald head was darker than all the others, not just because it looked to be the most recently added, but because the lines composing it were heavier. Even so, lying as it was over layers of hundreds of other random emblems, it was evident that it was merely a part of a much larger purpose.

All the tattoos, in all their many different designs, were still variations of the same basic themes, much as letters in an alphabet were all of a set. There were symbols laid out in circles of every size, even circles within circles within circles, with some of the symbols contained within those circles made up of other, smaller designs and elements that Richard recognized as well. It was a disturbing sight to see a man so given over to such an occult purpose.

It all made him a dark, living, moving, fluid illustration, with every design down through the countless layers clearly discernible, and clearly with a purpose.

Richard was especially disturbed by the central design covering the top part of the man’s face and skull, the one with the backward figure nine. Like the rest of the symbols all over the man, it, too, was in the language of Creation.

Richard also recognized all too well that looking out from the symbol as the man was, the figure nine at the heart of it would not be backward to him.

That particular symbol was the same one as on the omen machine, and on the cover of the book, Regula, that went with the machine. It was a symbol that linked it all to Richard.

The man’s red eyes went to Richard’s hand gripping the hilt of his sword still sitting in its scabbard, before returning to look into Richard’s eyes, as if he were looking into his soul.

“Lord Rahl,” the man said in a voice that was as unsettling as his flesh, “how kind of you to visit my land of Fajin Province.”

Richard’s brow twitched. “Bishop Hannis Arc?”

Hannis Arc was the leader of Fajin Province.

The man bowed his head. “Actually, it’s Lord Arc.”

CHAPTER

60

“Lord Arc,” Richard said in a flat tone. “I was told that it was Bishop Hannis Arc.”

The man smiled insincerely. “My previous title.” He dismissed it with an annoyed flourish of a tattooed hand. “I am now Lord Arc, soon to be … well, it’s of no concern at the moment. We have more important business that awaits us.”

The shadow behind the man finally stepped forward to stand beside him.

Richard was stunned to see that it was a Mord-Sith in red leather—a tall, very attractive, and a very dangerous-looking Mord-Sith.

He was more stunned to see that the blond-haired woman was not a Mord-Sith that he recognized—and he knew them all. At least, he thought he did. This one, he thought, must have been hiding under a rock. A rock in the dark lands.

Hannis Arc held out an introductory hand as he smiled in satisfaction at Richard’s surprise. “This is Mistress Vika.”

Not only did he not recognize her, Richard had never heard any Mord-Sith mention the name Vika.

Hannis Arc turned to the woman. “You see, Vika? You worry for nothing. It is as I said. I leave the bread crumbs, and Lord Rahl follows them.”

She smiled in response but held Richard’s gaze with her steely blue eyes. “Yes, Lord Arc.”

Hannis Arc turned back, also looking Richard in the eye as he spoke. “He is but a little pet, thinking he is going when he chooses, when he wants, and where he wants, when someone else is actually holding his leash.”

“What’s this about?” Richard asked as calmly as he could, reminding himself not to lose his temper.

He needed to think, to figure out what was going on. He knew that he couldn’t do that if he gave himself over to a fit of rage, as satisfying as that might be. Better to stall for time and find out all he could. Better to find out exactly what kind of danger he was really up against. He knew that the more questions he could ask, and the more he let these two talk, the more time he would gain himself to try to think of a way out of the trap he found himself in.

“Well, you see, Lord Rahl, everything was going along as I wanted, but then the Hedge Maid nearly spoiled my plans. Seems as though she had an obsession with that blood lust that so overpowers her kind. But I guess that you have already learned all too much about that.

“Because of her failure to carry out my perfectly reasonable and carefully thought out requests, it became necessary to change my plans. In the end, however, I saw to it that it worked to my advantage, as all things eventually do.

“You see, I always take into account the alternate paths that others might choose to take because of their more limited nature so that if need be I am able to alter my own plans. Because of that, I was prepared and able to take advantage of the situation as it presented itself. You were only too accommodating and as a result it worked to my advantage even better than I could have dreamed up in the beginning.