"That's something I meant to ask about," Gavner said. "If you're not able to smell without a nose, how can you hear without ears?"
"I have … ears," Harkat said. "They're under … skin." He pointed to two spots on either side of his round, green eyes. (He'd left his hood down.)
Gavner leaned over the table to examine Harkat's ears. "I see them!" he exclaimed, and we all leaned over to gawk. Harkat didn't mind — he liked the attention. His ears looked like dry dates, barely visible beneath the gray skin.
"You can hear in spite of the skin stretched over them?" Gavner asked.
"Quite well," Harkat replied. "Not as … good as vampires. But better … than humans."
"How come you've got ears but no nose?" I asked.
"Mr. Tiny … didn't give me … nose. Never asked … why not. Maybe because … of air. Would need … another mask … for nose.
It was strange to think that Harkat couldn't smell the musky air of the Hall or taste the bat broth. No wonder the Little People never complained when I brought them rotting, stinking animals that had been dead for ages!
I was about to ask Harkat more about his limited senses when an ancient-looking vampire dressed in red sat down opposite Mr. Crepsley and smiled. "I was expecting you weeks ago," he said. "What took you so long?"
"Seba!" Mr. Crepsley roared, and lunged across the table to clasp the older vampire's shoulders. I was surprised — I'd never seen him behave so warmly toward another person. He was beaming when he let the vampire go. "It has been a long time, old friend."
"Too long," the older vampire agreed. "I have often searched for you mentally, in the hope that you were near. When I sensed you coming, I hardly dared believe it."
The older vampire ran an eye over Harkat and me. He was wrinkled and shrunken with age, but the light of a younger man burned brightly in his eyes. "Are you going to introduce me to your friends, Larten?" he asked.
"Of course," Mr. Crepsley said. "You know Gavner Purl."
"Gavner." The vampire nodded.
"Seba," Gavner replied.
"This is Harkat Mulds," Mr. Crepsley said.
"A Little Person," Seba noted. "I have not seen one of those since Mr. Tiny visited us when I was a boy. Greetings, Harkat Mulds."
"Hello," Harkat replied.
Seba blinked slowly. "He talks?"
"Wait until you hear what he has to say," Mr. Crepsley said somberly. Then, turning to me, he said, "And this is Darren Shan — my assistant."
"Greetings, Darren Shan." Seba smiled at me. He looked at Mr. Crepsley strangely. "You, Larten — with an assistant?"
"I know." Mr. Crepsley coughed. "I always said I would never take one."
"And so young," Seba murmured. "The Princes will not approve."
"Most probably not," Mr. Crepsley agreed miserably. Then he shook off his gloom. "Darren, Harkat — this is Seba Nile, the quartermaster of Vampire Mountain. Do not let his age fool you — he is as sly, cunning, and quick as any vampire, and will get the better of those who try and best him."
"As you know from experience." Seba chuckled. "Do you remember when you set out to steal half a vat of my finest wine and replace it with a lesser vintage?"
"Please," Mr. Crepsley said, looking pained. "I was young and foolish. There is no need to remind me."
"What happened?" I asked, delighted by the vampire's discomfort.
"Tell him, Larten," Seba said, and Mr. Crepsley obeyed sullenly, like a child.
"He got to the wine first," he muttered. "Emptied the vat and replaced the wine with vinegar. I had swallowed half a bottle before I realized. I spent the rest of the night retching."
"No!" Gavner burst out laughing.
"I was young," Mr. Crepsley growled. "I did not know better."
"But I taught you, Larten, did I not?" Seba remarked.
"Yes." Mr. Crepsley smiled. "Seba was my tutor. I learned most of what I know at his hands."
The three vampires started talking about old times, and I sat listening. Most of what they said went right over my head — names of people and places that meant nothing to me — and after a while I sat back and gazed around the cavern, studying the flickering lights of the fires and the shapes the smoke made in the air. I only realized I was dozing off when Mr. Crepsley shook me gently and my eyes snapped open.
"The boy is tired," Seba noted.
"He has never made the journey before," Mr. Crepsley said. "He is not accustomed to such hardship."
"Come," Seba said, standing. "I will find rooms for you. He is not the only one who needs to rest. We will talk more tomorrow."
As the quartermaster of Vampire Mountain, Seba was in charge of the stores and living quarters. It was his job to make sure there was enough food and drink and blood for everyone, and that every vampire had a place to sleep. There were other vampires working for him, but he was the main man. Aside from the Princes, Seba was the most respected vampire in the mountain.
Seba asked me to walk beside him as we made our way from the Hall of Osca Velm to our sleeping quarters. He pointed out various Halls as we passed, and told me their names — most of which I couldn't pronounce, never mind remember — and what they were used for.
"It will take a while to adjust," he said, seeing my dazed gaze. "For the first few nights you may feel lost. But in time you will grow accustomed to the place."
The network of tunnels connecting the Halls to the sleeping quarters was cold and damp, even with the torches, but the tiny rooms — carved out of the rocks — were bright and warm, each lit by a powerful torch. Seba asked if we wanted one big room between us, or if we'd rather have separate quarters.
"Separate," Mr. Crepsley immediately replied. "I had enough of Gavner's snoring on the trail."
"Charming!" Gavner huffed.
"Harkat and me don't mind doubling up, do we?" I said, not liking the idea of being left on my own in such a weird place.
"That's fine … by me," Harkat agreed.
All the rooms had coffins instead of beds, but when Seba saw my gloomy face, he laughed and said I could have a hammock if I wanted. "I will send one of my staff to you tomorrow," he promised. "Tell him what you need and he will get it — I look after my guests!"
"Thank you," I said, glad that I wouldn't have to sleep in the coffin every day.
Seba started to leave. "Wait." Mr. Crepsley called him back. "I have something to show you."
"Oh?" Seba smiled.
"Darren," Mr. Crepsley said, "fetch Madam Octa."
When Seba Nile saw the spider, his breath caught in his throat and he gazed at it as though mesmerized. "Oh, Larten," he sighed. "What a beauty!" He took the cage from me — holding it carefully — and opened the door.
"Stop!" I hissed. "Don't let her out — she's poisonous!"
Seba only smiled and reached into the cage. "I have never met a spider I have not been able to charm," he said.
"But —" I began.
"It is all right, Darren," Mr. Crepsley said. "Seba knows what he is doing."
The old vampire coaxed the spider onto his fingers and lifted her out of the cage. She squatted comfortably in the palm of his hand. Seba bent his face over her and whistled softly. The spider's legs twitched, and from her intent look, I knew he must be communicating mentally with her.
Seba stopped whistling and Madam Octa crawled up his arm. Upon reaching his shoulder, she nestled up to his chin and relaxed. I couldn't believe it! I'd always had to whistle continuously — with a flute, not my lips — and concentrate fiercely to keep her from biting me, but with Seba she was completely submissive.
"She is marvelous," Seba said, stroking her. "You must tell me more about her when you have a chance. I thought I knew of all the spiders in existence, but this one is new to me."
"I thought you would like her." Mr. Crepsley beamed. "That is why I brought her. I wish to make you a present of her."
"You would part with such a wonderful spider?" Seba asked.
"For you, old friend —
anything."
Seba smiled at Mr. Crepsley, then looked at Madam Octa. Sighing regretfully, he shook his head. "I must refuse," he said. "I am old, and not as sprightly as I used to be. I am kept busy trying to keep up with jobs I once zipped through. I do not have the time to care for such an exotic pet."
"Are you sure?" Mr. Crepsley asked, disappointed.
"I would love to take her but I cannot." He placed Madam Octa back in her cage and handed it to me. "Only the young have the energy to tend to the needs of spiders of such caliber. Look after her, Darren — she is beautiful and rare."
"I'll keep my eye on her," I promised. I once thought the spider was beautiful, too, until she bit my best friend and led to me becoming a half-vampire.
"Now," Seba said, "I must go. You are not the only new arrivals. Until we meet again — farewell."
There were no doors on the tiny rooms. Mr. Crepsley and Gavner bid us good night before heading for their coffins. Harkat and me stepped into our room and studied our two caskets.
"I don't think you'll fit in that," I said.
"That is .. okay. I can sleep … on floor."
"In that case, see you tonight." I looked around the cave. "Or will it be morning? Impossible to tell in here."
I didn't like getting into the coffin but took comfort in the fact that it was for one time only. Lying back, I left the lid open and stared up at the rocky gray ceiling. I thought that with the excitement of having arrived at Vampire Mountain, it'd take a long time to fall asleep, but within minutes I was out and slept just as content as I would have in my hammock back at the Cirque Du Freak.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HARKAT WAS STANDING by his coffin when I woke up, his green eyes wide open. I stretched and said good morning. There was a brief pause, then he shook his head and looked at me. "Good morning," he replied.
"Been awake long?" I asked.
"Just woke … now. When you … spoke to me. Fell asleep … standing up."
I frowned. "But your eyes were open."
He nodded. "Always open. No lids … or lashes. Can't shut them."
The more I learned about Harkat, the weirder he got! "Does that mean you can see things while you're asleep?"
"Yes, but I … take no … notice of them."
Gavner appeared at the entrance to our room.
"Rise and shine, boys," he boomed. "Night's wearing on. There's work to be done. Anybody for bat broth?"
I asked to use the bathroom before we went to eat. Gavner led me to a small door with the letters WC carved into it. "What does that stand for?" I asked.
"Water closet," he informed me, then added, "Don't fall in!"
I thought that was a joke, but when I stepped inside, I realized it was a genuine warning — there was no toilet in the water closet, just a round hole in the ground that led to a gurgling mountain stream. I stared down the hole — it wasn't large enough for an adult to fall through, but somebody my size might just fit — and shivered when I saw dark, gushing water at the bottom. I didn't like the idea of squatting over the hole, but there was no other option, so I just did it.
"Are all the toilets like that?" I asked when I came out.
"Yes." Gavner laughed. "It's the easiest way to get rid of the waste. There are a couple of big streams leading out of the mountain and the toilets are built over them. The streams wash everything away."
Gavner led Harkat and me to the Hall of Khledon Lurt. Seba Nile had pointed out the Hall to me the day before and said it was where meals were served. He also told me a little about Khledon Lurt; he had been a General of great standing, who had died saving other vampires in the fight with the vampaneze, when they broke away.
Vampires loved telling tales about their ancestors. They kept only a few written records, choosing instead to keep their history alive by word of mouth, passing on stories and legends around fires or over tables from one generation to another.
Red drapes hung from the ceiling, covering the walls, and there was a large statue of Khledon Lurt at the center of the Hall. (Like most of the mountain's sculptures, it had been carved from the bones of animals.) The Hall was lit by strong torches, and it was almost full when we arrived. Gavner, Harkat, and me sat at a table with Mr. Crepsley, Seba Nile, and a bunch of vampires I didn't know. Talk was loud and rough. A lot of it had to do with fighting and daring acts of endurance.
This was my first good look at a crowd of vampires, and I spent more time gazing around than I did eating. They didn't look that different from humans, except many were scarred from battle and hard living, and not a single one — pretty obvious why! — was suntanned.
They were a smelly bunch. They didn't use deodorant, although a couple had strings of wildflowers or naturally scented herbs around their necks and wrists. Although vampires made sure they washed in the world of humans — a foul stench could lead a vampire hunter to his prey — here in the mountain hardly any of them bothered with such luxuries. With all the soot and dirt of the Halls, they didn't see the point — it was impossible to stay clean.
I noticed pretty much no women. After a long time scanning, I spotted one sitting at a table in a corner, and another serving food. Besides that, the vampires were all men. There were hardly any old people either; Seba seemed to be the oldest vampire present. I asked him about this.
"Very few vampires live to be a ripe, old age," he replied. "While vampires live far longer than humans, very few of us make it to our vampiric sixties or seventies."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Vampires measure age in two ways — earth years and vampire years," he explained. "The vampiric age is the age of the body — physically, I am in my eighties. The earth age refers to how many years a vampire has been alive — I was a young boy when I was blooded, so I am seven hundred earth years old."
Seven hundred! It was an incredible age.
"Though many vampires live for hundreds of earth years," Seba went on, "hardly any make it to their vampiric sixties."
"Why not? "I asked.
"Vampires live hard. We push ourselves to the limit, undergoing many tests of strength, wit, and courage. Hardly any sit around in pajamas and slippers, growing old quietly. Most, when they grow too old to care for themselves, meet death on their feet, rather than let their friends look after them."
"How come you've lived so long then?" I asked.
"Darren!" Mr. Crepsley snapped, shooting me a piercing glare.
"Do not chastise the boy." Seba smiled. "His open curiosity is refreshing. I have lived to this long age because of my position," he said to me. "I was asked many decades ago to become the quartermaster of Vampire Mountain. It is not an enviable job, since it means living inside — hardly ever going hunting or fighting. But quartermasters are essential and much honored — it would have been impolite of me to refuse. If I was free, I would have been long dead by now, but one who does not exert oneself tends to live longer than those who do."
"It seems crazy to me," I said. "Why do you push yourselves so hard?"
"It is our way," Seba answered. "Also, we have more time on our hands than humans, so it is less precious to us. If, in vampire years, a sixty-year-old man was blooded when he was twenty, he will have lived for more than four hundred earth years. A man grows tired of life when he has lived so much of it."
I was trying to see it from their point of view, but it was hard. Maybe I'd think differently when I'd been around a century or two!
Gavner rose before we finished eating and said he had to leave. He asked Harkat to accompany him.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"The Hall of Princes," he said. "I must present myself to the Princes and tell them about the dead vampire and vampaneze we discovered. I also want to introduce Harkat, so he can pass on his message. The sooner the better, I think."
When they left, I asked Mr. Crepsley why we hadn't gone with them. "It is not our place to present ourselves to the Princes," he said. "Gavner is a General, so he has the right to ask to
see the Princes. As ordinary vampires, we must wait to be invited before them."
"But you used to be a General," I reminded him. "They wouldn't mind if you popped in to say hello, would they?"
"Of course they would." Mr. Crepsley scowled, then turned to Seba and sighed. "He is slow to learn our ways."
Seba laughed. "And you are slow to learn the ways of the teacher. You forget how eagerly you questioned our way of life when you were blooded. I recall the night you stormed into my chambers and swore you would never become a General. You said Generals were backward imbeciles, and we should be looking to the future, not dwelling in the past."
"I never said that!" Mr. Crepsley gasped.
"You certainly did," Seba insisted. "And more! You were a fiery youth, and there were times when I thought you would never calm down. I was often tempted to dismiss you, but I did not. I let you ask your questions and air your rage, and in time you learned that yours was not the wisest head in the world, and that the old ways might indeed be best.
"Students never appreciate their teachers while they are learning. It is only later, when they know more of the world, that they understand how indebted they are to those who instructed them. Good teachers expect no praise or love from the young. They wait for it, and in time, it comes."
"Are you scolding me?" Mr. Crepsley asked.
"Yes." Seba smiled. "You are a fine vampire, Larten, but you have much to learn about teaching. Do not be so quick to criticize. Accept Darren's questions and stubbornness. Answer patiently and do not scold him for his opinions. Only in this way can he mature and develop as you did."
I extracted a guilty pleasure out of watching Mr. Crepsley being hauled down a peg or two. I was extremely close to the vampire, but his pomposity sometimes got on my nerves. It was fun to see him have his wrists slapped!
"Stop smirking!" he snapped when he saw me.
"Now, now," I scolded him. "You heard what Mr. Nile said — be patient — strive to understand me."
Mr. Crepsley was puffing himself up to roar at me when Seba coughed discreetly. The vampire glanced at his old teacher, the air wheezed out of him, and he grinned sheepishly. Instead of giving out, he politely asked me to pass him a loaf of bread.