“You are a cruel master,” Larten tutted when the Prince had recovered.
“Gavner’s no assistant of mine,” Vancha responded. “We’ve traveled together for several months, but I’ve no wish to mentor any Cub right now. I keep telling him to get lost, that he’s a like a thorn in my side. I’m hoping he’ll take the subtle hints and go his own way after the wedding.”
“He is more persistent than you might imagine,” Larten said.
“Maybe,” Vancha said with a wicked laugh. “But I can find even bigger crabs tomorrow!”
Shortly after dusk, a man in dark brown robes made his way down to the cove and met with the vampires. His name was Laurence and he lived in a nearby monastery. He was due to wed the engaged couple and had come to check that everything was in order and ask if the guests needed anything.
“We don’t have much,” Laurence said, “but we keep bees and goats, so we have honey and milk. We make our own bread too, and grow a variety of herbs and vegetables. You are more than welcome to dine with us.”
Not wishing to appear ungrateful, the vampires accepted Laurence’s invitation and followed him to the monastery, which nestled close to the top of the cliff a bit farther along the coastline. It was a small, humble building that had been battered by the elements. About thirty monks were present.
The vampires ate with the monks. It was a plain meal but carefully prepared. Larten thought that the monks would be fascinated by their visitors—they knew that the five were vampires, and in Larten’s experience, humans always wanted to learn more about the legendary creatures of the night. But the monks only made polite inquiries and didn’t bother the vampires with an endless string of questions. When Larten asked Laurence about this lack of interest, he smiled.
“We don’t pay much attention to the outside world,” Laurence explained. “We have devoted our lives to prayer and inward reflection. To us there is little difference between your nocturnal clan and any other group.”
Laurence took the vampires on a tour of the monastery after dinner and told them how the monks lived, outlining their daily routines. It was a simple but satisfying life, and Larten found himself envying them. After the horrors of the war and his brutal quest to find Randel Chayne, this seemed like an idyllic existence.
Larten noticed two men who weren’t dressed in robes scaring bats away from the fruit trees that grew in one of the monastery’s plots. He asked if they were local gardeners who had been hired to help with the tasks.
“No,” Laurence said. “They are part of our community but not our order. We rarely turn anyone away. If laypeople wish to come stay with us, to escape the breakneck pace of the world, find inner peace or just relax for a time, we welcome them. We ask that they work to help pay towards their upkeep, but they’re not compelled to. Most only stay for a few weeks or months, but a couple have been with us for years.”
“Why don’t they become monks if they’re here that long?” Kurda asked.
Laurence shrugged. “They enjoy our way of life but do not necessarily share our beliefs.”
“But you accept them even if their beliefs are different?” Kurda pressed.
“Of course,” Laurence said. “There is room in this world for all sorts of beliefs. The most important thing is that we respect one another and create a community where all are welcome and treated equally.”
“That’s a nice way of looking at the world,” Kurda murmured. “I wish we could all see it that way.” He caught Larten’s eye and raised an eyebrow.
Larten scowled, but it was an automatic response. Though he would never admit it to Kurda, he too wished the world was that way, and the more he explored the monastery, the more he yearned to leave the duties and worries of the clan behind and find the peace here that had so far eluded him for most of his life.
Chapter
Fifteen
Laurence asked the vampires to stay with them the following day. Vancha didn’t want to sleep in the relative opulence of the monastery, but he accepted the monk’s offer so as not to offend him, then searched for the roughest, coldest floor he could find. Arra and Larten shared a room next to Kurda and Gavner on the upper floor of the building. Arra fell asleep and was soon snoring lightly. Larten dozed for a few hours, but he kept waking, thinking about the war, Randel Chayne, the monks. He had a lot on his mind and eventually he walked out onto the balcony to squint at the sea.
“Can’t sleep either?” someone said from the balcony next to his. He turned to find Gavner sitting in a chair, covered by a blanket to protect him from the sun.
“I wish that I could,” Larten sighed. “I have not had a good day’s sleep in a long time.”
“You didn’t say much last night about what you’d seen in Japan,” Gavner noted.
“It is not something I care to talk about.”
“Bad?” Gavner asked softly.
“The worst.” Larten scratched his scar, then massaged the back of his neck. “I sometimes think we should have stayed in Greenland and frozen. The more I see of this world, the less I find in it to admire.”
“You don’t mean that,” Gavner said. “We had enjoyable times over the years. Paris before Tanish Eul tore us apart. When I was your assistant. Paris again when we returned, until…” He stopped.
“Randel Chayne,” Larten said bitterly, then glanced at Gavner and muttered, “I think he is dead.”
“Why?” Gavner asked eagerly. “What have you heard?”
Larten told the young vampire about Holly-Jane Galinec.
“I don’t know,” Gavner hummed. “That’s hardly proof, is it?”
“No,” Larten said. “And I will search until I am certain. But I sense that he is dead. I have an instinct for such things and I am rarely wrong.”
“I hope he’s still alive,” Gavner growled. “I want to help kill him. I’ll feel cheated if somebody else has beaten us to it.”
Larten was surprised. “I thought you had changed your mind about that. You have avoided me in recent times. When you did not come to Council, I assumed you wished to draw a line between us.”
Gavner shook his head. “I just didn’t like the way you were trying to drive the clan to war. I don’t hate the vampaneze—they are what they are—but I loathe Randel Chayne. If you find him, I definitely want to be there when you cut him down.”
Larten was glad to see that the thirst for revenge was still strong in Gavner. But on another level he was disappointed. He had hoped that his ex-assistant would have found the capacity for forgiveness that Larten had never known.
“Have you been in touch with Sylva?” he asked.
“Yes. I saw her before I linked up with Vancha. She’s well. They settled in New York in the end. They have three children, and a fourth on the way.”
“Does she still…?” Larten stopped and blushed. He had been about to ask if she still blamed him for Alicia’s death, but he dreaded the answer.
“She wants to see you,” Gavner said quietly. “I don’t think she knows what she plans to say, but she’s waiting for you to visit.”
“I will, one night,” Larten said. “But it is too soon.”
“Be careful,” Gavner warned him. “She’s human. They don’t last as long as us. If you wait, you might miss your opportunity.”
Larten smiled thinly. “You are a wise and venerable vampire.”
Gavner punched him, then smirked. “I visited your old hometown too. I figured you wouldn’t be keeping an eye on it while you were in pursuit of Randel Chayne.”
“That was thoughtful of you,” Larten said, surprised.
Gavner shrugged. “I know how close you feel to the people there. It wasn’t far out of my way. So why not?”
In fact he had gone very far out of his way. Deep down, Gavner still yearned for the elder vampire to treat him like a son, not an assistant. He wasn’t aware of his motivation, but he had returned to the town of Larten’s birth to try to strengthen the links between them. If he could get closer to the people
whom Larten cared about, perhaps Larten would start to care more about him.
“How were they?” Larten asked.
“Good,” Gavner said. “Suffering because of the war, but no worse than anyone else.” He waited for Larten to say something else, but the General was silent, thinking about the past. To cheer him up, Gavner said brightly, “What about you and Arra? When did that happen?”
“After Council.”
“Will you mate for another term?”
“I doubt it. I think that I could love Arra, and maybe we will try again in the future. But this is the wrong time for us—for me. I cannot commit to her at the moment, so it will be for the best if I let her go. What about you? Is there any sign of a mate on the horizon?”
“I’ve no time for hanky-panky,” Gavner sighed. “I’m studying to be a General and I’m finding it hard. A few more years on the road, then I’ll head to Vampire Mountain to knuckle down and face my Trials.”
“I did not know that you wished to become a General,” Larten said. “I thought you would be content to remain an ordinary vampire.”
“I thought so too for a long time,” Gavner said. “I think the Generals should act more like police than soldiers. They should be peacekeepers, not warmongers. I’m worried that your anti-vampaneze brigade might stir things up and lead us down a dark, deadly road. But I figure the only way to have an influence on the direction of the Generals is from the inside. So I’m joining up, if the luck of the vampires is with me, to stand against the likes of Wester and—forgive me for saying so—you.”
Larten felt proud, but he didn’t show it. He had refused to be a father to Gavner in the past and he wasn’t about to start showering him with paternal affection now. He didn’t feel that he had a right to hail the young man as a son, given he had killed both of Gavner’s parents.
“Have you learned much from Vancha?” Larten asked.
“Not as much as I’d hoped,” Gavner scowled. “A lot about hand-to-hand combat and shurikens, but not much else.”
“Vancha is an excellent Prince, but a mediocre master,” Larten said. “Perhaps you should spend some time with Kurda Smahlt.”
Gavner frowned. “He’s not much older than me.”
“Age is not everything,” Larten noted.
“I’ll consider it,” Gavner said. “At least I wouldn’t have to watch him playing with his hair all the time.”
“What do you mean?” Larten asked.
Gavner grinned. “Don’t you know why Vancha’s hair is green?”
Larten shook his head. “I assumed he dyed it.”
Gavner chortled. “Don’t tell him I told you, but Vancha is very phlegmy. He spits regularly and has to blow his nose a lot. Rather than use a handkerchief, he snorts snot into his palm. Then, instead of wiping it on the ground, he…” Gavner started to laugh.
“What?” Larten asked, laughing too in anticipation of the answer.
“He wipes his hand through his hair!” Gavner panted. “And that’s the color your hair turns if you wipe snot through it for decades on end.”
The pair of vampires laughed for a long time. They would be close to stopping, then catch each other’s eye and burst into fresh gales of laughter again.
When they finally stopped giggling, Larten wiped happy tears from his cheeks and beamed at Gavner. “I lied earlier,” he said. “I have missed you.” And that was the closest he ever came to acknowledging his fondness for the young vampire who, in another time and place, could and should have been his beloved son.
Chapter
Sixteen
The wedding took place the next night. Larten still didn’t know who was getting married. He assumed it was a couple from one of the small villages scattered around the monastery. But nobody followed them as the vampires, Laurence, and three other monks made their way to the cove, and nobody was waiting when they got there.
It was a clear, bright night, the moon close to full. Larten had washed his clothes ahead of the ceremony and was looking his best in his blood-red trousers, shirt and cape. Arra kept close to him, smiling when his back was turned, admiring the tall vampire and wishing they could spend longer together. She knew they’d part when their term elapsed, but she would have stayed with him for as long as he’d asked if she thought he truly loved her.
Vancha hadn’t cleaned himself, although his hair was brushed back into less wild a shape than usual, and it gleamed in the moonlight. Larten figured the Prince must have used a few fistfuls of snot to perfect the shiny effect. Thinking about that, he giggled uncharacteristically.
Vancha frowned. “What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing, Sire,” Larten replied respectfully.
The Prince squinted at him suspiciously, then faced the calm sea, studied the waves and tapped his foot impatiently. “Those Skelks have no idea of time.”
“What are Skelks?” Arra asked.
“You’ll find out soon,” he answered.
Larten and Arra shared a bemused look, then waited quietly with the others. After a while the monks began to chant. They moved apart and stood facing the sea, heads bowed, murmuring strange rhymes. Larten scoured the horizon for boats or rafts but nothing moved on the still surface.
“There!” Arra suddenly gasped and pointed to their left.
Larten saw a large tail fin sticking out of the water. “A dolphin?” he muttered.
“No,” Arra said. “There was a face. It looked human.”
Larten stared at her, wondering if she’d been drinking. But then two more fins appeared and Larten caught a glimpse of hairy but humanlike faces. Soon the sheltered water of the cove was dotted with fins as a school of mysterious sea creatures drew closer. Larten tried to count them. At least thirty of the beasts were advancing. Larten would have been worried any other time, but by the way Vancha and Kurda were smiling, he knew these must be the Skelks.
When they reached the shore, the Skelks rose to full height. They were shaped like very hairy humans from the waist up, except long, thick strands of hair linked their arms to their sides and operated like fins. Below the waist they seemed to have one long leg or tail, enshrouded by hair. But as an astonished Larten watched with disbelief, the hairs retracted into their skin and he saw that each of them had two ordinary legs beneath the covering.
The first Skelk stepped from the water. It was a man. His hair continued to retract as he limped across the sand. Strands whipped around him like snakes, then vanished into his skin. By the time he reached them, he looked like a normal human. He didn’t even have a beard.
The man barked something at the monks. It sounded like the noise seals made. Larten could make no sense of the words, but Laurence obviously understood because he smiled and said, “It is a pleasure, as always.”
Vancha stepped forward and made a few strange noises. They didn’t sound quite the same as the sounds the man from the sea had made, but the Skelk barked in return and hugged the Prince. As they hugged, hairs shot from the man’s legs, twisted around Vancha’s feet, then hoisted him into the air. Seconds later he was hanging upside down, swinging from side to side, a helpless but amused captive. Vancha playfully struck at the man, who made an odd laughing sound before releasing the green-haired vampire.
Larten thought it was a strange way for a Prince to behave, but he said nothing and studied the rest of the Skelks as they crept across the sand, not looking as comfortable as they had in the water. They were a mix of men and women, with a couple of children straggling along at the rear. The women were all beautiful. They were also totally naked, like the men, and Larten felt himself blushing, especially when Arra dug an elbow into his ribs and snapped, “Avert your gaze!”
“I could say the same thing to you,” Larten muttered, nodding at a few of the men who had clearly attracted Arra’s attention.
“I studied anatomy when I was Evanna’s assistant,” she said coolly. “My interest is purely professional.” But her smirk betrayed her, and Larten knew she was as mesmerized by
these amazing creatures as he was.
One of the Skelks remained at the water’s edge as the others advanced. This one looked different. She was shorter and her hair wasn’t as luxurious. Larten found his eye drawn to her. There was something oddly familiar about the woman….
“If that’s my ex-assistant, Arra Sails, she’s in trouble!” the lady in the water shouted.
Arra’s face dropped with shock and fear, but Larten’s lit up with delight. So did Vancha’s, and the pair set off down the beach, whooping with excitement like a couple of boys, roaring Evanna’s name as the hairs around her head parted and the ugly witch’s beaming face was revealed.
“What are you doing here?” Vancha yelled, grabbing her and twirling her around. Unlike the Skelks, Evanna wasn’t naked, but clad in the layers of ropes that she usually wore. Larten noted that they weren’t wet, even though she’d just gotten out of the water.
“Why shouldn’t I come, my darling little Vancha?” Evanna retorted, pinching the Prince’s cheek. “Wasn’t I the one who introduced you to these charming folk? They were my friends long before they were yours.”
Vancha grinned and set her down. “It’s a thrill to see you again, Lady. You’re as gorgeous and graceful as ever.”
“Shut up, fool,” Evanna laughed, then offered Larten her hand, which he kissed while kneeling. “You could learn a few manners from this one,” Evanna purred.
“I’m as finely mannered as any man,” Vancha protested, spitting at a nearby crab and striking the top of its shell in the center.
“Come,” Evanna said, taking Vancha’s and Larten’s hands. “We can talk later. I’ve been looking forward to this wedding for a long time. Let’s not keep the Skelks waiting.”
With that she let the vampires escort her across the beach to where the naked Skelks were gathering around the monks. Larten thought the quiet men of prayer might be embarrassed by the nudity, but they took no more notice of the Skelks than they would have of any creature in its natural form. Without batting an eyelid they went on chanting and patiently waited for everyone to settle into place, so that Laurence could begin.