Vampire Rites Trilogy. Darren Shan
and shine, boys,” he boomed. “Night’s wearing on. There’s work to be done. Anybody for bat broth?”
I asked to use the toilet 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 which 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 got on with 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 several 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 bit about Khledon Lurt; he had been a General of great standing, who’d died saving other vampires in the fight with the vampaneze, when they broke away.
Vampires loved telling tales of their ancestors. They kept few written records, opting instead to keep their history alive by word of mouth, passing on stories and legends around fires or over tables, one generation to another.
Red drapes hung from the ceiling, covering the walls, and there was a large statue of Khledon Lurt at the centre 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 nearly full when we arrived. Gavner, Harkat and me sat at a table with Mr Crepsley, Seba Nile and a load of vampires I didn’t know. Talk was loud and raucous. Much of it had to do with fighting and feats 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 to humans, except many were scarred from battle and hard living, and not a single one – it goes without saying! – was sun-tanned.
They were a smelly lot. They didn’t use deodorants, though a few had strings of wild flowers or naturally scented herbs around their necks and wrists. Though vampires took care to wash 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 keep clean.
I noticed virtually no women. After lengthy scanning, I spotted one sitting at a table in a corner, and another serving food. Otherwise, the vampires were all men. There were very few 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 pyjamas 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 honoured – 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’d 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,