Shan, Darren - Cirque Du Freak 04 - Vampire Mountain

"Guess that means I'm braver than you." I smirked.

"Stupidity and bravery are not the same thing," he chided me. "You could have been seriously injured."

"You sound like Kurda," I sulked.

"I do not agree with Kurda's views on the righting ways of vampires — he is a pacifist, which runs contrary to our nature — but he is correct when he says that sometimes it is better not to fight. When a situation is hopeless, and there is nothing at stake, only a fool battles on."

"But it wasn't hopeless!" I exclaimed. "I almost beat her!"

Mr. Crepsley smiled. "You are impossible to talk to. But so are most vampires. It is a sign that you are learning. Now finish dressing and make yourself presentable. We must not keep the Princes waiting."

The Hall of Princes was situated at the highest internal point of Vampire Mountain. There was only one entrance to it, a long, wide tunnel guarded by a host of Mountain Guards. I hadn't been up here before — nobody could use the tunnel unless they had business in the Hall.

The green-garbed guards watched us every step of the way. You weren't allowed to take weapons into the Hall of Princes, or carry anything that might be used as a weapon. Shoes weren't permitted — too easy to hide a small dagger in the soles — and we were searched from head to foot at three different parts of the tunnel. The guards even ran combs through our hair, in case we had thin wires hidden inside!

"Why all the security?" I whispered to Mr. Crepsley. "I thought the Princes were respected and obeyed by all vampires."

"They are," he said. "This is for tradition's sake more than anything else."

At the end of the tunnel we emerged into a huge cavern, in which a strange, white dome stood gleaming. It was like no other building I'd ever seen — the walls pulsed, as though alive, and there were no joints or cracks that I could make out.

"What is it? "I asked.

"The Hall of Princes," Mr. Crepsley said.

"What's it made of — rock, marble, iron?"

Mr. Crepsley shrugged. "Nobody knows." He led me to the dome — the only guards on this side of the tunnel were grouped around the doors to the Hall — and told me to place my hands on it.

"It's warm!" I gasped. "And it throbs! Whatis it?"

"Long ago, the Hall of Princes was like any other," Mr. Crepsley answered in his usual roundabout way. "Then, one night, Mr. Tiny arrived and said he had gifts for us. This was shortly after the vampaneze had split from the vampires. The 'gifts' were the dome — which his Little People constructed, unseen by any vampires — and the Stone of Blood. The dome and Stone are magical artifacts. They —"

One of the guards at the doors hailed us. "Larten Crepsley! Darren Shan!" We hurried over. "You may be admitted now," the guard said, and struck the doors four times with the large spear he was carrying. The doors slid open — like electronic doors — and we entered.

Though no torches burned inside the Hall of Princes, it was as bright as day, far brighter than anywhere else in the mountain. The light originated in the walls of the dome itself, by means unknown to all but Mr. Tiny. Long seats — like pews — ran in circles around the dome. There was a large space at the center, where four wooden thrones stood mounted on a platform. Three of the thrones were occupied by Vampire Princes. Mr. Crepsley had told me that at least one Prince always skipped Council, in case anything happened to the others. Nothing hung from the walls, no paintings, portraits, or flags. There were no statues either. This was a place for business, not pomp or ceremony.

Most of the seats were filled. Ordinary vampires sat at the rear; the middle sections were reserved for mountain personnel, guards and people like them. Vampire Generals occupied the front seats. Mr. Crepsley and me made our way to the third row of seats from the front and slid in beside Kurda Smahlt, Gavner Purl, and Harkat Mulds, who were waiting for us. I was glad to see the Little Person again, and asked what he'd been up to.

"Answering … questions," he replied. "Saying same thing … over and over … and over … again."

"Did any more of your memory come back?" I asked.

"No."

"But it's not for want of trying." Gavner laughed, leaning forward to squeeze my shoulder. "We've been practically torturing Harkat with questions, trying to get him to remember. And he hasn't complained once. If I was in his place, I'd have raised hell ages ago. He hasn't even been allowed to sleep!"

"Don't need … much sleep," Harkat said shyly.

"Recovered from your bout with Arra yet?" Kurda asked.

Before I could answer, Gavner piped up. "I heard about that! What in heaven were you thinking? I'd rather face a pit full of scorpions than hop on the bars with Arra Sails. I saw her make mincemeat of twenty seasoned vampires one night."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," I said with a grin.