"With my vampaneze blood transformed by Paris's blood, I was able to control my feeding urges. I studied under Paris and in time trained to be a General. My vampaneze links were revealed to no one except the other Princes."
"They approved of your blooding?" Mr. Crepsley asked.
"After I'd proven myself many times - yes. They worried about Gannen - they were afraid my loyalties would be divided if I met him again, as they have been tonight - but they accepted me and vowed to keep my true history a secret."
"Why wasn't I told about you?" I asked.
"Had I come to Vampire Mountain while you were there, you would have been told. But it's impolite to speak of one when he's absent."
"This is damned frustrating," Mr. Crepsley grunted. "I understand why you did not speak of it before, but if we had known, I could have gone after your brother and left you to take care of that giant in the trees."
"How was I to know?" Vancha smiled weakly. "I didn't see his face until I was moving in for the kill. He was the last person I expected to run into."
Behind us, Evanna emerged from between the trees. Her hands were red with the blood of dead vampaneze. She was carrying something. As she got closer, I realized it was my missing thumb. "Found this," she said, tossing it to me. "Thought you might like it back."
I caught the thumb, then looked down at the stump where it had been cut off. I hadn't been aware of the pain while listening to Vancha talk, but now the throbbing intensified. "Can we stitch it back on?" I winced.
"Possibly," Mr. Crepsley said, examining the stump and thumb. "Lady Evanna - you have the power to connect it immediately and effortlessly, do you not?"
"I do," Evanna agreed, "but I won't. Snoops don't deserve special favours." She wagged a finger at me. "You should have been a spy, Darren." It was hard to tell whether she was annoyed or amused.
Vancha had string and a needle made from fish bone, and while Mr. Crepsley held my thumb in place, the Prince stitched it back on, even though his thoughts were elsewhere. It hurt tremendously, but I just had to look away and grit my teeth. The stitching completed, the vampires rubbed their spit around the join, to quicken the healing process, strapped the thumb tight to my fingers so that the bones could fuse, then let me be.
"That is the best we can do," Mr. Crepsley said. "If it gets infected, we will chop it off again and you will have to make do without."
"That's right," I growled. "Look on the bright side."
"It's my head you should be chopping off," Vancha said bitterly. "I should have put duty before kinship. I don't deserve to live."
"Nonsense!" Mr. Crepsley huffed. "Any man who would strike a brother is no man at all. You did what any of us would have done. It is unfortunate that you ran into him now, but we have not been harmed by your slip, and I think-"
He stopped at a sudden burst of laughter from Evanna. The witch was giggling wildly, as if he'd cracked a great joke.
"Did I say something funny?" Mr. Crepsley asked, bemused.
"Oh, Larten, if only you knew!" she squealed.
He raised an eyebrow at Vancha, Harkat and me. "What is she laughing at?"
None of us knew.
"Never mind why she's laughing," Vancha said, stepping forward to confront the witch. "I want to know what she was doing here in the first place, and why she was consorting with the enemy while pretending to be our ally."
Evanna stopped laughing and faced Vancha. She grew magically, until she was towering over him like a coiled cobra, but the Prince didn't flinch. Gradually the menace drained out of her and she resorted to her standard shape. "I never claimed to be your ally, Vancha," she said. "I travelled with you, and broke bread with you - but I never said I was on your side."
"Does that mean you're on theirs!" he snarled.
"I take nobody's side," she replied coolly. "The divide between vampires and vampaneze is of no interest to me. I look upon you as silly, warring boys, who will one night come to their senses and stop spitting angrily at one another."
"An interesting view," Mr. Crepsley remarked ironically.
"I don't understand," I said. "If you aren't on their side, what were you doing with them?"
"Conversing," she said. "Taking their measure, as I did with you. I've sat with the hunters and studied them. Now I've done likewise with the hunted. Whichever way the War of the Scars goes, I'll have to deal with the victors. It's good to know in advance the calibre of those to whom your future is tied."
"Can anyone make sense of this?" Vancha asked.
Evanna smirked, delighted by our confusion. "Do you fine, fighting gentlemen read mystery novels?" she asked. We stared at her blankly. "If you did, you'd have guessed by now what's going on."
"Have you ever hit a woman?" Vancha asked Mr. Crepsley.
"No," he said.
"I have," Vancha grunted.
"Temper," the witch giggled, then grew serious. "If you have something that is precious, and others are looking for it, where is the best place to hide it?"
"If this rubbish continues..."Vancha warned.
"It's not rubbish," Evanna said. "Even humans know the answer to this one."
We thought about it in silence. Then I raised a hand, as though in school, and said, "Out in the open, in front of everyone?"
"Exactly," Evanna applauded. "People searching - or hunting - rarely find what they seek if it's placed directly before them. It's common to overlook that which is most obvious."
"What does any of this have to do with-" Mr. Crepsley began.
"The man in the robes... was no servant," Harkat interrupted grimly. Our heads turned questioningly. "That's what we overlooked... wasn't it?"
"Precisely," the witch said, and now there was a touch of sympathy to her tone. "By dressing and treating him as a servant - as they have since they took to the road - the vampaneze knew he'd be the last target anyone would focus on in the event of an attack." Holding up four fingers, Evanna slowly bent the index one over, and said, "Your brother didn't run because he was afraid, Vancha. He fled to save the life of the man he was protecting - the fake servant - the Lord of the Vampaneze!"