When the vampire turned to address me, I knew who he was - I'd heard him described many times - and greeted him with the respect he deserved. "Vancha March," I said, bowing my head. "It's an honour to meet you, Sire."
"Likewise," he replied blithely.
Vancha March was the Vampire Prince I'd never met, the wildest and most traditional of all the Princes.
"Vancha!" Mr. Crepsley boomed, tearing the cloth away from around his eyes, crossing the space between us and clasping the Prince's shoulders. "What are you doing here, Sire? I thought you were further north."
"I was," Vancha sniffed, freeing his hands and wiping the knuckles of his left hand across his nose, then flicking something green and slimy away. "But there was nothing happening, so I cut south. I'm heading for Lady Evanna's."
"We are too," I said.
"I figured as much. I've been trailing you for the last couple of nights."
"You should have introduced yourself sooner, Sire," Mr. Crepsley said.
"This is the first time I've seen the new Prince," Vancha replied. "I wanted to observe him from afar for a while." He studied me sternly. "On the basis of this fight, I have to say I'm not overly impressed!"
"I erred, Sire," I said stiffly. "I was worried about my friends and I made the mistake of pausing when I should have pushed ahead. I accept full responsibility, and I apologize most humbly."
"At least he knows how to make a good apology," Vancha laughed, clapping me on the back.
Vancha March was covered in grime and dirt and smelt like a wolf. It was his standard appearance. Vancha was a true being of the wilds. Even among vampires, he was considered an extremist. He only wore clothes that he'd made himself from wild animal skins, and he never ate cooked meat or drank anything other than fresh water, milk and blood.
As Harkat limped towards us - having finished off his attacker - Vancha sat and crossed his legs. Lifting his left foot, he lowered his head to it and started biting the nails!
"So this is the Little Person who talks," Vancha mumbled, eyeing Harkat over the nail of his left big toe. "Harkat Mulds, isn't it?"
"It is, Sire," Harkat replied, lowering his mask.
"I might as well tell you straight up, Mulds - I don't trust Desmond Tiny or any of his stumpy disciples."
"And I don't trust vampires who... chew their toenails," Harkat threw back at him, then paused and added slyly, "Sire!"
Vancha laughed at that and spat out a chunk of nail. "I think we're going to get along fine, Mulds!"
"Hard trek, Sire?" Mr. Crepsley asked, sitting down beside the Prince, covering his eyes with cloth again.
"Not bad," Vancha grunted, uncrossing his legs. He then started in on his right toenails. "Yourselves?"
"The travelling has been good."
"Any news from Vampire Mountain?" Vancha asked.
"Lots," Mr. Crepsley said.
"Save it for tonight." Vancha let go of his foot and lay back. He took off his purple cloak and draped it over himself. "Wake me when it's dusk," he yawned, rolled over, fell straight asleep and started to snore.
I stared, goggle-eyed, at the sleeping Prince, then at the nails he'd chewed off and spat out, then at his ragged clothes and dirty green hair, then at Harkat and Mr. Crepsley. "He's a Vampire Prince?" I whispered.
"He is," Mr. Crepsley smiled.
"But he looks like..." Harkat muttered uncertainly. "He acts like..."
"Do not be fooled by appearances," Mr. Crepsley said. "Vancha chooses to live roughly, but he is the finest of vampires."
"If you say so," I responded dubiously, and spent most of the day lying on my back, staring up at the cloudy sky, kept awake by the loud snoring of Vancha March.
Chapter ELEVEN
WE LEFT the vampets lying where we'd killed them (Vancha said they weren't worthy of burial) and set off at dusk. As we marched, Mr. Crepsley told the Prince of Mr. Tiny's visit to Vampire Mountain, and what he'd predicted. Vancha said little while Mr. Crepsley was talking, and brooded upon his words in silence for a long time after he finished.
"I don't think it takes a genius to surmise that I'm the third hunter," he said in the end.
"I would be most surprised if you were not," Mr. Crepsley agreed.
Vancha had been picking between his teeth with the tip of a sharp twig. Now he tossed it aside and spat into the dust of the trail. Vancha was a master spitter - his spit was thick, globular and green, and he could hit an ant at twenty paces. "I don't trust that evil meddler, Tiny," he snapped. "I've run into him a couple of times, and I've made a habit of doing the opposite of anything he says."
Mr. Crepsley nodded. "Generally speaking, I would agree with you. But these are dangerous times, Sire, and-"
"Larten!" the Prince interrupted. "Its 'Vancha', 'March' or 'Hey, ugly! while we're on the trail. I won't have you kowtowing to me."
"Very well-" Mr. Crepsley grinned " - ugly." He grew serious again. "These are dangerous times, Vancha. The future of our race is at stake. Dare we ignore Mr. Tiny's prophecy? If there is hope, we must seize it."
Vancha let out a long, unhappy sigh. "For hundreds of years, Tiny's let us think we were doomed to lose the war when the Vampaneze Lord arose. Why does he tell us now, after all this time, that it isn't cut and dried, but we can only prevent it if we follow his instructions?" The Prince scratched the back of his neck and spat into the bush to our left. "It sounds like a load of guano to me!"
"Maybe Evanna can shed light on the subject," Mr. Crepsley said. "She shares some of Mr. Tiny's powers and can sense the paths of the future. She might be able to confirm or dismiss his predictions."
"If so, I'll believe her," Vancha said. "Evanna guards her tongue closely, but when she speaks, she speaks the truth. If she says our destiny lies on the road, I'll gladly pitch in with you. If not..." He shrugged and let the matter rest.
Vancha March was weird - and that was putting it mildly! I'd never met anyone like him. He had a code all of his own.
As I already knew, he wouldn't eat cooked meat or drink anything but fresh water, milk and blood, and he made his clothes from the hides of animals he hunted. But I learnt much more about him during the six nights it took us to reach Lady Evanna's.