By Anne Fraser and Barbara Zuchegna
With assistance from Sharon Pickrel and Jean Lamb
Copyright 1999

Chapter Twenty

When they had covered about half the distance to the ATV, Adrian snatched the girl's body from Richard's shoulder and kept running. Richard had been keeping up, but it was just his stiff damned pride; the girl was small, but carrying her was awkward and tiring, and Adrian figured the last thing he needed tonight was a king having a heart attack on him. Richard didn't say anything; he hadn't said anything since they’d left the palace. Adrian might not have to breathe, but he did.

When they got to the dark alleyway where they'd left the vehicle, Adrian climbed easily up into the back seat, dropped the girl there, and slithered between the bucket seats to the wheel. Richard followed him into the back seat and began to unwrap the enveloping bedspread to examine the child.

"Give me your shirt," he said, a moment later.

Adrian already had the ATV moving, backing out into the deserted street, but he didn't argue. He managed to shift gears, unbutton his shirt, crank the wheel around, and slip first one arm and then the other from the shirt and toss it over his shoulder. Jiggling the rear-view mirror around, he saw Richard impersonally jamming the bunched-up shirt between the girl's legs. His own shirt, Richard wrapped around the girl as he tossed the bloodied bedspread out into the street.

There was no pursuit. Very probably, the palace was in too much confusion to worry about what was going on in the streets. Adrian kept their speed down, as Kamal had, until they had cleared the outskirts of the town, and then opened the ATV up and raced north. In the back seat, Richard had arranged the girl's body with her hips raised, supported by his arms on his lap, her head down.

They didn't talk at all on the way back to Sa'idi. Adrian looked into the rear view mirror occasionally, but Richard's attention seemed to be entirely taken with keeping the girl from being jostled too much by their wild ride. But when they reached the village and Adrian drove the ATV into its stable, and Richard still had nothing to say, Adrian was beginning to get a nasty, suspicious feeling. Was Richard remembering that he had been ordered around, back there in the palace, by the son of a cheap whore?

Jake, Will, and Ed Perry came spilling into the stable, drawn by the sound of the ATV's engine. Will, never a man to waste words, assessed the situation and took charge of the girl immediately. "Take her to Ardeshir's women," Richard said, and Will hurried away. There was blood all over the front of Richard's pants, where the girl's hips had lain.

"Who was that?" Jake demanded, grabbing Adrian's arm. "What happened? Did you find out where T'beth is?"

"Yes." Adrian was still watching Richard, who wasn't looking at him at all. Damn. He was, Adrian thought. He was pissed off about it.

"Well?" Jake said. "Where?"

"A place called Khelat."

This told Jake exactly nothing. Ed Perry, more experienced, asked, "How did you find out?"

Adrian looked at him. "We asked," he said, and the look on his face warned Ed to be satisfied with that.

Richard was leaving the stable, and Adrian hurried to catch up with him, leaving the other two behind. They were going to have this out, he thought. He was damned if he was going to put up with some kind of royal snit. He was right to tell Richard what to do, under the circumstances.

He caught Richard's arm and pulled him around. Angry now, himself, he said, "If you've got something on your mind, you want to spit it out?"

Richard looked at him as if he was a bug. His voice was ice. "You didn't want me going all sentimental on you?" he said.

Oh. Caught off guard, with the smell of blood hot in his nostrils, Adrian let his irritation show in his voice. "Okay … maybe I shouldn’t have said that," he said. "I just thought you might have trouble shooting a woman."

"A vampire? Attacking me, with ten times my strength and intent on killing? I was not aware that I had given you cause to think me so foolish."

Damn. Jake and Ed Perry had caught up and were watching curiously. Richard and Adrian were squared off, each of them half-naked, their bodies pale in the darkness of the narrow street, anger seething almost visibly from every line of them. Adrian said, between his teeth, "You haven't. And I said I was mistaken."

Richard turned and kept walking.

Adrian followed, a few of his own storm clouds gathering. He had killed tonight; he had tortured a man and then killed him. He had killed fellow vampires. He had killed mortal guards. The churning inside him was not entirely from the Ayatollah's contaminated blood. He was in no mood to put up with any irritation ... and Richard was being supremely irritating.

"Talbot!" Jake grabbed his arm again, looking just as irritated as Adrian felt. "You want to tell us what happened tonight? What did you do back there? And who is the kid you brought with you? Did you talk to Zanjani, or..."

He stopped as Adrian, furiously, spun around and spilled all his memories of the entire evening, unedited, into his mind. Everything ... the scene of Zanjani raping the little girl, the torture of Zanjani, the fight with the Iranian vampire, the dead mortal guards...

Jake's hand dropped away and his face paled. "Satisfied?" Adrian asked savagely, and turned and walked away. He was almost immediately sorry. He wasn't mad at Jake, but he was damned if he was going to apologize. Adrian Talbot did not apologize … not exactly.

When he walked into Ardeshir's house, he found Richard facing Alexis with a patient ... and very courteous ... look on his face. Alexis just looked madder than hell. She was saying, with admirable restraint, Adrian thought, "Forgive me, Your Grace. I thought it was a perfectly reasonable question, under the circumstances."

"Of course, you're right," Richard agreed, with a small bow. "And I'm sure Adrian will be happy to answer it. I, as it happens, have necessary tasks to perform. Excuse me."

If looks could have killed, those that Alexis addressed to Richard's back as he left the room would have folded, spindled and mutilated as well. As a fellow sufferer, Adrian was prepared to commiserate, but Alexis took one look at him and stormed off in the opposite direction, toward the women's quarters of the house.

Ed Perry came in, followed by a somber Jake, and looked around the room with a curious light in his eyes. Whatever he had been about to say died in his throat as Adrian turned on him, his eyes flaring red and his whole body leaning forward, as if one word would bring on a very unpleasant response.

Will Scrope came back, from the direction of the women's quarters. There was blood on his shirt. With one glance, he understood that things were not exactly amicable. Into the ugly silence, he said, "Ardeshir's wives say that the child is in no danger."

It was the perfect mood softener. Adrian straightened, and the red faded from his eyes. Perry walked past him and took a seat in his now-favored corner. Jake slouched down onto a stool and looked at no one. Adrian turned and headed toward his specially-shielded room; there were still a couple hours of darkness left, but he was in no mood to make small talk.

Will, his eyes speculative, came over and hunkered down on his heels beside Jake. He said, in a masterpiece of understatement, "The King's Grace and your friend have had a falling out."

Jake sighed. "The whole thing is stupid. They'll get over it."

Will nodded, and said nothing further. After a minute, Jake started to tell him what he had learned from Adrian about what had happened at the palace. Ed Perry got up and came over to hear it, too. At one point, he interrupted, "They killed Zanjani? Christ, the whole place is gonna be in an uproar."

"What were they supposed to do?" Jake flared. He was sick with the images Adrian had poured into his mind. "Leave him there to rape some other little kid? Or to tell his vampire friends to throw T'beth out in the sunlight in the morning?"

Perry subsided and Jake continued, but when he got to the business about the female vampire in the basement, Will interrupted to say, "This is what they are angry about now?"

"I think so," Jake said, sighing. "It's just some stupid remark Adrian made, something about not wanting Richard to go soft because it was a woman or something like that. Adrian didn't mean anything by it, Will."

Will nodded, thoughtful, and said nothing else as Jake finished the story. Then, he said, "So we must find this place, Khelat, and get your friend T'beth out of there before the Ayatollah's enforcers decide to kill her?"

"Hell, how do I know what we're gonna do?" Jake asked helplessly. "But that's what we came here for, isn't it? I mean ... before your boss decided that he had to save the whole damned province and all the local vampires and god knows who the hell else? Or is rescuing T'beth even part of the plan anymore?"

Will looked offended. "Jake, the King's Grace would not forget his obligation to save your friend."

"Maybe." Jake didn't look convinced. "But I'm beginning to wonder just how far down the list she is, Will."

Ed Perry, who had heard the word "vampire" from Richard in the street and now again from Jake, and who had taken careful note of Will's "the King's Grace," walked back to his corner without saying anything at all and with a rather stunned look on his face.

Who in the hell were these people?

Richard found Ardeshir in the kitchen, where he had pretty much been driven by the contentious guests in his house. He was drinking coffee and suffering too much attention from the younger females of his household, who had been awakened this early by the unexpected arrival of the injured girl from Saravan, and who seemed eager to apply the same attention to Richard.

"Forgive me," Richard said, "but we must speak privately."

Ardeshir rose at once, looking a bit relieved, and spoke quickly, in his own language, to the clustered girls. He led Richard from the kitchen, through a back hallway, to the room where the village elders had told the history of their people to Richard and Adrian only two nights ago. By the time they were comfortably settled, two of the girls had followed, one with a tray of coffee with sliced breads and cheeses, and another with one of the white silk kaftans Richard had brought with him.

As Richard stood, to allow the girl to slide this over his arms and up onto his shoulders, she made it clear, with words and gestures, that she wanted to take his pants for cleaning. When Richard looked at Ardeshir, irritated, Ardeshir made a small shrugging gesture. Women were women, he seemed to be saying, and there was no point in arguing. Sighing, Richard sat and allowed the girl to pull off his boots, then stood again and unzipped and stepped out of his pants. With a satisfied air, pants over her arm, she left them alone at last.

Ardeshir poured coffee for his guest and waited, politely, for Richard to get to the point.

Richard said, "The Kanum T'beth is being held at a fortress in the desert at a place called Khelat. Do you know of it?"

Ardeshir did. He got up and went to a wall cupboard, rummaged for a moment, and came back with a paper cylinder that he unrolled on his desk. It was a map of eastern Iran. Richard came to the desk to follow his host's pointing finger. "Here," Ardeshir said, "is Sa'idi. And here is Saravan. Over here..." His finger moved to the right, "is the old fortress of Khelat. It has been deserted for many years."

"No longer, it seems," Richard said, studying the map. "Is there a road from there to Saravan?"

"There was, long ago. The fortress was one of many along the border, built in the days of the British expansion in India. They guarded the passes through the mountains that were large enough to admit troop movements, but they were all abandoned after the first World War, when it was clear that Britain would extend her Indian frontiers no further."

"Is it possible to move from Sa'idi to Khelat, or is it necessary to go first to Saravan?"

Ardeshir thought about it for a moment, his eyes on the map. "It should be possible, with the ATV, or with horses, to travel only as far south as the foothills of the mountains...here, and then turn east to Khelat. That would be well north of Saravan."

"How great a distance would that be?"

Again, Ardeshir gave it some thought. "About 65 kilometers ... perhaps 40 miles. It is very rough country, vaje-ye."

And too far to go by horseback in one night. Richard went back to his stool and sat, thinking. Then, taking a deep breath, he began to tell Ardeshir about the evening's adventures in Saravan.

Ardeshir listened without interrupting, but his eyes widened when Richard mentioned the drugging of the Exalted with something called scarlet crowfoot. Richard stopped, and said, "You know of this plant?"

"Yes, of course." Ardeshir was clearly surprised. "The juice is commonly used by the mountain people ... as a narcotic, and as a painkiller. It is very addictive, and the Exalted have always shunned those who use it. We understood that it makes the blood ... distasteful, and sickens the Exalted."

"Zanjani discovered that when taken in wine, instead of blood, it puts the Exalted into a deep coma. The Exalted in the cave can be restored, Vaje Ardeshir, but only with the blood of one who has taken this juice, and only after draining the donor entirely."

"Or perhaps," Ardeshir said thoughtfully, "by drinking from many donors, but taking less from each?"

Richard didn't know, but the idea certainly seemed plausible. Ardeshir was warming more to the notion as he thought about it. With an air of excitement, he said, "Vaje Richard, there are but thirteen pints of blood in a human body. Our village alone could provide thirteen or more donors for each of the sleeping Exalted Ones. Every family in the village could be honored. It would be an event that would be sung down the ages of our history as no other."

Richard could almost see the tiny triplets making up their verses already. To get Ardeshir back on track, he asked, "Does anyone know how many men and women the dishonored Exalted One, Bahram, turned to his service?"

"How many became Exalted through him?" Ardeshir shook his head mournfully. "No, I'm sorry, none here would know. They were not people of this place, and they did not come here ... except after they had agreed to serve the Ayatollah, and then they came only in small groups."

He had brought up something else Richard wanted to know. "With the Ayatollah Zanjani dead," Richard asked, "who will now take his place?"

It took Ardeshir a moment to remember, but then he said, "It has happened that someone is sent ... from Teheran, but more usually there is a council of the local imams, and they nominate someone from among themselves, and present that man for approval to the faqih ... the religious leader of the country. That is how Zanjani was chosen."

"And until that is done, who is in charge in Saravan?"

"The civil government ... the mayor and his council."

"Do you know this man ... or know much about him?"

Ardeshir shrugged. "I have met him. He is a bureaucrat; not a strong man. A man who does his duty, and tries to avoid trouble. The men of the civil government are appointees of the Ayatollah. It has been many years since there was an election. It is not supposed to be so, but we are far from the capital, and that is the way it has been done."

Richard thought about it for a moment, and then sighed and stood up. "It would be helpful, Vaje Ardeshir, if someone from the village could go into Saravan today, to learn whatever can be learned about what is happening there, and to return here by sunset." Ardeshir nodded, accepting this, as he, too, came to his feet. "It will also be necessary to collect as much of this plant, scarlet crowfoot, as possible, and to begin extracting the juices from it in whatever way seems best." Another accepting nod. "And before I rest, I will review what your young man, Puzhman, has accomplished in the way of silver weapons. While I do so, if it is possible, I would greatly appreciate it if your women could prepare a bath."

Ardeshir bowed. "It will be done, vaje-ye."

"I will be at the blacksmith's shop, if I am needed," Richard said. He took a moment to stomp into his boots and turned away.

He would not allow himself to think about the argument with Adrian. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being unreasonable, but the remark had stung, probably much more than Adrian could have known. It would never have occurred to Richard that his feelings were hurt; he thought of it as an insult, and reacted in anger. But the truth was that he had shown repeatedly that he had faith in Adrian, when no one else did, and Adrian had not had faith in him. If he was angry, it was because he could not allow himself to recognize what he really felt.

It was his own foolishness that was at fault, he thought as he walked through the darkened square toward the brightly-lit blacksmith's shop, where Puzhman and his helpers had been working all day and all night. He was not a man who made friends. Except for those young men who had grown up with him at Middleham, he had never had a friend ... and they were five hundred years dead. He had been a fool to believe that would ever change.

It wasn't Adrian's fault. He knew he was not easy to like or to know. Accepting that, and letting the anger drain away, he decided that when Adrian awoke, at sunset, he would apologize for his behavior. While they were engaged in this mission to retrieve Adrian's friend, they needed each other. They could work together; that was enough.

Only it wasn't.

Before retiring for the morning, Adrian sought out Alexis. He found her talking to a giggling group of Baluchi girls, including the one Jake had entertained himself with. Jake would probably be mortified to know that Lafeeta was discussing his performance. But as fascinating as that promised to be, Adrian wanted to speak to Alexis before he went to bed.

When he had her alone, he gave her another kiss on the cheek.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"Thank you," he said. "Without your information, we wouldn't have been able to find out where they're keeping T'beth. We'll be heading there tomorrow; are you coming with us?"

"Ah," she said, eyes slightly downcast. "No, Adrian. I'm sorry, but I think I have served any useful purpose I might on this trip, and my presence does irritate His Grace so. Ed will get you out of Iran, and you and Richard will manage to free T'beth without my help, I know. And don't be so hard on Jake! The poor dear is trying his best, you know."

"I know," Adrian admitted. "I plan to make this up to Jake. Somehow. But, Alexis, I wish you wouldn't go. I really enjoy your company."

"Then you're the only one," she said with a flash of unusual self-pity. Then she laughed it off. "You and I will meet again, Professor," she promised him. "You still owe me that drink, remember? But I really must go; my darling C.C. needs me."

"The company you hang around with," he tsked. "Vampires, kings, elder gods..."

"Not much different than oilmen, really," she said. "Be careful, Adrian. Give my love and regrets to the others. I hate goodbye scenes."

"I guess you know best, Alexis, but I'll miss you. You be careful, too."

She waved and faded out in a whirl of silk. Damn, Adrian thought, she was a silly, frivolous, hard-hearted businesswoman Mom, and he'd miss her. Richard wouldn't, Jake and Will might or might not, and he'd have to think of a good story for Ed.

Later. It was bedtime, and he was going to bed alone this time. He was still in a dangerous mood; Hanan wouldn't be safe with him.

When Adrian woke up, his first thought was that he was hungry. He had thrown up most of Zanjani's tainted blood, and he had not trusted himself with Hanan, and now the drive to feed was irresistible. His second thought was that he was damned if he was going to crawl to any stiff-necked, high-born asshole who sneered down his nose at the most innocent remark. He had had to grovel before the bastards for too many years in the past, and he was not about to do it again. He'd … almost … said he was sorry, or at least as close to it as he could come, and if His Royal Grace wanted more than that, he could shove it up his royal ass.

In not the best of all possible moods, Adrian dressed and opened the door to the corridor ... and found the immediate solution to the first problem.

Hanan was waiting ... and she was not alone. "Vaje Adrian," she said imploringly, "these are my very best friends ... Zohreh, Azita, and Ghazal." Three young girls, in varying shades of pale to deep bronze, bowed their heads and looked up at him with gleaming dark eyes. "We have no right to ask, I know," Hanan said, her voice soft and fearful, "but we thought that, since you were alone in the daylight hours ... and it would bring so much honor to the families of my friends ... and you must seek sustenance anyway..."

Her voice trailed off, lamely, but the hopeful light in her eyes didn't fade. The three friends, all of them uncommonly pretty and undeniably eager, moved imperceptibly closer, and the scent of them, of the hot blood coursing through their veins in their excitement, was dizzying. The limpid dark eyes gazing up at him said that these girls hoped to be honored in more than one way, but he could make them believe they'd had sex...

He stepped back and allowed them to pass into the room, each of them trying her best to make the maximum body contact in the process, and then followed them, pulling the door closed behind him and plunging the room into unrelieved blackness. Hanan whispered, "Vaje-ye, the taper...?" and he moved past her to strike a match to the lone candle on the bedside table. By the time he turned away from the small, flickering flame, all four of them had shed their clothes and were converging on him, pulling at his clothes, soft little hands stroking, soft lips sliding over his throat, blood racing with overwhelming heat.

He didn't have time for this, he thought. Richard would be waiting, and if Adrian didn't show up when he was expected, Richard would undoubtedly be unforgivably courteous. But as he took the first girl's wrist to his mouth, as the sweet, hot blood flowed over his tongue, other enthusiasms were being awakened by her friends, and the idea of Richard's annoyance added a certain spice to what was already a feast...

Jake Fowler had spent the day, again, with Lafeeta. It had occurred to him to wonder where the rest of her family was during these long days, and she laughed and told him her family was only too happy to leave the house to them, for the honor of entertaining the pale-skinned visitor. The idea made him uncomfortable, but Lafeeta had become very skilled at soothing both his nerves and his conscience.

At sometime during the long, lazy hours, he was aware that Richard was dreaming of Liliana again, but not of sex, and he found himself almost overwhelmed with hopelessly romantic feelings that sent his mind whirling back to Toronto ... to Grace, to loss and sadness and loneliness. He cuddled a confused Lafeeta and stroked her face gently ... and went back to sleep.

He went back to Ardeshir's house after sundown and found Richard, in as foul a mood as he had ever displayed ... and that was pretty damned foul, pacing back and forth across the length of the big main room while Ed Perry watched from his accustomed corner in silence and Will leaned disconsolately against a wall and tried to be invisible. Jake, who thought invisible had a lot to recommend it, went to Will and assumed the same position.

"I take it," he said softly, as Richard reached the far end of the room, "something isn't going the way it's supposed to?"

Will looked at him with noncommittal eyes. "Adrian," he said, "has not appeared. And he does not answer a knock on his door."

Oh. Jake thought about it for a minute. Richard was heading back this way, and Jake stepped back into the corridor leading toward Adrian's sealed room. He knew the minute he approached the door that Adrian wasn't alone. 'Talbot,' he sent silently, 'get your ass out here before your royal friend fries all the rest of us.'

Adrian's answer was crystal clear, but strained. He was obviously otherwise occupied. 'Go away.'

'Go away hell! You coulda got your rocks off in Toronto, Talbot. This isn't what you dragged me halfway around the goddamned world for!'

Adrian sighed into his mind and said, 'All right, all right ... just a minute.' A moment later, Jake was hit with the sudden, vivid onrush of sexual orgasm, and he knew damned well Adrian had sent it to him deliberately. By the time Adrian opened the door, busily buttoning his shirt, with the light from the corridor revealing naked bodies spilling all over his bed and onto the floor, Jake was ready to belt him one.

"Don't," Adrian said quietly.

"Christ, you smell like a brothel."

Adrian smiled with vicious sweetness and reached up to pat his cheek as Jake tried to jerk away. "Only to you, I assure you. And don't look so self-righteous, Jake. I have to feed."

"That wasn't a comfortable burp you made a point of sending to me."

"Don't bother to thank me," Adrian said, brushing past him. "I was happy to share."

Having seen to it that Jake was in no better mood than any of the rest of the group, Adrian made his way to the main room, with Jake on his heels, to confront Richard.

Surprisingly, Richard contented himself with, "If you are ready, we have a great distance to travel tonight. We will be bringing the black tent, in case it is impossible to return before sunrise."

"I'm driving," Adrian said, challengingly.

Richard looked inexhaustibly patient. "No, you are not. Kamal will drive, since the ATV must be returned before morning, whether or not we can accompany it."

Without another word, he turned and walked out through the open door and into the square, leaving everyone else to follow. Will, sighing mournfully, bent to pick up the large pack beside him, slung it over his wide shoulders, and led the sullen exodus.

"You had to pick a moonlit night," Adrian bitched.

Richard sighed. He was being insufferably patient; he knew perfectly well that Adrian was looking for a fight. "I did not pick the night," he said, with reasonable superiority. "And the moon will set in another two or three hours."

"Which will leave me about two hours of darkness before I fry," Adrian answered.

Richard did not respond with the obvious answer that occurred to Jake, listening to all this. He said, "Kamal is looking for a suitable cave; if he cannot find what you require, we will use the tent."

They weren't going to try to get into the fortress tonight, then, Jake realized. Even he could sense the vampires moving about the place; to Adrian, their emanations must be overwhelming. Adrian had identified at least twelve different Exalted Ones in the place.

The fortress known as Khelat had been abandoned for many years, as Ardeshir had told Richard. Built of cut sandstone blocks, it looked like nothing so much as a crumbling sandcastle now. Corner towers had broken away and fallen into rubble along the bottom of the thirty-foot walls, and large sections of the walls themselves had crumbled along the top, which gave the place a jagged, saw-toothed silhouette in the moonlight. The large opening at the front, facing them, had once been protected by huge gates, missing now, but the twisted hinges were still visible, hanging loose from the wooden frame.

The place was big; Ardeshir had told Richard it once held a full brigade of border patrol troops, over four hundred men, but what little they could see of the interior, through the yawning gateway, showed that the interior buildings, backed against the walls, had fallen in on themselves years ago. The place was scattered with rubble everywhere, and there were no lights visible. Anyone stumbling across it by accident would assume, as they were intended to, that no one had been here in many years.

"Where is everybody?" Jake whispered. He was crouched down, with Adrian and Richard, behind a low shield of boulders tumbled down from the ridge behind them, as close as they could go without revealing themselves in the bright moonlight to anyone watching. They were at the bare limit of his ability to sense anything from inside, and even Adrian was straining, reaching outward, groping with his mind.

"Underground," Adrian said. "Richard, the Kindred here are all underground. And T'beth is here." The relief he felt, just to sense her presence, was carefully kept from his voice.

"Underground, as well?"

"Yes." He swallowed, and was irritated that it was loud enough for Richard to hear, and to turn to him, questioningly. "She's very weak," he said stolidly. "She's not comatose, but she's very weak. I don't think she's drugged. They've starved her."

Richard was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "How many human guards are there?"

"I'm not sure. There are several, but their ... I cannot sense them as well from here. When it's darker..."

"Adrian," Richard said, "we need their uniforms. Can you do that?"

"When it's darker," Adrian repeated, confidently.

Richard nodded and began to back away from the boulder screen, crouching low, to make his way back to the ravine where they had left Will and Ed Perry, with their rifles and supplies. Adrian and Jake followed.

"It is the only way, Adrian," Richard said, with the same maddening patience.

He had just announced that they would make their attempt on the fortress tomorrow, in full daylight, while Adrian slept ... and Adrian was not happy about it.

"We are too few in number," Richard said reasonably, "to attack a dozen fully awake vampires who know the layout of the underground area when we do not. Our best chance is to attempt to bluff our way into the fortress in the uniforms of the human guards, and to deal only with such guards as are left ... while the vampires sleep."

He was right; he was always, damnably, right. If they could get the uniforms.

Kamal came slithering up out of the night, his teeth gleaming happily. He had found a cave, he said, that would protect the Exalted One when the sun rose.

"Did you check for bear droppings?" Adrian asked immediately, and Kamal looked puzzled. His English was sketchy.

"I will look," Will said, and went with Kamal to learn where the cave was located ... and to look for bear droppings.

'Christ, Talbot,' he heard Jake's scornful thought, 'you're gonna have a semi-automatic rifle with you. You could blow away any bear who got too friendly.'

'While I'm asleep? And there's no such thing as a friendly bear.'

Will returned only a few minutes later, to say to Richard, "I told Kamal to return the ATV to Sa'idi, Your Grace. He will be back, in the same place, at sunset tomorrow." His eyes turned to Adrian. "And the cave is much too small for bears."

"Did you check?" Adrian insisted.

"I could not get into it," Will confessed. "But Kamal did, and it is too small."

"I don't see why we can't just use the tent," Adrian said. There were no bears in tents.

"Because," Richard said, as if explaining to the village idiot, "if you do not need the tent, we can use it to wrap your friend when we bring her from the fortress."

Oh. Adrian subsided, sulking. He knew he had no reason to be sulking, but he knew, too, that Richard's intolerable patience was deliberately irritating. There was more than one way to sulk, and Richard was an expert in his own miserable way.

Time passed with maddening slowness, and the sullen mood the group had brought with them from Sa'idi seemed to deepen with each passing minute.

Ed Perry approached Jake when he had moved far enough from the others to allow reasonable privacy. "Am I the only one around here who doesn't know something just a wee bit important?" he asked.

"Probably."

"Come on, Jake. What's all this crap about vampires? You guys aren't serious, are you?" But there was uncertainty in his voice. Ed wasn't an idiot; the impossible idea that had occurred to him, long ago on the train, had begun to crystallized this morning when Jake told them what had happened at the palace. But it was a reach for Ed to take it seriously.

Jake figured now was as good a time as any for Ed to lose his virginity. "You don't want to believe it, then don't," he said. "Adrian Talbot is a vampire. Our friend, T'beth is a vampire. And the Ayatollah's 'enforcers' are vampires."

Ed was silent for a minute, and then he said, wonderingly, "You're not kidding, are you? You really believe that."

"I didn't," Jake admitted. "Until Adrian bit me. You haven't been treated to the fangs and glowing red eyes bit yet, but even you've seen his eyes turn a little bit red when he gets pissed off. And Christ, Ed ... you've been wondering about it for a week or more. Why Adrian has to be shielded from the sun, why he's only awake at night..."

Ed sat back, leaning against the rock wall of the ravine, his head shaking slowly. "Either I'm crazy, or all the rest of you are," he said.

Jake shrugged. "Don't believe it, then. It's easier. Believe me."

There was a long moment of silence, and then Ed said, "Who is Richard? Why does Will call him 'the King's Grace?'"

Jake sighed. "If you've got a problem with vampires, you're gonna freak at that one."

"He's a soldier," Ed said. "A field commander. That's obvious. But there are damned few kings running around these days. And none who lead armies."

"'These days,' you're right."

Ed frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, hell." Jake was really getting tired of it. "He's exactly who he says he is: Richard Plantagenet. Born five hundred and thirty-odd years ago, one-time King of England. For the record, you're better off not believing that, either."

"Shit." Ed's scorn was evident. "You're telling me that little guy is supposed to be Richard the Lionhearted, come back to life in the Twentieth Century to rescue lady vampires from fanatical Iranian vampires?"

"No," Jake said patiently. "I'm telling you that little guy is Richard the Third ... come back to life in the Twentieth Century for his own reasons. Rescuing a lady vampire ... singular, and I wouldn't let T'beth hear you call her a lady ... is a sideline."

"Richard the Third? The king who knocked off the princes in the Tower?" Ed was making no effort to conceal how ridiculous he thought all of this was.

Irritated, Jake said, "Now there's a thought. Why don't you ask him? I'd kinda like to hear the answer to that one myself."

Perry was shaking his head again. "Jake, come on. You can't expect me to believe all this. What about Will? Who's he?"

Jake, finally, had to laugh. "Hell ... Will's almost normal. Except that he's about 930 years old. Will's a knight who fought in the First Crusade. You wanta hear dirty jokes in old Saracen, he's your man."

"Yeah, okay. And what about you? You say 'Shazam' and turn into Spiderman or some damned thing?"

"I'm an anthropologist," Jake said, with a note of longing in his voice. "I'm an ex-graduate student, ex-football player, ex-normal, ex-sane, ex-ordinary human being, and almost certainly, ex-employee of the Royal Ontario Museum. And it's Captain Marvel who says 'Shazam,' not Spiderman."

"You know you're crazy? And if the rest of them believe all this crap, you're all crazy?"

Jake nodded his head mournfully. "You're absolutely right. Trust me. But until you're back home ... wherever the hell that is, it's probably a good idea to act as if you believe all of it. Especially the part about the vampires. Adrian won't mind if you think he's just a weirdo who thinks he's a vampire, but the guys inside the fortress ... I'd take them seriously, Ed."

"When I start to take any of this seriously," Ed said succinctly, "you can save me a room in whatever loony bin the rest of you escaped from."

He got up and moved away, and Jake was left wondering just exactly how courteous Richard was going to be when he found out what Perry had been told ... and by whom.