Much of the vampires' joy abated at Vanez's words. Even the eager, vampaneze-hating Arrow looked hesitant. "You think we'll lose that many?" he asked quietly.

"We'd be lucky to just lose thirty or forty," Vanez replied bluntly. "They've picked their position expertly. We won't be able to rush or overwhelm them. We'll have to advance a handful at a time, taking them on one-to-one. Our superior numbers will lead to eventual victory, but it won't be quick or easy. They'll hurt us — badly.»

The Vampire Princes shared an uncomfortable look. "Those sorts of figures are unacceptable," Paris stated bleakly.

"They are a bit on the high side," Mika reluctantly agreed.

"Is it possible to create a diversion?" Mr. Crepsley asked, joining in the discussion. "Could we flood or smoke them out?"

"I've thought of that," Vanez said. "I don't see any way of pumping enough water down there to trouble them. Fire would be ideal, but the cave's well ventilated. The ceiling's high and full of tiny cracks and holes. We'd have to get inside the cave and light a huge bonfire to create enough smoke to bother them."

"Then it will have to be a full-frontal attack," Paris declared. "We will send in our best spearists first, who should eliminate many of them before we go hand-to-hand. Our losses should not be as great that way."

"They'll still be substantial," Vanez objected. "Spearists won't have much room to operate. They might take out the guards by the entrance, but after that…"

"What option do we have?" Arrow snapped. "Would you rather we went down with a white flag and discussed peace terms?"

"Don't bellow at me in that tone!" Vanez shouted.

"I'm as anxious to get at them as any vampire here. But it will be a Pyrrhic victory if we fight one-to-one."

Paris sighed. "If that is the only victory we can hope for, we must accept it."

In the short silence that followed, I asked Seba what a Pyrrhic victory was. "That is when the price of winning is too high," he whispered. "If we defeat the vampaneze, but lose sixty or seventy of our own troops doing so, it will be a worthless victory. The first rule of warfare is never to weaken yourself irreparably while destroying your enemies."

"There is one alternative," Paris said hesitantly. "We could run them off. If we made a lot of noise approaching, I am sure they would scatter rather than face us. The vampaneze are not cowards, but they aren't fools either. They will not stand and fight a battle they are sure to lose."

Angry mutters greeted this suggestion. Most vampires believed that would be dishonorable. They agreed that they'd rather confront the vampaneze.

"It is not the most honorable of tactics," Paris shouted over the heated whispers, "but we could pursue and fight them on the outside. Many would escape, but we would capture and kill enough of them to teach them a harsh lesson."

"Paris has a point," Mika said, and the muttering stopped. "I don't like it, but if it's a choice between letting most go or sacrificing forty or fifty of our own…»

Heads began nodding, slowly, unhappily. Paris asked Arrow what he thought of the suggestion. "I think it stinks," he snarled. "The vampaneze aren't bound by our laws — they can flit once outside. We'd catch virtually none of them." Flitting was the superquick speed vampires and vampaneze could run at. By tradition, vampires were not allowed to flit on the way to and from Vampire Mountain.

"Were I a General," Arrow went on, "I'd object most vehemently to letting them go. I'd rather fight and die than concede ground to the enemy in such a meek fashion." He sighed miserably. "But, as a Prince, I must put the welfare of our people before the stirrings of my heart. Unless somebody can think of a plan to distract the vampaneze and clear the way for an attack, I will agree to running them off."

When nobody spoke up, the Princes called their leading Generals forward and discussed the best way to drive off the vampaneze and where they should place their men on the outside. An air of disappointment hung heavily over the Hall, and most vampires stood or sat with their heads bowed, disgusted.

"They don't like this," I whispered to Seba.

"Nor do I," he replied, "but pride must be checked in the face of such aggressive odds. We could not allow our men to perish in horrifying numbers, all for the sake of honor. Reason must be obeyed, no matter how galling it might be."

I was as upset as the rest of the vampires. I wanted revenge for Gavner Purl. There was no satisfaction in letting the vampaneze wriggle off the hook. I'd spoiled their plans to invade the Hall of Princes, but that wasn't enough I could imagine the smirk on Kurda's face when he learned of our diplomatic decision.

As I stood, pouting, a tiny insect flew into Madam Octa's cage and got trapped in a small web she'd spun in a corner. The spider reacted quickly and advanced on the struggling captive, disposing of it. I watched, mildly interested, then stiffened as a crazy thought struck me.

Gazing at the feeding spider, I let my brain whirl wildly, and the plan formed within a matter of seconds. It was simple yet effective — the very best sort.

Standing on my tiptoes, I cleared my throat three times before I managed to attract Mr. Crepsley's attention. "Yes, Darren?" he asked wearily.

"Excuse me," I called, "but I think I know how to distract the vampaneze."

All conversation ceased, and every pair of eyes settled on me. I stepped forward unbidden and spoke nervously. As I outlined my proposals, the vampires started to smile. By the time I finished, most were laughing outright at the wicked, cunning scheme.

Voting was brief and unanimous. My plan was put to the vampires, and, as one, they roared their approval. Without any further ado, the Princes and Generals fell to organizing their attack forces, while Seba, Mr. Crepsley, and I slipped away to gather together our own army of troops and prepare for the first stage of what, in a war film, would probably have been called Operation Arachnid!

OUR First stop wasthe cave of Ba'Halen's spiders, where Seba had taken me when I was suffering after my Trial on the Path of Needles. The quartermaster went in by himself, carrying Madam Octa in the palm of his left hand. He was grim-looking and empty-handed when he emerged, eyes half-closed. "Did it work?" I asked. "Were you able —" He shushed me with a quick wave of a hand. Closing his eyes completely, he concentrated fiercely. Moments later, Madam Octa crept out of the cave, followed by a spider with light grey spots on its back. I recognized that spider — I'd seen it mooning after Madam Octa before.

Behind the grey-spotted spider came several more of the mildly poisonous mountain spiders. Others followed, and soon a thick stream of spiders was flowing out of the cave and gathering around us. Seba was directing them, communicating mentally with the wild eight-legged predators.

"I am going to transfer control now," he told Mr. Crepsley and me when all the spiders were in place. "Larten, take the spiders to my right. Darren, those to my left."

We nodded and faced the spiders. Mr. Crepsley was able to communicate without the use of aids, as Seba was, but I needed my familiar flute to focus my thoughts and transmit them. Raising it to my lips, I blew a few practice notes. It was awkward, because of my bent right thumb — which still hadn't straightened out — but I quickly learned to compensate for the damaged digit. Then I stood awaiting Seba's word.

"Now," he said softly.

Gently, I played and sent a repeated mental message to the spiders. "Stay where you are," I told them. "Hold, my beauties, hold."

The body of spiders swayed uncertainly when Seba stopped transmitting his thoughts, before fixing on mine and Mr. Crepsley's. After a few confused seconds they clicked into sync with our brainwaves.