"But you were discovered, you were revealed, and the vampaneze were dispatched by all bloody means possible. There is no way to change these things, even if we wished to. The future may be bleak, but we shall face it on our feet, as vampires, with firm hearts and wills, as is our way.

"I have sympathy for you, Kurda," he continued. "You acted as you thought you must, without consideration for yourself, and for that you are to be commended. However, you also acted without consideration for our laws and ways, and for that you must be punished. There is only one fitting punishment for the crime you have committed, and it is absolute — execution.»

A heavy collective sigh swept through the Hall. "Had I a choice," Paris went on, "I would grant you the right to die on your feet, as a vampire, with pride. You do not deserve to die ignominiously, bound and blindfolded, impaled on stakes from behind. I would let you embark on a series of harsh tests, one after the other, until you perished honorably. And I would drink a toast to your name as you were being cremated whole.

"But, as a Prince, I have no choice. Whatever your reasons, you betrayed us, and that harsh fact of life overrules my own wishes." Rising, Paris pointed at Kurda and said, "I vote that he be taken to the Hall of Death and summarily executed. After that, he should be dismembered before cremation, so that his soul may never know Paradise."

After a brief pause, Mika Ver Leth stood and pointed as Paris was pointing. "I don't know if it's just or not," he sighed, "but we must obey the customs that guide and maintain us. I too vote for the Hall of Death and shameful cremation."

Arrow stood and pointed. "The Hall of Death," he said simply.

"Does anyone care to speak on behalf of the traitor?" Paris asked. There was complete silence. "We may be persuaded to reconsider our judgment if there is opposition," he said. Still no one spoke.

I stared at the pitiful figure in front of me and thought of how he'd made me feel at home when I arrived at Vampire Mountain, how he'd treated me like a friend, joked with me, and shared his knowledge and years of experience. I remembered when he knocked Arra Sails off the bars, and how he'd offered his hand to her, the look of hurt on his face when she refused to take it. I recalled how he'd saved my life and gone out on a limb for my sake, risking even the success of his mission to help me out of a jam. I wouldn't be here now, alive, if not for Kurda Smahlt.

I started to rise, to speak up for him and request a less horrible form of retribution. Then Gavner's face flashed through my mind, and Arra's, and I stopped to think what he'd have done if Mr. Crepsley, Seba, or any others had gotten in his way. He would have killed all of them if he'd had to. He wouldn't have taken pleasure in it, but he wouldn't have stopped either. He'd have done what he felt needed to be done, the same as any true-hearted vampire.

Sinking back, I shook my head miserably and held my tongue. This was too big. It wasn't for me to decide. Kurda had fashioned his own downfall. He must stand alone to face it. I felt lousy, not sticking up for him, but I'd have felt just as lousy if I had.

When it became apparent that the judgment of the Princes was not going to be called into question, Paris signaled the guards on the platform, who surrounded Kurda and stripped him bare. Kurda said nothing as they robbed him of his clothes and pride, just gazed up at the roof of the Hall.

When Kurda was naked, Paris held his fingers together tight, dipped them in a bowl of snake's blood that had been hidden behind his throne, and ran his hand over Kurda's chest. Mika and Arrow followed suit, leaving three ugly red marks — the sign among the vampires for a traitor or one of bad standing.

Once Kurda had been marked, his guards led him away. Nobody spoke or made a sound. He kept his head bowed low as he exited, but I saw tears dripping down his cheeks as he passed. He was lonely and scared. I wanted to comfort him, but it was too late for that. Better to let him pass without delay.

This time, as he was guided past the assembled vampires, nobody jeered or tried to harm him. There was a brief pause when he reached the open doors, to clear the way through the vampires packed beyond, then he was escorted out of the Hall and down through the tunnels to the Hall of Death, where he was caged, blindfolded, raised above the pit of stakes, then brutally and painfully executed. And that was the end of the traitor… my friend… Kurda Smahlt.

Ididn't go to watch Kurda being killed. Nor did I stick around for the trials of the vampaneze. Instead, I returned to my cell, where I remained until it was time, late the next night, for the funerals of Arra Sails, Gavner Purl, and the others who'd died fighting to protect Vampire Mountain. Gavner's body had been recovered after the battle. Kurda told his guards where to find it, and a search party soon located it, stuffed into a deep crack far down the mountain.

Streak and his fellow wolf had returned to the pack. They slipped away without a fuss, not long after the fighting had finished, leaving their dead companion behind. I never had a chance to say good-bye or thank them.

I wondered if I'd ever run with the pack again. It seemed unlikely, even if my life was spared by the Princes. Now that Council was coming to an end, the wolves would be dispersing, to return to their usual hunting grounds. I'd probably seen the last of Streak, Rudi, and the rest.

I spent the time between the trials and the funerals working on my diary. I hadn't touched it since coming to Vampire Mountain. I read back over my earlier entries, then described all that had happened to me since I left the Cirque Du Freak and set out for the mountain with Mr. Crepsley. I managed to lose myself in the diary, so time flew by. I normally didn't enjoy writing — too much like homework — but once I started telling the story, the words tumbled out with hardly any effort. My pen only paused a couple of times, when I slipped away to eat and caught an hour or two of sleep.

I hoped the writing would help me get things straight in my head, especially with regards to Kurda, but I was just as confused by the end as I'd been at the beginning. No matter how I looked at it, I couldn't help feeling that Kurda had been both a hero and a villain. Things would be simpler if he was one or the other, but I couldn't pigeonhole him. It was just too complicated.

Kurda had wanted to prevent the destruction of the vampires. To that end, he'd betrayed them. Was he evil for doing so? Or would it have been worse to act nobly and let his people perish? Should you stay true to your friends, whatever the consequences? I found it impossible to decide. Part of me hated Kurda and believed he deserved to be killed; another part remembered his good intentions and amiable manner and wished there'd been some other way of punishing him, short of execution.

Mr. Crepsley came to fetch Harkat and me before I finished writing. I'd gotten most of the story down, but there was a bit left, so I stuck my pen between a couple of pages to mark my place, set it aside, and accompanied the sorrowful vampire to the Hall of Cremation to bid farewell to our dear departed friends and allies.

Gavner Purl was the first to be cremated, since he was the first who'd fallen. He'd been dressed in a simple white robe and placed on a thin stretcher in the cremation pit. He looked peaceful lying there, eyes closed, short brown hair carefully combed, lips worked into a smile by the Guardians of the Blood who'd prepared his body. Though I knew the Guardians had removed all of Gavner's blood, along with most of his internal organs and brain, there were no visible signs of their handiwork.