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it all from the beginning. Sometimes
Montrovant wondered if the old one had even
been behind his own determination to follow
what had turned into a fool s quest for so many
years. He watched the weatherbeaten trail, his
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DAVID NIALL WILSON
horse shifting slightly beneath his weight, then
turned to Jeanne.
 The Order will be there, but they are not going
anywhere, he said.  I think we would be best
served by a short visit to the village below. We have
not fed in two nights, and the others are growing
weary. Tired men are careless men, and we cannot
afford to be careless. Not now.
Jeanne grinned back at him.  I was thinking
much the same thing, but did not know how you
would take such a suggestion. You are right,
though. If there is one ally that serves us now as it
has always served us, it is time. Neither Gustav, nor
Kli Kodesh is in danger of succumbing to old age.
The artifacts, and the Grail itself, are timeless.
Montrovant turned to the others.  We will spend
this night, tomorrow, and possibly another night
beyond that in the village. St. Fond, ride ahead and
have quarters prepared, see to the service of our
mounts. Have the innkeeper prepare food and
wine. Our time on the road may be near an end,
and we need our strength, and our wits, for what is
to come.
There were murmurs of assent, and a general
appreciative rumble at his words. The road was a
place they all felt comfortable, but part of the appeal
of the road was the wine, women, and food
awaiting them at its end. If Montrovant was going
to allow them that space, it would be savored and
appreciated, binding each to him a bit more fully
TO DREAM OF DREAMERS LOST
220
than he had been before.
Montrovant took the left fork and pressed his
horse to a slow canter, heading down to where
white spirals of smoke showed the boundaries of the
village. St. Fond took off at a faster pace, widening
the gap between himself and the main party
rapidly and soon disappearing from sight altogether.
Jeanne watched him go, considering for a
long moment taking off after the knight and joining
him.
He could sense that they were near mortals,
could almost taste the hot blood on his lips. Two
nights was not a horribly long time for him to have
gone without feeding. He d been longer, but for
some reason the knowledge of what was to come
was spurring him onward, increasing the appeal.
Jeanne loved battle. He lived for the red haze that
robbed him of everything but the moment. He had
the berserker s blood in his soul; his Embrace had
not cost him that, but had heightened it. He was
not himself once the battle was joined. It was a
hunger skewed slightly from the ache that had shivered
through his veins since his death. He felt the
imminence of fate. He felt powers larger than those
he commanded at work, pieces fitting together, and
it was all building to a focus of energy that permeated
the air. That aura of coming change built
within his mind and his thoughts, and it charged
his senses, feeding the hunger.
He followed closely behind Montrovant, who
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DAVID NIALL WILSON
was leading the small group slowly down the mountain,
and he noted with a quick smile how the dark
one shifted in his own saddle. They held their pace
for a while, as though to give in to the urge for
speed would be a sign of weakness, but in the end
it was too much, even, for Montrovant. They sped
their slow progress to a canter, and then a slow
gallop, rushing down the softly rolling hills in a
tight pack.
As they neared the break in the trees and brush
that signaled the border of the small village,
Montrovant reined in a bit, slowing to a trot. There
was no sense bursting into the village like an angry
mob. It was enough that they approached
openly. If any came searching, or if they ran into
any of Gustav s spies, then their cover was blown.
Montrovant did not seem to be concerned any
longer with secrecy. From the moment he d glanced
up that trail to the mountains he d acted differently,
his eyes shining, his step more lively. The
dark one was not afraid of Gustav, or his Nosferatu.
He was not concerned with the how of getting into
whatever safe house Kli Kodesh had dreamed up.
He was already holding the Grail in his hand as far
as he was concerned, his arrogance peaking. This
was the moment he d been born for, and he was
loving it, reveling in the excitement.
Jeanne knew that, as usual, he would have to be
the practical one. When the trouble started, and
their enemies surrounded them, it was Jeanne who
TO DREAM OF DREAMERS LOST
222
would watch the rear, who would seek the safe
route through whatever maze presented itself.
Montrovant would be the one to charge through
that opening, and the trick was to point the dark
one in the right direction before he led them into
a trap.
Jeanne had no illusions of their destined success.
Kli Kodesh was the most ancient vampire he had
encountered, so old that the things Jeanne knew as
true for himself and Montrovant did not apply in
the same way when you thought of him. Gustav
himself was not young to the Blood, and they had
come across both characters enough times in the
past to know that whatever was to take place on
that mountain, it would not be simple, if it was
possible at all, to break through to where whatever
was being kept by the Order was stashed.
Odd as it seemed, Kli Kodesh was their one hope
for success. The ancient had created the Order of
the Bitter Ash with his own blood, but he could not
be trusted to back them completely. He had lived
too long, seen too many born and ground to dust.
Very little in the world could hold his interest for
any length of time, and Montrovant, for all his
faults, had proven to be one of those things that
could.
Kodesh might not ever allow the dark one close
enough to truly get his hands on the Grail, but he
would certainly make it possible for him to try. It
was more entertaining that way, and Kodesh lived
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DAVID NIALL WILSON
for entertainment. Without his little intrigues and
games, Jeanne was certain that the ancient would
have sunk to the earth and never risen long before.
The one constant in all their dealings with Kli
Kodesh was that none involved could trust him. He
would send one group one way, another the opposite,
stand in the middle and laugh as a third group
neither of the others suspected marched up the
center and tilted the odds. The thing to do, then,
was not to look for a way through to the treasures.
Not to try to beat the puzzle the old one would
pose, or to fall into the game he would begin. The
secret was to try to anticipate which were the
pieces of this game, and to avoid them altogether,
while appearing to fall into the trap.
They had never succeeded in getting within
hand s reach of the treasures the Order guarded, but
they had come much closer than Kodesh and
Santos, now apparently destroyed, would have
cared to see them. This time had to be different.
This time they would need intrigue of their own,
and a good measure of luck, because Jeanne knew
that, for good or ill, Montrovant had set his mind
on this. He had decided it was to end, and here.
That meant the stakes, and the risks, would be
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