Leaving Vanez, we made for the store-rooms to see Mr. Crepsley's old mentor, Seba Nile. At seven hundred, Seba was the second oldest vampire. He dressed in red like Mr. Crepsley, and spoke in the same precise way. He was wrinkled and shrunken with age, and limped badly — like Harkat — from a wound to his left leg gained in the same fight that had claimed Vanez's eye.

Seba was delighted to see us. When he heard we were going exploring, he insisted on coming with us. "There is something I wish to show you," he said.

As we left the Halls and entered the vast warren of lower connecting tunnels, I scratched my bald head with my fingernails.

"Ticks?" Seba asked.

"No," I said. "My head's been itching like mad lately. My arms and legs too, and my armpits. I think I have an allergy."

"Allergies are rare among vampires," Seba said. "Let me examine you." Luminous lichen grew along many of the walls and he was able to study me by the light of a thick patch. "Hmmm." He smiled briefly, then released me.

"What is it?" I asked.

"You are coming of age, Master Shan."

"What's that got to do with itching?"

"You will find out," he said mysteriously.

Seba kept stopping at webs to check on spiders. The old quartermaster was uncommonly fond of the eight-legged predators. He didn't keep them as pets, but he spent a lot of time studying their habits and patterns. He was able to communicate with them using his thoughts. Mr. Crepsley could too, and so could I.

"Ah!" he said eventually, stopping at a large cobweb. "Here we are." Putting his lips together, he whistled softly, and moments later a big grey spider with curious green spots scuttled down the cobweb and on to Seba's upturned hand.