And what they accomplished tonight in this obscure Serbian inn, by the flickering light of cheap tallow candles that smoked unpleasantly, would affect the fate of many individuals, human and otherwise, on more than one continent, for centuries to come—though only a few select people would ever know about it.

Jurgis Radvila had arrived in Belgrade the previous day and had been waiting inside the inn since then. So he was dry and relatively comfortable—though this private back room’s amenities did not extend to a hearth fire—when Dr. Maximillian Zadok arrived, dripping wet and shivering from the miserable weather of early spring.

As Max issued a breathless greeting to his colleague, a cocky servant boy helped him remove his wet cloak and hat. The innkeeper and his wife were already abed, but the boy, perhaps identifying this courteous foreigner as a gentleman likely to reward him with a few extra coins for good service, proposed bringing him some bread, cheese, and ale. Max accepted the suggestion, and he offered to pay handsomely to have his weary horse fed, rubbed down, and stabled for the rest of the night.

Radvila told the boy that he would not be using his own bed tonight, for which he had paid in advance; his colleague could have it. He added that his own horse would need to be saddled and ready to depart within the hour.

The boy looked puzzled, since traveling so late at night was decidedly eccentric—as well as dangerous. The men dismissed the lad. They felt no inclination to explain to a curious servant that they both had unusual means of defending themselves against the usual perils.

Nonetheless, Max warned, “Traveling conditions are abysmal tonight, my friend.”

“I have a very long journey ahead of me. The sooner I leave, the sooner I will be in Vilnius.” The Lithuanian shrugged, his heavily lined face revealing no dismay about enduring the wet, windy night. “And I am restless after two days in this inn. You know how inactivity vexes me.”

“I do apologize for my late arrival,” Max said. “I had thought to be here several days ago. But the boat I was on foundered. And the condition of the roads . . .” He shook his head.

“I was growing concerned. I am relieved to see you.”

“And I you,” Max replied. “I gather that the, er, work was completed successfully?”

“Of course,” said the gray-haired man.

“I had no doubts, but nonetheless, I am relieved. It was a daunting and dangerous endeavor. As I well know.”

“It was necessary,” Radvila said simply. After a brief pause, he said, “You have come alone, Maximillian?”

The two men spoke to each other in Latin, as was their established habit; although they were both fluent in multiple languages, it was their only common tongue. Of necessity, they had each learned to speak a little Serbian during their sojourn in this region, but their fluency in it stopped well short of intelligent conversation. Their syntax in the local language relied primarily on phrases such as, “Where is the vampire?” and “Open the grave.”

Max was about to respond to Radvila’s question when the door opened and the servant boy carried in a modestly loaded tray. He set it down, then told them he would go awaken the groom and deliver the instructions about their horses. The boy closed the door behind him as he departed.

As soon as they were alone again, Radvila asked, “Does your solitary arrival mean you have been unsuccessful in securing the necessary support for the treaty?”

“On the contrary. I am alone, as you observed, but not empty-handed.” After a brief, longing glance at the food and ale, Max picked up the leather satchel he had been protecting from the weather by shielding it under his traveling cloak. He opened it to reveal documents inside, kept safe and dry during his long, eventful journey from the imperial court in Vienna to this weary city in the Balkan Peninsula.

“What is this?” Radvila asked, watching as Max withdrew the documents from the satchel.

“This is the result of my negotiations with the Magnum Collegium and with the Austrian government. My efforts did not produce precisely the results that you and I discussed—”

“They won’t sign the treaty?” Radvila’s gray brows swooped down in sudden anger. “If my comrades and I had not intervened—”

“Calm yourself, my dear fellow,” Max said. “The treaty will be ratified tonight. The Magnum Collegium and the imperial court of Charles VI have each provided official letters authorizing me to sign it on their behalf. These are your copies of those documents.”

With a courtly gesture to honor the historicity of the occasion, Max presented the documents to Radvila, saying, “As the designated representative of the Magnum Collegium, which esteemed body recognizes the wisdom of your proposal to them, and as a temporarily appointed envoy of the Habsburg monarchy, which government expresses its gratitude for all that you and your comrades have done to help stabilize its newly acquired provinces in this volatile region—”

“We did not do it for the Habsburgs,” Radvila said brusquely.

“I hereby present you with these documents which guarantee that my signature on the Treaty of Gediminas will bind these parties to this sacred agreement, as surely as your signature will commit the Council of Gediminas to it.”

Radvila accepted the documents and looked them over. “I can’t decide whether their Latin is very weak or very good.”

“I don’t understand.”

“These letters are oddly phrased.”

“Are you saying they’re unacceptable?” Max asked with concern.

“Oh, I find them acceptable,” the Lithuanian said dryly. “But do you?”

“Oh. Yes. Well, er . . .” Max cleared his throat. “Although agreeing to this treaty was seen as prudent when I explained what I had experienced here in His Majesty’s eastern provinces . . .”

“Yes?”

“The treaty was also perceived as controversial and potentially a source of great embarrassment,” he concluded uncomfortably.

“Ah. I see. And thus if anything goes wrong . . .” Radvila waved one of the letters at his colleague. “You will be held responsible.”

“Yes. I will.” Max spoke with resolve as he added, “I accept that risk. I have seen too much to turn back now.”

Radvila extended his own hand to clasp Max’s with warm approval. “I knew the night we met that you were a man with the courage to see this through. Indeed, I have often been amazed to find such wisdom in one so young.”

“Oh . . . I’m a little older than I look,” his companion replied. “Now, since you must depart soon, I suggest we proceed.”

“Of course.” Radvila added with a touch of concern, “And then I urge you to eat and get some rest. If I may speak candidly, you look terrible.”

“I have no doubt of it,” Max said wearily.

Radvila laid out upon the wooden table three copies of the treaty he had brought with him. Max reviewed the elegant text, acknowledged that the terms were exactly as they had discussed, and accepted the quill that Radvila handed him.

A few moments later, all three copies were signed.

The two men stood silently, looking down at their signatures, and recognized the significance of what they had wrought.

Then the Lithuanian smiled and slapped his companion on the back. “Your vampire hunting days are over, Maximillian.”

“Indeed,” Max said. “I pray that I have done the right thing.”