by Phil Foglio
Higgs’ foot caught it square on the snout. It fell back into the surging crowd, squealing. “Destroy them!”
“The Castle,” he said, annoyance beginning to creep into his voice. “So not only are you still injured and out of bed against doctor’s orders, but you’re also running around the streets listening to the Castle!”
Zeetha stomped her foot on the claws of another lizard soldier climbing towards her. “Well, I kind of wanted to see it, okay?”
Higgs refused to relinquish the larger conversational issue. “You are not treating your injuries seriously at all! This is not some kind of game!” More lizards showed up, and the airman relished taking some of his frustrations out on them.
Zeetha tsk-tsked as another lizard tried to grab her hair. She grabbed hold of Higgs’s sleeve to stabilize herself and delivered a double kick that sent it arcing off to the street below. Higgs nodded approvingly, but then frowned. “And don’t ‘tsk’ me! That’s what got a sword through you!”
Zeetha paused. A relevant point, but she had to admit whatever had been done to her at Mamma’s had been astonishingly recuperative. “Are you still going on about that?”
“You cannot be so cavalier about this,” Higgs snarled. “I’ve told you and told you, there are people here who . . . who need you!”
“I’ll be fine! Besides Agatha has got lots—”
Higgs whirled and grabbed her shoulders. Glaring furiously at her, his grip like iron, “ME,” he roared, his eyes locked onto hers. “Me! Not the Lady Heterodyne. Me! I want you!” He realized instantly what he had said. “I mean . . . I need you.” He looked surprised. “And, I want you, to . . . need . . . me.”
Zeetha stared up at him.
“Castle,” she yelled. “Are you still there?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”
“You’re sure that Agatha’s all right?”
“Oh yes, it’s all over but the mopping up at this point.”
“Good.” She jabbed a finger into Higgs’s chest. “Then we need to talk.” Higgs slumped like a man who’d had more than his share of “talks.”
Thus he was unprepared when Zeetha grabbed his shirt and slung him into the howdah, stepped in behind him, and locked the hatch. He started to say something and then discovered Zeetha’s mouth was in the way. He pulled himself free long enough to take a deep breath and saw Zeetha was already busy stripping off his clothing. “Ah, that kind of talk.” He began to reciprocate.
The Castle had no receptors that allowed it to observe or interact directly with the howdah or its inhabitants. So, after several rather dull minutes, as far it was concerned, it noted the clank, as well as the bulk of the soldiers, were even now passing out of the town gates. “Try to be back by midnight, at least,” it groused.
Atop the battlements of the Southern Gate, several notables watched the escaping army, unaware of the romantic activities taking place in its midst. “That’s the last of them,” Krosp observed with satisfaction.
Vanamonde took a deep breath and allowed himself to slump against the stonework. Another flurry of activity caught his eye. “With all the Jägers in hot pursuit, I see.” He rubbed his temples. “It’ll be interesting having them openly around town from now on.”
Vidonia blinked and looked around, as if noticing that they were all still alive for the first time. “We really did it, didn’t we?”
Van smiled a smile that didn’t reach his tired eyes. “If by ‘we,’ you mean ‘she,’ then yes, she really did. She won.” He glanced out at the chaos before him, as the entire Wulfenbach army began to pull up stakes and exit the valley as quickly as possible. There’ll be some good salvage out there, he mused. “And by ‘won,’ I mean ‘didn’t get crushed by the empire—’ ”
“Yet,” Tarvek interjected.
Van waved a hand. “I was getting there.”
Tarvek realized he was being a bit of a pill and turned towards Krosp. “The Baron won’t let this stand, but at least it looks like we’ll all live to see what he sends next.”
“I’m just happy about the whole not being crushed part,” Violetta said.
Krosp stretched and rubbed the pads of his paws together. “The question is, will he send an envoy or a better army?”
Tarvek ran an eye over the defenses that seemed to be repairing themselves even as he watched. “It’ll have to be a crashing good one to take this place now. He’s more likely to use trickery somehow—try to catch us by surprise . . . ”
“SURPRISE!” called a voice from above. Everyone snapped their heads upwards in time to see Agatha being lowered down in the remnants of Gilgamesh’s pinnacle by a squad of Mechanicsburg Torchmen. “Tarvek!” When she saw him below, Agatha leapt the last meter or so and landed in his arms. “We did it,” she sang out. “We really did it! The Castle is fixed!”
“That I am,” the Castle spoke up, “And not a moment too soon! The state of architecture in this town is simply shocking! Hardly a proper venue for Mechanicsburg’s renaissance of terror! Might I suggest a giant statue of my dread mistress crushing the Baron under her heel?”
“No statue,” Agatha snapped.
“You’d be in a pretty dress,” the Castle wheedled.
“No!”
Van shrugged. “A pity. The tourists would’ve loved it.”
Vidonia gave him the side-eye. “I don’t think we’re going to have to cater to tourists for quite a while.”
Van stared at her and nodded slowly. “Oh. No, I suppose not.”
Meanwhile, Agatha huddled with Tarvek. “I saw Gil,” she told him.
“You did? Here? Where is he?”
“I’m . . . well I’m not sure.”
Tarvek studied her face. “What happened?”
“I . . . well . . . he was just being so completely insufferable, and . . . and I was being all mad and stuff and he kept trying to kidnap me and ordering me around and trying to stop me—”
“He what? After all we did to help you?”
“I know! He tried to sedate me! I got so angry—”
Tarvek stared at her. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”
“No!” Tarvek raised an eyebrow. “And I didn’t even try to! So I . . . I told Franz to get him out of my town.”
“Franz . . . the dragon?”
“I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t eat him.” And even if he tried, she thought, Gil wouldn’t have let him. “There was something wrong with him. It was like he was arguing with himself.”
“He was obviously compromised.” Tarvek swore. “The Baron must have done something to him.” He looked at Agatha and shook his head. “I can’t believe he was here, and you sent him away! We could have kept him a prisoner! Used him as a hostage! A bargaining chip!”
Violetta broke in. “You think so? I don’t. Guy like that? In my professional opinion, he’d have escaped and caused you even more trouble.”
Tarvek and Agatha looked at each other. There was the ring of truth in Violetta’s words, but— “But we should have tried,” Tarvek said helplessly. “We could have . . . we might have . . . ”
Agatha came up behind him and rested her head on his shoulder.
“We could have kept him safe,” they whispered together.
Tarvek reached back and took Agatha’s hand. “We’re just going to have to rely on his natural, annoying ability to come up smelling like a rose after every single stupid predicament he gets into.” He sighed. “I just wonder how’ll I’ll wind up looking like a fool when he’s done.”
Agatha turned him around and looked into his eyes. “Not to me, you won’t.”
Tarvek looked down into her eyes and for a moment wondered why his feet were no longer touching the ground. “So. Compromised, you say.”
Agatha nodded, “You know what’s wrong with him?”
A bit of Tarvek’s euphoria drained away. “I suspect he’s under some form of mind control.”
Agatha shuddered. She had very much wanted to be wrong. “You sai
d that there was only one wasp capable of infecting a spark. Surely there hasn’t been time to make another.”
“Right! And that’s good news for us. The Baron has been collecting and studying the work of conquered sparks for years. He must have access to lots of ways to enslave someone’s mind. He’ll have used one of those on Gil.
“But Lucrezia is a first-class megalomaniac (even for a spark), she’s convinced that her slaver wasps are better, and to be fair, she’s right! So at some point, they’ll reverse whatever process they have him under now, and she’ll wasp him. As soon as she can, I’m guessing.”
Agatha stared at him. “How can that possibly be good news?”
“Because once she thinks she has him securely under her control, he’ll be allowed more freedom. But Gil has my notes, which contain a formula that will make him immune to her wasps! If he’s half the sneak I think he is, he’ll dose himself, if he hasn’t already, and he’ll be able to fight her while operating right under her nose!” Tarvek’s grin faltered. “If . . . ”
“If what?”
“If he has time to make it. If he’ll take it. If he, well, if he trusts me.” He looked at Agatha. “There are a worrying number of ‘ifs.’ ”
Agatha took his hand in hers. “I trust you. I trust both of you. The Baron and Lucrezia may have him now, but they won’t keep him long.” She squeezed his hand. “We won’t let them.”
Tarvek took a deep breath. “Yeah.” He looked down at Agatha and the moment seemed perfect. He leaned forward to kiss her— and she shrieked in surprise. Tarvek recoiled. The swarm of creatures Agatha had seen scurrying towards them scrambled up his back, burrowed under his shirt, and squealed and nipped lovingly at his earlobes. Tarvek whooped and gyrated in place for several seconds before he realized what it was that he was covered in: “Wasp weasels!”
He looked up and saw Ruxula, the Vespiary Squad officer he’d rescued, limping towards him. She had been expertly taped up, but obviously needed the staff she leaned on while walking. When she saw Tarvek recognize her, she saluted him. Tarvek rushed over and all but kicked her feet out from under her in his effort to make her sit down. “You were horribly injured, you know.”
“Yep.” Ruxala leaned her head back against the cool stonework and closed her eyes. “Can’t be helped. The empire is trying to wipe us out. Stop our work. Someone had to check out this town you’ve brought us to as soon as possible. Had to see how infested it is.”
“Infested?” Van looked alarmed. “With what?”
“There’s a heretofore unknown type of revenant,” Tarvek explained. “It acts like a normal person and will do so for years. But if it’s given an order by Lucrezia, or one of the Other’s minions, it will obey them absolutely.”
Van shook his head in horror. “We don’t have any revenants here!”
Tarvek sighed. “No, the whole point is—”
“He’s right.” Everyone stopped and looked at Ruxula. She took a deep breath and sat up. “We’re still checking everybody, of course, but the only revenants we’ve found here are a couple of tourists. Everyone who lives here seems to be clean.”
Tarvek looked skeptical. “None of them? But how is that even possible? Statistically, the spread across the empire should be . . . ”
Ruxala nodded. “Yeah. It is weird. According to our calculations, at least ten-to-twenty percent of any given population should be infected. But here? Zero.” She looked at him quizzically. “We’d been impressed because we’d assumed that you knew.”
“I didn’t.”
“Lucrezia might have,” Agatha said slowly. “She really didn’t want to come here.”
“Interesting,” Tarvek mused. “Dispersal is looking more prudent than ever.”
“Dispersal?”
“The wasp eaters are too important to keep all in one place, no matter how safe it seems.”
Ruxala nodded. “If Prince Sturmvarous hadn’t warned us, the Vespiary Squad would have been wiped out already, along with all of our weasels. And so, on his advice, some of our people have already left Mechanicsburg, disguised and hidden amongst the other Wulfenbach forces in the retreat. They’ll make their way out of the empire and set up research labs in Paris, Istanbul, and maybe even England.”
Tarvek rubbed his hands. “And they’ll all be reporting to me.”
Violetta snorted. “I wonder whose idea that was.”
“Oh, he didn’t want us to,” Ruxala assured her. “We insisted.” Krosp bit his own tail out of sheer envy.
As Ruxala gave a fascinated Agatha a brief explanation of enhanced mustelid physiognomy, Violetta and Tarvek rested against a parapet. “So,” Violetta asked, “what do you think is going to hit us next?”
Tarvek shrugged and began polishing his spectacles. “Really, cousin? You have to ask? The empire is in chaos. Mechanicsburg is still putting itself back together. Agatha may be supported by the town, but she is still nothing but an unsubstantiated rumor to the outside world, and thus not yet completely secure. Who do you think will step up to cause her problems?”
A voice roared up from the courtyard below. “Lady Heterodyne! There you are!” Everyone peered down to see Martellus von Blitzengaard, who looked like he had seen a fair amount of fighting if his once-pristine attire was to be believed, sitting tall upon the warhorse he had acquired. He was surrounded by the diminished, but still daunting, ranks of the Bloodstone Paladins.
Violetta nodded in understanding. “Ah. Our family, of course.”
Tarvek handed her a chocolate-covered mimmoth. “Right in one.”
A small crowd began to gather and stared up at the mounted man in awe. Martellus sat a bit straighter and spoke a bit louder. “Come! We are victorious! Your subjects await you!” He paused and looked around expectantly, and a ragged cheer arose from the spectators. He turned back and swept a hand towards the saddle before him. “Allow me the honor of escorting you to the cathedral square! Come and take my hand!”
Agatha strode down the stairs. “No, that won’t be necessary.”
Martellus looked surprised. “What? But I have a horse.” The horse nodded in agreement.
“Thank you for the thought,” Agatha said as she breezed past. “But no.”
They turned onto the main boulevard heading towards the cathedral in the distance. Martellus wheeled his horse about, and with a synchronized stamp and crash of arms, the Paladin clanks swung into formation behind them. As they passed, people could be seen emerging from buildings, manholes, and, in one surprising instance, the crown of a tree.
Van looked about and leaned in towards Agatha. He surreptitiously jerked his head back towards Martellus, who was determined to catch up without looking like he had been deliberately left behind in the first place, and murmured, “He does look impressive, my Lady. Perhaps for your initial impression—”
“Sitting next to him?” Agatha hissed. “Have you talked to him?” Van had the sense to keep quiet. “Besides, if I feel the need to look impressive . . . ” Agatha snapped her fingers, and Franz reared his head above the roofline of a butcher’s shop that had taken severe damage, a half-eaten cow carcass in one hand. He saw the group looking at him and unsuccessfully tried to hide the carcass by stuffing it into his mouth. “Meff, Mifftreff?”
She glanced back at Van. “Well, you get the idea.”
Van nodded. “He is correct about one thing, Mistress, we should proceed to the Red Cathedral. There are important things the new Heterodyne needs to do there.”
Agatha glanced about and had to concede that at the moment, she really didn’t know what she should do. “What kind of things?”
The seneschal looked pensive. “Well, mostly ceremonial, I’ll admit.”
Agatha stared at him. “Ceremonial? Are you serious? We just fought a huge battle! Everything is in chaos! People are hurt! I . . . I should be cleaning this place up! And getting something to eat! And maybe even sleeping!”
Tarvek stepped in and cleared his throat. “There will be time
for that, but you must understand that while Mechanicsburg and the Heterodynes may flout most of Europa’s traditions, they take their own very seriously.”
Van nodded. “It’s not all ceremonial, my Lady,” he said in a low voice. “Your ancestors knew better than to put all of their power under the control of the Castle. Once the Doom Bell has rung, there are additional city systems that need to be ‘told’ there is an actual Heterodyne present, and they have to be trained to recognize you. Only then will they respond to you. It’s a bit of a bother, and one of the reasons they didn’t ring the bell much. But once you’ve done them, it’ll allow the rest of us to get things back to normal a lot easier.”
There it was in a nutshell. She was no longer simply “Agatha Clay” or even just (just!) “Agatha Heterodyne.” She was the Heterodyne of Mechanicsburg. A major power in Europa, and one that would be tested from numerous directions in the coming days.
But she was no longer alone. She had a town; a marvelous, unique town that desperately wanted her to succeed, filled with deviously talented people who needed her like a plant needed the sun. She had monsters, and clanks, and a dragon, and the most awful Castle in existence, who would obey her every command. It was a beginning.
“Ah! There you are!” Agatha’s musings were short-circuited as a fresh crowd emerged from a side street, Othar Tryggvassen at its head. He strode up and bowed towards Agatha. “Congratulations! Anyone who can foil the Wulfenbachs deserves the approbation of the continent!” He swung about and regarded the surrounding crowd. “Am I right?”
And then the cheering started. Full throated and joyful this time, it spread outwards, and soon echoes of it could be heard throughout the town. Othar smiled genially and leaned in. Scant centimeters from Agatha’s face, he lowered his visor and she saw that his eyes were as cold as ice. When he spoke, his voice reached her alone. “I have heard many things about you regarding the Other. Disturbing things. My apprentice—” he jerked his head towards Tarvek— “has explained things in a way that show you in the best light, but I will want to hear the particulars from you. If you are truly a victim, know that Othar Tryggvassen—Gentleman Adventurer—will do all he can to help. But if you are a willing party to this monstrous evil, know that all of this—” the subtle motion of his hand somehow managed to encompass everything within the Valley of the Heterodynes “—will not save you.” Looking into his eyes, Agatha believed him.
