by Phil Foglio
Reconstructing a human mind onto a clank’s cognitive engine had seemed like an insurmountable challenge to Tarvek, but Lucrezia had breezily claimed that she had prior experience transferring organic intellects to mechanical systems and visa versa. This disquieting claim was only made more so when she had demonstrated how easy it was for her to do, once Tarvek had constructed a new, untuned clank head.
The implications of this, and the realization that she had obviously already performed these experiments, had given Tarvek serious nightmares the few times he had managed to grab some desperately needed sleep.
The head in his hand smiled. “Tarvek, dear boy! I was beginning to think something had gone wrong.”
“Sorry. Perhaps I should have put a clock in with you. You know, like a puppy.”
“Father raised Sparkhunds[70].” Lucrezia replied conversationally. “They tended to eat clocks. We lost Auntie Skullchula’s favorite grandfather clock that way.”
Tarvek changed the subject. “This face is far more expressive than the last clank face. Some of my best work, really.”
“Not too much better, I trust,” Lucrezia said with a frown. “We don’t want people to notice.”
Tarvek smiled reassuringly. “You change your wigs, why not your face?” A thought occurred to him. “Actually, you could tell the townspeople this is how your face always was, and that’s what they’d tell anyone who asked.”
Lucrezia laughed in delight. “Oh, this will be easy! Now where is my sister?”
Tarvek tucked the head under his arm and threaded his way through the sprawled bodies on the floor. “She’s knocked out, but she’ll be fine.”
Lucrezia’s eyes darted about trying to see everything. Tarvek paused, and slowly spun about, letting her see the entire room. “Heavens,” she remarked. “I seem to have missed quite the party.”
They arrived at the frozen clank, and Tarvek quickly slotted the head onto the neck. “Nonsense,” he said, as he grabbed the head and gave it a final twist, snapping it into place. “The real party is just about to start!”
The reintegrated Lucrezia clank gave a shudder, and she stepped forward. She raised her hands, patted her head, and gingerly rotated it about. “That felt most peculiar,” she declared.
Tarvek turned away to get her wig. “Does everything work? Fingers? Toes?”
A sharp pinch upon his fundament caused him to whoop and leap upwards in surprise. When he spun about, Lucrezia regarded him innocently.
“I appear to have delicate motor control,” she reported, while waggling her fingers.
“That almost makes up for your lack of overall control,” he retorted.
Lucrezia stepped forward to retrieve the wig that had fallen to the ground and found herself pulled up short by the hoses connecting her to the catafalque.
She turned back to Tarvek. “Do I actually need this thing? It’s most inconvenient.”
Tarvek swallowed the lump in his throat. “No,” He said huskily, “No you don’t. But too many people outside of Sturmhalten know about it. In my opinion, we should keep it around until things die down, then we can come up with some story.”
Lucrezia nodded slowly. “Yes, too many astonishing things at once would look suspicious.” She looked over at the bearers stretched out upon the floor.
“That one doesn’t look at all well.”
“He’s dead.”
“Oh, yes, that would do it.”
“A little surprise from your sister, when my sister proved a bit recalcitrant.”
Lucrezia examined the wound and nodded. “Well, I do so love surprises.”
Tarvek jerked a thumb over to the door. “There’s a group of townspeople waiting outside. You can choose one of them to replace him. But we’d best get moving, they won’t wait forever.”
Lucrezia placed the wig on her head and delicately tucked it into place. “They will if I tell them to,” she muttered. She turned about and allowed Tarvek to buckle the coat on around her hoses. “But you’re right of course. The Baron’s man won’t.”
She turned a delivered nudge with her foot to the back of the Lucrezia’s head. “Wake up this instant, you lazy girl!”
Lucrezia’s eyes blinked open and she dragged herself to a sitting position. Tarvek graciously helped her to her feet. She wobbled a bit, and then saw the clank examining her. “Lucrezia?”
The clank leaned in. “Lucrezia?” The two then blinked their eyes at each other in a swift pattern that Tarvek failed to follow.
A mutual recognition code, he realized. Lucrezia had planned ahead.
Lucrezia/Agatha clapped her hands in delight. “It worked!”
The mechanical Lucrezia nodded. “Of course!”
The two then hugged each other and gave a squeal of pure delight. “We’re going to win!” They sang out.
“Mistress?” All three of them turned to see a shaken Vrin staring at the two women in astonishment.
Lucrezia/Agatha sighed. “Yes, Vrin. Oh, do close your mouth dear, it’s unbecoming. I did try to explain this to you. Both of us are your mistress, now. You are to obey us both. Do you understand?”
With more assurance than she obviously felt, Vrin nodded once.
Lucrezia/Agatha continued. “Now, Vrin, Prince Tarvek, you, and the rest of your sisters will leave with me through the tunnels. As far as the rest of Europa is concerned, we were never here. We will catch up to the others, establish a new base, reassemble my machines, and get to work.”
Mechanical Lucrezia continued. “I shall stay here. Everyone will think me the Princess Anevka, who has just rescued the town and driven off my traitorous, homicidal brother.” She patted Tarvek upon the cheek. “Such a shame he got away after losing the fight with my attendants, especially poor, valiant—” She gestured towards the dead man, and then turned to Tarvek. “What was his name?”
Tarvek blinked. “I have no idea.”
“—Augustine,” Mechanical Lucrezia decided. “His name was Augustine.”
“We had a dear pussy cat named Augustine,” Lucrezia/Agatha confided to Tarvek. “He also had to die. It was very sad.”
Mechanical Lucrezia put the back of her hand to her head with a soft clong. “When brave Augustine impaled himself upon my wicked brother’s sword, why, I almost wept because I was unable to weep for him.” She paused, and turned to Lucrezia/Agatha. “I think that last part needs some work.”
Lucrezia/Agatha patted her on the head. “Oh, you’ll be magnificent, darling. Klaus’ man will swallow it whole, leaving Tarvek and me to work on the Hive Engines in peace.”
Vrin and Tarvek started waking up the rest of the slumbering Geisterdamen. As they waited, Mechanical Lucrezia pouted. “Oh, I do wish I could work on that adorable little engine that’s supposed to infect Sparks. That has so much potential.”
“Now, now. We need you here being a good girl so you’ll be able to actually use them when the time comes.”
“Tedious, but necessary,” Mechanical Lucrezia conceded. She leaned in and dropped her voice. “But it’s so unfair, you’ll also get to console poor Tarvek over the loss of his castle.”
Lucrezia/Agatha gave a shiver of anticipation. “Mmm, yes, that will be fun. He still thinks he’s going to learn all our secrets and rescue our daughter, you know.”
Mechanical Lucrezia stifled a laugh. “Such a romantic. Those are so much fun to break.”
Lucrezia/Agatha licked her lips. “I know. At some point I will have to let him think he’s got her back.” She fluttered her eyes. “She’ll be ever so grateful, of course.”
Mechanical Lucrezia slapped her on the arm. “You wicked, wicked girl!” and the two of them giggled. Tarvek heard them laughing. He didn’t know why, but a shudder ran down his spine.
Several minutes later, all of the pale women were awake. Tarvek twisted a finial, and a door appeared in what had seemed to be a solid wall. The Geisterdamen trotted through to scout on ahead.
Mechanical Lucrezia waved them farewell. “Th
is is where we must part company, dear. I really must awaken my attendants and tell them what ‘really’ happened before I let anyone else in, and that will be ever so much simpler when you’re gone.”
Lucrezia/Agatha nodded. “Of course. I’ll contact you in a few months, when all the fuss has died down.” The two hugged, and then Lucrezia/Agatha shooed Vrin into the passage and swung the wall shut.
That done, she went in search of Tarvek. She found him in a small bolt-hole room. It had been stocked with food, bottles of water, and a large armoire, from which the prince was selecting a new outfit. She leaned against the doorframe and watched him as he dithered about selecting a shirt. The prince should be an easy conquest, when she got around to it.
She ran a connoisseur’s eye over the prince’s naked torso and snapped out of her reverie. Now that she was paying attention, she saw the muscles that moved on Tarvek’s back, as well as the ones on his arms. These were the result of determined exercise, and their patterns were similar to those she had seen on the myriad of fighting men she had leisurely examined as they slumbered beside her.
She felt a new layer of interest awakening within her. Prince Tarvek played the fop remarkably well, but his flesh unwittingly revealed a core of will and determination that he tried to keep hidden. He might be a more challenging conquest than she had assumed...
She cleared her throat. “Tarvek, it’s time to go. We can play dress-up when we arrive.”
There. A swift smirk flashed across his lips, which she never would have noticed if she hadn’t known to look for it. And now, as he faced her, his face was a textbook combination of embarrassment and annoyance. Lucrezia shivered with pleasure. He acted the fop, and was dangerously good at it, but she was better. That made it the perfect game. “Surely you don’t need much?”
Tarvek nodded and pulled a shirt off the shelf. She now suspected that he had selected it before he had opened the door. “True. The Geisterdamen carry everything important, and I do plan on coming back—” He paused.
“But?” Lucrezia asked.
Tarvek slumped, and selected a pair of boots. “But I don’t really know when I’ll be able to come back. This is my home, you know. My family’s responsibility. It’s surprisingly difficult leaving all this behind. Not knowing when or if I’ll return.” He pulled the boots on. “You ever get like that?”
If Tarvek had actually been looking at Lucrezia’s face, he would have had much to think about, as upon hearing his innocent question, her face had involuntarily reflected a bleak terror that almost drove her to her knees. With a herculean effort of will, she gracefully clutched the doorframe and kept herself upright. She took a deep breath. “You have no idea.” Her voice was odd enough that it caused Tarvek to glance at her, but all he saw was a rueful smile.
He waited for her to say more, but when she did not, he shrugged and began the process of selecting a coat. Lucrezia rolled her eyes. This façade could get tedious.
She was saved from ennui by Vrin appearing at her elbow. “Mistress. The Baron is here!” Unbidden, she took Lucrezia’s elbow, and pulled her over to a hidden window that looked out upon the courtyard. There was a crowd of townspeople there.
“His Questor, you mean? Well it’s about time.” She looked out, but everyone was staring upwards.
“What’s happening? I don’t see anyone—”
Shadows spread across the courtyard. The crowd began to seethe. Tarvek slammed himself hard against the dusty glass and craned his neck sideways to stare upwards. “Oh no,” he whispered.
The sky above was filling with airships. Even as he watched, more of them dropped into sight from the clouds overhead, falling towards the town. As they began to slow, they seemed to fray about the bottom edges. This visual confusion was resolved when the dots bursting free from the airships got closer and were seen to be even smaller airships. These quickly spread out over the entire town while continuing to drop. There were dozens of them.
“Have my priestesses gone blind?” Lucrezia screamed. She turned to Tarvek, “Or even your sentries! How could they have not seen them coming?”
“They weren’t there a minute ago,” Vrin declared.
“There’s always a bit of high altitude cloud cover that forms over the mountain at this time of the day. They must have known that.” Tarvek muttered. “They could drift in with it, and then drop fast.”
Lucrezia looked at him in amazement. “What—All of them? Flying in close formation? Within the clouds? That’s extremely dangerous! Why would they do that?”
Tarvek looked at her and his face was grim. “It’s part of the standard procedure for quarantining a Slaver-infected town! That’s no Questor—that’s the Baron himself up there and he’s brought an army! He knows!”
Meanwhile, on a low rooftop, a grate was pushed upwards, and Krosp poked his head out. “It’s clear!” he announced, and then he was pushed upwards by the flood of the others.
For several minutes, all they did was breath deeply, savoring the clean air.
As they were doing so, the Professor braced himself for the inevitable grilling. He was not disappointed.
“Zo!” Ognian gently punched him in the arm, “Hy gots any great-great-great grand cheeldrens yet[71]?”
The Professor sighed. “No.”
The Jager frowned. “Hmf. Married?”
“No.”
“Got’s a gurl?”
“No.”
Ognian gnawed on his lower lip. “Vants a gurl?”
“Yes.”
Ognian’s eyes narrowed. “Iz hyu steel on der road? Iz hyu steel lookink for dot ‘perfect story’?” He snorted. “Get a job!”
The Professor snarled back. “Still looking for a Heterodyne, old man? Get a life!”
The Jäger bared his teeth. “Hyu vait und see, hyu young punk! Hy vill!”
The Professor rolled his eyes. “Shyeah. Fine. I’ll get married, when you find a Heterodyne.”
Ognian stood there with his mouth open. Then he gave the most alarming grin his hapless descendant had ever seen. “...Really?”
At that moment shouts and screams from the courtyards below caught everyone’s attention.
It was Krosp who glanced upwards. The sight of the approaching armada caused the fur to stand out from his body. He whirled and called out, “We have to find Agatha!”
Another watcher sat upon another castle roof and stared at the skies. It sat silently, except for a faint ticking. Its single eye slowly and methodically swept back and forth. An airship swam into view. The eye paused, and focused with a small whine. The emblem upon the side, the winged rook, sigil of the House of Wulfenbach was examined, and matched against an image stored within. The small clank leapt to its feet and began to chime.
The sharp, clear tones were far louder than one would expect from a mechanism of this size, carrying far across the castle rooftops. After a minute, it paused. There was no response. The little clank looked upwards at a square keep that loomed in the center of the castle, but it saw no activity. It chimed again, astonishingly, even louder. Again, there was no response.
The device tapped its miniscule foot impatiently, and then scuttled forward. It slid under the nearest door, and found itself upon a staircase that wound upwards and downwards from where it stood. Unhesitating, it leapt up the nearest riser and began the laborious climb.
After several stories, it saw a window, the sill occupied by a lounging cat. The cat saw the small movement and instantly focused its attention on the device. It stared in fascination as the device approached, its muscles tensing, when the clank snatched the fluttering tail and gave it a quick bend.
The cat instantly rocketed off, the backwash of its departure sending the small mechanism skittering across the floor.
Grimly, it picked itself up and hauled itself onto the windowsill. It looked down upon the roof of the keep. To its obvious distress, the roof was empty. It was at a loss as to how to proceed, when it heard several people approaching while arguing. One o
f them was the man it was supposed to avoid. The other was the Mistress! But she had said to avoid her as well, until this task had been completed. But if the task was impossible to complete, surely it would be acceptable to report this?
The programming conflict swirled about its miniscule mind, as it ducked behind a drape and listened.
“But what does he know?” The Mistress asked.
“Stop asking me that! I don’t know! I do know that this changes everything! He’ll tear this place apart! He’ll find my secret labs! The tunnels!”
“That thing my daughter was building! Do we need to deactivate it?”
“Don’t worry about that. She wanted it moved up to the roof. It’s still in my lab. It’s harmless.”
“But what does he know?”
The voices faded as the small group moved off. The small clank peeked from behind the drape and seeing no one, leapt to the ground. Tarvek’s lab then.
“I’ll bet ten.”
“Double.”
“Three muses.”
“Four sparks.”
“Damnation!”
“Pay up.”
Master Payne leaned back in his chair and reached inside his waistcoat. A look of surprise slid across his features as his hand felt around inside an obviously empty pocket. “My purse is gone.”
Opposite him, a hard-bitten Captain of the Prince’s Guard lowered his brows and deliberately removed his cigar from his mouth. A severe look came into his eye.
“Are you telling me...” he paused, “Sir—That you cannot pay your gambling debt?”
Payne looked at him owlishly for a frozen moment, and then chuckled appreciatively. “Nasty touch.”
The Captain grinned and took a sip from the drink beside his elbow and smacked his lips. “Aye, we get a passel of new recruits with that one.”
Payne picked up the cards and examined them with professional interest. “Always said you can learn more about cheating from an old soldier...”
The Captain blew a plume of smoke. “Well, we get shot if we’re caught,” he said philosophically. “That sharpens the mind right quick.” He saw Payne counting the cards, grinned, and pulled one out from his cuff. “Must say, I thought you’d do better than just stuffin’ muses up your sleeve.”
