Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

by Kaja Foglio

  Involuntarily, both prisoners glanced upwards towards an invisible presence that they knew loomed silently around them. Tiktoffen leaned in and addressed Sanaa in an urgent whisper. “When you’ve got enough to get out, I will know.” He tousled her hair affectionately.

  At that moment, Tiktoffen heard a familiar metallic panting. Through the doorway came a man in his thirties, unprepossessing in every way—except for the sharp-toothed mechanical mask permanently fastened to his lower face that had earned him the name “Snapper.” When he saw Tiktoffen and Sanaa, he slowed a bit, but made up for it by waving his hands in agitation.

  “Professor!” he called. His voice sounded hollow through the mask.

  Tiktoffen gave a perfunctory smile. The man before him was one of the more unpredictable of the Castle’s current residents. He was also uncannily smart, which was why he was still alive. This also explained why it had taken the Baron’s people over two years to track him down, despite his striking appearance. “Snapper,” he said. “What is it?”

  The man’s mechanical teeth ground together in excitement. “There’s a Heterodyne in the Castle!”

  Immediately, Tiktoffen was all interest. A new “Heterodyne” crashing through the Castle always revealed so much information. He snapped open his notebook in anticipation. “Did he come in through the Red Gate?” He turned another few pages, searching. “They promised to send the next one in through the Red Gate,” he muttered. “I’m sure there’s a deadfall we missed…”

  Snapper waved his hands again. “No, sir! She made it into the Octagon! She’s alive!”

  The Professor looked at him blankly. “She?”

  Snapper nodded vigorously. “And she’s brought in minions!”

  With that the older man took off at a dead run down the hallway. No, he thought to himself. It can’t be! He skidded to a halt in a doorway. It was.

  The Octagon was a large common room where the prisoners could congregate after they finished their shifts. It was directly off the kitchen and dormitories, and it was one of the few places where they had managed to replace the maddening red emergency lights with bulbs of a normal color. It was also in one of the permanent ‘dead zones’ in the Castle, and so was a popular place for the prisoners to relax. Some even chose to sleep there, just in case.

  Many of the prisoners were there now, with more arriving every minute. The tables had been shoved against the walls, and in the center, a girl was getting undressed.

  She was of middling height, and—once the ridiculously elaborate ball gown she wore over everything was stripped off—wearing a sensible pair of trousers and a simple leather singlet. Disconcertingly, they were still pink, but they were obviously working clothes. When she saw the professor, she gave him a cheerful smile that only highlighted the coldness of her eyes.

  “Good morning, Professor Tiktoffen.”

  Tiktoffen stared at her in dismay. “Mademoiselle Zola! It is you! I can’t believe it! What the hell are you doing here? Don’t tell me you fools got sentenced here!”

  Zola laughed airily. “Of course not! We came in on our own.” The watching crowd gasped. She looked around the Octagon and was obviously unimpressed. “Well? Are you ready to leave this place?”

  Tiktoffen restrained himself. He so very much wanted to slap her. “I didn’t send for you,” he roared. “It’s too soon!”

  The girl shrugged. “We’ve had to move things up.”

  The professor opened his mouth to object—

  “Another Heterodyne girl has appeared.” Despite her flippant attitude, Zola knew that Tiktoffen was smart. He instantly closed his mouth and waited.

  Zola smiled. “The Baron tried to capture her. She defeated him, and in the process, announced her existence to the entire world. They were buzzing about her in Vienna when I left. We had to strike now before she gets here.”

  “Is…” Tiktoffen hesitated. “Is she the real thing?” Suddenly he felt it. A vast attention was focused on them now. Tiktoffen shivered. Apparently The Octagon wasn’t as dead as they had been led to believe.

  Zola shrugged. “Her pedigree is unknown. As always, the only test of import is if she can hold this castle. That’s what people will understand. It’s why you’re here, remember?”

  Tiktoffen collapsed into a chair and glared at her. “Of course I do! I’ve been in here for three years. There is nothing I want more than to get out and I am telling you that it is too soon!” He slammed his book onto a nearby table. “The Council needs to know how the Castle works?21 That is what I have been doing! But unraveling the work of generations of lunatics takes time! I cannot tell you how to control the Castle yet! You’ve put the entire plan into jeopardy—for nothing!”

  The girl picked up Tiktoffen’s treasured book and leafed through a few pages. “No, not for nothing,” she said comfortingly. “We understand that you can’t control the Castle.” She tossed the precious book into a trash barrel. “Instead, you will just have to help me kill it.”

  Tiktoffen gasped as if he’d been punched in the stomach. “Kill it?” In an instant he was up on his feet and fishing the book from the barrel. “The whole point of all this was to be able to use it! Its recognition will legitimize you!”

  Zola ruefully shook her head. “The consensus is that the Castle may be too shattered to aid anyone. The legends all say that when Faustus Heterodyne brought the Castle to life, it was keenly intelligent. Able to observe and express itself everywhere within its structure, able to move and reshape almost every part of itself. In times of war, there are accounts of it actually aiding in the defense of the town. Now, even if we prune away the obvious hyperbole and inevitable exaggerations, does that sound like this place?”

  Tiktoffen looked troubled. “I’ve admitted as much in my reports. The stories you mention could be easily explained as exaggerations of some of the phenomena we can still see today. But the incisive guiding intelligence? That seems to be gone. There’s something, certainly. There are the voices that direct our repair efforts, but they often seem confused…”

  “Confused?” Sanaa spoke up from the ring of fascinated prisoners that had gathered while the two had been talking, “Half the time it says it’s guiding us to repair sites and then leads us into traps!”

  There was a heartfelt murmur of confirmation on this point from the rest of the inmates.

  Tiktoffen acknowledged this. “That is certainly the case now, but I regard these problems as evidence that the guiding mechanism is damaged, not that it never existed. While I could accept that some of these old stories are exaggerations from enemies or prisoners, there are too many private accounts from the writings of the Heterodynes themselves.”

  The girl patted his arm solicitously. “Your work here hasn’t been wasted, Professor, nor has that of your predecessors.”

  Tiktoffen looked surprised. The girl noticed and gave a small laugh. “Oh please, you can’t seriously believe that you were our first inside man?”

  The look on his face illustrated that this was exactly what he had believed. Zola smiled.

  “If it makes you feel any better, you’ve certainly lasted longer than any of the others…but their information has also proved valuable. A recent analysis of all the collected reports suggests that we are not dealing with one single Castle entity. The current thought is that there may be as many as twelve.”

  Tiktoffen stared at her. He slowly sat down as this idea bubbled up through his brain. He spoke slowly, “But every source I’ve been able to unearth has referred to it as a single entity.”

  The girl nodded. “And it is quite possible that this was originally the case.” She shrugged. “Maybe it even could do some of the things that the old stories claim. But I will say that relying upon the writings of the old Heterodynes to give you an accurate portrayal of anything seems a bit far-fetched, don’t you think?”

  Tiktoffen had to concede the point. Only the previous night, he had finished plowing through a journal by the Black Heterodyne,22 which ha
d gone on at great length about “how things would be so much simpler if everyone didn’t have those purple insects crawling in and out of their faces all the time.”

  The girl continued. “But whatever cohesion existed must have been destroyed in the Great Attack.23 We now believe that all that is left is a disorganized collection of sub-systems. That’s what you’ve been dealing with. That’s why none of it makes sense.”

  A wave of confusion washed over the ring of observers. The girl thought for a second. “Think of it this way; you’ve got repair systems that direct you to damaged areas. You’ve got anti-intruder systems that activate to keep you out of sensitive areas. Normally they’re all part of the same system. But because of the damage, while they are still functioning, they’re not talking to each other. The left claw doesn’t know what the right one is doing.”

  She let them absorb this for a moment. “We’re still going to use the Castle, but first we have to stop it from killing everyone. We have more than enough firepower on the way to allow us to hold Mechanicsburg through conventional means, especially if we seem legitimate. I will rule as the new Heterodyne, and I do not need the permission of a broken machine to do it.”

  Carson von Mekkhan swung the ancient ironwork gate closed behind him and locked it fastidiously. Agatha, Zeetha, Krosp, and Wooster peered into the gloom. The enclosure was evidently used to store road maintenance tools. Humming to himself, the old man selected a particular brick, gave it a twist, and a hidden door slid open with a deep groan. Carson frowned. “That needs oiling,” he muttered. He stepped through, and indicated that Agatha and her three friends should follow. Once all were through, the door swung shut behind them and they were left in total darkness. Before they could react, there was a “clunk” as Carson threw an ancient knifeswitch and a series of dim green lights began to glow. They now saw that they stood at the top of a wide stone staircase that wound sharply down.

  “This isn’t another sewer, is it?” Krosp asked as they started down. He’d had quite enough of those in Sturmhalten.

  The old man shook his head. They came to the bottom of the steps and looked up at an elaborate series of groined vaults, the tops of which were lost in the cool darkness.

  “This,” Carson announced, his voice echoing, “is the true family crypt of the Heterodynes.” As their eyes adjusted, they could see bizarre and elaborate sepulchers and coffins of marble and granite, decorated with tarnished metal and dusty gems. Unearthly statues lined the walls and carved skeletons were everywhere. It took Agatha a moment to realize that unlike other cemeteries she had visited, all of the statues and carved faces were grinning in a most disquieting manner. Even in death, the Heterodynes took a perverse pride in the fact that people were happy to see them go.

  As they moved down the central corridor, names came and went in the darkness. Names that Agatha recognized as the monsters of stories she had heard as a child. Stories that everyone had heard. She realized that she was torn between dread and a sort of twisted admiration. These were the monsters that had shaped the face and the history of Europa. Sometimes for the worse, and sometimes, though it had certainly not been their intent, for the better—if only because of the heroism that had arisen in order to confront them.

  It was all summed up by the inscription over the tomb of Bludtharst Heterodyne, who had been responsible for the creation of the Storm King’s coalition: HE COULDN’T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT ME. True enough, Agatha thought, although she suspected the Storm King might have appreciated having an option.

  Wooster fished a watch from his waistcoat pocket, gave the back a half-twist that revealed a softly glowing compass, and frowned at it. “I seem to have gotten a bit turned around in all those tunnels,” he admitted. “We started at the Cathedral,24 but now we’re closer to the castle, yes?”

  Carson nodded in approval. “Very good, Mister Wooster.”

  Zeetha looked around and took a deep breath of the limestone-scented air. “Are all the Heterodynes here?”

  Carson pulled an ivory pipe from his pocket and leaned against an ornate coffin. He plucked a clump of crumbly black moss from the stone surface, and tamped it into his pipe. “Well.” He thought about this as he pulled an elaborate silver lighter from another pocket and lit the pipe. “There are a few of them that are represented by only a few ashes or scraps of armor,” he conceded, “but aside from Master William and Master Barry, one way or another, the Heterodynes have always come home in the end.” He took a deep puff and released a savory cloud of faintly glowing green smoke. “A place has been reserved for them, for when they arrive.”

  Agatha studied the man. “You’re convinced they will return,” she declared.

  Carson hunched his shoulders and gave a faint smile. “In one form or another.” His teeth gleamed in the shadows.

  Agatha stood tall. “And yet you say it’s impossible that I could be a Heterodyne. Even though…every…everything tells me that I am.”

  The old man nodded amiably. “Oh, yes, I can see why. Punch and Judy, your effect upon the people of the town, not to mention Captain Vole’s reaction…” Another ruminative puff. “Still, whatever you are, you are not the heir everyone expects.”

  “And why can’t I be?”

  Carson looked at her and took the pipe from his mouth. He gestured towards her feet with the stem. “Because you’re standing on him.”

  Agatha jumped and stared down. A tiny marble slab was set into the stone floor. The inscription was succinct:

  KLAUS BARRY HETERODYNE

  Beloved son of Lucrezia and William

  With us but 407 days—

  Forever in our hearts

  Agatha had to move her foot to see the dates of birth and death.

  Peering over her shoulder, Wooster’s breath caught. He looked up. “He died in the attack on Castle Heterodyne?”

  Carson nodded.

  Krosp’s tail twitched. “The name—”

  He was cut short by Carson. “He was named Klaus at Master William’s insistence. It was done to honor his old friend who had vanished over two years previously.” The old man paused, “Two years and three months, to be technical about it.”

  “Yes…” Ardsley said slowly, “I can see why you’d want to be clear about that.”

  “I don’t,” said Agatha, “What am I missing?”

  Carson looked at her and then looked away. Agatha blinked in puzzlement. The old man was embarrassed.

  Zeetha merely chuckled infuriatingly.

  Ardsley cleared his throat. “There were…rumors that before she married Bill Heterodyne, the Lady Lucrezia had…trouble deciding between him and Klaus Wulfenbach.”

  “It was a well known fact around here,” Carson said tartly. “And the Lady Lucrezia was not one to be bound by…propriety or cultural mores, let us say. But luckily, for dynastic reasons, everyone was satisfied with the math.” He looked at Agatha expectantly.

  The light dawned and Agatha flushed. “How did he die?”

  “When the Other attacked Castle Heterodyne—”

  “But why would she?” Agatha stopped short at a overly loud cough from Zeetha. There were very few people who knew that Agatha’s mother, Lucrezia, had been the Other. To most of the world, the Other was still a figure of mystery. Perhaps, Agatha thought, she should leave it that way for now. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said to the old man. “Please. Tell me what you know of the attack.”

  The old man took a long drag on his pipe and settled back on the slab. He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. Absent-mindedly he steepled his fingertips before his chest. When he spoke, his voice was firm and his wording concise. “I was not in the Castle on the night of the attack. Indeed, I was no longer seneschal. I had retired three days before and turned the duty over to my son.

  “The Masters were away. The town of Huffnagle was being overrun by…hm…giant vegetables, as it turned out. I was enjoying the luxury of playing with my grandchildren.

  “At eight-sevent
een p.m., there was an earth tremor and a massive explosion rocked the town. It came from the Castle—so I left the children with their mother and went out to see what I could do…”

  The town was in chaos. The Castle had been hit. Entire towers leaned drunkenly outwards. Flame roared from windows and as Carson watched, a section of the battlements collapsed, tumbling down the crags to the slopes below.

  Flaming bits of the Castle had been blown throughout the entire town, and fires were breaking out all over. To make matters even worse, the automatic fire suppression systems were either malfunctioning or were slow to activate and the fires were growing everywhere he looked.

  He saw a crowd gawping at a fountain of flame slowly spreading over the Rusty Trilobite, his favorite tavern.

  “Grab some buckets,” he roared. People jumped at his voice and then ran to obey, as they had done for the last thirty years.

  Carson continued: “Castle Heterodyne had a staff of two hundred and seven. Sixty-three died that night, including the new seneschal—my son.” He paused again, catching his breath as the old pain washed through him.

  The Jägers were weeping. He’d never seen that before, even at the death of a Heterodyne. They lined the corridor, blood oozing from wounds they’d incurred clearing debris. He saw that a section of the ceiling had come down. The skeletal Herr Doktor Torsti arose from a crouch, his joints snapping in that unfortunate manner he had been so proud of, the eternal rictus of his mouth stretched into an unfamiliar expression of sadness.

  As he drew near, Carson saw a crumpled figure that appeared to be trying to crawl from beneath the rubble. With a chill, he recognized the Coat of Office. He found he had dropped to his knees, and just when he thought it could not get any worse, he identified the pathetic bundle clutched in his son’s arms…

  The old man raised his head proudly. “He died trying to protect the young master. Serving the House of Heterodyne to the end.”

  Agatha realized that she was crying, silent tears running down her face. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “He must have been very brave. All of your family must have been so brave for so very long…” She took a deep breath and looked the old man in the eye. “Thank you.”