Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

by Kaja Foglio

  Gil stared at her blankly and then peeked under his blanket and froze. “Where are my clothes?”

  Zeetha’s grin grew even wider. “How should I know? I didn’t undress you.”

  Gil paused, relieved. “You didn’t?”

  “What, do I look like a doctor?”

  Gil coughed. “No, but…”

  Zeetha smiled sweetly and indicated the doorway. “The girls did that.”

  Three girls were now crowding the doorway, staring blatantly, grinning, and nudging each other. All were dressed in colorful military uniforms and all were equipped with pointed ears and sharp, white teeth.

  “Hey! He is alive!” said one.

  “Mamma knows what she’s doing,” said the shortest, examining Gil with a predatory look in her eyes.

  Gil stared back at them and pulled his covers up higher. “They… don’t look like doctors either.”

  They all laughed at this and came farther into the room. Now that they were closer, Gil could see that the ears and teeth were merely costume pieces.

  “So you’re the new Lady Heterodyne’s boyfriend, eh?” said the tall one. She leered at Gil in a most alarming manner. “I see that she’s gonna be a pretty lucky girl.”

  “The Castle hasn’t accepted her yet,” the middle one said flatly. She turned a jaded eye on Gilgamesh. “And she hasn’t picked him yet either.”

  The shortest girl gave a surprisingly athletic bounce and settled atop the dresser. “That’s right! You gotta spur a horse around the yard a bit before you buy him!”

  The others chortled. Gil took a calming breath and started with the obvious. “You’re not really Jägers.”

  The tall girl cocked her head to one side. “Of course not. No Jägers allowed within the city limits of Mechanicsburg.”

  The middle one nodded. “That was the deal.”

  “You’re in Mamma Gkika’s, bright boy.”

  Gil paused as a memory surfaced. “That…That was a bar…where the Jägerkin used to hang out…” A few more things clicked into place. “Barmaids? You’re barmaids dressed as Jägers?”

  The tall one laughed. “Not just barmaids, m’lord, now it’s dinner and a show!” At an unseen signal, all three of them assumed obvious poses. The first looked demure and serious. “‘Four Gears!’ according to Professor Strout’s Guide to Roadside Scientific Atrocities!”

  The second looked at him shyly. “‘A magnificent perversion of science’ according to Steamy Steam Quarterly,” she said breathily.

  The third crossed her arms and looked truculent. “‘Never heard of it’—Mechanicsburg Chamber of Commerce.”

  Gil looked bewildered. “But…but the Jägers have a terrible reputation! People are afraid of them! They hate them! And here you’re telling me that tourists come here and drink with fake ones?”

  The three girls looked at each other and smiled.

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “You’d be shocked.”

  “I don’t drink.”

  Gil stared at them. He shook his head. “Oh, no. No! This is just too ridiculous! There’s got to be something more to this. I’m just not buying it, otherwise.”

  A richly amused voice rolled out from the doorway, “Vell lucky for hyu, dollink, dis iz on de howze.”

  There was no question that the figure filling the doorway was a genuine Jäger. She was also, unmistakably, female. Well over two meters tall, the smiling Jäger had a head of brilliant aquamarine hair piled up in a complicated chignon held in place with a slim stiletto. Her face was broad, which accommodated the large, sharp-toothed grin spread across it. Her eyes had a touch of the Far East and her ears were long and pointed.

  She was dressed with a voluptuous elegance that announced both her profession and her demeanor with exquisite clarity. When she moved, it was with a sensual grace that was completely unexpected because of her size, and thus even more effective. She came over to Gil’s bedside and looked him over with a wicked smile that had him repeatedly checking to make sure that his blankets were still covering him.

  “So hyu iz avake now. Goot.” She graciously extended a hand. “Velcome to mine howze. Hy iz Mamma Gkika.”

  Gil automatically took her hand, and as he did so, he was engulfed in a delicate cloud of spicy perfume that caused him to shiver in anticipation. Of what, he wasn’t sure. “Charmed, Madam.”

  Mamma smiled even wider and leaned down to examine his face, exposing an amazing décolletage. This was a test Gil had learned to pass in Paris, and he kept his eyes locked with Mamma’s. The Jäger raised an eyebrow approvingly.

  Gil then examined the hand he held, noting the demurely trimmed claws. “You’re a genuine Jäger, but you’re—are we still inside Mechanicsburg?”

  Mamma nodded. “Hyu iz a schmott vun.” She indicated the other girls. “Ven pipple see lots of false Jägers, dey dun look so hard at real vuns.”

  “I see.”

  “So—” Mamma turned to Zeetha. “How’z he been?”

  “Noisy. Suspicious. Cranky.”

  Mamma waved her hand. “Dot means nottink, he iz Klaus’s boy.” She turned back to Gil. “Hyu vas vun chopped op kid ven my boyz bring hyu in. Lets see how hyu iz doink now, hey?” She reached for his sheet.

  Gil edged backwards. “Madam! Please!”

  Mamma rolled her eyes. “Don be han eediot, keedo, Hy needs to see dose vounds, and de gorls heve seen better, hy’m sure.”

  The three glanced at each other and the short one piped up. “Not many, I’ll give him that.”

  Gil sighed. He’d gotten worse from Bangladesh. It was Mamma’s expression that brought him back into the moment. Her look of surprise caused him to glance down, which was when he became aware of the device attached to his thigh.

  “What the devil is that?” he exclaimed.

  “Iz a leedle monitor patch vun of de Masters cobbled togedder avile ago,” Mamma replied. “End accordink to dis, hyu iz hokay.” She looked up at him and there was a look to her eyes that revealed the steel beneath the harlot. “If Hy had to guess, hy’d say dot hyu poppa has deduced a few more uf de Jägerkin’s secrets den he lets on. Dis leedle ting is ready to come out.”

  “‘Come out?’” Gil asked. “How deep is it? That’s right atop the Profunda femoris artery. You can’t just rip it—yaAAAAAH!”

  “Sure hy ken.” She frowned at Gil. “Ho, don’t be soch a beeg baby. A leedle pain iz goot for hyu.”

  “I’m probably bleeding to death!” Gil pressed down on the wound. “You shouldn’t just…” His breath caught. He moistened a thumb and wiped the blood away. When he looked up, there was a growing confusion on his face. “This is almost completely healed. But—the size of the wound…” A new thought struck him. “I must have been out for days! Agatha! My father! What’s been happening?” He leapt to his feet in a panic.

  Zeetha grabbed one of his arms while the tallest of the girls grabbed the other. Gil gave a shrug and they went spinning off to crash against the walls. He stood there breathing heavily. “I’ve had enough of this! I’m leaving now!”

  Mamma stepped up to him. “Not like dis, hyu ain’t. Hyu gots to—”

  Gil lashed out—his hands striking Mamma’s shoulders, sending the large woman reeling back, a look of astonishment on her face.

  Gil gave an inarticulate roar of fury. Then Mamma’s fist slammed into his jaw, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying back. He flattened against the wall and then dropped back onto his bed. Everyone waited. One of Gil’s hands moved slightly and everyone tensed. “What just happened to me?” Gil asked.

  Mamma gave a snort and with a ripple, was once again the relaxed chanteuse. “Goot boy. We giff hyu some Battle Draught. Iz strong schtuff. Close op hyu vounds fast!”

  Gil sat up and gingerly peeled back a bandage on his arm. The skin underneath was slightly red but otherwise unmarked. He looked up. “But this is amazing! Why isn’t this being used in the hospital?”

  Mamma looked distressed. “Battle d
raught iz brewed for Jägers. Iz not always… so goot for normal pipples.”

  Gil looked at her. “But you gave it to me.”

  Mamma nodded. “Hy did.” She looked at him for a moment and then nodded again as she made a decision. “When you poppa took in the Jägers, we swore to serve de House of Wulfenbach. Vun uf de vays ve did dis, vas by keepink a close eye on hiz son.” Gil tried to interrupt but Mamma plowed on. “Ve knew—” she tapped her nose, “—dot hyu vas de Baron’s son. Ve knew before hyu did, and hyu vas guarded.”

  She leaned back against the dresser and regarded Gil with a grin. “And ven somevun iz vatched as much as hyu vas, tings get noticed. Hyu poppa spent a lot of time vit hyu in his laboratories. More den hyu realize since hyu vas asleep half de time, but he improved hyu. Oh, hyu tried to hide dem, but hyu vas a keed, and hyu let tings slip. Hyu is faster den most pipple, jah? Stronger. Hyu dun sleep moch. Tings dot vould help hyu survive.” Mamma poked him in the chest. “Hy figure if ennybody ken take a leedle battle draught, it vould be hyu.”

  “But why take the chance?”

  Mamma stopped smiling. “Because hyu poppa vants to keel Miz Agatha and de Jägers tink dot she iz der Heterodyne, vich means dot she iz under our protection.”

  Mamma shrugged. “Now, maybe she izn’t a Heterodyne. Personally, hy dun see how soch a ting could be pozzible. But der Castle vill decide, not hyu poppa.” She leaned forward. “De trobble iz dot ven hyu poppa decides to kill somebody, dey usually die pretty dem fast, and hy tink dot de only ting dot could schtop Baron Wulfenbach—vould be anodder Wulfenbach.”

  “I will not fight my father.”

  Mamma nodded with approval. “Dot’s goot, becawze he’s got a whole bunch of army and hyu dun got nottink. My hope iz dot hyu can out-think him.”

  Gil stared at her, his jaw hanging open. “Out-think. My father.”

  “Hyu deed it vunce already, sveetie. Hyu knew Agatha vas de Spark in Beetleburg.”

  “How do you know—?” Gil hesitated. “I can’t count on that happening again.”

  Mamma grinned. “Ov cawrze not. It vill be schomting else. Hit alvays iz. De impawtent ting iz dot hyu iz alive and on de field.”

  Gil took a deep breath. “So—that whole temper thing. What was that?”

  Mamma shrugged. “De Jäger draught didn’t make hyu brain melt, but hit looks like der might be side-effects. Hyu better vatch dot temper, kiddo.”

  “Or else I might start frothing and attacking people?”

  “Could be. Or maybe hyu make a beeg snarly mouth and hyu face steek like dot.”

  Gil stared at her. “Can I get dressed now?”

  The other women simultaneously groaned in disappointment.

  Mamma clapped her hands. “Ov cawrze. Now hyu clothes vas a mess, so my boyz iz findink hyu some new vuns.”

  And indeed, a minute later, there was a knock on the door. It opened and Maxim poked his head in. “Hey, Mamma! Ve found some real snappy schtuff from de prop room and der lost and finders keepers!” So saying, he passed through a mound of clothing. Meanwhile Dimo and Ognian had seen the Jäger-girls and immediately begun flirting.

  Gil examined the clothing. It seemed to consist of equal parts armor and miscellaneous clothing from around the known world. Gil, who had inherited his father’s appreciation of smart dress, was appalled.

  He held up a pair of leather pants equipped with spikes at the knees and groin. “I can’t wear this!”

  Maxim leaned in, as one man of the world to another, and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Hyu could go find Mizz Agatha mitout dem…”

  The red blush started in Gil’s face and traveled a long way down before he snarled and grabbed an armored pair of underpants. “Fine!”

  Everyone in the room took a close interest in his dressing—to the point where they got into arguments about his choice of assorted garments. This did not improve his mood.

  A knock at the door revealed yet another Jäger girl. She whispered a message to Mamma, confided to Gil that she appreciated trousers tight enough to let a girl know which way a man dressed, and then vanished. Gil started looking for a different pair of pants, but Mamma interrupted. “Hyu hurry op now, keedo. Dere’s sum pipple vaitink to talk to hyu.”

  Gil found a comfortable waistcoat, which was only marred by what appeared to be a functional pair of bear-traps mounted on the shoulders. “I can imagine. Does this place have a back door?”

  Mamma chuckled. “More den hyu vould belief. But no, dese pipple it vill be goot for hyu to talk to. Trust me on dot.”

  Finally Gil stood in something that at least felt comfortable. He exited the room and came face-to-face with a long mirror. He stopped dead. “I can’t wear this,” he declared.

  “Ashtara above, why not?” Zeetha declared. “You look perfect!”

  “I look like I’ve picked over every battlefield for the last fifty years. From the losing side, no less.”

  Maxim grinned proudly. “Yah! Dot’s goot schtuff.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! I can’t have people see me like this!”

  “Oh, of cawrze not,” Maxim agreed.

  Gil paused. “What?”

  Maxim pulled a large, colorful object from behind his back and displayed it proudly. “Not vitout hyu hat!”

  A tableful of Jägermonsters was chatting away. A careful observer would have noted that easily three-quarters of them were severely injured. This did not stop them from laughing, shoving, and drinking copiously. One of the few undamaged soldiers was discussing the latest orders and troop movements.

  “De Baron haz ordered us all op to de North Border.”

  A Jäger missing an arm, with a surprisingly clean bandage wrapped over his eyes, snorted. “Dun tell me dot de Reindeer Boyz iz giffing him trouble?”

  The first waved a hand. “He dun tink we’z dot schtupid. He didn’t say nottink, yet. Hit vas just as far as he could send uz.”

  They became aware of a ripple of excitement coming towards them. Other tables, also full of Jägers, were exclaiming in awe and astonishment. The crowd parted and Gilgamesh strode past, escorted by Dimo, who was happily basking in the reflected glory. The Jägers stared at the figure clad in ridiculous, ill-fitting, and mismatched armor and their eyes locked upon the space above his head. Their breaths caught—and they rose to their feet and, as one, repeated the cry that was now filling the room.

  “HEY! NIZE HAT!!”

  The hat was, indeed, very nice. It had spikes and gilded wings, meters of gold lace and frogging. It had a small cheerful flame spouting from a chemical burner mounted at the top, and it had large gold letters that proclaimed that the wearer was “Gilgamesh Wulfenbach: Schmot guy!!”

  Gil had had enough. “Everything…is going to go boom,” he growled.

  “They’re quite serious, you know.”

  The voice that broke Gil’s murderous rage was calm and smooth. A tall young man sat at a nearby table—his elegant dark suit adorned with several discreet medallions of office. The fellow looked at Gil with the open, honest eyes of a born manipulator and continued, “You may think they are mocking you, but I see someone they respect. And that, my dear sir, is very rare. And very useful.” He gestured to an empty chair.

  From beside the man, another person leaned forward. It was a dwarf—no, a—a cat. A huge white cat in a uniform jacket that would have shamed a comic-opera Bavarian princeling. “Oh, yeah,” the cat said. “And by the way, nice hat.”

  Gil had a feeling that the cat was not impressed. He stared at the two and slowly sat down. “You’re the ones waiting for me?”

  The young man fastidiously set down a coffee cup and placed his fingertips together. “Yes. We—”

  At this point, the cat hopped up onto the tabletop and, walking on his hind legs, stalked up to Gil. He stuck a clawed finger in his face. “Hold on. First, I want to make this absolutely clear. I don’t trust you. I don’t like you. I think that you are just out to use Agatha as a pawn in some inferior plot to ove
rthrow your father and take over the world. Well I’m on to you, pal, and you’re cutting into my territory!”

  The young man sighed and grabbed the back of the cat’s coat—forcibly hauling him back to his seat. “Thank you, Krosp, for getting us started on such a diplomatic footing.”

  The cat spat. “I’m serious. Mess with me and your shoes are mine.”

  Gil looked at Krosp and nodded slowly. He glanced at the man holding the cat’s coat, “And you are?”

  “Vanamonde von Mekkhan. I am the seneschal of Castle Heterodyne.” As he spoke, Van poured Gil a mug of steaming black liquid from a small ceramic pot. “Have some coffee.”

  Gil frowned as he picked up his cup. “The seneschal? But that family—” He took a sip, and stared into his cup. “That’s…really good coffee,” he said reverently.

  Van hid his head in his arms and sobbed into the tabletop. “YOU SHOULD HAVE TRIED IT BEFORE!” he wept. “It was perfect! Perfect!” He trailed off into further sobs.

  Krosp looked at Van with irritation and leaned towards Gil. “Anyway, we’re here to help you.” Then he hissed at him.

  Gil looked at the two of them, deliberately set his cup down, and began to stand up. “I’m going now,” he said firmly.

  Zeetha, who had been standing behind him, pushed him firmly back into his chair. “Sit down,” she said.

  She pointed to Van. “Forget the City Council, he’s the real power here in Mechanicsburg. He drank something Agatha brewed up. She says it’ll probably wear off.”

  Van looked up. “But it was—”

  “Yes,” Zeetha said gently. “We know.” She gestured to Krosp. “This is Krosp. He’s Agatha’s cat.”

  “KING!” Krosp declared.

  Zeetha nodded. “And I think that explains that.” She indicated the room at large. “And let’s be honest, they’re probably the sanest people here.”

  The room was immense—a great barrel-vaulted cellar, easily one hundred meters long and half that wide. Thick pillars rose among the tables. One end of the room was filled with an expansive bar, behind which several bartenders were constantly busy. The walls behind them were lined with giant casks, each of them capable of storing the yearly output of a small brewery. A squad of waitresses endlessly shuttled back and forth, each carrying an impossible number of festively decorated tankards.