Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

by Kaja Foglio

  The tall man nodded and brought the rest of the group to a halt while Gil and Zola moved forward a few paces, then allowed them to move again.

  “Everything is all very hush-hush, you know,” Zola confided.

  “You mean that this is information you don’t want getting back to the Baron.” Gil looked skeptical. “Which is foolish. It’s going to get back eventually, and if it’s that fragile…”

  “If I can convince you, would you consider joining me?”

  Gil was silent for a few moments. “Maybe.” He raised an admonitory finger. “But I’ll take a great deal of convincing. I like living here.”

  Zola nodded. “I trust your judgment. Gil.” She collected her thoughts. “I’m the Heterodyne…”

  Gil started a mental list: Flaw Number One.

  “And I’m allied with…the Storm King!” When this had no obvious effect upon Gil, she continued. “A direct descendent of Andronicus Valois!”

  Gil prepared to throw his list away. “Zola, if the stories about Andronicus are true,66 half of Europa…”

  “One that the Fifty Families will recognize.”

  Gil nodded. “Because he’ll restore their full royal power, no doubt.”

  “Of course! The restoration of their traditional rights—”

  Gil made a show of losing patience. “Please. They’re fit to rule because their great-grandfathers chopped off more heads than anyone else did?”

  “Oh? And how is the Baron any different?”

  “Well…for starters, he doesn’t chop off a lot of heads.”

  Zola rolled her eyes. “Ha, ha. But what happens when he dies?”

  This was unexpected. “Um…”

  “His son takes over. So tell me how that’s any different from the Fifty Families, Mister High and Mighty?”

  Gil waved his hands. “Wait—this is about the Baron’s son?”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about him?”

  “I know he’s got the same first name as me, which has made things awkward once or twice… But other than that? Not much, no.”

  Zola shook her head. “Where have you been? Yes, the Baron has a son. He’s kept him hidden away and no one knows who the mother is. The Baron has said that he’ll hand him the Empire when he dies. So what do you think will happen then?”

  Gil thought about this. “I don’t know. What do people say will happen?”

  “It could be the reign of a Neo Caligula!”

  Gil frowned. “Oh, come on. Surely it couldn’t be that bad?”

  Zola shrugged. “Well that’s the point. No one knows. He’s an enigma. He was revealed four months ago—and then nothing until Beetleburg.”

  “Beetleburg?”

  “Surely you heard about that. The tyrant of Beetleburg was messing around with a Hive Engine, so the Baron shut him down. Well, this Gilgamesh was there, and by all accounts, he was a complete lunatic. According to witnesses, he killed Beetle by throwing a bomb at him, and Klaus had to chase him down through the streets of the town with clanks and Jägermonsters no less. They say he was practically chewing the furniture.”

  Gil listened to this with growing horror. This was an understandable interpretation of that day’s events. “No,” he admitted. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  Zola nodded triumphantly, “And the Baron’s had him locked away on board Castle Wulfenbach ever since.”

  Gil looked at her bleakly. “There’s got to be more to it than that.”

  Zola shrugged. “Perhaps, but that’s what people have seen and heard. The Baron has never cared excessively what people thought about him; he was so powerful that he could just ignore them. That might have worked if he had heirs that were more like him, or even better, no heirs at all. But now that people think that the Empire is going to be given to a crazy person…”

  “All right! I see your point.” Gil thought quickly. “So, this plan of yours… Let’s see if I can work out the basics. We have a Heterodyne girl…”

  Zola preened. “That’s me!”

  “And then…a Storm King shows up.” He smacked his head. “The old prophecy! Sure! They get married! Peace and free beer for everybody.”

  Zola clapped her hands. “Oh, I knew you’d see it! You were always so smart.”

  Gil didn’t feel particularly smart at the moment. “But… You can’t really think the Baron will allow you to just waltz in and do this?”

  Zola looked smug. “You know how to boil a frog, don’t you? You do it slowly. I’ll get settled in as the Heterodyne. Surely there will be nothing wrong with that? Just one of those ‘internal rule’ things that the Baron can’t be bothered with. Even better, I’m not a Spark! I’ll be a safely boring Heterodyne. I’ll busy myself with civic improvements, trade negotiations—my Mechanicsburg will just be good little client state of the Empire.

  “A year or so from now, the Storm King’s heir will be ‘discovered’ by a charming old man in Wurms whose hobby is heraldry. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s about to make an amazing discovery in a used book shop our people run. The College of Heralds will reluctantly agree with his analysis, but the heir-apparent will modestly refuse to accept the crown.

  “That will change when Mechanicsburg is attacked by an army of clanks while he is, coincidently, here visiting a wounded friend in the Great Hospital. He will send out a call for help that will be answered by surrounding kingdoms, and he will defeat the invaders. I will ask to meet him, of course, and it’ll be love at first sight!”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at Gilgamesh and sighed. “It’ll be so perfectly romantic that we will capture the hearts of all of Europa. Then we will settle down and rule this little town so well that we will be the envy of the Empire and other kingdoms will beg us to move on to bigger things, which we will reluctantly do, and within ten years—sooner if the Wulfenbachs do something foolish—we will have all the Empire and no one has to die at all.”

  Gil considered this. He had to admit that he had never really looked forward to being handed the reins of the Empire, but…

  He cleared his throat. “Except for young Wulfenbach, of course.”

  Zola rolled her eyes, “Well of course. We’re not stupid.”

  Gil sighed with regret, “Yes, I suppose that was to be expected.”

  Zola frowned. “Oh please, who will even care?”

  At that moment there was a strangled scream from Professor Tiktoffen. “Everyone,” he shouted as he ran towards the door. “Out of this room!”

  But as he approached the doorway, a massive steel shutter slammed down. “Welcome.” The voice was barely a whisper. “Repairs…here.”

  Tiktoffen slumped to the floor. “We’re doomed,” he whimpered. “We’re all going to die.”

  Zola strode over to him and kicked him in the leg. “What is happening, Professor?”

  Tiktoffen didn’t even flinch when her foot connected. “We’ve been pressganged,” he said leadenly. “I didn’t know where we were. The door we just came through, it’s never led here before.” He gestured towards the shadows and the others realized that the lumps they’d been stepping around were actually desiccated corpses.

  “This is one of those rooms where things are too damaged, but the systems in charge won’t accept ‘no’ for an answer. Anyone who comes here isn’t allowed to leave.”

  Gil looked at the machinery that lined one of the walls. “Then we’ll just have to fix it.”

  Tiktoffen snorted. “This isn’t a broken rudder, young man. This needs a stronger Spark than we’ve ever had in here.”

  Gil smiled. “I like a challenge.”

  Agatha jerked awake as something sharp poked into her fundament. She was sprawled face down on a workbench. Someone had tossed a musty canvas sheet over her and there was a brisk breeze blowing. The sharp object was revealed as a toasting fork and it was being wielded by Moloch, who was cowering behind a makeshift barricade of assorted sheet metal. “Wake up,” he growled. “C’mon, I thought you were in a hur
ry. It’s getting light out.”

  This got Agatha moving. “It’s what? How could you let me sleep?” It had been nearing midnight as she had put the finishing touches on. She glanced down and found herself clutching a cobbled together little device of some complexity.

  From behind his barrier, Moloch flinched. “You said you weren’t going out after Wulfenbach without some kind of defense and then you built a death ray. You conked out on the table, and then, every time I tried to wake you up, you pointed it at me!”

  Agatha flushed. Her foster mother, Lilith, had always complained that it took heavy machinery to hoist Agatha from her bed on cold mornings. Luckily, her foster father was a mechanic. But threatening someone? That sounded a bit over-dramatic.

  “I threatened you with this?”

  “You totally did.”

  Agatha looked at it again. “Well I’m sorry this little thing worried you.” At that moment, a strong gust of cold air blew hair into her face. Agatha blinked and turned in surprise. The source was a rather large hole that had apparently been melted through the castle wall. A little way off, she saw another hole through one of the castle towers. She squinted and thought she could just make out a circular chunk taken out of one of the looming mountains that encircled the town.

  “…I did that?”

  “You totally did!”

  Agatha shivered and carefully put the little device down on a table. “What about Tarvek?” She tried to keep her voice neutral but Moloch caught her mood.

  “Violetta said that the two of you were afraid that there might be gangrene but neither one of you wanted to say it.”

  Agatha swallowed. “I…yes.”

  Moloch patted her on the shoulder. “Well, the good news is that I’ve seen gangrene and this ain’t it.”

  Agatha felt something inside her relax slightly as she walked towards Tarvek, who lay still and prone. “What’s the bad news?”

  Moloch raised the sheet covering him and Agatha gasped. Tarvek was still alive. He was panting and sweat poured off his body. He was a stunning shade of aquamarine.

  Moloch shrugged. “He’s definitely got something and I hope you know what it is ’cause we sure don’t.”

  At this moment, Violetta came back, carrying a full bucket of water. She put it down, grabbed a cup, filled it, and poked it at Tarvek’s mouth. “He’s been slipping in and out of consciousness for the last hour,” she reported. It was evident from the tone of her voice that she was worried, though she was trying not to show it.

  Moloch nodded. “If you’re gonna get Wulfenbach, you’d better do it fast.”

  Tarvek moaned.

  Agatha leaned over him. “Tarvek?”

  He opened his eyes and blearily tried to focus on her face. “Oh Agatha, I’m so sorry.”

  Agatha paused. “…For what, specifically?”

  “For everything! All that in Sturmhalten! I was so worried. I knew you wouldn’t trust me but the geisterdamen were everywhere and I had to—” He was really getting worked up now and Agatha gently but forcefully pushed him back down onto the tabletop.

  “Stop it. You need to rest. I’m off to get Gil to help us, just like you wanted.”

  Tarvek surged back up and gripped Agatha’s arms with a surprising strength. “No! Wait! I have to tell you! It’s important! I’ll never find anyone like you.”

  Agatha felt her face go red. “Tarvek…”

  “I have all sorts of ideas for the most exquisite outfits! You’ll be the envy of Paris!” Agatha blinked, then bent and planted a light kiss upon the top of his head. “Idiot. You’re raving.”

  “You see?” Tarvek giggled as his eyes fluttered closed. “Oh, yes, it’s all part of the plan. You’re too perfect…” And he was again unconscious.

  Violetta turned away. “Jeez. What a dope. What does she see in him?”

  Moloch waved a hand dismissively. “Probably nothing. Now you want to see hot? Wait’ll she meets up with Wulfenbach.”

  Violetta frowned. “Hey, don’t let fancy boy fool you. He may want to dress her up but he can be just as interested in undressing her.”

  Moloch shrugged. “Yeah? Well, you haven’t seen Wulfenbach when he really loses it. He’ll have her over his shoulder thirty seconds after he sees her. Your boy won’t stand a chance.”

  Violetta narrowed her eyes. “You think she’ll put up with that? You wait and see. Tarvek’s a pig but he’s great with the sweet talk.”

  “Sweet talk, huh? You got me there. She gets Wulfenbach so worked up he can’t remember his own name. But he’s smart, he’ll learn.” He leaned in and dropped his voice. “’Specially since, when she punches, she puts her hips into it.”

  Violetta grinned and leaned in herself. “Ouch,” she breathed in delight. “This should be good. Say…you wanna make a bet on who she’ll pick?”

  Moloch assumed the air of a man possessed of a sure thing. “A bet? Might be interesting…but hey… she’s the Heterodyne. Maybe she’ll take them both.”

  Violetta went pink at the idea. “Oh please, a boyfriend is an accessory. You don’t go around wearing two hats.”

  “Oh yeah? I saw this Jägermonster—”

  Hands like steel claws clamped down on both of their throats and lifted them bodily into the air. Agatha, her face scarlet, shook them like a terrier shaking a pair of rats. “WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU TWO?” she screamed. “ARE YOU TWELVE?” She flung them to the ground. “Boyfriends? Seriously? I’ve got more important things to worry about! The Baron wants me dead! An imposter is trying to take my place! Armies are trying to take over the town! The Castle is broken and the Other is still inside my head!

  “Now, when all that is taken care of, we’ll have a great big fancy party and I’ll wear a pretty dress and I’ll dance with all the boys, and everything will be sugar hearts and flowers, but until then—” She took a deep breath and shouted, “FOCUS!”

  Moloch and Violetta huddled on the ground and nodded in unison. Violetta tentatively raised a hand. Agatha glared at her. “What?”

  Violetta twisted her hands together and looked imploringly up at Agatha. “This party…Can I have a pretty dress, too?”

  Agatha’s fury stopped cold. She looked surprised. “Well…well of course.” Then she turned grim again. “Assuming you’re still alive.”

  Several minutes later, Agatha was scrambling over the rubble of what appeared to have once been a trophy hall. The walls were tilted at alarming angles, and the floor was strewn with bric-a-brac and the contents of broken cabinets.

  “So…Castle? Gil’s been inside for hours by now. Is he even…I mean, is he all right?”

  The voice echoed from all around her. “I am sorry, Mistress. I don’t know.”

  Agatha’s mood was still sour. “Why is nothing easy with you?” she growled.

  “You want easy? Go live in a yurt,” the Castle said.

  Agatha stared blankly at the nearest wall. Not having a physical face or body—at least, in the usual sense—made the Castle a very difficult person to read. “A what?”

  “A yurt!” the Castle repeated “A type of portable shelter made of wool felt. Used by the Mongols!”

  Well, at least it wasn’t speculating about her love life. “How… fascinating,” Agatha said.

  “Yes! The Mongols!” The Castle was getting excited now. Bits of broken metal floated into the air in front and formed a rough tent-like shape. The Castle went on, “Those extraordinary fighters who swarmed out of the East, subduing all that lay before them! Your ancestors learned so much from them!”

  “Really.” Agatha didn’t know what to say.

  But the Castle did. “Yes! The tactics of battle! The use of superior technology! The art of ruthlessness!”

  The makeshift model yurt clattered to the ground. An iron statue of a mounted warrior shot out of a pile of rubble and took its place—hanging in the air in front of Agatha’s nose. She took a quick jump backward. “Ah…” she said. “No kidding…”

  T
he Castle was not finished. “Oh, to see such glorious carnage!” it enthused, its voice rising. “My greatest dream is to be remade as a yurt! To travel! To see the world as a series of battles! To eschew stairways and windows—”

  Agatha couldn’t take any more of this nonsense. “What on Earth is the matter with you!” she screamed at the ceiling.

  There was a brief silence. Then the Castle spoke again, in a more subdued tone. “I…I…forgive me, mistress.” It sounded confused. “I do not know.”

  Elsewhere, at that very moment, Gil was arm deep in the Castle’s machinery. He pulled a small component out of the wall and held it up for Professor Tiktoffen’s approval. “Aha! And here’s another problem!”

  They had already made substantial progress. Professor Tiktoffen had proven himself to be an extraordinarily strong Spark in his own right, who had apparently dedicated the last few years to an exhaustive analysis of the Castle’s systems—while Theo and Gil were old friends, and knew how to bring out the best in each other when they worked. Sleipnir was an exemplary mechanic in her own right and was used to working with Sparks. She had also proved invaluable in finding ways to keep Zola, Zeetha, and Zola’s tall men too busy to get in the way or succumb to despair. Even Krosp had proved useful, as his small size had allowed him to squeeze into spaces the others could not.

  Still, they had been at work for several hours and, one by one, the others had retired to the other side of the room to get out of the way. Now, only Gil and Professor Tiktoffen crouched before the disassembled panels as the others slept.

  “You were right, Professor, we have got everything else connected, but if you look here, you can see a bit of rubble has sheared through a cable! No wonder we couldn’t make it work!”

  Tiktoffen looked and then slumped to the ground. “All of those mechanisms are interconnected.” He looked up at the bank of controls. “We’ll have to disassemble the entire wall!”

  Gil tapped a dial face. “Maybe not.” He popped open one of his leather waistcoat’s many pockets and pulled out what appeared to be a large watch fitted with little brass arms and legs. “I picked up a little thing in Sturmhalten that might be useful. It’s something a…a friend made.” He thought it prudent not to mention that the friend who made it was, in fact, Agatha. He wound the stem on its top and with a springing noise, the little device jerked into movement. A shutter that should have concealed a watch-face clicked open, revealing a mechanical eye that swiveled up to stare at Gil’s face.