by Kaja Foglio
A faint sound came from above. Agatha kept walking—she merely raised her weapon and pulled the trigger. The rain of javelins directly above her exploded into a metallic mist along with an entire section of ceiling, upper stories, and roof, as the rest thudded to earth around her.
“Of course, my Lady, but…”
“And you know what really gets me angry?”
“Er…”
“I actually do like Tarvek. I mean, I can’t trust him, but that doesn’t mean I want him to die.” She paused. “Or even stay that weird color.”
The Castle tried again: “Ooh, but could you just—”
She came to the end of the hallway and glanced at the giant door before her. Agatha saw an intricate locking mechanism connected to a series of copper dials cunningly inscribed with alchemical symbols. She frowned.
“Behold!” a voice boomed. “The Puzzle of the Philosopher’s Conscience. If you can—”
Agatha raised her gun and a hole three meters in diameter burned into existence, its edges glowing red. She stepped through it.
“And the really annoying thing is that even if you completely misinterpreted the situation—which I wouldn’t put past you, by the way—Gil has still managed to get himself tangled up with Miss Pinkie Psycho Pants. He’s such an idiot! It’s just a good thing one of us has a death ray!”
Agatha glared around and seemed a bit put out at the lack of further obstacles to incinerate.
“Yes, my lady!” the Castle spoke quickly now: “It is indeed a lovely death ray! But… could you perhaps lower the power just a little more?”
Agatha made a moue of disappointment. “Aw, but I already turned it way down.”
“Which is probably the only reason I am still standing.” When it spoke again, there was an odd quality to its voice. “Er…Please?”
I’ve scared it, Agatha realized. A feeling of guilt swept through her. She knew she was being unreasonable, and the thought aggravated her more. “All right. Fine. I’ll turn it down. Anyway, it’s not like we can’t rebuild everything when—”
“Oh dear.”
“What? Am I about to be amusingly dumped into lava or something? Because at this point—”
“No, my lady, it is the Imposter. She is now showing your young man the device with which she intends to shut me down.”
Agatha gasped. “Oh no. Already?”
The Castle paused. There was a slight gloat in its voice when it spoke again. “Ah. It seems they are missing some essential parts. Good. But…do act quickly.” It paused. “Also, please be careful, you are about to leave the area under my direct control.”
Agatha swiveled about and stared back at the corridor she had just come through. “I thought I already had! What were all those traps about, then?”
“My apologies. But many of the more sophisticated traps currently have minds of their own. I do not control them.”
The Castle’s unconcerned attitude was not helping Agatha’s mood.
“Tch. When I get around to redesigning you, it’ll be with a hammer.” She sighed. “So, what am I heading into now, then? More of the same?”
“Oh, dear, no. It’s much worse from here.”
“Lovely. It’s not more of those fun-sized tiger things, is it?”
“Oh, yes. There’s one of those directly ahead of you, as a matter of fact—” Agatha stopped dead. The Castle continued, “but it has been incapacitated.”
Warily, Agatha peeked around the doorway. The hulk of one of the fearsome mechanisms was stretched out on the floor before her. Its carapace gleamed in the light that poured in through tall stained glass windows. The reason for its incapacitation was clear—several of the javelins that Agatha had encountered earlier had pierced it. Dried puddles of fluid crusted the rug beneath it.
Agatha frowned. “Wow. What happened?”
“I have said the controlling mind here has gone mad. Here is the proof. It has begun to destroy Castle systems. The Serpent’s Gallery is beyond this room. I will not be able to communicate with you when you leave.”
Agatha leaned down to examine the prone machine. As her hand passed before one of its eyes, the device shuddered and a massive paw flexed. She leapt back. “You said it was incapacitated!”
“That is not the same as deactivated.”
Agatha knelt down and reexamined the machine. An idea flickered. “Hm. I can use some of this…” she muttered. “Fine. I’ll stop here for a moment and you can tell me how to get to Gil.
“How many of Pinkie’s people are with him?”
“The Imposter has three minions with her. They are armed, as is she. There are also five prisoners. Four Sparks, one minion. They are all dangerous.”
Agatha pondered this. As she thought, she began to hum, the strange, faint sound rising and falling through the empty halls. Suddenly she stopped, a gleam in her eye. “Oh yes,” she said under her breath. “I can use some of this.”
“My Lady…while I realize the futility of trying to dissuade you from acquiring greater firepower, could you please try not to hit anything…er…structural?”
Agatha had to smile at this. “Oh, stop whining. You’ll be fine,” she told the Castle. “You’re incredibly overbuilt.”
The Castle was pleased. “Oooh! Do you really think so?”
As the Castle preened, Agatha pulled out a little pocket clank—the near twin of the one Gil had sent into the Castle walls—and began winding it. With a whir and a snap it clicked to attention.
“What is that?” the Castle asked with a touch of alarm.
“It’s a little clank,” Agatha explained. “I like to have assistants when I work, so I make them.”
The little device gave her a salute. Agatha brought it down to the broken fun-sized tiger clank. “Let’s see what we can do with this thing, okay?” she told it.
“I don’t like it,” the Castle boomed.
Agatha rolled her eyes. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. It’s just one little clank.”
The little clank examined the mechanism it had been offered and its gears squeaked with glee. There were lots of parts here.
A short while later, Gil let out a deep breath and settled back onto his heels. “And then all I have to do is hook this lead up to this connector!”
“¡Ingenioso!” Professor Diaz rubbed his jaw. “Superb.”
Gil waved a hand. “You’re too kind, Professor.”
Diaz snorted. “I assure you, young man, I have never been noted for my kindness.”
Zola came up behind them. “What are you two doing here?”
Diaz tapped the device before them. “Your pirata, señorita. He has reworked the device! How, I am not quite sure, but he has eliminated the need for all but a few of the stolen pieces.”
Gil shrugged. “Give me a machine shop and a few days and I’ll replace those, as well.”
Zola smiled with delight. “Another day is simply too long, and the men I sent should be back with the parts soon enough. But still,” Zola patted Gil on the cheek. “That was very sweet of you.” She took his arm and pulled him away from the device. “Now you should come, sit down, and get something to eat. I’ll bet you’ve forgotten again, haven’t you?”
A gurgling sound from his midsection confirmed this and Gil allowed himself to be led to a seat. Zola handed him a bottle of homebrewed beer and a sandwich made from some sort of crustacean that apparently could be eaten whole, much like a soft-shelled crab. It was savory and unexpectedly tasty. He had his suspicions as to its origins72 but realized he was so hungry that he did not particularly care.
Zola silently watched him eat, which was unusual behavior for her. When Gil took a final pull from the bottle and sighed in contentment, she leaned forward and wiped a spot of mustard off his nose.
“You know, Gil,” she said fondly, “I have to say, when I first saw you, I had some very mixed feelings.”
Gil blinked. “Zola, I told you, that money was a gift, not a loan.” A wistful smile flitted across Zola
’s face. “No, I meant that usually, back in Paris, when you showed up it meant that something had gone wrong.” She shyly glanced at Gil, who was desperately trying to keep his face neutral. “And I was…I was going to need rescuing. Again.”
Gil looked guilty. “Oh, well, I…”
A new voice cut in: “Oh, something’s certainly gone wrong.”
There, in the doorway, stood Agatha. She was very pointedly ignoring Gil—instead glaring furiously at Zola. In one hand, she held something that looked like a repurposed soldering gun. In the other, she gripped the handle of an ornate lantern-sized battery cylinder—the kind one might find in a medium-sized clank. A short cable connected the two devices.
Agatha pointed the gun-like part of the device directly at the astonished people in the room but continued talking to Zola: “But whether or not you’re going to need rescuing? That’s up to you.”
“You!” Zola rose, baring her teeth in a fierce snarl. “Kill!” She screamed to her men. The order was drowned out by a hellish crash, as the stained glass window beside her shattered. Through it leaped a roaring nightmare built like a huge metal tiger.
As he leapt to push Zola out of its path, Gil saw that one of its huge glowing eyes had been smashed and in the socket rode one of Agatha’s little pocket-watch clanks. He found himself wondering if it was the one he had released into the Castle wall or another one entirely—and then one of the monster’s great forepaws caught him and slammed him to the ground. One of its padded toes was planted firmly over his mouth—and to his chagrin, he found that he couldn’t call out to Agatha. All he could manage were muffled, inarticulate noises.
The other paw had trapped Zola, who stared up at the creature’s teeth in horror. “…Nothing.” She whispered. “Kill nothing. Nothing at all.”
One of Zola’s minions apparently didn’t hear her. He pulled an odd little pistol from its holster and shouted: “NO! Take her down!” Agatha frowned and raised the weapon—blowing a hole in the wall above his head. Debris rained down upon him, knocking him to his knees. His weapon went skittering away as he ducked behind a bench. “Don’t just stand there,” he screamed at the Castle prisoners. “Don’t you know who that is?”
In one smooth arc, Professor Tiktoffen swung his arm, scooped up a nearby piston, and slammed it across the back of the man’s head. The Tall Man dropped unconscious to the floor. The professor then deliberately tossed the weapon aside and executed a formal bow towards Agatha. The other prisoners followed his lead.
“Of course we know who she is,” he said with an evil grin. “We are at your service, Lady Heterodyne.”
Zola’s other two minions stared back and forth between the Castle prisoners and Agatha, then simultaneously dropped their weapons. Agatha nodded once, then strode over to loom over Zola, who was still held firmly beneath the huge mechanical paw.
“I am Agatha Heterodyne. You are in my town. In my Castle. And in my way. This little play of yours is over.” Agatha’s voice had taken on a dangerous edge that Gil recognized as that of a Spark. An extremely displeased Spark millimeters away from unleashing unholy vengeance upon a hated enemy.
Zola made a valiant effort: “But…but I am—”
Agatha stepped back and the tiger clank brought its nose down to brush Zola’s face. Even the little pocket clank—who appeared to be controlling the larger one from inside the eye socket—looked angry.
Agatha tapped her foot. “I said, it’s over.” The great jaws opened and a burst of hot metallic steam washed over Zola’s face. Agatha continued through clenched teeth: “One way or another.”
Zola thrashed and shrieked. “Yes! I yield! Please!”
Agatha briefly closed her eyes. “Good. Now…” She opened her eyes, and her expression grew colder as she spun toward Gil. “As for you—” Gil winced. An extremely hated enemy, he thought. I’ve got to do something. She’s—
“Wait!” Zola called out. “Don’t hurt him! He doesn’t know about any of this!” Her voice broke. “He’s my only friend! The only one I can trust. Please don’t hurt him!”
Agatha turned her glare back to Zola. “The only person you can trust is Gilgamesh Wulfenbach? He’s all you’ve got? I’m almost starting to feel sorry for you. Wasn’t that your army of clanks that he completely destroyed yesterday?”
“I…He…He’s…Gil? You’re—” Zola was stammering with shock. “He’s Gilgamesh Wulfenbach? The Baron’s son? But—”
Gil rolled his eyes back into his head with frustration. If he ever got a chance to speak, he had no idea what he was going to say… to either of them.
“Oh?” Agatha still sounded like she could level an entire hapless town at any moment. “You didn’t know?”
Agatha glanced back at Gil, who looked away. Then she nodded slowly. “I see. You didn’t know. Well, then. I guess he didn’t trust you all that much. Mind you, I can see why… He was probably judging you by his own standards—”
Now, Gil felt his own Spark rising. If she would only stop bullying Zola long enough to get her monster off his mouth so he could speak to her… He made another attempt to wriggle free, and the clank bore down ever so slightly to hold him in place.
Zola made a peculiar sound in her throat. Her eyes filled with tears. “But I…he’s always been there…I’ve known him for so long!” Zola’s voice was breaking. Her head slammed back against the floor and she erupted into deep, wracking sobs.
Agatha stared down at the weeping girl in astonishment. Professor Diaz sidled up and clapped his hands. “Delightfully done, my lady!” He shook his head in admiration. “Your enemy is thoroughly crushed. You are indeed a true Heterodyne!” His voice was ghoulish and nasty and reminded her a bit of the Castle, but he clearly meant it as a compliment from one villain to another.
“But…” Agatha looked back at Gil. He was glaring up at her. A wave of horror washed over her as she imagined herself through his eyes. Then her shame exploded into fury. “Oh, I can’t believe this!” she shrieked, her rage growing with every word. “Fine! Just…fine!”
She held up a hand. Her voice grew quiet, but the deadly tones of an enraged Spark still resonated. “I get it. I see where this is going.” She pointed at Zola. “She came in here, claiming to be the Heterodyne, with her stupid pink airship and her pretty perfect clothes and her cheap theatrics, trying to steal my town and my Castle—” Gil continued to glare silently and Agatha leaned in towards him: “Not to mention that she tried to kill me as soon as she saw me, and probably is the one responsible for that army of clanks at my gate—but I’m the big meanie because I made your little psycho princess cry!
“Sure, I’m the bad guy, because—for whatever reason—you didn’t tell your nasty little friend who you are, and now she’s sad! So you’re mad at me, because now she’s all sweet and teary and needs rescuing—”
Agatha knew she was shouting again but she was so angry, she didn’t care. And I’m the evil madgirl with the death ray and the freakish ancestors and the town full of minions and the horde of Jägers and the homicidal Castle full of sycophantic evil geniuses and fun-sized hunter-killer monster clanks and goodness knows what else—”
She stopped, panting. A thought had just struck her. A wonderful, terrible thought. She was that madgirl and she did have all those things.
“And you know what? I can work with that!”
Agatha turned to the prisoners, who were staring at her in awe. She stood tall and addressed them. “So listen up, all of you. I am armed, extremely annoyed, and the mistress of this Castle. You will follow my orders, and I will tell the Castle not to squash you. Everybody okay with that?”
One of the prisoners, a tall, corpse-pale man with a battered metal console implanted in the center of his bare chest, stepped up and nodded enthusiastically.
“Oh, absolutely, my lady.”
Agatha blinked but remained poised. “Good. I expected a bit more of an argument.”
The man laughed merrily. “Normally? You’d be quite corre
ct! Those with the Spark are constantly engaged in a dance of dominance! There is a delicate balance between crushing one’s enemies and being crushed. It takes an excessive amount of time and mental effort.”
He ran his gloved hand through his thick, snow-white hair and again grinned. “But you—you are a Heterodyne deep within your own lair. There is no question as to who is in charge here.” He took a deep breath. “Socially, it removes a great deal of pressure.”
Agatha stared at him. “Who are you?”
The man grinned and came to attention while clicking his heels together. “Herr Doktor Getwin Mittlemind. University of Vienna. MD, Psychology, PhD, Sociology, at your service.”
Agatha nodded. “I…see. You don’t meet many mad social scientists.”
Mittlemind snorted. “Of course not! All the funding goes towards building those flashy clanks and death rays! It’s so unfair!
“I told the Baron: ‘Give me a thousand orphans, a hedge maze, and enough cheese and I can give you the Empire of the Polar Lords within three years!’ But noooo…”
Agatha had had enough of this. The man was working himself up toward a full-blown Spark rant.
Agatha interrupted him. “You are not reassuring me.”
A short, solid young woman dressed in protective gear sidled up to Agatha. “Your pardon, my lady, but you probably can rely on most of us. Hexalina Snaug, at your service, my lady.”
Agatha looked at her. “Oh?
Snaug nodded. “Sure. If you are the Heterodyne and the Castle gets fixed…” She spread her hands. “Then the Baron won’t be using the Castle any more. We’ll be free to go. It’s even one of the conditions of our sentences.”
Agatha glanced over to Gilgamesh and raised an eyebrow inquiringly. “Really.”
Gil, still pinned under the tiger clank’s paw, made affirmative noises.
Agatha turned back to the prisoners and smiled happily. “Very well. Cross me, and die.”
The prisoners beamed. Mittlemind rubbed his hands together. “You won’t regret it, my lady!” He then pulled a battered notebook from his pocket and began flipping through pages. “Now, if I might make a suggestion? I couldn’t help but notice that with the addition of just a very few added walls, your town will make an excellent maze!”
