Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

CHAPTER 10

The Empire was going to war.

In one of the larger docking bays of Castle Wulfenbach, a fleet of the Baron’s heavy cruisers prepared for embarkation. The vast man-made cavern was filled with sound.

On a platform high overhead, surrounded by amplification horns, one of the Castle’s marching bands kept people’s feet moving quickly, drums and glockenspiels set the pace, as the brass filled the air with jaunty and patriotic marches.

Teams of longshoremen hoisted containers of food, fuel and ammunition. Riggermen swarmed over the exterior of the ships, freely slathering sealant upon the envelopes, checking cables, and testing exterior lights. Gasmen were checking gauges and, with a series of distinctive pops, disconnecting the gigantic rubberized canvas hoses that looped upwards towards the unseen tanks and pumps that supplied them.

A squad of overalled mechanics finished bolting down the cowling of one of the great engines and grinning, all three of them used their wrenches to beat out the traditional “Good to go” rhythm on the nearest support strut. A flagman on a nearby platform acknowledged their signal, waved them off, and then with a snap of his flags, relayed the availability of the engine to the ship’s Chief Engineer. Within thirty seconds, the engine coughed, and with an escalating whine, the six-meter-tall propeller began to slowly turn as the motor went through its warm-up sequence. The large steel cables holding the great airship in place gave a groan, and a midshipman nervously checked the gauges on his quick-release buckle.

The metal decks thundered to the sound of hundreds of soldiers, all armed with rifles and assorted equipment being marched aboard. A pair of lieutenant-engineers blew their infamous three-toned whistles, and an aisle magically cleared to allow a squad of the tall brass fighting clanks, their fearsome machine cannons held at the ready, their tall hats, with red shakos newly brushed, to stride by in perfect lockstep with a hiss and a well oiled boom.

A lift whined, and from the shadows of the cavernous ceiling, a freight platform descended. Crowded around its edge was an unfamiliar squad of soldiers garbed in peculiar facemasks and long green cloaks. At the center of the platform was a stack of cages. From within could be heard high pitched growling and the occasional yip.

Unicycle messengers darted everywhere, their tin whistles piping a warning, usually followed by cursing and threats as they spun past within millimeters of the soldiers and crewmen.

One in particular shot out from between a pair of the tall brass clanks, leapt off his machine and snagged it in midair as he skidded to a halt centimeters away from Captain Bangladesh DuPree. As he stopped, the lad simultaneously pulled a flimsy envelope from the leather satchel over his shoulder and politely tucked his pillbox hat under his arm. Everyone was polite around Captain DuPree.

Bangladesh was the center of a small crowd of people vying for her attention. Those who only heard about the Captain’s more egregious aspects would have been nonplussed. Despite the multitude of voices, she dealt with the cacophony around her, answering questions, signing papers, and receiving reports with an easy-going smile and a calm efficiency.

A radiohead, with its diminutive driver perched upon its broad shoulders, lumbered up carrying Bangladesh’s air chest. She signed for it with a flourish and a pair of airshipmen gingerly hoisted it up and carried it onboard the dirigible.

Through this controlled chaos came the Baron’s secretary. DuPree and Boris had a professional understanding. Boris disapproved of DuPree because her methods, while undeniably effective, were unnecessarily messy. But he acknowledged that she was an effective tool.

In the spirit of fairness, it should be pointed out that, when the subject came up, Bangladesh freely admitted that she also thought of Boris as a tool.

Mostly, they just tried to avoid each other.

Boris’ presence here was unexpected. Whenever Klaus came along on a deployment, he turned over his considerable executive powers to his secretary. Boris usually wasted no time in using these powers to deal with the pressing bureaucratic business of the Empire without having to spend time waylaying the Baron.

“Hey, Boris!” she called out gaily. “Where is Klaus hiding? Tell his exalted crankiness that we are almost ready to ship out.”

Outwardly, Boris ignored this over-familiarity, but with satisfaction, DuPree noted the small twitch in his left eye.

“You may tell him yourself, Captain.” Boris pointed towards one of the enclosed observation decks that lined the walls. “He wants to see you at once.”

Several minutes later, Bangladesh strode into the room. Dozens of people were vying for the Baron’s attention. Klaus had the disconcerting ability to follow multiple conversations at the same time, and thus the noise level of the room approached that of a dull roar. Klaus himself was easy to spot, towering as he did above most of the other people present.

When the Baron saw her, he imperiously held up a hand to stop the other conversations and waved her over. Suddenly, there was a palpable edge in the room. Bangladesh realized that everyone was scared and nervous. Usually she was the cause of this, but now, there was something else... these people thought that something terrible was about to happen—

Without warning, Klaus’ arms snapped out and grabbed her. One enormous hand easily trapped both of Bangladesh’s hands straight up over her head. The other scooped her up and held her securely under his arm. “Quickly!” he roared.

Bangladesh had time for one startled thought. “I never saw it coming.” But instead of the expected blade, several small creatures were thrust at her. They looked like some sort of weasel, with short orange fur and thin, intelligent faces. This was so surprising that she didn’t even struggle as they sniffed inquisitively at her. She noticed other things now. There were odd little devices surgically attached to the creatures’ heads and they had no less than six short legs, tipped with delicate paws.

The handlers were more of the green-cloaked soldiers she had noticed in the hangar bay. At this point, all of the creatures gave a small squeal, and everyone relaxed. One of the handlers, who Bangladesh noted with a start of surprise, had the skull-piece of a Slaver warrior attached to his cloak, pulled his animal back, and the others did the same. “She is clean, Herr Baron.”

Klaus gave a nod. “Give us some room please.” Instantly, a large circle of emptiness was created as everyone drew back from the expected explosion. Klaus gently placed Bangladesh on her feet, paused, and then withdrew quickly enough that her stiletto barely sliced the edge of his sleeve. Then to the astonishment of everyone, including Bangladesh herself, Klaus bowed in apology. “Forgive me, your Highness.”

Bangladesh was always thrown whenever Klaus deigned to remember that she was a Queen[58]. She took another half-hearted swipe with her knife, but the moment had passed. “Don’t ever do that again!” she snarled. “What’s with the weasels?” she demanded.

Klaus straightened up, collecting the Captain’s hat from the floor as he did so. He presented it to her as he waved over the head handler, who approached warily. “They are known as ‘Wasp-eaters.’” The little creature in the handler’s hand obviously realized that it was being talked about. It looked at Bangladesh and smirked.

“We developed them to hunt down Slaver Wasps, but unexpectedly, it appears that they can also detect when someone is infected with a wasp.”

Bang was unimpressed. “What, in case you don’t notice the whole shambling, twitching revenant act?” She snorted. “Yes indeed, mighty useful.”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Yes, that was my initial reaction as well.” He paused. “Until recently.” He made a small sign to a group at the far door. This was opened, and the indignant person of Count Blitzengaard strode in.

“Herr Baron!” He began sternly, “I must vigorously protest this... this invasion!” He no doubt would have gone on for a good deal longer, but the wasp-eater nearest to him had snapped to look at him, then opened its mouth wide and hissed. The Count stopped dead and stared at the creature in astonishment.

Several other handlers had drifted close, and their charges reacted similarly. “What the devil are those things!” the Count cried out. Two more handlers darted forward and before the Count knew what was happening, his hands were secured behind his back. “What are you doing?” he roared.

“I’m afraid you must come with us now, Sir.”

The Count stared at Klaus with wide, fearful eyes. “But I’ve done nothing wrong! I am a Royal Courier! No one is allowed to interfere with—We have Diplomatic Immunity! By your own decree!”

Klaus nodded. “You are correct, my dear Count. I assure you, we will do all we can to cure you.”

“You must—!” The Count’s brain belatedly analyzed Klaus’ statement. “Cure? Wait!” But by then, he had been carried out the far door.

Klaus glanced at Bangladesh. Her face was a mask of amazement. There were many bad things you could say about Captain DuPree[59], but she was second to none when it came to assessing threats.

“You mean he’s—”

Klaus nodded. “Infected by Slaver Wasps. A ‘revenant’ under the command of The Other. Yes.”

“But he... he looks perfectly normal.”

“Yes.” Klaus lowered his voice. “As do the one hundred and seventy others we have uncovered aboard Castle Wulfenbach so far.”

Bangladesh shook her head in denial. “But The Other is dead!”

Klaus shrugged. “It’s possible that we’re just discovering old infections.” He paused, “But I was never sure. Did she die? Or did she just stop? There was no way to tell.”

“But the Heterodyne Boys—” DuPree paused. The Pfennig dropped. “Wait...‘She’?”

Klaus nodded. He placed one of his hands upon the Captain’s back, something few other people would have dared to do, and indicated that she was to walk with him. They left the observation platform and took an otherwise empty catwalk out towards the flagship. Below them the embarkation proceedings were reaching a crescendo. Finally Klaus began to speak.

“You know that I’ve standing orders to bring me The Other’s creations.” Bangladesh nodded. She’d transported a few of them. Those were some of the few times she’d felt nervous. There were things a Captain did not want on her ship.

Klaus continued. “I’ve studied them. The internal logics are familiar to me. Now these devices are very advanced, but their underlying principles are similar to those I saw years ago in the work of Lucrezia Mongfish. They were so similar, that I had long entertained the notion that Lucrezia was, in fact, The Other. This was despite the fact that, as gifted as Lucrezia was, she had never displayed this level of skill. It was almost impossible to believe she could have advanced so radically in just a few years.” Klaus paused, and directly faced Bangladesh.

“But now I find that there is a daughter. Sired by Bill Heterodyne, no less. Styles do tend to run in families, and any offspring of those two—”

“Whoa! Whoa!” Bangladesh interrupted. “The daughter—That was the girl who was here. But she’s dead now. I saw—”

Klaus overrode her. “You saw what you were supposed to see. You were tricked. The girl is alive.”

Bangladesh thought back to the charred corpse they had exhumed. “Really? You’re sure?”

Klaus nodded. “Yes.”

Bangladesh shook her head in admiration. “Wow. She sure looked dead.”

Klaus stared at her for several moments. He was at a loss for words. Bangladesh did this to him occasionally. Unluckily, it was never a condition Bangladesh herself suffered from.

“So she’s The Other’s daughter.” She thought about this for a minute. “Big deal.”

Klaus shrugged and resumed walking. “I fervently hope that is the case.”

Bangladesh frowned. “You hope so? What else could she be? Klaus, what are you so worried about?”

Klaus turned and looked the puzzled woman in the face. “She could be The Other.”

Bangladesh scratched her head. “Neat trick. She doesn’t look like she was old enough to even be born back then.”

Klaus nodded, and took a deep breath. This was going to be complicated, which was never Bangladesh’s strong suit. “DuPree, do you remember where you first saw this girl?”

The Captain nodded. “Sure. That big weird hole in the sky.”

“That’s right. From your description of the incident, I believe those were... windows into... the future.”

DuPree looked blank. “The future?”

Klaus plowed ahead. “Time. She will be able to manipulate time. She was looking at you from sometime in the future. Do you understand what that means?”

Bangladesh opened her mouth. She paused and then closed her mouth. Klaus was encouraged.

“What you saw might have been just a window. But what if it was a Gate? She could discover how to do this ten... twenty years from now, and still be the one who destroyed Castle Heterodyne nineteen years ago!”

He dropped his hands to his sides and looked at the Captain with raised eyebrows. It was then that Bangladesh shocked the Baron more than she ever had, or indeed, ever would again.

“But if I saw her... looking at us from the future...Then she’ll still be running around in this future. If we’re going after her now, then we’re going to lose.”

Klaus shrugged wearily. “And thus our predicament. I just don’t know enough about the nature of time. Maybe she isn’t The Other. Maybe The Future you observed can be changed. Maybe we do lose because you observed it.” He spread his hands wide. “Maybe everything that has happened was some huge misunderstanding and we don’t have to fight her at all. The problem is that while we know what it was that you saw, we did not see it in context. We do not know the larger story.”

They approached the great airship. An airshipman who was winding a cable saw them and almost broke his back with the speed with which he untangled himself and snapped off a crisp salute. They moved along to the Captain’s quarters.

Bangladesh’s private suite was the standard size, two rooms, one little more than a large bunk surrounded by storage cabinets, and the other a ready room, notable for its generous size (almost twelve square meters) and the large set of floor to ceiling windows that covered one wall. This held the Captain’s desk and dining table, and was again lined with racks and storage spaces. The ceiling overhead was covered with rope nets that on longer expeditions held bales and packages.

By tradition, Klaus should have taken the Captain’s cabin, but as always, he insisted on sleeping with the other officers. No one blamed him for this.

Most Captains preferred to keep their quarters simple. Bangladesh, however, preferred a decorating style that Gilgamesh had once described as “Debauched Barbarian Princess.” He had meant it as an insult, but once Bangladesh had learned what “debauched” meant, she had worked hard to live up to it.

The first surprise was the color. Everyone always expected red, but in fact, the room was painted a dark emerald green. This allowed any added red to really stand out. Which was a big help during clean-up. Most of the available wall space was taken up with mounted weapons, guns, knives, swords, all lovingly polished and oiled and ready to be grabbed. There was a great deal of ornamentation, every edge was filigreed with gold paint, and almost all of the fixtures were gold. The chains that held the hurricane lamps, the hooks that held clothing, every visible strut and rivet gleamed in the light. Those decorations that weren’t gold, were bones. They always turned out to be the bones of animals and monsters, but Klaus felt compelled to keep checking. Whatever they were, there were a lot of them. They had been cunningly fashioned into pieces of furniture, drinking vessels, chart holders, clothes hangers and lampshades.

The curtains gathered away from the windows and across the Captain’s bunk were a luscious shimmering silk, with an intricately batiked design of skulls.

As always, the sight of the place gave rise to mixed emotions in Klaus. There was no denying it was tasteless, gaudy and ostentatious, but it did stir fond memories of his long lost wife.

While Bangladesh stowed her gear, Klaus continued. “Dr. Beetle’s notes were very well encrypted, but my team finally cracked them. Unfortunately, many of them were lost in an ill-conceived fire, but some of the material we were able to salvage was about the Heterodyne girl.

“Barry and Agatha arrived in Beetleburg around twelve years ago. Shortly thereafter he disappeared, leaving her in the care of the constructs, Punch and Judy.”

He sighed. “Other notes clearly show that Beetle believed that she would be able to control Slaver Wasps. He planned to use her. Against whom is unclear, probably myself.”

Bangladesh leaned back against the table. “I thought you and Beetle were, I dunno, friends. Beetleburg’s listed as a friendly port. If you knew the Heterodynes so well, why didn’t Barry tell you any of this?”

Klaus looked troubled. “That is the most disturbing part. Because of the fire, there is a lot that is only hinted at, but there’s one place where he mentions that Barry Heterodyne claimed that I worked for The Other.”

Bangladesh snorted at the idea.

Klaus shrugged. “But the notes don’t say why. This does explain why Beetle didn’t confide in me, or why Barry, Punch and Judy hid from me.” He paused. “You would think they’d have known me...” He startled Bangladesh by slamming his hand down upon the nearest table, causing the objects thereon to leap several centimeters into the air. “Confound that fool and his fire!” he growled.

As a person who had set her share of fires, Bangladesh thought it prudent to change the subject. “So she can control Slaver Wasps? But when we had that outbreak on Castle Wulfenbach, people said they saw her fighting them with Gilgamesh.”

Klaus allowed himself to be distracted. “One of the many mysteries that makes this so frustrating. One of the first revenants we uncovered was Mr. Rovainen.”

Bangladesh hissed in a surprised breath. Mr. Rovainen had been one of Klaus’ chief assistants for over a decade.

Klaus acknowledged her understanding of the situation with a nod. “He swore that young Agatha was The Other. That she was the one who gave him the order to activate the Hive Engine aboard Castle Wulfenbach, and that he was compelled to obey her.

“Therefore I must conclude that even if she is not the original Other, The Other’s servants will see little difference. That alone makes her dangerous.”

They headed toward the bridge. The corridors were filled with crew addressing last minute details.

Bangladesh considered all that Klaus has said. “So why haven’t you announced this? You’re the one who claims that the troops fight better when they’re informed of the big picture.”

Klaus looked embarrassed. “Because I want this girl alive, and even now, just the mention of The Other inspires fear and rage. Many people lost loved ones in the attacks. Few could properly control their emotions.” He paused, and continued slowly. “Plus... I am not one hundred percent sure of her guilt. There are things here that do not feel right. I must treat her with utmost caution, I will bring her here, but I won’t falsely accuse her.”

They passed through a reinforced doorway into the main control room of the airship. This was the largest room onboard, easily four meters tall and almost ten wide. It was surrounded on three sides by enormous floor to ceiling windows. The remaining wall space was covered with work stations and various gauges and read-outs. In the center of the floor were two enormous ship’s wheels, each manned by a burly airshipman.

Behind them was a low platform, circled with brass rails containing a large, comfortable chair that had been bolted to the deck. As they entered, a lieutenant roared out “Captain on the bridge!” All of the personnel present snapped to attention, faced Captain DuPree and saluted. She returned the salute and dropped into her chair and attached the restraint webbing all ship-board chairs were equipped with.

Bangladesh’s second-in-command, another “reformed” air pirate, stepped up and saluted before handing her the final check-list. Bangladesh didn’t bother to read it. “Are we ready to kill people, Lieutenant Karuna?”

The Lieutenant shot a startled look at Klaus, who refused to rise to the bait, and continued to examine the view through the window. “Only if they refuse to listen to reason, Captain.” It was a measure of her fear of Klaus that Karuna was able to say this with a straight face.

Bangladesh had selected her executive crew with care over the years. They were all ex-pirates, all ruthless enough that Klaus had determined that they had to be taken out, but smart enough to accept his offer of employment. They were all deadly fighters, and they were all women[60].

When they were again alone on the platform, Bangladesh leaned back and considered her employer carefully. “So why are you telling me? I don’t even try to control my emotions. Gives you wrinkles.”

Klaus glanced at her unlined face. “You are in command. These are things that you need to be aware of.” He looked at the Captain seriously. “Besides—If I decide that she must die, I know that you won’t hesitate to kill her.”

A little frisson of pleasure ran down Bangladesh’s spine. “Why Klaus, you sweet talking flatterer,” she purred. She mulled over the information. “So who else knows?”

“Boris. The Bug Squad commanders, and the Deep Thinkers[61].”

Bangladesh nodded. “What about the Jägers? They’re good fighters, and wasps won’t—” she realized what she was suggesting. “I guess not. You might have to kill them.”

Klaus nodded soberly. “I have considered this.” He looked at DuPree with a hard look in his eye. “They have served us loyally and well these last years. Could you do it? Kill them all? Just because of their misplaced loyalties?”

Bangladesh sat back hard. “I don’t know. It would be really tough.” She shook her head and the admission was torn from between her gritted teeth. “I... I might need help.”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Keep the possibility in mind. I have taken pains, these last few months, to keep the Jägers busy in distant parts of the Empire. With any luck, this will be done with by the time they get wind of it.”

At this point, a Bosun stepped out onto the “ready” platform that was attached to the nose of the ship and blew his whistle[62], announcing that this ship was ready to leave. They were the first to do so, a fact that Bangladesh appreciated, and always rewarded on the first night out with an extra ration of schnapps.

They had only beaten the other ships by a few minutes however, and the other whistles sounded forth, each ship determined not to be the last to go. Indeed, to Klaus’s ear, the last two whistles came simultaneously, a judgment that was verified by the grins that spontaneously broke out all over the control room. Simultaneous debarkation whistles were seen as a sign of good luck. Klaus smiled[63].

“Lieutenant Karuna, take us out.” Bangladesh’s First Officer acknowledged the order and within the minute, the airship was sliding out of the side of Castle Wulfenbach. They hovered in place as the great guide poles were retracted and the final lines were cast off.

The remainder of the force, twelve ships in all, slid forth and began maneuvering away from the great mothership towards the rendezvous point a kilometer away.

Bangladesh nodded in satisfaction as her crew performed. She turned back to Klaus as a new thought struck her. “What about Gil? He’ll have an opinion about this.” She rolled her eyes. “He always does.”

Klaus agreed. “At the moment my son is busy repairing and reanimating Punch and Judy, that pair of constructs he thinks I don’t know about.”

He settled back against the rail. “I don’t want to disturb him, or them, more than I already have. If he can establish a sufficient level of trust, they will answer many important questions. They raised this Agatha girl, after all. But it definitely would be best to resolve this before he is ready to interfere. He would find some of these revelations to be... disturbing.”

Bangladesh smiled wickedly. “Awww, c’mon. Let me tell him.”

Klaus cleared his throat. “I think not. At this point, all Gilgamesh knows is that I want her here because, as the last of the Heterodyne family, she is a threat to the peace.”

He sighed. “That’s certainly true enough, and if a Heterodyne is all that she is, that’s fine. But if I have to destroy her—” Klaus paused. “Well, he’s very much in love with her. He is unlikely to be reasonable about all of this, no matter what I say, and I don’t think he’d let me.”

Bangladesh blinked and then looked at Klaus incredulously. “You don’t think he’d let you? Gil?” She let out a burst of laughter that caused everyone in the control room to flinch. She spun about in her chair holding her stomach. “You’re fretting about Herr Sensitive? Klaus, please.”

Klaus frowned in embarrassment. “I assure you, if he allied himself with The Other, it would be very bad indeed. Not just for Europa, but possibly for the entire world.”

Bangladesh tried to control herself and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Oh, I understand, Herr Baron. Heaven forbid I have to face a put-out Gilgamesh.” She broke into another series of giggles.

Klaus studied her in annoyance, but because DuPree was, in her own way, a valuable asset, Klaus felt he had to make an effort to warn her. “You knew Gilgamesh in Paris. While there, he tried to hide everything important about himself. Even from me.” He eyed Bangladesh who tried to look innocent. It didn’t suit her. “The Gilgamesh you think you know is not the real Gilgamesh. Do not underestimate him.”

Bangladesh nodded, and Klaus could almost see his words slide free from her far ear and sail off into space. Mentally, he shrugged. He had done his best, and if worst came to worst, the boy could always use another test.

Lucrezia sat back and tapped the device that sat on the bench before her with a fingernail. The mechanism shivered, and began to spin gently.

She sighed in satisfaction. “There? You see? Place this in the control node, and the main device will be working better than ever.”

Tarvek leaned over her shoulder, a look of rapt attention on his face. “Amazing!” he breathed. “I had no idea! You must teach me more!”

Lucrezia shrugged. The things she was revealing were, in her opinion, elementary advances to existing mechanisms. Tarvek’s reactions suggested that she had progressed more than she had realized.

“Well I certainly had the time,” she conceded to herself. This was good, as it meant that she had more scraps to throw out that would keep the young Spark within her sphere of influence. To Lucrezia, it was patently obvious that Tarvek was an opportunist, one able to ideologically turn on a copper coin when circumstances warranted it, and she was well aware that she would command his loyalty only as long as she looked like she was going to win.

Lucrezia found that she actually enjoyed this. It was a refreshing change from the blind obedience of the Geisterdamen and she realized that once she started dealing with the various powers of Europa, they would be more like Tarvek than not. She was well aware that when it came to dealing with people, she was woefully out of practice.

She patted him gently on the cheek and smiled. He was also rather decorative. When she had the time, there were quite a few of the organic pleasures that she was determined to catch up on. “Of course, dear boy,” she assured him. “You’ll be ever so much more useful to me when...” she swayed, and Tarvek caught her by the shoulders.

“My Lady? Are you well?”

An alarmed Lucrezia shook her head. “I don’t know. I... I feel terrible.”

Tarvek sat her down, fished his watch from his pocket and took her pulse. He frowned. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Aside from a brief period of unconsciousness before you... ah... took over, this body has been without sleep for far longer than is healthy.” He closed the watch with a click. “You’re going to spoil it at this rate.”

Lucrezia closed her eyes, and had to force them open again. “Oh, that tedious sleep business. I can’t say I missed that. So silly of me to forget.”

Tarvek kept his face neutral, but he had to admit that these little snippets of information about Lucrezia’s previous state of existence were filling him with a burning curiosity, as well as a chilling sense of foreboding. What in the world had happened to her?

Lucrezia snapped back to attention. “But I am relieved. I had almost imagined that this body was rejecting me. Or even that the girl herself was fighting back.”

Tarvek looked at her sharply. “That’s impossible.” He paused. “Isn’t it?”

Lucrezia regarded him and frowned. “Oh dear. I do so mistrust it when ‘impossible’ is one’s initial reaction to an idea.”

She stared off into space for a minute. “Your sister—have they found her yet?”

Now Tarvek started to look worried. “No, my Lady. Your priestesses have not returned with her since last you asked, and you’ve already sent them all, so—”

Lucrezia felt a small jolt of fear. “When did I last ask?”

Tarvek again consulted his watch. “Ah—eleven minutes ago.”

Lucrezia swayed in her seat. “Oh dear. I think I do need a dose of sleep.” Then she sat up and delivered a brutal smack across her own face. “No! No, I must have this completed before Klaus’ terrier arrives. It’s such a perfect opportunity...” She turned to Tarvek. “Tell me, dear boy, can you mix me up some sort of stimulant?”

Tarvek frowned. “It’s against my better judgment, medically speaking, but yes, of course, my Lady.”

Lucrezia sighed in relief. “Good. Then I can—” and without any warning, she collapsed into a startled Tarvek’s arms.

“My lady?”

A small, girlish snore was her only response. Tarvek sighed, and with a grunt, he hoisted her up into his arms. “Marvelous,” he muttered. “Now what do I do with you?”

A hand reached up and grabbed his collar. He looked down to see Agatha glaring back at him. “Start by telling me what the heck is going on!”

Tarvek almost dropped her. “Agatha?”

The girl stared at him. “Yes?”

A wave of emotion crashed over Tarvek, catching him completely by surprise. He had accepted that Agatha was gone, gone forever, as he had been forced to accept so many other terrible losses in his life. Now that she was unexpectedly back, feelings that he had suppressed swept him up and threatened to overwhelm him. He hugged the surprised girl tightly to him, and whispered into her hair. “I thought you were gone.”

Agatha realized that she took comfort from the feeling of Tarvek’s arms around her, and relaxed slightly. “I think I was... asleep?” She pulled back and looked Tarvek in the face. “I was so... so angry. It was hard to wake up, but I knew I had to keep trying—what’s been happening?”

Tarvek didn’t even bother to calculate how this changed things. He gently set her down and answered honestly. “You’ve been... well, possessed, I suppose, by The Other.”

Agatha nodded slowly. Things were making sense. “My mother. Yes, I still am.”

Tarvek looked alarmed. “What? But—”

“She’s still in my head... pushing.” A disconnected look crossed her face. “Maybe I’m still dreaming...”

Tarvek grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake. “No! This is no dream! You’re only awake because Lucrezia fell asleep. You’ve got to stay awake! I’ll help you!”

Agatha looked at him dreamily. “I don’t think I can. It’s so hard to think. Oh! Yes...”

With that she closed her eyes and began to hum a bizarre little atonal drone. A realization struck Tarvek that sent a shiver down his spine. “That’s... you’re heterodyning[64],” he whispered. “It’s real? It works?”

Agatha’s eyes snapped open. They were clear now. “It helps me think.” She sagged. “But I can’t do it forever.”

At that moment, Agatha’s little pocket clank stepped forward and chimed twice. Agatha looked at it and an idea burst into her head. “Yes! That would do it!” She scooped up the little device and gently twisted the little stem at the top. “Oh, you’re wonderful!” The little clank reveled in the praise.

Agatha swayed, and Tarvek caught her. “My Lady?”

Agatha looked at him from the corner of her eye. “My Lady now, is it?”

Tarvek responded smoothly, “Well... yes, you are the Lady Heterodyne, right?”

There was something suspicious about this, but at the moment Agatha couldn’t summon enough spare mental energy to care. “Whatever.”

She selected a set of tools and flipped open the back of the little clank. Her knees started to shake. Tarvek moved closer and slipped his arms around her. “Here,” he murmured. “Lean on me.”

Agatha nodded her thanks and resumed tinkering with the clank. Tarvek looked over her shoulder and marveled at the way her hands moved. He blinked. “What is it exactly that you’re doing?”

Agatha was silent for so long that he was afraid that she wasn’t going to answer him. But finally, she whispered, “I don’t trust you.”

Tarvek considered this. He also considered the warm body he felt within the circle of his arms and realized, suddenly, that he wanted her trust, wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. He sighed. “Can’t say I blame you.”

More silence, punctuated by the sounds of tinkering. “You’re working with The Other, aren’t you?” Agatha whispered.

Tarvek shrugged. “I’d hardly be free or alive if I wasn’t.” Agatha said nothing, but he felt a slight shudder run through her. With a start, he realized that what Agatha thought about him was important. That he had to explain himself. “If I can learn what she’s doing, I can learn how to reverse it. You must believe me... no one else can do this. No one else can stop her.”

“I want to trust you.” Agatha whispered.

Tarvek tried to sound sincere. He found it more difficult to do than usual. “You can.”

Agatha looked back at him over her shoulder. “We’ll see.” With that she flipped the case cover on the little clank closed. “Go on, you.”

After a moment, it saluted and scurried off. Tarvek made a half hearted attempt to grab it, but found himself hampered by the girl sagging in his arms. “Wait!” He looked at Agatha. “What did you do?”

Agatha looked at him and a grin oozed across her face as she slipped further down into his arms. “Now,” she whispered, “You’ve got to trust me.”

Tarvek glared and shook her. “No! Don’t you go to sleep!”

Lucrezia opened her eyes and felt Tarvek holding her tightly. How interesting. “Ooo, Tarvek! You naughty thing! Are you taking advantage of a lady?”

Tarvek almost dropped her. “Of... of course not, my lady.”

She settled a bit deeper into his arms and smiled at his obvious discomfort. “What a pity,” She sighed. She frowned, and looked at him seriously. “Have they found your sister yet?”

Tarvek sighed.

Zeetha and Maxim trotted up to the rest of the group. Neither was breathing hard. “We ran around the whole castle.” Zeetha said. “None of the gates are accessible.”

Dimo scratched his jaw. “Gun be toff,” he admitted.

Maxim nodded. “Kent turn off dot lightning moat.”

Oggie felt he should contribute. “Kent fly.”

Krosp lashed his tail in frustration.

Lars stood up and dusted his hands. “We’ll just have to search for the secret passage.”

He became aware that the others were staring at him. “...What?” he looked at them in confusion. “They’re in all the stories.”

Several minutes later, they were, again, trudging through the city sewers. Krosp was miserably clutching onto Lars’ vest.

“You didn’t say it was in the sewers!” he hissed, his ears flattened.

Now that they could see them, it had to be admitted that as sewers went, the sewers of Sturmhalten seemed to be remarkably well-designed and maintained. Shortly after they had re-entered, they had found lanterns, as well as a collection of waterproof leather cylinders, which proved to contain well drawn, waxed maps of the system.

Large stone galleries were lined with walk-ways. There was no disguising the place’s purpose however. If the omnipresent smell wasn’t enough, now that they had sufficient light, they could actually see what it was that they were desperately trying not to step in.

Lars tried to ignore the more disgusting aspects of their surroundings, and looked for signs of secret passages. He felt a slight sinking feeling when he realized that subconsciously, he was expecting a small discrete sign with an arrow that said “secret passage.”

“Every good story about rescuing the princess from the castle of the evil Spark has a secret passage scene. There’s always an entrance in the sewers.” He muttered.

The others looked at each other and shrugged. It wasn’t like they had any better ideas. Lars halted and unrolled the map. He looked up and examined a small enameled metal sign that had been bolted to the upper wall. He checked the map again, and gave a small grunt of satisfaction.

“Okay, there should be something around here.”

Krosp stuck his head over his shoulder. “What? How do you figure?”

Lars indicated the map. “Not too close to the castle. Not too far. Close to the city gates for escape. Close to the armory and the main barracks to rally the troops. This place is rife with dramatic possibilities. It makes sense to put it here.”

Krosp stared at him and then waved his paws about in an impotent, but adorable, fury. “I can’t believe I’m listening to this! You expect to find a secret passage because of some idiotic stories?”

He no doubt would have said more, but there was a dry scraping sound, and a section of the far wall shivered, sending a cascade of dried material to the floor.

Krosp felt a hand grab the back of his collar and he was jerked back behind a buttress where the others already waited. He felt lips tickling his ear, and Lars breathed, “The thing you have to remember, is that everyone has heard the same stories.”

Zeetha sidled closer. “So what can we expect, story boy?”

Lars shrugged. “It depends. Could be a princess—”

The wall swung open and a clank, startlingly reminiscent of the long-lost Tinka stumbled out. Her eyes glowed with a blue fire. Immediately behind her came four worried looking retainers, carrying a bizarre container. “Hurry!” the clank whispered. “We haven’t got much time!”

The carriers were obviously hard used, and were puffing and sweating. One of the rear men glanced back and shrieked, “Highness!”

From the open wall, five pale figures leapt to the ground. They caught sight of the princess and the lead Geisterdamen pointed. “Tikka zok!” she screamed.

“—Could be a monster,” Lars finished.

The clank girl whirled and yelled back, “Voda za! Shibbak!”

Everyone looked at Lars. He shrugged. “Could be both.” Then he shook his head. “But those are Geisterdamen. In a town. I’ve never even heard of that happening.”

Dimo gnawed his lower lip. “I iz more interested in der doll gurl. She iz speakink like a Geisterlady, bot she hez miz Agatha’s voice.”

Krosp hissed. “They might know something about her. But which side—”

Oggie patted him on the head. “Ho! Dot’s easy, poozy cot!” With that he straightened up and stepped out into the open between the two groups, who froze. He gave each a big smile and waved genially. “Hey dere!” he called out cheerfully, “Who vants to be my friend?”

Several seconds passed, and then all of Anevka’s retainers shot a hand into the air and waved frantically. At this, all of the Geisterdamen raised their swords and with a yell, leapt forward.

Ognian nodded in satisfaction. “See? Now ve know who to fight!” Two of the pale women darted straight for the Jäger, who brought his halberd up horizontally and braced himself.

From the shadows behind him, Maxim and Dimo surged forward, leapt onto the halberd, and used it to boost themselves up and over the two attacking women, who were so distracted by this, that Ognian was able to take out one with a vicious kick that broke the Geisterdamen’s neck. The other quickly recovered and stabbed at Oggie in a blind rage, which was probably why she didn’t see Zeetha slide from behind the Jäger and punch her sword through her.

The third Geisterdamen was closing in on Anevka when Maxim sailed in from above and cleanly decapitated her. Dimo landed between the last two and while managing to stab one, was unable to stop the last from driving her sword into his chest. The shock of the thrust threw him back and he dropped to his knees. The pale woman followed up swiftly, sword ready for the final stroke, when another Geister sword erupted from her chest. She froze and then dropped, while Anevka pulled the sword from her body.

She calmly examined her rescuers with evident interest. “Jägermonsters,” she declared. “Of course. You must be looking for the Heterodyne girl.”

For a horrible moment the Jägers and Krosp thought that the secret was out, until Lars nodded and said, “Yes! That’s right! The girl from the Heterodyne show! Do you know where she is? Is she all right?”

Anevka’s eyes narrowed and she nodded slowly. “I do. She is a prisoner in the castle. She was fine the last time I saw her...” Her head jerked. “But now you must all come with me! Quickly!”

Lars pointed towards the entrance through which she’d emerged. “Through here?”

Anevka shook her head. “That would be extremely foolish.” She pointed at the dead women on the ground. “This was merely an advance party. Those tunnels will be swarming with Geisterdamen.”

Dimo had been listening at the entrance, and he hurried up. “She gots dot right,” he informed them. “Dere’s lots of pipple and odder tings comink.”

Lars looked stricken. “But—”

Anevka pulled him and the others began to move at her insistence. “I can get you into the castle. But not this way!”

Quickly they dashed down a short corridor until they found a rusty ladder. Behind them, they heard someone discover the dead Geisterdamen. Thanks to the efforts of the Jägers, they were able to boost up Anevka’s container, and the rest climbed quickly. At the top, they pushed aside a large iron door and found themselves in a municipal storage vault that held spare paving stones. The only way out was an ornate iron gate, which was securely locked. As Maxim swung the heavy door closed behind them, Anevka fished a set of keys out from a pocket, and after some fumbling, found the one that snapped the ancient lock open. They darted through, slammed the gate shut and relocked it, just as the grate in the floor began to rattle alarmingly.

It was only when they had managed to dash around a corner out of sight did they pause. Zeetha stepped over to Dimo, who was letting Maxim examine his chest wound. The Jäger was obviously annoyed that he had been hit. “You going to be okay?”

Dimo waved his hand impatiently. “Iz honly a scratch.”

Maxim smacked the wound with the back of his hand, causing the green Jäger to flinch and then curse. Maxim grinned. “She heet a bone. Iz mebbe cracked. Bot heez a tuff guy.” He continued. “Iz gunna be a bit rough for a day or two, so dun go round tryin’ to impress der ladies.”

Dimo snarled. Zeetha smiled and headed back to the others, to find they were already talking.

“Okay, your brother killed your father. So that makes him the new Prince?” Lars summarized.

Krosp interrupted, “And you really think he’s planning to take on Baron Wulfenbach?”

Anevka nodded sadly. “I’m sure of it. The Geisterdamen and their creatures were tools of my poor father. Tarvek controls them now.”

Ognian shrugged. “Makes sense. Dere ain’t been a decent rebellion against der Empire in vhat—two years?”

Maxim joined them. “Three. Dot magnetic prince guy. He kept der Baron busy for two whole months.”

“Dot vas only becawz all der compasses got messed op and dey kept gettink lost,” Oggie pointed out.

Both of the Jägers shook their heads. In their professional opinion, no one had come out of that conflict looking particularly good.

“But, jah, der Empire’s due.” He smiled ruefully. “A pity ve’s gunna miss dot, dem Geisterladies might be fun in a schtand-up fight.”

Zeetha scratched her head. “But, why did he kidnap Agatha?”

Lars looked at her askance. “Is that a trick question?”

Krosp nodded slowly. “Maybe it is a trick question.” Lars looked surprised. Krosp continued, “But not for the reason the meathead thinks it is. If this Prince Tarvek is about to launch a rebellion against the Empire—well that’s not something you do at the drop of a hat. It’s complicated. You need a plan. The last thing you’d want to do is throw in a... a random kidnapping the night you set things in motion.”

Zeetha frowned. “By that logic, the reason he started his rebellion today was because he had Agatha. That doesn’t make any sense.” She looked at Krosp and the Dimo, who were looking at each other worriedly. “Does it?”

Anevka broke in. “There is always a use for a Spark. My father collected girls with the Spark whenever he found them. I imagine my brother is continuing this repellent practice. It does not help that your friend is rather good looking. I do so hope my brother can control his vile appetites.”

She noted with satisfaction that her words had steered their imaginations into realms of speculation that were more alarming than accurate. That would have to do for now, but it was obvious that these people... especially the cat... person, were too dangerous to be allowed to live. But perhaps their deaths could be useful... if only one of them would drag their mind out of the gutter she’d suggested—

“You said you could get us into the castle,” said Krosp.

Well done, faithful animal companion. “Indeed I can,” said Anevka gratefully. “There are many tunnels under the town. We always kept a few hidden, even from the Geisterdamen, I doubt even my brother will be so reckless as to give them all the family secrets.” They came to a corner and paused. The town was still eerily quiet, although there were a few dimly glowing windows now. They had to get off the streets.

“We will proceed to the home of my loyal friends, Lord and Lady Selnikov. They have long harbored fears of what would happen to the town were my brother to gain total control. I will be safe with them, and from there I will be able to secure you supplies and guides will be able to get you safely through the sewers, into the castle, and lead you to the controls for the lightning moat.”

“What about you?” the annoyingly smart cat asked.

Luckily, here she was back to the original plan. “I will rally the town and the army. When the moat comes down, we will take the castle. This evil must stop.”

The cat stared at her. “The Baron is sending a Questor. Once he sees what’s going on here, he’ll send a fleet. Why fool around with storming the castle yourselves?”

When this was all over, she really hoped this creature was still alive. She’d keep it in a cage, poke it with sticks, and bring it to all of the planning sessions.

“The last thing I want is the Baron thinking that I cannot administer this town on my own. If I crush this rebellion myself, he has no cause to usurp my right to rule.”

Krosp nodded and to Anevka’s surprise, looked relieved. She realized that the cat, at least, must know that Agatha had no wish to encounter the Baron or his representatives.

Lars spoke up. “It’ll all boil down to partisan loyalties then. Are you sure that the townspeople and the army will rally to you instead of your brother?”

Anevka gently touched her newly re-tuned voicebox. “Oh yes. Everyone in Balan’s Gap will do what I say.”

Several minutes later, one of Lord Selnikov’s under-cooks was stumbling towards the back door of the kitchens. Before he got there, another set of blows landed on the far side, rattling the dishes.

All right! All right!” he shouted. “Keep your hair on!” Grumbling mightily, he threw the great deadbolt, and heaved on the iron-bound door. “You must be new,” he said as the door groaned open. “We don’t accept deliveries before—”

The heavy door pushed into him and he stumbled back with an oath. Furious, he grabbed a broom and turned back to find a monstrous, green face leering at him from scant centimeters away.

“Bot dis iz a very special delivery!”

A jolt of fear surged through him as a crowd of people pushed into the kitchen. One of them called out, “Hey! Dere’s food!”—And instantly, most of them fell upon the remains of last night’s banquet. The under-cook was aghast, if only because, by tradition, this was the morning staff’s breakfast that was being devoured before his eyes, and he knew who was going to get blamed for it. He raised the broom—

“Stop!” A tall girl with green hair snagged his sleeve. “I’d step back, if I were you. Those are Jägermonsters and animals eating there.” Krosp waved his paw in acknowledgement. “How smart do you think it would be to get between them and food?”

The under-cook paused, remembering the face at the door. It was said that if you interrupted a Jäger at dinner, you’d be the dessert.

He saw Lars industriously carving himself a slice of roast swan. “Hey! What about that guy?”

“He’s an actor.”

This, the under-cook knew how to deal with. “I’d better go hide the silver.”

He turned to go and found himself face-to-face with a bemused Princess Anevka, who was supervising her bearers as they gingerly edged her catafalque through the smaller doorway. In his panic, he executed a perfect curtsy. “Forgive me, your Highness!”

Genially, she waved aside his apologies. “It’s quite all right, my good fellow. It’s been awhile since I wasn’t the strangest thing in the room. Now fetch your master.”

With a quick bow, the under-cook took off like a shot.

Less than three minutes later, a very stout man clad in a lavish, ermine-trimmed dressing gown burst, huffing, into the kitchen.

He had been quite muscular once, and there was still some evidence of this under the fat that now swaddled his frame. He had a small dapper moustache that was sadly out of place on the broad, square face. His features revealed that he was obviously related to the Royal family from somewhere in the not-too-distant past. “Princess Anevka!” he gasped upon seeing her and her entourage. “It is you! Are you all right?”

The Princess shut the recipe book she’d been idly thumbing through, and tilted her head in amusement. “Quite well. Especially now that you are with me in all of your sartorial glory, Lord Selnikov.”

The older man glared at her as he straightened his outfit. “Some of us were a bit rushed this morning.”

“My apologies. But there has been a small shakeup in our plans.” She took his sleeve and headed for the door. To the others she said. “Eat up, my friends, I must bring his Lordship here up to speed.”

Lord Selnikov now saw what was depleting his larders (as the remains of the banquet had been quickly disposed of) and his protests and demands to know who and what those filthy creatures were, easily kept Anevka from having to say anything until they reached his Lordship’s private study, at which point she forcefully told him to shut up. He did.

“Last night my father found an actress with vocal harmonics identical to those we’ve been trying to duplicate.”

Selnikov sat down in surprise. His mind considered the possibilities.

“She controlled an entire theatre full of people. They responded just as though she were The Other. Once we had her, Tarvek was able to adjust my voice to match hers, perfectly.”

“Astonishing.” He thought for a moment. “And the effect upon the Lady Vrin and her people?” His Lordship may have looked like a carousing oaf, but he still had a sharp mind, when he was goaded into using it.

“Alas, my voice alone is not enough to control Vrin, and the effect on the ordinary priestesses leaves much to be desired.”

Selnikov frowned, and pulled the head off of a stuffed hawk with a “pop,” revealing the mouth of a bottle. He poured himself a large dollop of brandy. “That’s inconvenient,” he muttered before emptying half the glass with one swallow.

“Indeed, but there was no time to investigate the problem, as I barely escaped with my life.”

Selnikov started. “What?”

“The Lady Vrin has decided that this girl is, in fact, their lost Holy Child, and thus my vocal experiments were, in effect, blasphemy. She was very touchy about it.”

“What about your father? Surely he could talk—”

Anevka stared at him and then slammed her hand down upon the desk. “My father is dead! I cannot believe you are unaware of this! The town has been in mourning for hours!”

Selnikov reddened. “I was busy. Until quite late in the evening. I left orders that I was not be disturbed for any reason.” The look on his face said that he regretted that particular order now.

Anevka considered him. “That’s right, dear Lady Selnikov is in Paris, isn’t she? Well I hope you enjoyed your little dalliance, and you’re damned lucky that you weren’t required.”

Selnikov glowered, and took another drink. “Your brother?” he asked brusquely.

“My brother has denounced me to the Geisterdamen loudly and extensively. He ordered the guards to catch me, and immediately pledged fealty to this Holy Child and The Lady. He even shot at me as I was escaping.”

Selnikov stared at her. “Good Lord.”

Anevka nodded with a touch of pride. “Yes, he was very convincing. They will trust him. He will do his work, as we will do ours, and everything will work out beautifully.”

She glanced out the window, and saw that the eastern sky was beginning to glow with the pre-dawn. “But now I must insist upon a change of clothes. It simply will not do to topple the Empire in our pajamas.”

Several hours later, Prince Tarvek stumbled into the lab that now housed Moxana, as well as the deactivated Tinka. He collapsed into a chair and gazed at her in exhaustion. “Sweet lightning,” he confessed to her, “That woman is going to kill me! I’ve got to get some sleep.” He waved a hand. “She only stopped working because I refused her more stimulant. I... I’m worried it might damage her—well... that body.” He paused, and shook his head in despair. “I don’t even know if Agatha is still in there. I haven’t seen her for hours, and Lucrezia’s control of the body seems to be absolute. The machine she’s working on is almost finished.”

He scowled. “This will be trouble. The actual Lady Lucrezia is too much of a wild card. I probably should have killed her when I had the chance, but this opportunity was just too...”

He looked at the implacable face of The Muse. “This will work—won’t it?”

Smoothly, the seated figure fanned out a large deck of cards face down, and gestured to Tarvek that he was to select one. Tarvek gingerly picked a card. He turned and examined it, a frown crossing his face. The picture showed a glowing funnel cloud bearing down on, or possibly being generated by, an intricate little device of unknown function. The number at the top read “XXX.”

“The Whirlwind,” he said flatly. “‘Great power at great risk.’ Or alternatively, ‘beware of things underground.’ Or possibly, ‘expect an unexpected friend.’ Or even ‘learn a new piece of music.’” He flipped the card back onto Moxana’s board with a sigh. “Thank you, oh Muse of Mystery.” He dropped his head into his hands. “I suppose I’ll just have to...”

He paused, as faint strains of... was that music? It was music, of a sort, and it was getting louder—or closer...

This latter proved to be the correct guess, as around the corner came a flowing tide of light. It was a horde of tiny machines. Tarvek realized that they looked similar to the small clank Agatha had worked on.

They were all producing a soft orange glow, and they were all humming a variant of the weird atonal melody that he had last heard from Agatha herself. And now, at the crest of the tide of machines, Agatha herself appeared. Her feet hidden by the adoring devices. To the electrified Tarvek, she appeared to be gliding towards him upon a seething river of light. Somehow, he could instantly tell that this was in fact Agatha, and not Lucrezia. With that realization, he tore his eyes away from her and focused on the machines at her feet.

“Your little clanks,” he breathed, “They’re reproducing the heterodyning music. Brilliant!” He listened briefly. Tarvek considered himself a rather good musician, and he realized—“The music is a little off from the stuff you produce yourself. Understandable, of course, but the effect upon your mind must be—”

Agatha’s hands whipped out and Tarvek found himself caught up, his face centimeters from hers. Up close he could see that she was under considerable strain. Sweat was pouring down her face, and the pupils of her eyes were reduced to pinpoints.

“She’s winning,” Agatha rasped in a guttural voice. “I need your lab.”

“Yes!” Tarvek gasped. “Yes! Of course!” He succeeded in pulling himself free of Agatha’s grasp. “What are you going to do?”

She looked at him bleakly. “The only thing I can do.”

Meanwhile, Agatha’s rescuers found themselves trudging through the sewers of Sturmhalten for yet a third time. Their situation was improved however, in that this time, they had been supplied with guides, a pair of dour plumbers, who reluctantly admitted to knowing the sewers “as well as anyone.”

They were also accompanied by one Herr Veilchen, who freely admitted to being an assassin in the employ of the Royal Family. The only ones who didn’t feel nervous around him were the Jägers, who cheerfully tried to engage him in technical discussions about the best way to kill people in increasingly bizarre situations.

“I cannot believe how big these damn sewers are,” Krosp groused for possibly the hundredth time. “The town isn’t that big.”

“You gotta remember,” Sturvin, the first plumber said, “Balan’s Gap used to be bigger. This is where the Western Coalition managed to hold back the old Heterodynes. There were a lot of armies bivouacked here for almost a decade before the Storm King whipped everyone into shape. The only reason the whole thing held together was because they had a proper sewage system.” You could tell that this was a man who believed that his field of specialization was single-handedly responsible for dragging mankind down from the trees. In this case, perhaps a bit too far down, but you still had to admire his enthusiasm.

Lars carefully stepped over a bubbling green puddle. “So how did you two get to be such experts on the secret passages down here?”

Sturvin snorted. “We’ve worked down here for twenty-seven years, man.”

The shorter plumber, Kalikoff, joined in. “When you’re being chased and you need a place to hide, you learn what to look for.”

Lars looked uneasy. “Chased? By what?”

“Duh—the usual. Giant cockroaches. Sewer serpents. Ghouls. It’s a sewer. With tunnels connecting to the catacombs. What do you expect?”

Lars shivered. “Most sewers don’t have any of that stuff.”

Sturvin blinked in surprise. “What?”

Kalikoff looked at Lars skeptically. “Really? No albino squid?”

“No!”

The small man frowned. “How about rats? Everybody’s gotta have them giant glowing rats.”

Lars shook his head. “No. Little rats. Sixty centimeters. Tops.”

The two plumbers looked at each other. Sturvin frowned. “That is one messed up ecosystem, man.”

Kalikoff shook his head in agreement. “So in these other sewers—if they don’t have this stuff, what do the big monsters eat?”

“What am I doing in here?” Lars screamed.

Zeetha patted him on the arm. “You’re here to rescue Agatha, hero.”

Lars closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Right! Yes! Agatha! Beautiful girl held captive by depraved prince. Yes. Third act. Curtain going up.” He took another breath and smiled at Zeetha. “Okay, I’m good.” Krosp rolled his eyes.

Maxim turned to Herr Veilchen. “Hyu know de layout uv der kestle. Vere do dey keep all dere beautiful gurl captives?”

The assassin considered this. “Yes, of course, you’ll want to rescue your friend first. I should have expected that. My priority is the shutting down of the lightning moat, but I don’t see a conflict. Once we get inside, I will direct you to the dungeons, and then proceed on my own.”

“Und vat if she iz not in der dungeons?”

“Then I expect you’ll cause enough havoc looking for her that I’ll have no trouble at all.”

Maxim laughed. “Hyu gots dot right.”

The cloaked man considered him for a moment. “I must confess to being surprised at the involvement of Jägermonsters in this matter. Is this Agatha of interest to the Baron?”

Maxim made a show of dismissing this idea. “Heh. Mizz Agatha, she help uz out avhile ago. She safe our lives. Ve gots to pay her beck. Hyu know how it iz.”

“Hmm, I see.” Veilchen answered like a man who did indeed know how it was, but only on an academic level.

“Besides,” Maxim continued, “Hit looks like dere might be sum goot fighting in dis. Dem Geistergurls iz pretty fast.”

Veilchen waved a hand. “Oh, I try to avoid unpleasantness like that.”

Maxim looked surprised. “Really?”

“Oh, yes. It’s much more satisfying to kill without a fight.”

Maxim stared at him. “Oh.” Was all he said.

“Quiet!” This was delivered in a strained whisper from Kalikoff, who held up a hand to stop the group.

“What is it?” whispered Krosp.

“Listen,” Sturvin muttered, “There’re voices coming from the tunnel up ahead. Weird voices.”

This was not the first time this had happened. Zeetha frowned. “But I thought you said these were the secret tunnels.”

Sturvin shrugged. “Guess the Prince decided to share after all.”

Kalikoff crossed a passage off on a map. There were a number of other passages marked in red. “This was the last of the routes that the princess suggested.”

Veilchen leaned in. “But you know of others, don’t you? Tunnels that can get us directly into the castle.”

The plumbers looked at each other. “Well, yeah,” Kalikoff replied, “But you don’t want those.”

“Why not?”

“Those are in the Deep-down. That’s where the worst monsters are.”

Veilchen looked interested. “Really.”

“Yes.”

“Monsters.”

“Yes.”

“Scary monsters.”

“Yes!”

The assassin leaned in close. “Worse than me?”

Kalikoff stared at him for a second, swallowed and began releasing a set of bolts off of a nearby hatch. “Okay, down we go,” he muttered.

Maxim looked at Veilchen with admiration. “It iz a pleasure to vatch hyu vurk!” he said sincerely.

Veilchen looked perturbed. “I can honestly say I’ve never heard that before.”

With a sense of extreme caution, the party slowly clambered down a slime-encrusted ladder. The sewermen found a shelf full of lanterns and expressed a glum satisfaction when they were discovered to be still functional. The map was again consulted, a direction was picked, and off they went.

Zeetha found herself next to the taller of the plumbers. “So—if this place is so full of monsters, how is it you still know your way around?”

Sturvin sighed. “Well, we ain’t been in the Deep-down for years, but it weren’t always like this. We just started getting more and more of the big monsters, and there were a sight few too many deaths down here. Finally Prince Aaronev had us close it all off.”

He paused. “But ten, fifteen, years ago, before it got bad...” he smiled at the memory. “Well, it was an event if we had one of the Prince’s experiments escape down here.”

Kalikoff chimed in. “Heck, yeah! All the young bucks swarming around down here with torches, trying to impress the girls. And afterwards, when it had been caught and hauled up, why there’d be a celebration! A big bonfire, and lots of drinking in the streets! The Prince would make a speech, and hand out a reward to the feller who actually killed the thing.”

Sturvin nodded. “Used to be kind of fun.”

Kalikoff grinned. “And the girls would run around kissin’ everyone in sight! Didn’t even seem to mind the smell.”

Sturvin dropped his voice conspiratorially, “Our old Guild-master used to say that the Prince cooked one up and let it go intentionally every couple of years just to liven things up some.” He sighed for days gone by. “But these days—”

From a pool before them, a monstrosity that seemed to consist of nothing but eyes, tentacles and teeth erupted upwards in a geyser of filthy water. It screamed in triumph, whipped out a set of bright green limbs, grabbed a startled Kalikoff, and vanished, pulling the screaming plumber down into the murky depths.

Sturvin looked at the rest of the party, which was frozen in shock. “—These days, it ain’t no fun at all!”

There followed a timeless period of running, screaming, crashing into various things and finally, with a grand sense of inevitability, tumbling over a precipice, and falling into an even deeper, darker pit.

Some time later, various groans filled the darkness. Eventually these groans turned into complaints. This was encouraging.

“Ug. What did we land on?”

“Hy lended on rocks. Hyu lended on me.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Who’s got a lantern?”

“Er... dropped it.”

“Terrific.”

“Hey—Herr Sturvin, aren’t there supposed to be phosphorescent crystals or fungi or something down here?”

“Oh, those. Yeah, we sold ’em.”

“Figures.”

“I have a firestarter.”

“Great! Who’s got the lantern?”

“...Look, I’m really sorry about that.”

“Hey—wait... There’s some kind of moss on these rocks.”

“Moss? Naw, it’s too dry.”

“So what do you call this?”

“Huh. Okay, light it up.”

There was the scrit-scrit-scratch of the firestarter, a gentle “fwomph” and Lars found himself holding a genially grinning skull with a head of burning hair. Reflexively, he shrieked and dropped it. It fell and went out, but before it did, everyone could see that they were in a cell, carpeted with mummified bodies.

In the privacy of the darkness, everyone gave vent to some screaming. Once equilibrium had been somewhat restored—

“Hokay! Der goot newz is dot der bodies vas not scattered.”

“How is that good news?”

“Obivoulously dere ain’t monsters attackink pipple from der dark and eatink dem.”

“...That is good news!”

“Hey! I found the lantern!”

“Yay! Bring it over here.”

“But der bad news iz dot anyvun who vind op here—dey schtay here.”

The lantern’s wick flared up, illuminating Dimo’s grim face. “Befaw ve rezcue Meez Agatha, ve gots to rezcue uz.”

Agatha dropped the wrench onto the floor and fell back into a nearby chair. “There,” she sighed. “It’s done.”

Tarvek eyed the device before them. It was a slender column that stood over three meters tall. It was encrusted with various tubes and what looked like the bells of musical instruments. These increased in number and complexity towards the top, culminating in a great flowering of pipes, horns, and lenses.

Around the base, a swarm of Agatha’s little clanks continued to tighten screws and industriously polish the brass casing.

“Good. Now will you tell me what you’re going to do with it?”

Agatha wearily waved a hand. “I’m going to expose her, of course. If no one knows that The Other is back, if she manages to hide what your father was doing here, she could enslave most of Europa before anyone’s the wiser. Then it would be too late.”

Tarvek looked uneasy. “But, wait—”

Agatha interrupted. “You say you’re innocent. This is a good way to prove it. Even if you told the Baron it was a lab accident, I’m betting he’s still sending out a Questor.

“Now I imagine enslaving a Questor would be quite an advantageous thing to do, if she could. She’d have a powerful puppet with access to the Baron, and be in a position to directly threaten the Empire.”

Tarvek nodded. “I... believe that’s the idea, yes.”

Agatha glared at him. “And you’re helping her? Seriously? What kind of place do you think she’ll make the Empire?”

Tarvek had the grace to look away. Agatha patted her device. “I can use this to let the Baron’s man know what’s happening before he lands.” She frowned. “It’s chancy. We have to get it to the roof without her priestesses noticing, and we’ll have to make sure it goes off at just the right time. But at this point, it’s all I can do.”

Tarvek frowned. “But you’re supposed to be hiding from the Baron. Once he knows you’re here, he’ll see to it that you’re taken. He’ll lock you in a lab and—”

“Good!” Agatha declared vehemently. “Maybe he can find a way to reverse this! Get her out of my head! The Baron might destroy me—but The Other certainly will! Me—and a whole lot of other people as well. I’ve been keeping the upper hand, but I’ve told you—It won’t last. I have to make sure I stop her.”

Agatha paused, and looked Tarvek in the eye. “I can... feel her... even now. You... you just can’t understand how... alien her thoughts are. She’s terribly mad. Stopping her... That’s... that’s worth giving myself up to the Baron.” She shivered and looked at him pleadingly. “Don’t you think?”

And seeing her there—seeing the fear in her eyes, alongside the simple raw courage, Tarvek realized that he would do anything. Move mountains, crush cities, toss all of his carefully laid plans into disarray, if that was what it would take to help protect this young girl who was willing to sacrifice herself in order to save Europa, who was standing there alone and helpless before him.

“No!” he whispered. “No!” This time he shouted it so loud that it rang throughout the vast laboratory. The clanks swarming about paused stared at him in astonishment. “No, I won’t allow this!”

He pulled Agatha up from her chair. “You’re still here. She hasn’t won yet!”

“Tarvek, I don’t even understand how she did this to me! It might be different if I had time to work on the problem, but I don’t!” Agatha shook her head. “I’ve examined that throne machine. It’s more advanced than anything I’ve ever seen before! I don’t even know where to start. It’s completely beyond me. I may be a Spark, but I was just a student, for goodness sake!”

Tarvek rubbed his temples. “All right. Listen. I’ve actually had a lot of time to study it, and there are still parts that are beyond me. You’re not stupid, it’s just that your mother has achieved a level of technology we’ve never seen before.

“The truth is, Anevka and I have a plan. It’s why we were trying to duplicate The Other’s command voice. But we never expected father’s ‘Lucrezia’ to actually come back!”

Agatha wobbled slightly on her feet, and a vague look crossed her face, which Tarvek failed to notice before he enfolded her in his arms. “I won’t let her ruin everything!” he declared vehemently. “And I won’t let her destroy you. To find you, out of nowhere—it’s too perfect. Wulfenbach is a usurper—his empire won’t last a day once he’s gone!

“With The Other’s technology, and you by my side, I’ll re-establish the rule of the Storm King. We’ll bring real stability to Europa! You must not give up!”

Suddenly, he realized that the figure in his arms was chuckling softly. He froze as Lucrezia flowed sensuously out of his embrace, and regarded him with amusement.

“My, my,” she purred, “You are ambitious, aren’t you?” She stretched languorously, and smiled as she noticed Tarvek’s breathing speeding up. “So you want Klaus’ little empire and this girl, do you?”

She made a show of examining herself. “Yessss... of course you do.” She smiled devilishly at him. “Well, I don’t mind. In fact, this could work out even better than I’d thought, with...” she slowly shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Tarvek swallowed. “...benefits to everyone.” She smiled again. “Shall we make a deal?”

Lord Selnikov entered the morning room and paused. “Why, your Highness! You look splendid!”

Anevka turned away from the window. “Don’t I though?”

One of the latest fashion trends from Paris had been heavily influenced by a recent visit to the City of Lights by the Ice Tsars, who had swept in, camped in one of the finer hotels for three months, enriched a significant number of restaurateurs, artists and courtesans, and had measurably added to the city’s annual revenue. They had behaved abominably, of course, as despotic, isolated Sparks tended to do when confronted by the wonders of civilization such as indoor plumbing, electric lighting and citizens who considered themselves to be more than slaves or mobile furniture[65].

Exciting times indeed, which the fashion trend setters of Paris distilled down to; Cossacks may be cretins, but they certainly look snazzy[66].

Thus Anevka was dressed in a white uniform, adorned with lavish amounts of red and gold trim, topped with a massive ermine fur hat. “I must get the name of your dear wife’s dressmaker.”

Selnikov rolled his eyes. “Easy enough, I’ve certainly got enough of their bills around.” He changed the subject. “Now, we’ve nearly finished gathering everyone—” He gestured towards the window.

Anevka glanced out. The crowd she’d seen earlier was already larger. Selnikov continued.

“Couldn’t fit everyone in the square at once, of course. I figure it’ll take three gatherings before we’ve got all of the important people, so you can begin addressing them whenever you’re ready.”

Anevka nodded and moved to a mirror to check her outfit a final time. “Very good. I want to move quickly.”

His Lordship pulled a decanter from inside a hollow book and poured himself a small glass. “Oh yes,” he spoke up, “I almost forgot. It took a bit of doing, but we’ve managed to isolate everyone who was at the theatre with your father last night.” He waved a hand, “All except the actors, of course. I’ve talked to a few of them. They’re not too pleased. My lawyer, Von Karloff, is one of them.” He swirled his drink and pondered. “It was odd...” he sipped. “There was something... strange about them.”

Anevka faced him.” Yes, I was afraid of that. They’ve imprinted on the girl. They belong to her now.”

Selnikov looked as if the drink had soured in his mouth. “I see. I suppose we’ll have to—”

“You will kill them.”

Selnikov snorted. “Pft. That’s hardly necessary. It’s not as though that actress is the real thing.”

Anevka slammed his hand upon the table. “Kill them.”

Selnikov stared at her. “But... she... she can’t...” He stared with a growing horror at the implacable face of the princess. “She isn’t really... is she?”

Anevka folded her arms. “She can. She is.” She turned away. “Kill them.”

Selnikov gawped at her. “Wilhelm did it? He finally did it? The Mistress has returned?”

Anevka tossed up her hands. “So Vrin and the rest of the Geisterdamen believe,” she conceded. “I heard that much before I fled.”

Selnikov started pacing back and forth. He picked up his drink, stared at it and put it back down again. “But—but if she is back...” He looked at Anevka. “I swore to serve her! The Order swore!” He picked up his drink and put it down again. “If they find out I sided with you over her—” He stared at Anevka again. “If she finds out—” He grabbed his glass and downed it in one swallow.

“Calm yourself, uncle. The Order was created to serve the Storm King. My father and the Council may have been fools, but there are many in The Order who never liked how the organization was subverted. They will support us. By the time the Council learns of this, if they ever do, Lucrezia will be dead, her shrine destroyed, and the remainder of her machines and creatures firmly under our control.”

Selnikov looked ill. “But... your brother...”

Anevka chopped the air with her hand, cutting off his objections. “You’ve assembled the people and the army with no interference, have you not?”

“Well, yes...”

Anevka nodded in satisfaction. “He is doing his part inside the castle. I am doing mine here. We must trust him.”

The older man thought about this. “But you told those people with the Jägers that he—”

Anevka turned away dismissively. “What of it? It was a simpler story than the truth. Now their romantic imaginations are all fired up. They’re probably having a marvelous time, dashing off to rescue their friend from the wicked prince!”

She turned back. “It’s all moot anyway, as soon as they have served their purpose, Veilchen will take care of them. We must be ready to move when the moat is shut down.”

Selnikov took a deep breath. “It will come down, yes?”

Anevka glanced out the window. The castle could be seen in the distance. “Oh, yes. Between Veilchen and my brother, there is no fear of that.”

She turned back and gently patted Selnikov on the cheek. “It’s a lovely plan, uncle. We should be able to smooth everything over before the Baron’s people get here.”