Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

CHAPTER 11

A dramatic light flared in the darkness. Music, strange, unearthly music swelled. Suddenly, there was Agatha. Her face was tired, but determined. When she spoke, her voice was firm and compelling.

“I am Agatha Heterodyne. Daughter of Bill Heterodyne and Lucrezia Mongfish. I have discovered that my mother was... is—The Other. Her servants have captured me. They’ve done something to me, and as a result, her mind is trying to take over my body. I can’t fight her off for much longer.

“Her forces have taken the castle at Sturmhalten. Prince Tarvek is helping me. Tell Baron Wulfenbach. Tell everyone. Someone needs to stop her. Please, I—” her eyes lowered and Agatha realized that she was still wearing nothing but the few scraps of clothing that Lucrezia had donned as a sop to Tarvek’s sensibilities.

She gave a squeal and vainly tried to cover herself. “You could have said something!” she said hotly.

Tarvek sighed, and turned off the recording equipment. “I thought you said you wanted to get everyone’s attention,” he said weakly.

Agatha glared at him. “Gi—I mean, everyone’s going to see this. Get me something decent to wear! Please!”

Tarvek nodded. “Of course.” He thought for a moment. “I think I know what we need. Wait here.” He took off. Agatha waited a few seconds after he had left, and then dropped her shielding hands.

“Quickly! We don’t have much time!” From the swarm of small clanks, four moved forward from the rest. Agatha addressed them. “Did you record that?” A series of green lights flashed.

“Good. Prince Tarvek says that there’s no way for us to contact the outside world. That seems... suspicious to me. I’m sure he isn’t telling me everything. But even if he’s lying to me, this message has to get to Gilgamesh.” She realized what she had just said, and blushed. “And the Baron, of course,” she hastily amended. “You’ll leave town. Find any airship coming in this direction. Play the recording. I don’t know how long you can remain airborne, but I’m sure at least one of you will make it. You’re my backup, in case something goes wrong here.”

She swung open the window. With a final flash of green, the four devices lifted off and flew out the window. “Good luck,” Agatha called after them. “I don’t know what’s out there, so try to stay out of sight.”

She saw a final glint of moonlight reflected from a lens, and then they vanished into the night. Quickly she shut and bolted the window and scurried back to the center of the room just as Tarvek returned, bearing a bundle in his arms.

“Here you go! This should be decent and look quite good for the message!”

Agatha smiled at him. “Oh, thank you, Tarvek! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Outside, up on the roof, a pair of Geisterdamen were huddled around a brazier, when their nighthunter, a shaggy bird-like creature, startled them by shrieking suddenly and launching itself from its roost. It had glimpsed a small flock of objects flying by. Time to hunt.

High overhead, a small airship of peculiar design droned through the sky. The pilot, one Ardsley Wooster, agent of British Intelligence, was hunched over the controls. Even after hours of flight, he couldn’t help frequently glancing upwards, and suffering a quick stab of panic every time he failed to see the reassuring bulk of an overhead gasbag. The airship was an experimental heavier-than-air contraption put together by Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, and was held up by nothing but aerodynamics and its own engine. Wooster found piloting it one of the more nerve-wracking experiences of his career.

However he couldn’t complain about the craft’s performance. His map and instruments confirmed that he was indeed over Balan’s Gap, hours faster than the quickest dirigible in the Wulfenbach fleet could have made the trip. He was already planning on trying to bring the craft along with Agatha and himself to Britain, where the Queen’s Sparks could begin to tease out its secrets.

He banked the craft slightly, trying to ignore the heart-stopping aspects of the maneuver, and surveyed the town below. Definitely Balan’s Gap, there was the squat immensity of Sturmhalten Castle, but it seemed awfully quiet. A flickering blue light caught his attention and he flew over the center of the town. He stared down at the roiling energies of the lightning moat. Something was definitely up.

For the hundredth time he wished Gilgamesh had given him time to do a little more research on what kind of situation he might be dropping into.

He did know that he wouldn’t have much time. This aircraft was faster, but not that much faster than the oncoming fleet. He had gained no more than six hours on them, by his calculations. Not much time at all.

He began trying to find a level place to land, which was almost impossible in the dark. Luckily, there was just enough moonlight to illuminate the more unsuitable bits of terrain.

Suddenly, another set of glows from the ground caught his eye. Wagons. Camp fires. He realized that these must be the caravan staging areas. Most of them appeared to be unoccupied. This would be a perfect place to land. He swooped around once or twice before selecting his approach. As he did, he began to note the manner of wagons below him. There was a circus of some sort, he realized. Was it the circus that had aided Agatha? The laws of probability made the prospect likely.

With a more tangible line of inquiry before him, Ardsley began to bring the craft down.

But he had been seen.

Back inside the castle, Agatha dropped her hands and took a deep breath. She turned to Tarvek, who finished the shut-down sequence with a pleased look on his face.

“How was that?” she asked.

“I think that’ll be perfect,” Tarvek said with satisfaction. “Let’s see how it looks.”

“No!” Agatha stopped him. “Some of the connections are delicate. I don’t know how many times it’ll work.”

Tarvek frowned. “True, you did slap it together pretty fast. But we should have time to go in and—”

A door slammed open and Vrin appeared. She was now clad in the traditional Geisterdamen raiment. When she saw the two of them, she bowed in Agatha’s direction. “Mistress! The sentries have sighted an airship!”

Tarvek sucked in a breath with a hiss and checked his watch. “Blue fire! The Baron’s man made very good time.”

Vrin continued. “They said that it looked like it was coming down on the southeast side of the town.”

Tarvek nodded. “Caravan field. Fire and oil! The circus is still there.”

Agatha looked surprised. “I’d thought they were gone by now.”

Vrin continued. “It was a strange airship as well. Small and very fast. It looked like a giant bird!”

Instantly an image of Gilgamesh’s flying machine flashed through Agatha’s head, and her heart skipped a beat. A shiver of anticipation ran through her.

She patted her device. “We’ve got to move this onto the roof now.”

When the man before her didn’t respond, she touched his arm. “Tarvek, it’s time.”

He turned towards her and she was surprised to see that he looked slightly ill. He fished a small device from an inner pocket and looked at her sadly. “Yes,” he muttered. “I’m afraid it is.”

He depressed a switch and a small blue light flared on the device. Every one of the small clanks that Agatha had created spat out a burst of sparks and froze, then toppled over, instantly stopping the underlying drone of the music they had been playing.

Agatha whirled. “What have you done?” she screamed. Tarvek looked at her pleadingly, but said nothing. “Not now! I knew I couldn’t trust you! I—” She gave a violent shudder, and Lucrezia blinked, and then smiled.

“Ah! Tarvek, is it time?”

The young man nodded and indicated the waiting priestess. “Yes, my lady. Vrin says that an airship has been sighted, and it most likely is the Baron’s Questor.”

Lucrezia clapped her hands. “Excellent! Then we can—” Her eyes were drawn downwards as she realized what it was that she was wearing. It was a rather diaphanous gown that, stylistically, owed quite a lot to the Moravian artist, Alfons Mucha[67].

Lucrezia took a deep breath and indicated the outfit. “Tarvek... dear... what is this?”

The Prince grinned self-consciously. “Do you like it? Agatha wanted some different clothes, and that’s an old Harvest Festival outfit that I designed for Anevka.

“Now I myself never really thought that she was suited for the art nouveau style, but the theme of the festival...” He realized that both Lucrezia and Vrin were staring at him with rather disbelieving expressions, and he stuttered to a stop.

Lucrezia smiled gently and patted him on the head. “It’s lovely, dear. But now I’m going to change into something a teensy bit more practical.”

She turned away and Tarvek let out his breath. Lucrezia paused, and looked back over her shoulder. “But we can play dolly ‘dress-up’ later, if you’d like.”

With that she moved off, giggling, as Tarvek silently gritted his teeth. He swallowed his annoyance and turned back to Agatha’s machine. The modifications he’d planned shouldn’t take much time.

Lars read the small sign a final time and turned away in disgust.

“It iz very well dezigned,” Maxim said with a touch of hometown pride.

“The walls are impossible to climb,” conceded Zeetha.

Krosp sat back with mixed feelings of annoyance and relief. “There are drains, but they’re so narrow that even I can’t get through them.”

“Can’t anybody think of anything?” Lars asked.

Sturvin sat wearily down upon a collection of bones dressed in a ball gown from sometime in the last century. “I think we’re really stuck here, folks.”

Veilchen shook his head. “No—you’re an old hand down here. Surely you have some trick up your sleeve? Some trade secret?”

The plumber snorted. “Wish I did. My partner now, he was always better at this sort of thing.”

Veilchen sighed. “Well then...” He pulled a compact air gun from inside his cloak and fired it upwards. A small grappling hook soared over the dimly seen lip of the pit and out of sight. Veilchen pulled the rope, set the hook and then shimmied upwards. Before anyone else could blink, he pulled the rope up behind him as he disappeared.

The others realized what had happened and looked at each other in astonishment.

Sturvin sighed deeply. “You know, I keep meaning to get one of those things.”

Zeetha looked upwards hopefully. “I don’t suppose there’s the slightest chance that he’s gone to get help.”

Maxim chuckled. “Ho, no vay! He left uz here to die! Vot a pro!”

Krosp snorted. “Yeah, well your ‘pro’ forgot something important.”

A second passed and Veilchen’s head popped over the lip of the pit. “Like what?” he demanded.

Krosp smiled. “Like why we’re all down here in this pit to begin with.”

A glowing tentacle dropped around the assassin’s throat. “Whoops,” Veilchen admitted. “Gotta go.” And he was jerked from sight. A series of screams and roars erupted from above the pit.

“Now what?” Zeetha asked.

“Dependz on who vins op dere,” Maxim replied cheerfully.

“How will we know that?” Zeetha asked.

Maxim patted a surprised Krosp on the head. “Dot’s simple! Ven der noize shtops, ve toss de kitty op dere, and he’ll tell us!”

“And if there’re still monsters up there?” Krosp demanded.

“Jump down! Hy’m sure sumvun vill ketch hyu.”

“At this point, I will be favorably disposed to some other plan,” Krosp declared.

Ognian held up a hand. “Hey! Iz qviet,” he announced.

“Is that good?” Lars whispered.

Overhead, about a dozen monsters leaned into sight and examined them hungrily.

“Guess not,” Lars muttered. Above, the monsters surged forward trying to leap into the hole. This caused a blockage, and a small fight broke out amongst them. This was to be expected, as monsters have poor conflict resolution skills.

Ognian picked up his halberd and spun it about, limbering up. “Hey!” he said with a grin, “Howzabout ve keel enough monsters dot ve ken climb out over der bodies?”

“That’s your plan?” Lars demanded.

Zeetha slid her swords from their scabbards and gave the Jäger a nod. “Under the circumstances, that’s a pretty good plan.”

Lars shook his head. “I’m with Krosp on this, I want another plan.”

“I got one.”

Everyone jerked their heads up in surprise. A block in the wall about three meters up had slid aside, and Kalikoff waved at them before tossing down a rope. “Come on up! Hurry!”

Sturvin grinned. “Man, I wondered where you were!”

Several minutes later, they were trudging along a stone gallery. Along one side was a series of openings that revealed a large causeway below, illuminated by faintly glowing green spheres. These stretched off in both directions until they were out of sight.

Lars sidled up to Kalikoff. “So, no offense, but the last time I saw you—” he made chomping motions with his hands.

The shorter man waved a hand airily. “Oh that.” He fished out a bizarre looking multiplex knife. “Thank my Official Sturmhalten Sewer Rat Knife.” He flicked his hand, and a screwdriver appeared. Flicked it again, and a small saw blade slid out. Once more, and a small sword clicked into place. A final snap, and they all slid back into place.

“Wow,” Lars breathed. “Where can I get one of those?”

Kalikoff shrugged apologetically. “Sorry man, you gotta be a Sturmhalten Sewer Rat. It’s a union thing.”

“I’ll join.”

Up ahead, Sturvin was studying his map, and frowning.

“So where are we?” asked Krosp.

“Not in a damn oubliette,” the plumber snapped, “So I’d say anywhere is a big improvement.”

Kalikoff chimed in. “I don’t know either.”

Ognian glanced out a window. “Hy s’poze ve could ask dem,” he pointed.

Below, a procession of Geisterdamen marched silently by. There were easily hundreds of them. Phalanxes strode eight abreast, escorted heavily-laden wagons being pulled by bizarre animals that were like pale wolves, but with a dozen glowing eyes. Interspaced between these were troops of the gigantic white spiders. All of the ghostly women were fully armed, either with their slim curved swords, tall, crescent-moon bladed spears, or both.

Ognian found a half dozen hands covering his mouth.

“Where are they going?” whispered Lars.

Kalikoff whispered back. “Some of the old records mention ancient caverns, down beyond the Deep-down. There’s supposed to be strange things living there—” he gazed at the passing ghost women. “I thought it was made up,” he sighed.

Sturvin gazed down at them. “Man, there’s gotta be hundreds of them. S’a damn army.”

“Dey’s actink like dey’s guardink sumting,” Dimo mused. “Sumting impawtent.”

Below them, several wagons containing machinery trundled past. None of the group could have been expected to recognize the components of The Other’s mind transfer device.

“So they had some sort of base under Sturmhalten,” Zeetha realized. “A good place to hide. No wonder no one ever knew where they came from. But why are they leaving?”

“The old Prince is dead,” Lars breathed. “I’ll bet he was their protector or something.”

Krosp was staring at the last wagon of machinery as it moved on past. “There’s something about that stuff that looks familiar,” he grumbled. “I wonder what it’s for?”

“Hy tink Hy know,” said Ognian in a strangled voice, “And in der Master’s name, keep qviet!”

The others looked back and shuddered into silence. A series of huge, misshapen creatures, larger than oxen and covered in spines and writhing tentacles, lumbered forward. Strapped to the wooden carts that groaned behind them, were a series of large glass and metal spheres, covered with softly glowing dials and gauges. Behind the thick glass, undefined shapes roiled endlessly within a thick, oily liquid.

A squad of Geisterdamen marched grimly alongside each one, and a single pale warrior stood atop each sphere, easily high enough to look into the windows of the gallery. Instantly the group flung themselves to the ground and huddled beneath the openings as the great mechanisms rolled on by.

“Doze iz Slaver Engines,” Ognian growled.

Lars spasmed in place. “Slaver—You mean like revenant wasps?”

“Ho yez.”

Maxim sidled up to Dimo. “Der Baron gots to hear ’bout dis,” he said grimly.

“Agreed.”

“Ken ve keep Miz Agatha out uv dis?”

Dimo gave a single, silent laugh. “Ask me ven ve find her. Eef ve effer gets out uv here.”

Maxim gave the green Jäger a light punch on the arm. “Patience, brodder. Soon ve gets lucky.”

It was about a half an hour later. The procession had finally passed. The group had headed back up towards the way from which the Geisterdamen had come.

This had brought them to what could only be called a town. It was in a large cavern, stone facades and galleries were carved from the living rock, with the occasional incongruous wooden building. The rooms, as well as quite a lot of the rock wall, had been carved into sensuous, flowing designs, which had been painted in a variety of colors.

Most of the space seemed to be either communal living quarters or animal pens. A large central courtyard contained a fountain, which was adorned by a statue obviously representing a long-haired woman cuddling a child.

Ognian appeared at the entrance to the courtyard. “Okeh,” he announced. “Hy followed dem a lonk vay down. Dey din’t even leave a rearguard, and dey vas collectink all de lemps as they passed.”

Maxim nodded. “Voteffer dey din take, hit looks like dey burned.” He indicated a score of smoldering heaps littering the yard. “Hy dun tink deys cummin’ beck.”

Lars appeared. “Not only that, but it looks like any tunnel that might go upwards has been collapsed.”

“They didn’t collapse everything,” Sturvin said pointing upwards. Small holes could be seen in the ceiling. “The smoke from these fires is gettin’ sucked up somewhere.”

“Effen if ve got op dere, Hy dun tink ve’d fit.” Ognian scowled. “Mebbe ve better follow der Geisters.”

“That’s our last resort,” Zeetha retorted. “It looked like they were heading deeper underground, and we’re lost already.”

Sturvin agreed. “We are so off our maps.”

“Maybe we should just pick a direction,” Lars suggested, pointing to a number of dark openings. “I mean how big can these tunnels be?”

Maxim let out a guffaw. “Hey, Oggie? Remember de Unseen Empire?”

The other Jäger’s grin lit up the darkness. “Yah! Dose guys vit der lava cannons! Jeez, dot vas vot—a hunnert years ago? Mebbe more...”

“Ve vas mit der Red Heterodyne den,” Maxim reminded him.

“Goot fighting!” Oggie remembered.

“Yah, but hit took uz two years to get outta dose caverns.”

“Two years?” Lars gasped.

“Vell, hit should have taken vun,” Maxim conceded, “But de Master, he develop a taste for bat sammiches.”

“Dot nut,” Ognian smiled wistfully.

“Hey!” Kalikoff called from another doorway. “Get over here! We found something!”

The “something” proved to be a large door. It was blocked off by a pile of broken furniture and other debris. “It was hidden behind all this junk,” Kalikoff explained. “But there’s a strong breeze coming from underneath it. I’m thinking it’s a way out that they closed off.”

Lars frowned.” All the other ways out they collapsed.”

Dimo grinned. “Jah, but dis schtuff haz been here qvite awhile. Hy tink dey pile dis schtuff up here an’ forgets all about de door.” He shrugged. “Dey used to lose rooms and guests in Castle Heterodyne like dot all der time.”

In short order, everyone had dragged away enough of the blocking material that Maxim and Ognian was able to drag the door open with a rusty squeal. Maxim wrinkled his nose. “Fregh! Veird schmell in here,” he reported.

The large stone chamber was filled with tall rusting metal pots, each of them easily two meters tall and several meters in diameter. The outer walls were coated with a layer of slime. Various tables and benches covered with bottles and dusty bits of machinery instantly identified the room’s purpose.

“Iz an old Spark’s lab,” Maxim said.

“You think so?” Lars eyed it skeptically.

“Ho yez,” Maxim assured him. “Hit’s got dot feelink uv bad krezy.” Lars looked at him. Maxim shrugged. “Hyu learn to recognize it.”

“Man,” Sturvin complained. “This place smells like a swamp.” His foot crunched on a pile of broken glass. “Someone really trashed it, too.”

Ognian frowned as he looked around. “Hy dun see nottink vorth barricading dis place over. Not ennymore, ennyvay.”

Dimo stepped through a doorway. “Dere’s anodder whole cavern back dere. Fulla more machinery, too... uh oh.”

Instantly Ognian was at his side. “Someting is moffink out dere,” he sang out.

From a large vat, a glowing bubble arose, it continued to expand until dozens of eyes cleared the lip and focused on the Jägers. When it saw them, tentacles slid over the edge and began to advance. Several similar creatures arose from nearby containers.

“And that’s why the door was barricaded,” Sturvin pronounced glumly.

Ognian eyed the slowly moving creatures skeptically. “Dose tings? Dey dun look like moch.”

Maxim smacked him in the back of the head. “Oh now hyu iz just askink for it,” he snarled.

“And he’s got it,” Krosp yelled. The group spun to see that the vats they’d strolled past were now disgorging swarms of smaller glowing creatures. They looked like small, fat, gelatinous pillows, with two stumpy legs. A single pale stalk sprouted from their heads.

“Aww,” Ognian protested, “Dey iz cute.” All the stalks swiveled towards him.

Zeetha moved away from him. “They closed the lab off rather than fight them,” she reminded him in a soft voice.

“Hey! Hey!” Sturvin called out from the corner. “An elevator! Since the room was sealed off, it looks like they didn’t disable it!”

“But...” Lars looked up the shaft. “Where does it go?”

“Anywhere but here is looking mighty good,” Krosp snapped. “Everybody! Get on!”

Dimo watched as the creatures wobbled slowly in their direction. “Listen to der kitty. Hy dun like dese tings!”

Kalikoff examined the control panel and swore. “The controls are locked!” He snapped open his knife and attacked the panel. “Gimme a second.”

Dimo looked back at the creatures. One of them shuffled ahead of the rest. It swiveled its stalk towards the worried Jägermonster. Instinctively, Dimo raised his left hand in front of his face, which was why the thin, barbed tentacle that shot from the stalk stung his hand, and not his face.

Astonishingly, Dimo screamed, and stumbled backwards aboard the elevator, just as Kalikoff wrenched a restraining bolt free. A fat spark jumped, and the entire elevator shivered.

“Everybody better be on,” Sturvin yelled as he threw a lever, “’Cause we’re going up!” With a jolt, the elevator cage began to rise. There was a soft pattering, as several dozen of the little barbed tendrils smacked into the bottom of the lift.

Ognian leaned over a kneeling Dimo, who looked up at him with agony on his face. “Dat ting got me mit poison,” he spat.

Ognian bit his lip. “Iz bad?”

“Very bad,” Dimo spoke through clenched teeth. “Hy ken feel it moffink op my arm! Hurry!”

Ognian stood up. With a flick of his fingers, the gigantic halberd spun in place, faster than the eye could follow. He then stopped it instantly, held out his hand, and caught Dimo’s arm as it dropped from above.

Dimo’s eyes closed and he let out a strangled scream before collapsing to the ground.

“You cut his arm off?” Lars asked horrified.

Ognian examined it critically. “Dis vas der correct vun, jah?”

Suddenly his face twisted as the severed arm began to liquefy, oozing out of the sleeve onto the floor. Ognian dropped it with a look of relief. “Yop. Dot vas it.”

Meanwhile, Maxim was already applying a tourniquet to the stump of Dimo’s arm. Ognian leaned in solicitously. “How hyu doink now, brodder?”

With a hiss, Dimo tentatively released the death grip he’d maintained on his upper arm. Maxim eyed the wrapping he’d applied, and gave a nod of approval. Dimo managed a shaky grin. “Better, Oggie, tenk hyu. Dot vas a goot cut.”

Ognian let out a deep gust of breath and grinned back.

“Remind me,” Lars said in a weak voice, “to never tell you guys I have a headache.”

With a groan, the elevator came to a stop. Everyone looked out. A faint chemical light flickered, revealing an empty platform, and what they realized was—

“It’s another elevator,” Kalikoff declared. “This is just a transfer stage. We must be really deep if one elevator wasn’t enough.”

“Does it look safe?” Krosp tentatively patted a paw on the new elevator’s dusty metal floor.

“Hy suppose ve ken dizcuss it vile ve vaits to see if doze poisontings ken climb,” Maxim said archly.

“Everybody get on!” Sturvin ordered.

“Let me give you a hand,” Zeetha offered, then looked stricken. “Uh—sorry.”

To her surprise, the Jäger laughed. “Ho! A joke!” He saw her distress and waved his hand. “Dun vorry, dollink. Hy iz not dead. Efferyting else ken be fixed!”

Sturvin threw the lever, and with a squeal, the lift began climbing upwards past endless walls of blasted rock.

“Fixed by whom?” Zeetha asked. “Lars once said that the Jägers don’t let doctors near them, even if they’re wounded. He says that you’re waiting for a Heterodyne to fix you up.”

Dimo eyed a preoccupied Lars. “Huh. Dot vun, he knows hiz stories,” he conceded.

Maxim waved his mechanical arm. “Iz true. Sum uf uz have vaited for a very lonk time.”

Ognian draped an arm over Dimo’s shoulder. “Yah! But lucky for Dimo, ve got—”

Zeetha didn’t see Dimo’s arm move, but suddenly his fist was buried in Ognian’s midsection. The Jäger gasped and dropped to the ground. “Hokay!” Dimo said brightly, “Right arm? Schtill feelin’ goot! Tenks, Oggie!”

From the floor, Ognian wheezed, “S’okeh, brodder.”

Sturvin called out. “Pay attention, people. We’re nearing the top. We don’t know what’s up here.”

As it turned out, there was disappointingly little. It was evidently just another platform stage, but the other elevator had been disabled by the crude, but effective, method of filling the shaft with large rocks.

“No way we can clear this,” Kalikoff declared with finality.

“But—but we can’t go down again,” Lars said. “The lift is too noisy. Those things will be waiting.”

“Ve could climb down,” Maxim suggested.

“But Dimo—”

“Aw, he bounce pretty goot.”

The subject of this discussion slumped to the floor, and gingerly rubbed his shoulder. “Eediots,” he muttered. “Ve must find anodder vay. Miz Agatha—”

“—Is a Heterodyne?” Zeetha asked quietly.

Dimo froze, and then gave a forced chuckle. “Vot? Dot’s krezy tok.”

“One of you is always near her,” Zeetha said flatly.

Dimo rolled his eyes. “She safe uz. Ve gots to pay her beck.”

“And so you did. On the bridge to Passholdt.”

Dimo frowned. “Dot vas for me. Maxim and Oggie gotta vait for dere turns.”

Zeetha snorted. “Good one. You remind me of some of the people I knew back home.” She crossed her arms. “I know you don’t work for the Baron. Lars says that you wild Jägers are still looking for a Heterodyne heir. I think you’ve found one.”

The two eyed each other. Finally, Dimo let his head thump back against the wall. “Iz hyu gunna expose her?”

“Of course not,” Zeetha huffed. “She is zumil. My student. I protect her. So you can tell those elephants sneaking up behind me to relax.”

Ognian and Maxim froze, looked at each other and then straightened up with embarrassed looks upon their faces. “Dose vere prime goot sneakin’-op moves, lady,” Ognian muttered.

Maxim rolled his eyes. “Brodder? I vould just drop it, hokay?”

“Hey!” Krosp caught everyone’s attention. He held his paw up and motioned for silence. “Does anyone else hear... singing?”

(It is here, with great reluctance, and a full awareness of how a chronicler should report a story without being the story itself, that one of your professors enters this narrative.

Surely the tedious whys and wherefores of how he came to find himself in this particular prison at this particular time have no significant relevance to the greater story, and thus, shall be ignored[68].)

Anyway, it was shortly thereafter, that a lone prisoner, who had been attempting to lighten his pitiable fate by engaging in some heartfelt balladeering, was started when one of his cell’s floor stones suddenly flew upwards, propelled by a hirsute green fist.

A few more stones disappeared, and an unshaven green face emerged. “Hello dere,” it said cheerfully.

“Good grief,” the prisoner replied in astonishment. “You’re Jägerkin! Nov shmoz ka pop[69]?”

“Oho!” Dimo exclaimed as he hoisted himself up. “A home boy! So vere iz ve?”

Another Jäger appeared. The Professor offered him a hand up. “We’re in a cell somewhere under Sturmhalten castle.”

Dimo eyed the thick iron-bound door and nodded. “Vell—hit’s been fun—” He reared back and with a vicious kick, smashed the door from its frame. “But ve gots to go.”

The Professor stared at the door, and only slowly registered the parade of people climbing up from the floor and heading out. His attention was caught by a large white cat in an elegant coat, which paused long enough to poke him in the stomach. “I’d get moving, if I were you,” he advised.

‘I’ve just gotten excellent advice from a cat,’ he realized. “At least the day can’t get any weirder,” he muttered.

This was when a large clawed hand swept him up in a hug, and a distressingly familiar face roared out, “Great-great Grandson!”

The crowd in the square shouted out a final sustained “Huzzah!” and then began a series of cheers that Anevka allowed to wash over her for several minutes before she pulled back into the room and closed the French doors. Even through the glass, the susurrus of the crowd could be heard, and Anevka hugged herself in glee as she gracefully stepped around her container’s attendants.

“I could get used to this,” she confided to Lord Selnikov. She looked at the list he was perusing. “And that crowd was the last of them?”

He looked up. “Oh, yes, your highness. The entire town should be under your sway.”

Anevka hugged herself again. “Lovely. When the Baron’s man sees how loyal the townspeople are to me—” She looked over and saw her uncle staring at the castle and frowning. “Why, whatever is wrong?”

Selnikov looked at her. “I fear for your brother.”

Airily, she waved a hand. “Oh do relax. I promise I shall forgive him immediately.” She thought for a second. “Almost immediately,” she amended.

Selnikov shook his head. “Not from you, my darling niece, but from Lucrezia. He’s all alone. Surrounded by her priestesses.”

Anevka turned away. “Please. Tarvek could charm Klaus himself.”

“But if she’s enslaved him—”

Anevka spun and glared at the older man. “Your Lady’s filthy wasps don’t work on Sparks. That was part of the deal she made with those fools in The Order.”

She studied Selnikov’s face. “—But of course. There’s something you’ve been keeping from me.”

Selnikov looked at her, gave a small snort of amused resignation and sat down. He pulled open a desk drawer, and selected a glass. He then reached over to the ornate pen holder on his desk and pulled the pen toward him. A small spout popped out and a stream of brandy filled the glass. “No, he’s safe enough from Lucrezia’s wasps.” He took a sip, and settled back deeper into his chair. “But there are others.”

He looked at Anevka. “Your father may have been the Head of The Order, but there were others who were tasked with guarding some of The Lady’s devices. She probably didn’t trust any one person enough to own all of them, even someone as devoted to her as your father was.”

He hoisted himself up from his chair and strode over to a map of the region. He poked a finger at a large red pin that was stuck through a town. “Remember Herr Doktor Snarlantz? The fellow with the unfortunate teeth? Over in Passholdt? He was the one entrusted with most of her hiver engine manufacturing secrets.” He toasted the pin with his glass before drinking.

He turned back to Anevka. “To be fair, he was fascinated with them. He was always trying to improve them.”

Anevka stopped him by raising a hand. “Wait—Passholdt? But—”

Selnikov drained his glass and drew another. “Oh yes, I see you’ve heard about how well that all worked out.” He sighed. “Damned fool, that was an important pass. All to our short-term benefit, of course, but it’s important to remember the bigger economic picture.”

“Wasps?” Anevka said, tapping her foot.

“Yes, yes, yes. Anyway, Snarlantz occasionally got some amazing results from his meddling. This particular device, well, if we can believe his notes—”

Selnikov put down his drink and held his hands about ten centimeters apart. “It’s a miniature Hive Engine. Capable of generating but a single wasp, but a wasp designed to infect a Spark.”

“How very useful,” Anevka purred. Then she started. “Wait. Are you saying this thing is in the palace?”

Selnikov nodded and gingerly picked up his glass. “Oh yes. The Jotun Brothers and I found it in Snarlantz’s lab, after we lost contact with Passholdt. We had to remove all traces of The Order’s involvement before the whole mess became public.” He drained his drink. “It was quite a fire. We had a fine old time getting out.” Astonishingly, one could tell that the old fellow had actually enjoyed himself.

Anevka leaned in. “Why wasn’t I told?”

Selnikov looked at her blandly. “Because your dear father didn’t trust you. I cannot imagine why.”

Anevka looked away. “Does my brother know of this?”

The idea of Tarvek being considered more trustworthy than his sister caused his Lordship to snort in amusement. “No. My dear brother-in-law hid it away in a secret safe of his own design. I will show you where it is, but good luck getting it open.”

Anevka drummed her fingers on the table for a second, then spread her hands. “A device Lucrezia doesn’t even know about, hidden where she cannot find it, in a safe she cannot open? No, I think we have more pressing things to worry about.”

Vrin frowned down at the small device in Prince Tarvek’s hand. A small gaggle of Geisterdamen clustered around and tried to get a better look. It certainly looked like a diminutive Hive Engine, but—

She glared at the smirking young man. “And this will enslave a Spark? You’re sure?”

Tarvek idly tossed the device up and easily caught it again. “Quite sure.”

Vrin considered the device and the annoying fellow who held it. “So, what, exactly,” she said slowly, “Is keeping us from using it on you?”

Tarvek rolled his eyes. “And go against your Lady’s wishes? Now that would be stupid. Besides—” He casually tossed the sphere to the priestess, who frantically caught it in midair and then glared at him. “There is only the one. She isn’t foolish enough to waste it on me, since I’m already so obviously loyal to her.”

Vrin ground her teeth together silently. Tarvek smiled and continued. “Evidently not everyone who gets infected stays sane, you know.” He deftly reached out and plucked the sphere from Vrin’s hand. “Or even lives. And since she still needs me...”

“For now,” Vrin conceded. She eyed the device speculatively. “So she will try to use it on the Baron?”

Tarvek shook his head. “Not this one. Not at first, but in time. We still have to find out how it works. My uncle wasn’t able to recover the creator’s notes. A pity, that.” He sighed. “But once we’ve relocated, we’ll find a minor Spark and infect them with it under controlled conditions. With that data, and with the spent engine to reverse engineer, we should be able to duplicate it, and construct as many of them as your Lady wishes.”

Vrin reluctantly looked impressed, and Tarvek spun the tiny sphere on a fingertip. “And then this little bauble will hand us the Empire.”

Vrin looked like she had something to say about the word “us,” but at that moment, another priestess entered and hurried up to them. “Lady Vrin,” she said respectfully, “All of the Lady’s devices have been removed.”

Vrin nodded. She looked at Tarvek and smiled. “Excellent. Prepare the charges to collapse the tunnels. All traces of our Lady’s work must be erased. Bring in fuel for the fires, enough that there is no trace of this chapel.”

“What?” Tarvek exclaimed. “A fire? In my family’s castle? I think not.”

Vrin gently placed her hand upon the pommel of her sword. “Putting your family’s castle ahead of the safety of our Lady? You disloyal pig. A fire in the chapel will ensure—”

Tarvek interrupted her. “—That the Baron’s Questor will examine the place with a fine tooth comb! You couldn’t do anything more suspicious!”

Vrin’s grin faltered. “But we must hide—”

Tarvek rolled his eyes and strode over to a wall. Without even counting, he gently pressed down on a particular brick. “You people,” he sneered, “Have all the finesse of a Jägermonster sandwich.”

The room rumbled, and before the Geisterdamen’s startled eyes, walls, floors and the ceiling split and folded, spun and dropped around them, and less than thirty seconds later, the chapel laboratory had been transformed into a rather neglected looking library filled with old books.

Vrin blinked in astonishment as the dust settled. Tarvek stepped up behind her. “We have had the Baron’s people visit Sturmhalten before, you know,” he said conversationally.

The chief priestess glared at him and then strode off. Tarvek watched her go, and then pocketing the sphere and humming a tune, he went looking for Lucrezia, who he found dressed in traveling clothes in a small laboratory attached to one of the parlors.

When you had Sparks in residence, having quick access to materials and equipment became a high priority. Architects and decorators learned to just swallow their objections and expect the client to want a smelting furnace next to the master bedroom.

“My dear lady,” he said as he entered. “I would appreciate it if you would have your servants refrain from trying to ignite parts of my house.”

Lucrezia looked surprised. “Oh. Well, if you wish. I rather thought when we were done, you could just build another one. Besides, a fire can be so jolly on a chilly night.”

Tarvek considered this and carefully removed his spectacles and cleaned them with a bit of silk. “Yesss—In a running, screaming, trying to save life and property sort of way...” he allowed.

“Anyway, we’ve been having so much fun!” She gestured, and Tarvek noticed the occupant of the nearest chair with a small start of surprise.

“Come, come,” Lucrezia said, pulling at his arm, “I’ve been telling her our plans!” She turned to the chair. “This is Tarvek Sturmvarous, my dear!”

The occupant of the chair smiled. “Heavens! He does look like dear Wilhelm! Possibly a bit handsomer!”

Lucrezia grinned. “Isn’t he though!”

Tarvek made a graceful bow. “Hello, my Lady. It is, as ever, an honor to meet you.”

“Ooh, and so polite! Well, we always did have exquisite taste.”

Tarvek started. Lucrezia laughed girlishly. “Oh, he’s not ours, dear. Not like that.” She sensuously brushed her fingers down her front. “He’s gone all sentimental over The Girl.”

“Pish,” the other replied. “Between the two of us, we’ll soon change that.”

Lucrezia sighed. “Now, now, we mustn’t be selfish. Besides, he still plays with dolls, and I’m not sure that he’s ever—”

A scarlet-faced Tarvek executed a stiff bow. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies,” he said frostily. And strode off.

“Oh, now we’ve embarrassed him.”

Lucrezia smiled devilishly. “Yes, he’s so stuffy. Just like dear Klaus, remember?”

“Oh yes, this will be fun.”

Tarvek stood next to a roaring fire in the fireplace of one of the smaller workrooms. He was emptying out a set of file boxes, perusing their contents, and then tossing the papers into the flames. A great many people on Castle Wulfenbach would have wanted to see those papers, and Tarvek took a quiet satisfaction in watching them blacken and curl before they ignited.

Suddenly, he raised his head slightly. “Ah, there you are, Veilchen. I trust you had a pleasant trip?”

There was a pause, and then the cloaked assassin stepped from behind the doorway, a worried look on what was visible of his face. “How did you—?”

Tarvek fished a small device from his pocket. “Please. You can’t sneak up on me.”

The assassin peered at the device and then glanced at Tarvek with a renewed look of respect. “I thought that was just your watch.”

“Good.” Tarvek smiled as he tucked it back into his waistcoat pocket. From another inside pocket he drew out a bizarrely shaped key. “This will allow you access to the controls for the lightning moat and the drawbridge. From what I’ve been able to observe of the crowds outside, Anevka should be ready to move.” He glanced out the window and gauged the lightening sky. “We want everything done in daylight, so let her in when the tower clock strikes seven.”

Veilchen took the key. Tarvek continued. “Now this is important. I believe that the Baron’s Questor is already in Sturmhalten. We want him here at the Castle, but not too early. Try to keep him out until eleven.”

“I don’t suppose you know what he or she looks like?” Veilchen asked sourly.

Tarvek smiled. “Not a clue. But if it was easy, I wouldn’t have you do it.”

Veilchen shrugged modestly and bowed. “Thank you, your majesty.” He paused. “You might be interested to know that there was a rescue party coming for some girl.”

Tarvek paused. “I am interested.”

“They were some of her companions from the circus you took her from. They saved your sister from some Geisterdamen in the sewers. They were an odd lot. A lover, I’m guessing, a female barbarian from somewhere I’ve never heard of, a talking cat...” he paused, “—and three Jägermonsters.”

Tarvek frowned. “A real talking cat? How odd. I’m assuming that you took care of them.”

Veilchen nodded slowly. “I did.”

Tarvek turned back to the fire. “A pity. A real talking cat. I would have liked to have seen that.” Veilchen shook his head and with a ripple of his cloak, was gone.

Tarvek stood nodding for several seconds after he was sure that Veilchen had actually left, then released a gust of breath. He took a tentative sniff and grimaced. “The next time you wish to sneak up on someone, my dear Veilchen,” he muttered, as he checked his watch, “Don’t come via the sewers.”

The tops of Sturmhalten Castle were glowing with a rosy dawn light as the crowds began to form before the front gate. The crackling of the lightning moat could still be faintly seen, but the charged air kept everyone back behind the low stone walls. From an upper observation deck, Anevka and Lord Selnikov gave the crowd organizers their final orders. A quiet man sidled up to his Lordship and murmured quietly in his ear. Selnikov frowned and caught Anevka’s eye. She leaned in.

“Highness,” Selnikov reported, “A rather... unusual airship was sighted last night, and this morning my people have found it on the northern caravan grounds. It must be the Baron’s man, but he has yet to announce himself to any of the cities’ agencies.”

Anevka waved at the crowd. “I was expecting that. No doubt he is assessing the town. Put out the word that any strangers are to be detained. Politely, of course, by someone smart enough to play stupid. We’ll release them once Lucrezia is dead.”

There was a sudden cessation of sound, and a few seconds later, the crowd gave a roar as they realized that the moat had been shut down.

The roar doubled in value as with a rattle, the drawbridge began to lower, revealing the great metal and wood doors. With a boom, it dropped into place. The crowd milled about indecisively, until the foremen whipped them up into action. A crew shoved a large wheeled battering ram slowly forward towards the waiting doors.

Lord Selnikov lowered a telescope and frowned. “They’re not firing on us.”

Anevka adjusted her hat. “I have never seen the Geisterdamen use anything but swords and pole axes, but I imagine with their backs to the wall, they’ll find something suitably nasty to surprise us with.”

The battering ram was now shoved up to the door. Part of the crew locked the wheels, while the rest released the chains that had kept the immense ram from swinging freely.

The crew chief called out, and the men swarmed to their positions, and as the chief began to chant, they began swinging the ram back and forth. With a final yell, they pushed the massive beam forward. With a crash, it smacked into the doors, bursting them open.

Selnikov blinked. “They weren’t even barred.”

The crew, who obviously hadn’t expected the door to give so easily, milled about in confusion for a moment. Several braver souls peered into the courtyard, and then turned back to their fellows with postures that, even from a distance, easily indicated confusion and surprise.

The waiting crowd, seeing that there was no resistance, began to surge forward.

Selnikov swept everything he could see with his telescope. “Nothing! There’s nobody in sight!” He collapsed the tube in on itself. “Something is not right,” he declared.

Anevka turned to the runners by her side. “Find my brother,” she ordered them. “Find him quickly!”

They darted off to spread the word through the increasingly chaotic crowd that was jamming into the defenseless castle.

About an hour later, a semblance of order had been restored. Anevka had ordered the cellar casks opened, and the majority of the crowd were standing about the courtyard with mugs of ale, congratulating themselves on a valiant attack.

Within one of the main dining halls, the early morning sun illuminated the great table and caused the gilt-covered walls to glow warmly as a temporary staff served cold meat and cheese to a core group of soldiers and staff that reported to the princess.

One of these was finishing his latest report. “—And the rest of the castle appears to be completely abandoned, your Highness.” Anevka listened to this with a growing nervousness. The sparse domestic staff that had remained behind after Anevka had escaped, had been found dead in their rooms.

The tension was broken by the sudden entrance of one of the searchers. “We found him!” He shouted, “We found the Prince!”

Anevka nodded in relief. “Yes? So where is he?”

The searcher looked distressed. “Ah—”

She leaned forward. “Is he all right?”

The man was obviously at a loss for words. “We... we didn’t want to move him. He’s...” He gave up trying to explain. “You’d better come.”

He led them down to one of the more isolated laboratories in the castle cellars. Racks of esoteric equipment hummed discordantly. Hanging from the ceiling, enmeshed in a nest of cables and tubes was Prince Tarvek. The large device he was connected to periodically rippled with waves of red lights. The crowd of searchers stared up at him.

“You see, your Highness? This is Spark stuff. We didn’t know what to do.”

Anevka nodded. She had to admit that she was at a bit of a loss herself.

Tarvek stirred, causing the onlookers to involuntarily step back. His eyes opened, and then focused on his sister. “Anevka,” he whispered. “Thank goodness you’ve come.”

Feeling the eyes of the crowd on her, Anevka warily stepped forward. “What happened, dear brother?”

Tarvek sighed. “Lady Vrin. She never trusted me, and she heard me talking to Veilchen.”

Anevka nodded. “I knew she’d be trouble. But where is everyone?”

Tarvek open his mouth, paused, and then glanced at the listening crowd.

Anevka nodded, turned, and clapped her hands. A slight adjustment to her vocal apparatus, and everyone hung on her every word. “All of you. Leave us. Shut the door. Do not listen in, and let no one disturb us.” As one, the crowd turned and silently filed out. A small tug on her lines made her turn to her bearers. “Not you. Stand there and don’t listen.” The four men assumed the bored, vacant expressions they habitually wore.

When the door closed, Anevka looked back up at her brother. “So where are they?”

“They’re gone. All of them. And they’ve taken all of father’s machines.”

Anevka stepped back and made the small clicking sound that indicated annoyance. “She got away? How inconvenient.”

Tarvek nodded. “They collapsed the tunnels behind them, and sealed the shafts to the Geister village.”

“So we have nothing we can show Klaus’ Questor? Nothing at all?”

Tarvek’s eyes widened. “Is he here?”

Anevka waved a hand. “Probably, but he’s keeping a low profile so far. I have people looking for him...” Her voice trailed off. She was obviously thinking hard.

After a minute, Tarvek cleared his throat. “Um... How about getting me down from here?”

This refocused Anevka’s attention upon him. She considered him for a moment. “No,” she decided. “I think not.”

Tarvek blinked. “Why on earth not?”

“Tarvek, be reasonable. The Baron’s man will be here any minute.” Anevka rolled her eyes. “I need someone to take the blame, and I’m afraid you’re the only one left.”

Tarvek’s jaw dropped slightly and he stared at her. He then surprised his sister by laughing admiringly. Anevka tilted her head to one side. “I must say you’re taking it well.”

Tarvek chuckled again. “Oh, Anevka, you really are amazing. I can’t believe how you’ve grown.”

Anevka folded her arms. “Is maudlin sentimentality supposed to make me feel guilty about killing you? Because if it didn’t work for Mummy—”

Tarvek shook his head. “Of course not. But I can assure you that you shan’t have to worry about dealing with the Questor.” Easily a dozen armed Geisterdamen stepped out from behind various devices. “Or anyone else, really.”

Anevka whirled and saw that her band of carriers was surrounded, effectively trapping her. “What is this?”

Lucrezia stepped forth and grinned. “This, dear girl, is a change of plans.”

Anevka ignored her, and spoke to her carriers. “Be ready to move, gentlemen.”

Lucrezia smirked. “Oh surely you don’t think they can stand up to my priestesses?” As one, the assembled Geisterdamen hefted their swords.

“Of course not. My boys are strong, but they’re not dangerous.” Idly her hand drifted up to the speaker at her throat and twisted a dial. “That would be me. SLEEP!”

This last command boomed out through the room, and with a sigh, every one of the pale women swooned and fell to the floor. The only exceptions were Vrin, who only kept her feet with visible difficulty, and Lucrezia herself. After a shocked second, Lucrezia whirled to face Tarvek. “You gave her my voice?” she shrieked.

Tarvek looked impressed. “And did a better job of it than I’d thought.”

“Oh don’t be so smug,” Anevka hissed. “It still didn’t take out Vrin.”

That worthy arose from the side of the priestess she had been examining. “Of course not!” she sneered. “I am not some first rank priestess able to be manipulated by voice alone. I know my Lady!” She raised her sword and leapt forward. “And I know my duty! Die, monster!”

Her sword swept down, and was stopped dead when Anevka caught it in a steel hand. “I don’t think I shall,” Anevka said airily. Her other hand reached out and closed about Vrin’s throat. “I am a very well-made monster.” An electric blue flare crackled about Vrin’s neck and head, and the Geisterdamen collapsed to the ground.

“Vrin!” Lucrezia looked furious as her ally toppled to the floor.

Anevka lazily examined her smoking hand. “Oh, don’t worry. She’s probably not dead. Yet.”

She now looked directly at Lucrezia and took a step towards her. “So what do you think of my outfit? It’s my ‘Heroine of the City’ costume.”

She took another step, and Lucrezia took a step backwards. “Oh I’m sure you’ve heard stories like it: ‘The Valiant Princess, who, when all seemed lost, rallied the people and took revenge upon her father’s vile murderer?’” She took another step. “That’s you, by the way.”

Lucrezia took retreated another step and discovered that she had backed herself up against a bank of machinery. Anevka shrugged. “The people love that sort of thing, you know. Why, I expect to see an opera based on the story within the year.”

She took a moment to examine the white uniform she wore. She turned towards her sibling. “You’re the one who knows about clothes. I think a large, dramatic splash of red will really set this off, don’t you? Be honest now.”

Tarvek looked at her over his spectacles. “A minute ago you were going to throw me to the Baron.”

Anevka tilted her head. “That was then, brother, this is now. Do try to keep up. Father always said that if providence provides a convenient, powerless scapegoat, it is a sin not to use it.”

Tarvek caught Lucrezia’s eye and shrugged. “Father was not what I’d call an exemplary roll model,” he confessed.

Lucrezia darted sideways and snagged a sword from the floor. She hefted it experimentally.

Anevka paused, and rolled her eyes. “Another sword? Oh but you and your priestesses really are relics, aren’t you?” She moved forward. “Well if that’s the best a poor old thing like you can do—”

With a snap of her arm, Lucrezia threw the sword. Anevka didn’t even have to dodge as it flew past her.

“That was truly pathetic,” she said.

Lucrezia smiled, and crossed her arms. “Technically, I think the word you want is tragic. It’ll make a fine opera. Probably the highlight of the third act.”

A tugging upon Anevka’s hoses made her turn in time to see the carrier who had been skewered by Lucrezia’s flung sword, begin to topple sideways, dropping the pole of her catafalque.

“NOOOOO!” she screamed as she lunged for the falling container. “Hold me!” She ordered the remaining retainers, who were already trying their hardest, “Hold me up!”

Anevka managed to stabilize the container and began to set it down just as Lucrezia, a new sword in hand, strode up behind her. “Stupid girl,” Lucrezia gloated, “I’m doing you a favor! Don’t you know that in all the best operas, the heroine dies?”

She swung the sword. Anevka felt a slight tug, but was still able to lash out with a backhanded swipe. It connected just enough to send a pulse of current into Lucrezia that threw her back into a pile of canisters, knocking her unconscious.

Anevka felt a small wave of dizziness, but she scrambled to her feet and grabbed the fallen sword. When she saw Lucrezia’s supine form, she laughed as she strode towards her.

“Still breathing, eh? It’s certainly time to fix that”

Just as she came within reach, Tarvek yelled from above; “Anevka! Voluntary disengage!”

With a shudder, Anevka found herself locked up in mid-stride, sword upraised. There was a panicky moment before her internal gyroscopes kept her from tipping over sideways.

“I can’t move!” Her voice grew more strident as she began to panic. “Tarvek, what’s happening? I can’t move!”

“I know.” From the corner of her eye, Anevka saw Tarvek twitch his wrist, and with a whine of servos, he was lowered to the ground. With a hiss, the cables and hoses attached to him fell away.

He took a moment to polish his spectacles. Anevka knew that this as a sign that he was faced with an unpleasant task.

“Well, I can’t say that any of this mess was part of my original plan,” he mused as he gingerly stepped through the supine Geisterdamen. “But it’s all working out so beautifully that I can’t complain.” He drew up to Anevka and looked past her. “One last thing before we get started; your attendants.”

The remaining three men froze. None of them were terribly smart, but even so, they realized that the body count for the last three days was getting excessive. Even for the Sturmvarous family.

Tarvek raised a hand to calm them, and they flinched. He sighed. “Anevka, order them to go to sleep.”

Anevka wanted to say many things, but found herself saying, “Attendants. All of you go to sleep now.”

With a sigh, the three men slumped to the floor and began to snore.

Tarvek leaned down and repositioned one of the men’s arms into a more comfortable position. “Well I’m glad that worked. Replacing all of them would have been inconvenient.”

“Tarvek!” Anevka screamed. “What have you done to me?” Tarvek straightened up with a sigh. “When I constructed your body, I made sure that it would respond to my direct commands.” He shrugged. “I never needed to utilize it, until now.”

“But why do you need it now? I was about to kill this usurper!”

“That you were,” he muttered as he began dragging the sleeping attendants off and leaning them against the closest wall.

“And what are you doing with my attendants? I need them!”

Tarvek straightened up. “Well, that’s just the thing.” He came up behind his sister. “You don’t, really.” He picked a limp hose up off the floor and showed it to the frozen girl. “Lucrezia cut your cables. She must have thought it would shut you down.” He dropped the hose. “I didn’t want your bearers thinking too much about the fact that it didn’t”

Anevka’s mind reeled. “My cables... But this body is just a puppet.”

Tarvek nudged another of the cables with his foot. “Of course, I could tell those idiots you were powered by elf magic and they’d believe it.”

“With my cables cut, I... I shouldn’t be able to...”

“Although, all I really have to do is get you to order them to forget all about it.”

“Tarvek!” Anevka sounded terrified. Unseen by her, he cringed and looked ill. “Tarvek, what’s happening to me?”

He almost put his hand on her shoulder, but stopped himself with an effort. He grit his teeth. “I’ll tell you.”

As he talked, he began unfastening various buttons and snaps, and removed Anevka’s fur coat. “After father put my sister Anevka through Lucrezia’s damn summoning engine, it was clear he had failed yet again, and that she was dying.”

His hands shook slightly as he removed her wig, and a note of remembered fury echoed through his voice. “Of course, then he was sorry. He almost went to pieces.”

Tarvek paused, took a deep breath, and went on dispassionately. “I needed him rational, so I built you.”

He removed her tunic, and folded it neatly. “Originally, this body was indeed simply a puppet run by my sister...” Tarvek paused, “But even from the beginning, you were something more than that.”

He looked over at the catafalque, with its quietly humming fans. “Nothing I did could save my sister. But you... learned from her, and as she faded, you did more and more on your own.” He sighed and his voice shook slightly as he stared at a single glowing red light on the container’s side. “In the end, you never even noticed when she died.”

Anevka’s voice was as plaintive as a lost child’s. “You’re trying to trick me,” she whispered. “I’m not dead.”

Tarvek came around and looked Anevka in the eyes. Tears rolled down his face. “I’m not lying,” he said gently. “I am... I was very fond of my sister...” He gulped and took a deep breath. “I want you to know, that my father was not the only one who was comforted by your presence.”

When Anevka spoke again, it was as if her voice was coming from a great distance. “I... I’m not... Anevka? Not your sister?”

Tarvek gently patted her cheek. “No.”

“Then...” Her voice was faint now. “What am I?”

Tarvek’s jaw firmed up. “A very good first try.” His hand slid back around her head and flipped a small switch. “Goodbye, Anevka.”

There was a burst of static from her voice speaker, and the light in her eyes faded out.

Tarvek slid to the floor and for several minutes, the young man was racked with sobs. Suddenly, he gave a final great sniff, and his crying stopped. “That...” he muttered shakily, “Was harder than I thought it would be.”

He then rubbed his eyes, stood back up, and got to work. He had a plan.