by Phil Foglio
Praise for Phil and Kaja Foglio’s Girl Genius Series
“Filled with Foglian touches—Borscht-belt comedy accents, things that go sproing, adorkable sentient machines, and laugh-a-minute slapstick—Agatha H. is a tremendously fun addition to the Girl Genius canon.”
—Cory Doctorow, award-winning author of Little Brother and Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom
“The Hugo Award–winning Foglios present their popular gaslight fantasy comic in novelized form, maintaining the zany energy, witty repartee, creative characterization, and innovative world-building of the original.”
—Publishers Weekly
“This volume by the creators of the Eisner Award–nominated webcomic Girl Genius (Volumes 1–9) is a fantastic reintroduction to the Girl Genius world and will definitely capture new fans. It will appeal to fans of the steampunk genre who like their books riddled with mad science and adventure, along with a liberal dash of humor.”
—Library Journal
“Simply said, Girl Genius has everything I look for in a story.”
—Patrick Rothfuss, bestselling author of The Name of the Wind
“. . . the Foglios appear to have been liberated by the [webcomics] format—and that sense of buoyant imagination and unbridled fun runs through every page.”
—The Onion A.V. Club
“. . . ridiculous, and funny, and a little bit sexy.”
—Portland Book Review
“Phil and Kaja Foglio’s awesome new fantasy . . . pushes the boundaries of steampunk past the polite boundaries of pseudo-Victorian and into full-on techo-madness!”
—Matt Staggs, Suvudu.com
“Fans of the series will enjoy another trip into Agatha’s world, and it is not too late for new readers to jump aboard.”
—City Book Reviews
“I will confess to being a big fan of Phil and Kaja Foglio’s Girl Genius”
—Charles Stross, author of Halting State and Rule 34
“. . . a madcap comic adventure combined with steampunk and some well-used fantasy tropes.”
—EscapePod
“. . . bursting at the seams with creativity, humor, and outright weirdness . . . an infectious and incredibly fun read.”
—Sarah Kuhn, ign.com
“If Jules Verne had written comics, he wouldn’t have written Girl Genius. He would have been jealous of it, though.”
—Comics Buyer’s Guide
“Girl Genius is brilliant. It really is. It’s fun and funky and unlike almost anything else, and it’s Phil and Kaja Foglio doing what they do best.”
—Eric Burns, Websnark.com
Other Books by Phil and Kaja Foglio:
Agatha H and the Airship City
Agatha H and the Clockwork Princess
Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle
Girl Genius Graphic Novels
Volume 1: Agatha Heterodyne and the Beetleburg Clank
Volume 2: Agatha Heterodyne and the Airship City
Volume 3: Agatha Heterodyne and the Monster Engine
Volume 4: Agatha Heterodyne and the Circus of Dreams
Volume 5: Agatha Heterodyne and the Clockwork Princess
Volume 6: Agatha Heterodyne and the Golden Trilobite
Volume 7: Agatha Heterodyne and the Voice of the Castle
Volume 8: Agatha Heterodyne and the Chapel of Bones
Volume 9: Agatha Heterodyne and the Heirs of the Storm
Volume 10: Agatha Heterodyne and the Guardian Muse
Volume 11: Agatha Heterodyne and the Hammerless Bell
Volume 12: Agatha Heterodyne and the Siege of Mechanicsburg
Volume 13: Agatha Heterodyne and the Sleeping City
Volume 14; Girl Genius: The Beast of the Rails
Volume 15: Girl Genius: The City of Lightning
Volume 16: Girl Genius: The Incorruptible Library
Volume 17: Girl Genius: Kings and Wizards
Volume 18: Girl Genius: Queens and Pirates
Other books and graphic novels by Phil Foglio:
Buck Godot: Zap Gun for Hire
Buck Godot: Psmith
Illegal Aliens (with Nick Pollotta)
Copyright © 2020 by Phil & Kaja Foglio
The ongoing adventures of Agatha Heterodyne can be found online, where they are updated every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at www.girlgeniusonline.com
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Night Shade Books, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.
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Visit our website at www.nightshadebooks.com.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.
ISBN: 978-1-949102-27-7
EISBN: 978-1-949102-28-4
Cover illustrations by Ondřej Hrdina
Cover design by Daniel Brount
Printed in the United States of America
To Science!
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Appendix
About the Authors
More Girl Genius Novels
PROLOGUE
Twenty Years Ago—
Lucrezia Mongfish slotted the last components securely into their places inside the great engine, slapped the hatch closed, and cackled. Her assistant, the defrocked priestess Mozek, shuddered at the sound. “You shouldn’t be getting so worked up, Mistress,” the old woman said, as she tightened the final bolts. “Not in your condition.”
Mozek felt the presence of Glimtockka, the taciturn Geisterdame who never left Lucrezia’s side, looming beside her. She didn’t bother to look up at the frowning warrior. “And don’t you even pretend you don’t agree with me, White-eyes.”
The Geister snarled at the overly familiar address, and Mozek fully expected to feel the usual stinging rap to the back of her head. Instead, to her astonishment, she heard the warrior clearing her little-used throat. Mozek had diligently studied the language of the Pale Ladies, partly because it helped serve her mistress’s purposes, and partly because she learned many potentially lifesaving secrets when people didn’t think she could understand them.
“Your slave speaks truly, Lady. Her impertinence rises in a legitimate cause. If she who you carry within you is indeed the Holy Child—”
Lucrezia ended this by slapping Glimtockka sharply across the face. “Silence!” She stamped her foot. “I’ve told you that stupid prophecy is wrong! It is predicated on failure! My failure!” She spun about and regarded the two figures that were strapped to the large steel tables. One of them, a furious construct of flesh, metal, and black leather, writhed impotently against her bonds. She roared, cursing Lucrezia in Old French. “That which you have done here is blasphemy!”
“Oh, I know!” Lucrezia hugged herself and
twirled about. “It’s so exciting! I’m positively giddy!”
Lucrezia’s pirouette took her to the other table. Strapped to this one was a clank, made all of metal, in the shape of an angel almost three meters tall. Even restrained, it was imposing, although it was evident it had been neglected for quite a while. Its clothing was frayed and tattered; its wig, once elegantly coiffed, was now a dusty rat’s nest sliding from its place. The great wings were now little more than almost-bare struts still adorned with a few tarnished silver-foil feathers. Its face, as well as the rest of its body, was still and lifeless. But not for long, Lucrezia promised herself. She turned back to the other slab while patting the inert clank.
“I’d think you’d be glad to be out of this old thing. I mean, it must have been terribly boring being chained up in that forgotten hallway for over a hundred years . . . ”
To Lucrezia’s discomfort, her words merely caused her prisoner to smile. Lucrezia felt ghostly icicles of dread slide down her spine. “You have no idea what it was like,” the creature on the slab said with obvious relish. “But I take comfort in knowing that if you continue in this madness, you will.”
Lucrezia considered giving this impudent wretch a slap as well, but . . . even shackled, there were those terrible teeth. They had seemed like such a funny idea at the time . . .
She was saved from further indecision by the sound of Mozek clearing her throat. “It is done, Mistress.”
Lucrezia looked over her minion’s work and could find no fault. Thick cables were now attached to the metal figure. The engines themselves were awash with green lights as they quietly thrummed.
“It won’t work, Lady Heterodyne.” The creature on the slab’s voice was different now. There was no trace of anger or malice. It was a voice that begged to be heeded. “You are attempting to pour the ocean into a teacup.” She glanced at the prone figure beside her. “And you have actually found a teacup strong enough to hold it.”
Lucrezia tipped her head to one side as she considered the construct. “That’s very impressive, that voice thing. Some sort of harmonic pitch. Is that how you got old Andronicus to actually listen to you?” She patted the inert clank. “It might actually have worked if you’d been able to use your original vocal mechanisms, but even so, it was very persuasive. I’ll have to remember that.”
She strode over to the switches. “But I am tired of listening to you. Tired of being under the thumb of my husband’s House and tired of being a good little wife!” She gestured towards Mozek, who threw the first switch. There was a hum and then a roar. The lights flickered and the air became heavy as, unseen and malevolent, the vast presence of Castle Heterodyne filled the room.
“What is this place?” The Castle sounded confused. “It is a part of me, yet it is not.” It paused. “Lady Heterodyne,” it said in a voice filled with suspicion. “This is your doing. You are meddling where you should not!”
Lucrezia laughed scornfully. “And that is the last time you will tell me what I should or should not do!” She grasped the final switch. “Things are going to be different around here!” With a shout of triumph, she threw the switch—
And things were very different indeed.
NOW, WHERE WERE WE . . .
CHAPTER 1
Lucrezia blinked as she awoke. She had been outdoors, with dear Klaus1—she had him, and his empire, very nearly under her thumb—but now he was gone and she was indoors. She realized with surprise that she was in the secret laboratory she had established beneath Castle Heterodyne . . . oh, how long had it been since she had worked here? Since she had been the young rebellious spark with such a malicious delight in her schemes? Her head swam. It seemed an eternity. So much had happened to her since then. The room was dusty now, damaged and neglected since the fall of Castle Heterodyne, but she still remembered it well. Someone was standing over her. A girl. “Oh! My goodness. Who—?” she began weakly. It couldn’t hurt to play vulnerable, put whoever it was off their guard. Looking vulnerable was easy in the body she currently wore—that of the youthful Agatha Heterodyne.
The girl looked down at her and smiled. “Hello, Auntie Lucrezia. I’m here to help you.”
Lucrezia rocked back in astonishment as she beheld the face of her long-estranged sister hanging ominously above her. She looked as if she had never aged beyond the carefree days when all three Mongfish sisters still lived in their father’s fortress and gloried in their fame as the three beautiful daughters of the supremely evil spark Lucifer Mongfish. “Demonica?”2
Zola laughed in delight. “Yes, everyone says that I look just like dear Mama!” She drew herself up. “But no. I am Zola Anya Talinka Venia Zeblinkya Malfeazium.”
Lucrezia looked haunted and glanced around. Her fingers twitched towards a nearby wrench. “First Serpentina’s boy, then you. I swear, if Daddy is waiting to pop out from around a chair . . . ”
Zola waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, Grandfather died years ago, in a freak airship explosion.” Lucrezia raised her eyebrows. Zola shrugged, “I know! Such a cliché.3 We still laugh about it at Christmas. But no, no, it’s just me.”
“Excellent,” said Lucrezia, as she swung the wrench upward, knocking Zola cold with one smooth blow.
Zola awoke with an aching head and the realization she was restrained. A few subtle tests revealed that whoever had secured her knew her business.
“Now don’t bother trying to escape, dear,” Lucrezia sang out from a workbench. “I gather from the wide variety of items you were carrying—some in rather uncomfortable places, I’d imagine—that you are very well trained.” She used a forceps to exhibit a cleverly made sheath housing several small, wicked-looking knives.
She put the knives down and fastidiously wiped the forceps with a moldering rag. “But you won’t get out of that, dear. I’ve been tying people up since before you were born.”
“You don’t have to do this! We’re on the same side, Auntie,” Zola protested. “I’ve been spying on your daughter and her minions even before they shut down the Castle!”
Lucrezia stared at her. “She . . . ” Lucrezia looked down at the body that her mind currently occupied. “My daughter has shut down Castle Heterodyne?”
Zola blinked. “You couldn’t tell?”
Lucrezia waved a hand at the cavern walls. “Not from down here, darling. This little retreat was so perfect because that interfering Castle wasn’t even aware it was here.” She gnawed gently at her lower lip. “Dead. Well that changes a few things . . . ”
Zola tried again. “Auntie, I was going to help you.”
Lucrezia raised an eyebrow and smiled wistfully. “My, you are just like dear Demonica, aren’t you?” She twirled around and whisked a dust sheet off of a mid-sized machine that sat lifeless to one side. “Well, don’t you worry, my dear, you are going to help me.”
Zola looked at the device and flinched. “AH! That’s some kind of Beacon Engine!”
Lucrezia was a bit thrown by this. How did the girl know about the Summoning Engines? That would need to be answered, but later. For now, she tried to hide her confusion. “Not exactly, darling, this is some of my earlier work. It produced some amusing results and was very helpful in developing my later, most useful, devices. With a few simple adjustments, I think it will do very well for what I have in mind today.”
So saying, she lifted a panel off the machine and began tinkering. Zola stared and then, with a small shudder, looked aside. Trying to watch a spark at work was just asking for violent headaches and disturbing flashbacks.
Lucrezia blithely chatted on as she worked. “You are obviously familiar with the plans of the Order’s Inner Circle. That will save us all so much tedious exposition.” Lucrezia looked at Zola expectantly, but the girl kept silent, eyes narrowed and averted. Lucrezia sniffed and continued to tinker with the machine. Finally, she could stand the silence no more. “Well, if you must know,” she continued, “my poor, stupid admirers in the Grand Sycophantic Order of the Knights of Jupiter, or wh
atever nonsense they called their ridiculous secret society, were supposed to do little else but search for this girl Agatha—my daughter. She was supposed to be the perfect receptacle for me. For my mind.” Lucrezia slumped back against the bench and frowned. “But now that I’m in the girl’s body, no thanks to them, it appears that I might have made a . . . a mistake depending on her.”
Zola spoke slowly. “I don’t understand. A mistake? How? She was—”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! My child! Prepared and conditioned—and maybe if those fools had found her ten years ago. Or if that Barry—” she spat the name “—hadn’t interfered by giving her that wretched locket . . . ”4
Lucrezia turned with a glare, and Zola spied the locket shining amidst the clutter atop the workbench. Lucrezia seemed to deflate slightly.
“But . . . maybe not.” She picked up a small mirror and stared into it. “Maybe she simply has too much of her father in her after all.” Zola was astonished to see a tear well up in one of her aunt’s eyes. “This is all his fault,” she whispered. Lucrezia became aware of Zola’s interest and slammed the mirror down hard enough to crack it. “The point is that, for whatever reason, Agatha is too strong. It has become too easy for her to seize control of this body and keep me from taking it back. I am not winning. And worse, she’s learning things from me! Reaching into my mind and pulling out my secrets! She knew to look for this place! She intuitively grasps the principles of my work!”
She took a breath and Zola dared to interject, “But that’s not uncommon. Your own work, while magnificent in its own right, of course, is a recognizable extension of some of your father’s theories. Many sparks within a family have a natural insight—”
She flinched as Lucrezia’s fists slammed down on the bench before her, punctuating her words. “SILENCE!” she shrieked. “This! Girl! Must! Die!” She glared, panting, at Zola, who wisely said nothing. After a moment, Lucrezia regained control of herself and straightened up. Zola was immediately reminded of a cat that had fallen off a table and was nonchalantly pretending this was exactly what it had wanted to do.