Agatha H. and the Airship City

by Phil Foglio

  Grabbing a blanket off of the bed she fumbled with it awkwardly. “Do… do those people know you’re in here alone with me in my underwear?”

  Moloch made soothing motions with his hands. “Don’t worry about your reputation.”

  Agatha drew herself up. “I most certainly will. I have never—”

  Moloch cut her off. “They already think we’re lovers.” The blanket dropped from Agatha’s hands as she swayed in shock. Moloch took the opportunity to survey her critically. “You’re not really my type…” he sighed. “But I guess I’ll just have to fake it.”

  “Why should I let anyone think—”

  “Because I didn’t build that clank!” Moloch leaned in and whispered triumphantly, “Your father did, didn’t he?”

  Agatha rocked back. “My father?”

  Moloch nodded. “That was his shop, wasn’t it? Before I woke you up I saw the wheels he’d taken off the tractor, and when you told it to put me down, it did it. It followed your orders.” He paused for a second as an idea hit him: “Did you build it?”

  Automatically Agatha answered honestly, “No, but, Adam—”

  “No buts. Unless you want me to inform the Baron where he can get a real madboy to take my place… ?”

  Agatha looked into his face. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I will. Unless we got a deal.”

  Agatha stared at him with loathing in her face, but could see no way out. It explained so much. Adam and Lilith had been scared to death of encountering the Baron. Everyone knew that Klaus collected Sparks, when he wasn’t defeating them. The longer she gave them to get away from Beetleburg… “Yes.”

  Moloch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Good.” At that moment Agatha realized how tightly he’d been keeping his fear in check. She felt a flash of sympathy for him. There were numerous stories of innocent people who had come to the attention of those with the Spark. None of them ended well.

  Moloch continued, “So, the way the Baron figures it, I’m your boyfriend and I built you that clank because you were mad about the Baron killing this Dr. Beetle guy. You see any loose ends?”

  Agatha slipped her glasses on. “Hm. Yes. You had a friend.” The reaction this statement got astonished her.

  Moloch wheeled furiously and looked as if he would strike her, but with great effort he held himself in check. “My brother,” he said menacingly. “And we don’t have to worry about him, you saw to that!”

  Agatha found herself pressing up against the wall as Moloch advanced towards her. As he talked, he fished around in his pocket. “And if you’ve got any hopes about me going the same way, you can just forget it.” Triumphantly he pulled forth Agatha’s battered locket. “It’s been deactivated!”

  “My locket!” Agatha reached for the locket, only to have it snatched away and stuffed back inside Moloch’s coat. “Give it back, you thief!”

  Moloch smiled coldly. “Oh no, sister, that’s my ace. You’ll get it back when I leave here safely.”

  “What do you mean, it’s been—”

  Moloch interrupted her. “Omar was my brother, but he did steal from you and hit you. I’ll admit that. You help me get outta here and we’re square. Mess with me and I’ll have company at the Waxworks, I promise you.” He turned towards the door. “I gotta get going. I’m not even supposed to be here, so…” He thought for a second with his hand on the door handle. He glanced at Agatha and a mischievous smile came to his face. He opened the door and spoke loudly. “Okay, that’s enough kissing for now, doll. I’m glad you’re okay, but give me a chance to rest up and we’ll celebrate properly later!”

  With eel-like swiftness he was out of the room and had the door shut before Agatha could reach him. Furious, she yanked open the door and almost collided with a tall reserved-looking man who had obviously been just about to knock. A raised eyebrow was his only comment as to her attire. Quickly she scooted back behind the door and peeked out.

  “Miss Agatha Clay?” he enquired with an upper-class British accent. Agatha nodded.

  “Good morning. My name is Ardsley Wooster. I have the honor of being Master Gilgamesh Wulfenbach’s man. Now that you are awake, he requests your presence in his laboratory immediately.”

  Agatha looked at him with trepidation. “Gilgamesh Wulfenbach? Wants to see me?”

  “Yes, Miss. Immediately.”

  Agatha looked back into the room and then down at her outfit. “I’m not going out like this. I’m not… not dressed.”

  Wooster smiled. “Of course not, Miss. There should be a package containing clothing and toilet articles from your home on the dresser. I shall wait until you are ready.”

  Agatha glanced at the dresser. There was nothing there. She quickly surveyed the room. It was about six meters square, and contained two beds, separated by a nightstand, two tall armoires and two dressers. The side she had awoken in was bare, but the other had obvious signs of an occupant. Portraits of aristocratic-looking people and an impressive castle adorned one wall. A rack of fencing foils were hung with a display of awards. An ornate family crest was displayed over the bed, which was covered with a sumptuous quilt. The other dresser was covered with a tasteful array of books and knickknacks.

  She turned back towards Wooster. “There’s no package there. I don’t see it anywhere.”

  A mild look of consternation flitted across Ardsley’s face. “If I may, Miss?”

  Agatha pulled back the door and hid behind it as the man stepped into the room. He quickly scanned the room, stepped around the bed, and opened the armoire. Empty. He bent down and looked under the beds. Nothing. With obvious reluctance he opened the other armoire. It was neatly stacked with clothing and other items, but nothing that could be called a package, and he closed the door without disturbing anything within.

  “My apologies, Miss Clay, it appears that your clothing has been… temporarily misplaced. If you will excuse me.” With that he backed out, closing the door as he went.

  Less then a minute later there was a soft knock and a redheaded girl poked her head in. She spoke with a faint Irish accent. “Hello. I’m Sleipnir O’Hara. Mr. Wooster here says that you be needing some clothes.”

  She stepped into the room. She was wearing a mechanic’s work suit, with a toolbelt around her waist; kneepads, wristbands and a pair of goggles pulled up onto her head completed her outfit. She had an embroidered Chinese robe over her arm. “Your Mr. Wooster reckons that we’re about the same size, so you can borrow something of mine.”

  Agatha smiled. “That would be very kind. I’m Agatha Clay.”

  As Sleipnir and Agatha shook hands, Sleipnir’s nose wrinkled. “Hm. I’m thinking before we get you dressed, a trip to the showers.”

  Agatha looked blank. “What’s a ‘showers’?”

  “It’s a kind of bathing system, but without a tub.”

  “Oh.” Agatha looked down at herself and flushed with embarrassment. “Need one, do I?”

  Sleipnir waved her hand before her nose. “Oh yes.” She handed Agatha the robe. “Here. We’re not all as relaxed about being in our unmentionables as you are. Are you from England, then?”

  Agatha reddened down to her chest. “No! I—”

  Sleipnir interrupted her. “Whatever you do, don’t let the Von Pinn see you like that.”

  “The who?” The two headed out the door, and Agatha’s question went unanswered as a swarm of young children, ranging in age from six to twelve swarmed around her.

  “Hey! It’s the new girl! She’s awake!”

  “Hello, new girl!”

  “She’s stinky.”

  “She’s the one who came out naked and you missed it!”

  “You’re lying!”

  The room itself was long, lined with doors leading to, Agatha assumed, apartments similar to the one she had awoken in. The walls between the rooms were covered in bulletin boards filled with drawings, letters, strange looking objects such as leaves, insects or bizarre tribal masks.

  Div
iding the room was a large sunken area, which contained the long tables she had seen earlier. Several dark-clothed servants were quietly clearing the plates, aided by what appeared to be older children.

  Sleipnir made shooing motions. “Oy! Clear off, you rigger rats! And I’d better not see any of you hanging around the showers or I’ll—”The threat was left unsaid, but the smaller children nodded seriously, except for a slightly older boy who spoke up defiantly. “Or you’ll what? Feed us to the gargoyles?”

  Sleipnir leaned in close to him. “Or I’ll tell the Von Pinn that you were peeking into the showers, you dirty little sod.”

  Instantly the boy went pale and bolted from the room. Agatha and Sleipnir went down the hall and into a locker room.

  “What’s with all the kids?” Agatha asked as she undressed.

  Sleipnir leaned against a locker. “They’re students.” Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Hostages, really. You’re one too, you know. We’re mostly the children of the various Great Houses in the Baron’s territory. We’re all supposed to be learning about science and how to administer properly and such. Of course we all know we’re really here to keep our folks in line. So your fella won’t be doing anything stupid because himself ‘s got you safe and snug.”

  Agatha paused and considered how much concerns for her safety would be likely to check… at this point Agatha realized that she didn’t even know the man’s name. “That’s a great comfort.” She reached for the robe, but Sleipnir stopped her. “You’ll not be needing that yet. Now come on.”

  Sleipnir ushered Agatha into a large, tiled room. A complex brass boiler system hissed quietly in the corner. Agatha felt exposed, and vainly tried to cover herself with her hands while Sleipnir threw a switch and turned a large wheel valve. She then gently pushed Agatha under a large sunflower-shaped nozzle in the ceiling. “Brace yourself,” she warned, and pulled a hanging cord. A cascade of water poured from the nozzle. Agatha screamed in shock as the water hit her, then realized, to her amazement, that the water was warm! To a person who had lived her whole life boiling bathwater on the kitchen stove, this was luxury indeed.

  Sleipnir chuckled at her reaction. “When you’re done, I should have some clothing for you,” and she exited.

  For several minutes Agatha forgot her predicament and just let the water cascade over her. After a moment she noticed a small metal table in the middle of the room. On it were racks containing bottles, which were labeled as containing shampoo and various hair oils, as well as bars of soap. Agatha selected one and examined it. Even the soap here was different, transparent, and it smelled like oranges. A far cry indeed from the stuff that Agatha helped Lilith boil up out of ashes, lye and lard from the rendering plant. The very oddity of the mundane object in her hand helped Agatha begin to think clearly. She began to lather up her hair.

  When Agatha emerged, her skin glowing red, vigorously toweling herself off, Sleipnir was rummaging around inside a locker. Turning around with a few outfits hung over her arm, she critically eyed Agatha and frowned.

  “I was afraid of that. I may be the closest match to you sizewise, but you’re a bit larger than me, especially in the chest.”

  Agatha sighed. Sleipnir’s next words surprised her. “I wish I looked as good as you.” She turned back and rooted deeper within the locker and turned back while holding up a red leather overall. “There’s a few things we can adjust a bit when we’ve got the time, but for now, it’s this or nothing.” She shook out the outfit. “Luckily this has always been a bit loose on me.”

  It was not loose on Agatha. Indeed in several places it took a bit of shoehorning to get all of her inside it, but eventually they got the final buttons buttoned.

  “It’s… tight.”

  Sleipnir nodded. “It most certainly is that. The good news is that as it’s leather, it’ll stretch out a bit once you get moving.”

  “At the moment, I’m more worried about breathing.”

  “Overrated.”

  Agatha caught sight of herself in a large mirror. Her face went as red as her outfit. “I can’t wear this!” She turned and looked at her backside, which the outfit revealed all too well. “I mean—look at this!”

  Sleipnir shrugged. “it’s a bit tight, but I said it’ll stretch—” A realization struck her. “Have you ever worn trousers before?”

  “Well… no.”

  Sleipnir nodded. “You’ll get used to it. Here no one expects you to be daft enough to work inside the big engines in a dress, that’s a good way to get yourself mangled. The Baron scandalized everyone when he said women wouldn’t wear them. The boys’ll stare a bit, but they stare at everything. Call ‘em on it and they’ll go red as a brick. You’ll see. It’s fun.”

  Agatha took another look at herself in the mirror. The outfit looked like it had been sprayed on. “Fun.”

  Sleipnir grinned. “Oh, yeah. Now c’mon, if you’re done admiring yourself, there’s people waiting for you. Who is this Mister Wooster anyway? He’s a bit of a codfish, isn’t he?”

  Agatha was taken aback at Sleipnir’s language, but gamely ignored it. “All I know is that his name is Ardsley Wooster. He’s come to take me to Gilgamesh Wulfenbach.”

  Sleipnir stopped dead. “Gil? He’s here?”

  “I guess. Why? Do you know him?”

  Sleipnir looked sad. “Sure, and I used to. I thought I did. He was raised here with us, but no one knew who he was, of course. Once he left for school in Paris, he never even answered our letters, and no one has seen him since he got back.” They walked for a moment. “I really miss him, he told the funniest stories.”

  Agatha tried to reconcile this image with the serious young man she had seen in Beetle’s lab “Funny stories. Gilgamesh

  Wulfenbach.”

  Sleipnir sighed. “I expect he’s changed quite a bit. We’ve read—” She shook her head, cutting herself off, and looked to Agatha. “When you see him, tell him I said ‘welcome back.’ At least I can say I did the right thing there.”

  “Okay.”

  As they exited the shower room, Ardsley Wooster glided up from where he’d been standing. Sleipnir waved goodbye, and the two of them exited into the bustling corridor. “So what does Master Wulfenbach want to see me for?”

  “I’m afraid that is not my place to say, Miss Clay.”

  This seemed to shut down any hope of conversation, so Agatha took the opportunity to look around. The corridor she found herself in was quite large, easily ten meters wide and the ceiling was almost as high. The only unusual thing was that instead of wood or stone, it appeared to be constructed of metal. This oddity extended right down to the floor, which Agatha noted, wasn’t solid but was some sort of grate. To Agatha’s disappointment, there didn’t seem to be any windows, but the view before her was fascinating enough without one.

  Growing up in Beetleburg, Agatha had considered herself to be fairly cosmopolitan, but the crowd here made her feel like a small-town girl on her first trip to the big city. A surprisingly large number of the people moving purposefully along seemed to be Wulfenbach airship personnel, but perhaps that was because their bright red-and-white-striped shirts caused them to stand out. The other armed forces were certainly represented, their brightly colored uniforms, in every possible variation, were a treat for the eyes. Black clad domestics kept to the sides of the large paneled corridors, carrying bundles and pushing carts. People from all over the Baron’s wide-flung empire could be seen, as well as visitors from outside its borders. Fairly regularly, there would be a goose-like honking, and a young child in a blue uniform, astride a tall golden unicycle, would expertly weave through the crowd like it was standing still, leather messenger bags slung over the cyclist’s shoulders. A procession of silk-garbed Chinese moved sedately down the center of the corridor. The procession was proceeded and followed by a squad of sleek, ornately coated footmen, whose gait caused Agatha to study them intently. There was something not quite right… One of the footmen looked directly at her. Large, lumino
us green eyes with thin, vertical pupils examined her and then swung away. Agatha shuddered and moved a bit closer to Mr. Wooster, allowing the procession ample space in which to pass. She noticed that hers was not an unusual reaction, as everyone seemed eager to give the inhuman footmen plenty of space. As the Chinese passed, Agatha noticed that they all held themselves quite rigid, their faces expressionless, except for one of the junior clerks bringing up the rear. He was obviously terrified of the creatures escorting him. A faint odor of lilac reached her as they passed. A quick glance at her companion revealed that he observed the procession until it was out of sight before continuing on their way.

  He noticed Agatha’s look. “The creatures in the purple coats are known as the Lackya. The Baron employees them for many tasks, but it is wise to steer clear of them.” With that he turned about and moved on.

  There were other non-human creatures in the crowd. A squad of huge bulky men passed by in single file. Perched upon each of their shoulders was a small woman who appeared to have a glass dome set upon her head. As Agatha looked closer, she saw, with a shudder, that the men had no heads, but instead, similar, larger glass domes where a head should be, and within their crystalline depths, machinery gleamed with an odd purple light.

  Clanks there were in abundance, not just the now-familiar soldiers who, Agatha noted, carried much smaller weapons than the immense machine cannons she had seen in Beetleburg, but others in a bewildering variety of shapes that lurched or rolled along on mysterious errands.

  And sprinkled throughout the throng were odd, unclassifiable creatures whose differences ranged from the blatantly obvious, such as the octopus with spectacles who operated its own rolling aquarium, to the disquietingly subtle, such as the charming young lady who, only as she was walking away from Agatha, revealed a cow-like tail that swayed in mesmerizing counterpoint to her hips.