by Phil Foglio
“Um… the student dormitories?”
Minsc brightened. “Ho! Excellent!” He licked his hand with a purple tongue and slicked back his hair. “Mebbe I see my sveetie.”
Agatha stopped dead. “Your—who?”
“De gorgeous Von Pinn.”
“Your sweetheart is Von Pinn? The Von Pinn is your sweetheart.” No matter how many times she said it, it still sounded wrong.
Minsc shrugged slightly. “Vell, if youz gonnaget technical about it, not yet. But I am confident dot she vill pick me!”
“Pick you out of what?”
“All of der Jägermonstern iz desirous of her,” he confided. “She iz zo sharp… zo dangerous, like a pudding bag full uf knives!” He growled at the thought.
Agatha swallowed. “Ah. And that’s good is it?”
Minsc’s eyes went misty and a beatific smile played across his face. He sighed. “Tvice I haff felt de touch uf her hand as it caressed my face.” He pointed proudly. “See der scars? Vunce her elbow lingered as it vas buried in mine kidney. And vunce, ven her teeth seek mine throat, I gaze into her eyes und—”
“You’re crazy!” Agatha screamed, “She was trying to kill you!”
Minsc stared at her and then his face slid into a sly, knowing grin. “Ho, ho, ho. Hyu iz still a leedle gurl in der vays of luff.” He patted her shoulder. “Hyu vill learn.”
Agatha swallowed. “I sure hope not.” She looked up. To her surprise, they had already arrived at the dormitory door.”Thanks. I guess—”
“Miss Clay! Don’t move!”
Agatha and Minsc whirled and saw Von Pinn racing towards them, her hands outstretched, a look of fury on her face.
Agatha squeaked in alarm and froze. Minsc grinned and stepped forward while pushing Agatha through the doorway. “Hyu moof along now, kiddo.”
“But she’s after me.”
“Hee heh,” Minsc smirked as he straightened his hat. “I guarantee dot a kees from me vill make her forgets all about hyu!”
Von Pinn was almost on them and Minsc stepped forward into the crazed construct’s outstretched arms. “Hey beautiful, it’s me,
you Minsc!”
“MOVE OR DIE!”
“Whoo! Already mit der sveet tok!”
At this point the massive door closed behind Agatha and all she heard was a sound that reminded her of a fight she’d witnessed in the biological oddities lab when a soon-to-be-deceased lab assistant had neglected to lock a number of cage doors. A large object slammed into the door, shaking Agatha out of her shock. She raced into the main room and saw a plump young man sporting a yarmulke coming out of the kitchen clutching a large number of bottles. She ran up to him. “Von Pinn is killing one of the Jägermonsters!”
The young man raised an eyebrow. “Oh. So?”
“So we’ve got to help!”
He considered this for a second, then shook his head. “I think Von Pinn can handle them by herself.”
Agatha thought she was going mad. “No,” she explained through clenched teeth, “we’ve got to help him.”
The light dawned. “Oh!” He then turned back to the stairway. “No, I don’t think so.”
Agatha raced around him and pointed at the door, where the noise had grown even more frenzied. “Can’t you hear that?”
The young man looked at her patiently. “That’s what I mean,” he explained. “It’s taking much too long. If she really wanted to kill him, it would be over very quickly. She’s just warning him off.” A pained squeal rose through the air and was cut off with a sharp wet sound. “Ah, Minsc. I should’ve guessed.”
Agatha stared at him. “Oh.” She leaned wearily against the wall. “This is a very strange place,” she observed.
The young man considered this. “You think so? I don’t get out much.” He awkwardly shifted his load of bottles so that he could stick out a hand. “I’m Hezekiah Donewitz.” Agatha gingerly shook his hand. “You must be Agatha,” he continued. “You should come to Theo’s room. Gil is here! He’s telling us about Paris.”
Agatha scowled. “I wouldn’t—”
Hezekiah interrupted her. “Aw, come on!” He jiggled the load of bottles. “We’re going to reinvent the corkscrew. You can help! I hear you’re brilliant at systems analysis.”
Agatha blinked. “What?”
“Sure. Gilgamesh said you really improved his flying machine.”
“He did?”
“Yeah. He says you’re really smart.” He leaned forward: “I think he really likes you.”
Agatha looked closely at Hezekiah’s face, but could detect no trace of irony. Her head felt funny and she desperately wanted to sit down, and the last thing she wanted to do was face Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. “I’m afraid I’m so tired that I don’t think I could stay awake if he was telling you about his trip to… to America by way of the moon. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it tomorrow.”
Hezekiah shrugged with a clink. “Fair enough, from what I’d heard, you’ve had a busy day. Good night.”
Agatha realized that it had been a busy day, and as she climbed the short stairway to her room, felt weariness drop onto her like a blanket.
On the wall next to each of the bedroom doors, Agatha had noticed a set of thin metal pockets mounted to the wall, labeled with the occupant’s name. As she approached her door, she saw that the second pocket had been labeled with her name, and that there was an envelope within. She unfolded it and found a notification that in the morning, she was to report to Minor Mechanical Workshop Number 311. There was a map showing the way from the dormitory. She studied it a moment and then realized that she was swaying slightly.
She pushed open the door and was startled to see a large white cat eating off of a tray of food that had been left on the desk of the room’s other occupant. In a flurry of white, the cat leapt down and vanished under the other bed.
Agatha got down on her hands and knees and peered under the bed. Two large glowing green eyes stared back. “Hiya, cat,” she said. The cat scrunched itself further back into the corner.
Agatha sat back on her knees. “How many cats do they have running around here anyway? Well, you don’t want to come out? Suit yourself.”
The door opened and a tall, aristocratic-looking young lady walked in. She had a long, thin face, pale skin, and an elegant mass of long auburn curls. Her outfit was a standard Wulfenbach overall, but it had been tailored to fit, and shiny brass buttons replaced the regular issue. From the state of her outfit, it was apparent that she had been engaged in heavy labor. Upon seeing Agatha, she stopped dead. In an eyeblink her tiredness had vanished and was replaced by an air of graciousness. “Ah, you are awake. You may rise.”
Agatha realized that she was still on her knees and hastily scrambled to her feet.
“I am Her Highness, Zulenna Luzhakna, a princess of HofnungBorzoi. We are to be roommates, it appears.” She extended a hand. “And you are?”
“Agatha Clay.”
A faint frown flitted across Zulenna’s face and the hand was smoothly withdrawn. “Clay,” she mused. “Not a… noble house. Which member of your family possesses the Spark?”
“Ah, none of them. My father’s a blacksmith,” she offered hopefully.
“A blacksmith. How utilitarian.” Zulenna sat down on her bed and surveyed Agatha. “So, why are you here?”
“Baron Wulfenbach captured my… my boyfriend. He’s a Spark.”
“A captured…” Zulenna’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mean Moloch von Zinzer?”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“I keep tabs on all of the Sparks aboard Castle Wulfenbach. So you are Herr von Zinzer’s bed warmer.” She jumped up, obviously greatly annoyed, and leaned into Agatha. “I have heard about you, and I trust there will be no nonsense within this room.”
Agatha found that she was so tired that her outrage barely flickered. “Look,” she said evenly, “there seems to be a mistaken impression that I’m some sort of—”
“How dare y
ou!” Zulenna interrupted furiously. Startled, Agatha saw that she was holding the tray she’d seen the cat eating from. “This was my dinner. I work the late shift. The kitchen is closed! It was on my desk! How dare you touch it! And how dare you make such a mess!” Indeed, food was scattered across the desktop.
“Oh, now wait a minute!” Agatha objected hotly, “I didn’t touch your stuff. The cat was up on the desk eating it when I came in!”
Zulenna cocked an eyebrow. “What cat?”
“I thought it was yours. It’s a big white cat. It’s under your bed.”
Zulenna looked at Agatha for a moment, a look of uncertainty passed over her face, and she gracefully dropped to her knees and raised the coverlet to peer under the bed. When her head came back up, she was glaring furiously. “You can’t even lie competently.”
“What?” Agatha looked under the bed. No cat. Hurriedly she looked under her bed. No cat. A quick look around the small room showed that there was certainly no place a cat could hide, and she knew it hadn’t left when Zulenna opened the door…
“But it was there!” Agatha looked under Zulenna’s bed again. A small, flat underbed chest, which would have to be removed to be opened, and a ventilation grate were all that were to be seen.
“There’s a ventilation grate here, maybe it—”
Zulenna’s hand snapped down and whipped the coverlet out of Agatha’s hand. Her voice was icy with disdain. “That vent cover is held in place with two snaps. I doubt that any cat, even one as fabulous as the one you saw, could open them. Therefore I must conclude that in addition to being a person of low moral character, you are a liar as well as a thief. I expect nothing less from the lower classes, but I’ll be damned if I will sleep in the same room with you. I imagine your parents expected you to sleep in the foundry; I suggest—”
The smack to her face caught Zulenna by surprise. The force of it spun her around causing her to slam into the wall. Before she could recover, she found herself hoisted up off the floor by an Agatha who was radiating rage.
Agatha felt the fury roaring through her body like a lightning storm. A part of her realized that she had never been allowed to be this angry before. Whenever she got mad, a headache seemed to come along to snuff out the rage. But not this time. For the first time in her life, Agatha could vent all the fury that she was capable of feeling, and a part of her reveled in it. She screamed as years of pent-up emotions found voice.
Zulenna had been about to deliver a solid kick to Agatha’s stomach, but an older part of her brain looked into Agatha’s face, overrode her conscious mind, and she stopped struggling and went limp.
“One thing my parents taught me,” Agatha said in a voice that set off fresh alarms, “was that nobody gets to badmouth my family. I will tell you this one last time. I didn’t eat your dinner. There was a cat. I have had a very long day. And I am not—” this was emphasized with another slam into the wall—”von Zinzer’s… like that.” The embarrassment she felt over this last admission seemed to sap her strength. Zulenna felt her feet touch the ground. She eyed Agatha warily.
Agatha was fading fast now. She felt a great weariness roaring over her, and merely stood there, her hands still grasping Zulenna’s clothes.
Zulenna gingerly reached up, and found that she could remove Agatha’s hands without effort. She stepped sideways. Agatha didn’t move.
Zulenna considered slamming Agatha face first into the wall, but at that moment, Agatha’s face turned towards her, and the thought fled. She stepped back and tried to project self-assurance. She jerked her clothes straight.
“Never touch me again.” She braced herself for another attack, but Agatha ignored her and simply shuffled past her to drop onto her bed. “And I want you out of my room.”
Agatha looked at her, and then closed her eyes. As… exhilarating as the rage had been while she was experiencing it, now that it was gone, she felt sick, exhausted and ashamed. “Nothing would please me more,” she whispered, “but tonight I’m sleeping here.”
Zulenna glared at her and stepped forward, then hesitated. With a disdainful sniff, she turned, disrobed and got into her own bed. She reached out to extinguish the light and stopped. Agatha was already asleep. Zulenna began to ease out of her bed, then reached up and touched the tender spot on her face. Agatha made an odd humming noise in her sleep, then began to breathe deeply. Zulenna crept out of bed, selected one of the fencing foils that was on the rack, and carefully climbed back into bed with it placed between her and Agatha. She left the light on. It was quite a while before she slept.
In Agatha’s dreams, the great celestial machine warped itself slightly. The teeth of the gears grew longer and sharper, and began to fly off and chase Von Pinn, and Zulenna, and Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, and as they ran squealing in terror, Agatha found herself enjoying the show until she realized that the largest and sharpest gear was bearing down upon herself.
She came awake with a jerk, dropping a jeweler’s wrench upon a benchtop which was littered with parts. She looked around in surprise. She was in an empty machine shop. But it wasn’t Adam’s. Where was she? A voice behind her—
“Miss Clay? Good heavens.”
Swinging about, Agatha saw the Baron’s secretary Boris, and Moloch, both looking rather dumbfounded.
Years of training as Dr. Beetle’s assistant kicked in and she leapt to her feet, smoothed back her hair and stood at attention. “Good morning, sir. I… I was asleep, but I am ready to begin.”
This only seemed to make Boris even more uncomfortable. He glared at Moloch. “I dare say she is.”
Moloch tried to control a grin. “Um… Didn’t you forget something—er—darling?”
Agatha looked at them blankly. “What do you—” belatedly she noticed the direction of Moloch’s gaze. Looking downward she saw that she was dressed in naught but her camisole and pantalets. With a shriek she barreled between the two men and dashed from the room.
Once she had vanished around the corner, Boris rounded on Moloch and shook several fingers at him reprovingly. “You are expected to get work done, Herr von Zinzer. Perhaps a different assistant…”
“No!” The last thing Moloch wanted was someone who could tell he knew nothing. “Um… she’s… it’s just—the science stuff, it… um… it really gets her… excited.”
Boris rolled his eyes. “Ah. One of those.” He shrugged. “Well, as long as you’re discreet and it does not interfere with your work. But—” he warned. “Tell Miss Clay not to flaunt herself in front of the Baron or his son. They have no tolerance for such things.” Satisfied that he had cleared up the matter, he steered Moloch deeper into the lab. “Now the one example we saw of your work was rather crude, but the Baron found aspects of the design quite remarkable. He believes that with access to proper materials, your work might be well worth his full attention.”
Moloch smiled weakly. “Great.”
Boris nodded. “If this is so, you will subsequently report to the Baron directly. For now, however he is interested in seeing what you can produce independently.”
“I’ll bet.”
There followed a quick tour of the lab, ending with Boris indicating a small electric bell. “And finally, whatever you need, be it supplies, assistants or food, simply ring this and it will be provided. We look forward to seeing what you will do.” As he left, he passed a fully dressed Agatha coming the other way. Tactfully, neither said anything.
Agatha entered the lab to find a despondent Moloch rummaging about in the chemical locker. With a grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a large carboy of clear liquid and filled a beaker. He swigged fully a third of it down before he sat on the nearest stool.
Agatha examined the label. “That’s supposed to be used for cleaning machine tools,” she pointed out.
“So I’ll die clean.” Moloch saluted her with his glass and polished off another third. “Now what the heck were you doing? Do you always work in your underclothes?”
“No!” Agatha began t
o pace back and forth in agitation. “I don’t know! I never used to walk in my sleep!”
“Well you sure made a mess of the workbench.” The two of them examined the bench, which did show all the signs of heavy use. “But I don’t see what you were working on.” It was true. Tools and parts littered the area, but there was no device anywhere in sight.
Agatha slumped against the bench. “Probably nothing,” she admitted. She straightened up and turned away. “Well, at least I don’t have another failure staring at me.”
From an upper shelf, a small device paused in its labors. A small lens focused on her, ascertained that she did not require its assistance, and resumed its task.
Moloch finished off his drink just as the beaker began to dissolve. He tossed it into the trash. “So now what?”
Agatha grinned. “Take a look at this!” She turned away and reached into her shirt and hauled out the airship manual and handed it to him.
Moloch looked surprised. “Where’d you get this?”
Agatha shrugged. “Just found it.”
Moloch paged through it, then handed it back. “This has possibilities. There’s a lot of traffic, there’s supply balloons coming and going all day long. Unfortunately, stuff like this will be guarded all the time. But look over here—” He took Agatha’s arm and brought her over to a rack of packages mounted on the wall near the main exit to the lab. A small sign explained how to prepare the devices for use. “This might be easier. These are personal balloon gliders for if they have to abandon the dirigible. You can use these to just glide down to earth, and they’re located throughout the Castle. The problem with these, is that people would see you jumping off the Castle. At night the damn things glow.”
Agatha nodded. “Hmm. Modifying one of them might be our best bet. It glows? We could paint it with tar or something.”
Moloch looked surprised. “That’s a good idea.”
“I want to get out of here too.” She thought for a minute. “I’ll bet they notice if we start messing about with one of these things, in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised—” She stepped over to the rack and examined it closely. She gave a grunt of satisfaction and motioned Moloch over. “Look. See this? There’s a wire running through these rings. Probably some sort of tripwire, I’ll bet. When one of these things is pulled off the rack, it sounds an alarm somewhere. Makes sense, really, even if it’s a genuine emergency.” She studied the wire closely. “This is going to be tricky.” She looked at Moloch. “We can’t afford to do it wrong the first time.”