Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess

by Phil Foglio; Kaja Foglio

  Agatha saw no reason to lie. “Out of the castle. Prince Tarvek wants me gone before the Baron sends someone to investigate his father’s death.” She paused. “He said he was going to take care of you too.”

  Vrin looked at her with an unreadable expression. “Oh, I can well imagine that he would have ‘taken care of us.’” She nodded. “He is certainly correct about one thing. If The Wulfenbach Empire will be interfering here, then we must hurry.” She turned away. “Come with us.”

  Agatha didn’t move. “I hate to leave Tinka like this—”

  Vrin cut her off with an impatient wave of her hand. “You must leave with us.” She paused and visibly forced herself to be a bit less autocratic. “This is but a mechanism. We have permanently damaged nothing. It was already broken, and this is but another minor repair that Prince Tarvek can easily perform. You are the one that is in danger now, and I assure you, child, your safety is our chief concern.”

  Agatha saw the logic in this, and so the four headed off. “This isn’t the way we were going,” Agatha quickly pointed out.

  Vrin snorted, but didn’t slow down. “Sturmhalten Castle is not so much a castle, as a structure that contains secret passages. I don’t know where the tik tik was taking you, but I know where we must go now.”

  Agatha followed for a moment, then asked, “So the late Prince Aaronev was a follower of… your Lady?”

  Vrin frowned. “Supposedly. To hear him tell it, in his youth, they were… romantically involved.” She shrugged, “Or so he claimed. Our Lady never deigned to verify it, one way or the other. But in fairness, he always spoke of her with the proper reverence.” She was again silent, but Agatha could see that this was a topic she felt strongly about, and indeed, she shortly continued.

  “But this entire family—” she shook her head. “All of them are as twisted and duplicitous as a sack of oiled snakes. One can never trust anything they say, even when they are speaking an obvious truth. I believe that Aaronev secretly hoped to learn how to use The Lady’s shk-mah for his own ends!”

  She eyed Agatha expectantly, and seemed disappointed that this revelation had less impact on her than Vrin had expected.

  “Ah,” Agatha said. “Her Shik Whatzis, you say. The impudence.”

  Vrin glowered at her. “I believe the ignorant call them Slaver Wasps.”

  Agatha stumbled, and only avoided slamming to the ground face-first because Eotain and Shrdlu grabbed her arms without breaking stride.

  Agatha dug her heels in and dragged the whole group to a halt. “My mother was The Other?”

  Vrin looked surprised. “You didn’t know?” She nodded. “Oh. Well, yes. Lucrezia Mongfish was the being known to The Shadow World as The Other.” She said this as if it as common knowledge52.

  This time Agatha did stop. “No! I can’t believe it! The Other was responsible for the revenants. The death of… of thousands! All the destruction—!”

  The Geisterdamnen circled her, and looked at each other in confusion. Agatha ignored them. “But wait—” She reviewed her histories. “No—The Other attacked Castle Heterodyne and kidnapped Lucrezia Heterodyne. That’s how the whole thing started!”

  Vrin gently clasped Agatha’s hand and pulled her down the hall. “Really? How interesting.”

  Agatha’s head was so a-whirl with this latest revelation that it was several moments before she was again aware enough to take stock of her surroundings. The room the party was now half way through was large and dimly lit.

  “This looks familiar…”

  Vrin interrupted. “It is the castle chapel. We do much of our work here.”

  Agatha shuddered as she remembered what had happened the last time she was here. “And what is it you do?”

  Suddenly the three white ladies turned on her and forced her down into what Agatha realized was the same device that Prince Aaronev had strapped her into earlier that evening. She protested and thrashed mightily as she was buckled in. Vrin stood before a control panel. “We do what we always do. We serve the Goddess!” And she threw the switch.

  A great cloud of electricity erupted around Agatha, enveloping the chair and its occupant. She felt a tingling dancing across her flesh for several seconds, and then, from behind her, the apparatus she was strapped into began to roar and vibrate. There was a great final scream of tortured machinery—and then only the sound of turbines winding down. Everywhere lights changed from red to green, and relays could be heard clacking down in sequence.

  Agatha opened one eye. Nothing. She looked at herself. Nothing had changed. She looked around. She was still in the chapel. She was beginning to think it had all been some sort of pointless joke when she saw the three Geisterdamen. They were standing reverently, heads bowed, eyes closed, their hands intricately folded before their chests. Praying, Agatha realized. Next to them was a clock-like device. Its single hand was sweeping backwards and just as Agatha figured this all out, the hand hit zero. A great organ note boomed forth as a fresh wave of power cascaded down the device and poured directly into Agatha. Her head slammed back and she screamed as the energies swirled around her.

  Suddenly the power cut off. Released from its grasp, she limply slumped forward. Throughout the apparatus, smoke poured from vents. Busbars had melted and fuses had overloaded.

  The three Geisters opened their eyes and stared at the motionless girl before them. Shrdlu sighed. “I think we have killed another one.”

  “NO!” Vrin violently shook her head in denial. “No! I was so sure! I am sure! This was the girl!” She looked at Agatha. “Have I erred? Can it be the machine itself that is flawed?”

  A small moan came from the seated figure. All of the Geisters started in surprise. “She’s alive!” Vrin smacked the other two into action. “Get her out of there!”

  Quickly, the restraints holding Agatha were removed. But even when released, she remained limp and made no voluntary motion. Suddenly she gasped and her eyes flew open to stare blankly at the three women leaning in towards her. “Hfgm,” she burbled.

  Eotain looked distraught. “Well, at least she’s alive. Surely that counts for something—”

  “Silence!” Vrin snapped. She grabbed Agatha’s jaw and pulled her face towards her own. “Can you understand me?” She spoke in the Geisterdamen’s own language.

  Agatha looked at her owlishly. “Gominal,” she whispered. Vrin dropped her hand, turned away and sighed.

  Shurdlu shrugged. “Another vegetable.”

  Eotain looked unsure. Agatha was staring at the three now and feebly thrashing about in her seat. “I don’t know…” Eotain said slowly. “This one seems… different.”

  Vrin’s head snapped up. Cold fury was reflected on her face. “No. She is gone.” Agatha’s hand twitched towards her, and clasped her sleeve. With a casual back hand, Vrin cracked Agatha across the face, spilling her out of the machine. “She is useless to us.”

  Without another thought, she turned away, her mind already planning ahead. “Come,” she said to the others. “We must leave this place quickly.”

  Shurdlu looked troubled. “You will leave The Lady’s devices in the hands of those children?”

  “For the moment, we must. But we will be back. And then they will—”

  “You did it!” This declaration stopped all three of the women dead. They whirled in surprise to find Agatha standing tall.

  But… they all hesitated. It… wasn’t Agatha. The body language was all wrong. The girl before them looked directly at them and they involuntarily stepped back. A fire burned in her eyes that sent a shock of recognition through Vrin.

  Agatha’s face was set in a delighted grin as she jerkily examined her arms. “You did it,” she repeated in delight. “I can’t believe it! You actually found her!” The Lady Lucrezia twirled in place and hugged herself in glee. “I’m back!”

  CHAPTER 9

  A secret shared is a secret known to the Baron

  —Folk Wisdom

  In a dark alley near the cent
er of Balan’s Gap, a sewer cover lifted itself slightly. A guttural voice whispered, “Iz clear.” Without a sound, the cover was lifted all the way up and gently set to the side. Quickly, Dimo, Maxim and Ognian flowed upwards and assumed positions equidistant from each other. The town was quiet. The mist had continued to roll down from the surrounding mountains, blanketing the streets. Most of the buildings were dark, with only the occasional light. The streets were empty.

  After a minute, Dimo quietly whispered. “Iz goot.”

  A hand reached up from the sewer, clutching a stiff and unresponsive figure. Dimo grabbed it and examined it worriedly. It was Krosp. His limbs were stiff, his face set in a grimace of pain. He was filthy, and soaking wet. “Iz he any better?”

  Lars levered himself up out of the manhole. “No.”

  Maxim scratched his chin. “I dun underschtand vy he iz like dis. He hef no problem mit goingk into der sewer.”

  Lars looked at the Jäger and shrugged. “I don’t think he really understood what a sewer was.”

  The purple Jaeger chuckled. “Ho! Vell Hy guess he know now! ’Specially ven he fall in!”

  Lars nodded. “Yes, he seemed fine until then.”

  Maxim corrected him. “No, he vas fine ’til hyu said dot he vould need a bath.”

  Dimo interrupted them both. “No, it vos ven hyu said dot he could giff himself a bath.”

  Maxim grinned. “Oh, jah! Dot vas it! Becawze he iz a kitty!”

  At this, all four of them reevaluated the sodden, stinking mass Dimo held in one hand, imaginations running furiously. Krosp suddenly showed signs of life. One crazed eye rolled towards Dimo. “Kill me,” Krosp whispered.

  “I can’t say I blame him,” Lars conceded.

  Dimo nodded. “True enough, but ve needs him.” With that he strode over to a water barrel and plunged Krosp in fully and agitated his hand thoroughly. In less than a minute, a bedraggled Krosp clawed his way out of the barrel. He shook himself and glared at the others. “Never speak of this again,” he hissed. “Or you will all die.”

  During this, Maxim and Ognian had vanished. They reappeared now from opposite ends of the alley. Both looked troubled. “Zumting is wrong,” Maxim stated flatly.

  Oggie agreed. “Jah. De streets iz deserted.”

  Dimo looked at Lars. “Iz dot normal dese days?”

  Lars shook his head. “Of course not. This is a major caravan town. The Night Market is famous for its late night specials, and the Red Quarter never closes. We were supposed to come up right between them, so we could blend in with the crowds.”

  The group looked around. There certainly were no crowds now. Dimo scowled. “We moof qvick den.”

  Lars looked at a set of enameled street signs riveted onto the walls at the nearest corner. He nodded. “The castle should be this way.”

  Oggie grinned. “Hah. Ve valk in, ve valk out. Vill be piece of piroshky!”

  It wasn’t, of course. The castle sat tall and forbidding in its crater. For the first ten decameters, the sheer stone walls were bereft of windows, decorations, or indeed, handy projections of any kind. The massive drawbridge was up. But the final straw was the seething, crackling lacework of energy that surrounded the base of the structure.

  Ognian slumped against the nearest railing. “Hy’m chust gunna shot op now,” he muttered.

  Krosp patted his arm. “Thanks.”

  “A lightning moat,” Lars marveled. “I’ve never really seen one.”

  Maxim nodded sagely. “Yah. Iz hard to gets de insurance.”

  Suddenly a voice from behind caused them all to start. “About time you boys got here.”

  Sitting in an embrasure was Zeetha. She continued. “Krosp, I expected. The Jaegers are…” she looked at them and nodded. “—Not much of a surprise. But you, Lars—” Here her grin widened. “What are you doing here?”

  Lars looked away. “Why? Well she is a member of the show. I…we… we just couldn’t leave her.”

  Zeetha looked at him fondly. “I see.” She leapt down beside them. “Well I guess there isn’t much danger—” She clapped Lars on the back. “Not if you’re here, hm?”

  Then she frowned. The muscles under her hand were tight with tension. When Lars turned towards her, she was forcibly struck by the rigidly controlled fear she saw in his eyes. “Zeetha—” Lars said quietly, “I have never felt a town as dangerous as this. Something is very, very wrong here. Do you know anything?” He gestured at the empty streets. “What is going on here?”

  Zeetha’s grin vanished. “Prince Aaronev is dead. A lab accident, they say, though there’s a general feeling that there must be more to it. The town is officially in mourning. No one is allowed on the streets after dark. It’s expected that the Prince’s son, Tarvek, will be the new Prince, once the Baron’s Questor is satisfied.”

  Lars looked intrigued. “A Questor? Here?”

  Krosp nodded. “Balan’s Gap is an important trade city because of the pass. Plus, The House of Sturmvarous is a major player amongst the Fifty Families53. The Baron has to be able to demonstrate that the succession here is legal and legitimate.”

  Zeetha nodded. “A messenger has already been sent off to the Baron. Because of the city’s status, the Questor is expected to be here in time for the funeral. That should be in about three days. The bureaucracy is in a panic.” She indicated a large, ornate building which was doubly noticeable because most of its lights were still burning and if the evidence of its chimneys was to be believed, every fireplace in the building was going full blast. “Apparently there’re a lot of files that need to be ‘updated.’”

  She continued with a grin. “The city is also supposed to be sealed. No one in, no one out, until the funeral. That’s the local tradition whenever one of the Royal Family dies.”

  Dimo considered this. “Vot do dey say about Miz Agatha?”

  At this Zeetha got serious. “Nothing.” Dimo started to shrug, but Zeetha interrupted him. “No, you don’t understand. Everyone is talking about everything because they’re worried. I can tell you a whole lot of gossip about the Royal Family. The guards, the servants, who’s looking after the royal horses—But about a young actress who was visiting the Royal Family when the Prince died? Nothing. Not a word. Not a whisper. It’s as if she were never there at all.”

  Lucrezia’s movements were already more sure and graceful. Shurdlu and Eotain knelt before her, weeping tears of joy.

  “Oh, you dear girls,” Lucrezia cooed. “You did it! I’m ever so pleased with you!”

  This only sent the two into new paroxysms of joyful weeping. Lucrezia knelt next to them and gathered them within her arms.

  “Oh Lady,” whispered Shurdlu. “To have you back at last…”

  Eotain continued. “We have worked so hard.”

  Lucrezia hugged them tighter in delight. “Shhh,” she whispered. “Yes, I know. And I missed you as well.” She released them. “Now pull yourselves together. I need you to be strong for me.”

  She gracefully rose to her feet. Eotain reverently offered her Agatha’s glasses. Lucrezia looked at them blankly for a moment and then gingerly, with several attempts, slipped the loops over her ears. She looked around the room with a renewed interest, and paused as she saw Vrin huddled separately on the floor. She stepped over towards the prone woman.

  “And you, Vrin, are you happy?”

  “Of course, my Lady.” Vrin raised her face from the floor, but seemed incapable of raising her eyes above Lucrezia’s waist. Lucrezia realized that the woman was terrified. Interesting. She began to notice other things.

  “Why is your hair cut?” Traditionally, the Geisterdamen never cut their hair.

  “It… it is a mark of my shame, Lady.” When Lucrezia said nothing, she continued. “When first you sent us here, your gateway, and most of your device plans were destroyed. I… none of us could rebuild it. Even I, your High Priestess had not the skills.”

  Lucrezia nodded slowly. This explained much54. Vrin continued. “We
were cut off from you, and I couldn’t even punish the…saboteurs.”

  This word caused Lucrezia to sharply draw in her breath. Vrin finally dared to look Lucrezia in the face. “But I remembered the name of Prince Aaronev. With his help, I kept our sisters safe. We rebuilt your machine—” Here she broke down and wept. Years of tightly held frustration and fear were finally allowed release, in this, her moment of triumph. “And I found the child! Everything worked! You are here and I can finally—finally beg your forgiveness!”

  Lucrezia’s eyes had gone cold. “Surely I sent adequate guards. Surely you knew how to utilize them. Who destroyed my gate?”

  This was the moment Vrin had feared for years. “Oh Lady,” she whispered, “It was one of us.”

  Lucrezia froze. “One of you?”

  Vrin huddled prostate upon the floor. “Yes Lady,” she whispered, “The Lore Mistress, Milvistle. She…” Vrin swallowed, “She doubted your divinity.”

  Fury filled Lucrezia’s face. “Is she dead?”

  Vrin nodded frantically. “Yes, Mistress! But…”

  Lucrezia grabbed Vrin’s hair and yanked her upright. “But—?”

  “But there are signs that she did not act alone!”

  “Traitors?” Lucrezia screamed. “Heretics?! Amongst my priestesses? How dare they?”

  She released Vrin and stood there, a look of calculating rage upon her face. If Geisterdamen had arrived here ready to rebel, there must be rebels plotting back in The Silver City. Right below her very nose…

  This line of thought was cut off by the trembling woman at her feet. “There are others about whom I have doubts, my Lady.”

  That caught Lucrezia’s attention. An opportunity to work off some of the betrayal and indignation she felt would be quite welcome indeed. “Who? Tell me!”

  A smooth voice, speaking in perfect Geisterese, cut Vrin off before she could speak. “I trust I am not on that list, Lady Vrin.”

  All four women whirled to see Tarvek Sturmvarous standing before them. Before they could react, he smoothly dropped to one knee and bowed in supplication. “Welcome back, My Lady.” He raised his head and smiled. “Allow me to be the first of many to offer you my service.”