Tarvek responded smoothly, “Well… yes, you are the Lady Heterodyne, right?”
There was something suspicious about this, but at the moment Agatha couldn’t summon enough spare mental energy to care. “Whatever.”
She selected a set of tools and flipped open the back of the little clank. Her knees started to shake. Tarvek moved closer and slipped his arms around her. “Here,” he murmured. “Lean on me.”
Agatha nodded her thanks and resumed tinkering with the clank. Tarvek looked over her shoulder and marveled at the way her hands moved. He blinked. “What is it exactly that you’re doing?”
Agatha was silent for so long that he was afraid that she wasn’t going to answer him. But finally, she whispered, “I don’t trust you.”
Tarvek considered this. He also considered the warm body he felt within the circle of his arms and realized, suddenly, that he wanted her trust, wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. He sighed. “Can’t say I blame you.”
More silence, punctuated by the sounds of tinkering. “You’re working with The Other, aren’t you?” Agatha whispered.
Tarvek shrugged. “I’d hardly be free or alive if I wasn’t.” Agatha said nothing, but he felt a slight shudder run through her. With a start, he realized that what Agatha thought about him was important. That he had to explain himself. “If I can learn what she’s doing, I can learn how to reverse it. You must believe me… no one else can do this. No one else can stop her.”
“I want to trust you.” Agatha whispered.
Tarvek tried to sound sincere. He found it more difficult to do than usual. “You can.”
Agatha looked back at him over her shoulder. “We’ll see.” With that she flipped the case cover on the little clank closed. “Go on, you.”
After a moment, it saluted and scurried off. Tarvek made a half-hearted attempt to grab it, but found himself hampered by the girl sagging in his arms. “Wait!” He looked at Agatha. “What did you do?”
Agatha looked at him and a grin oozed across her face as she slipped further down into his arms. “Now,” she whispered, “You’ve got to trust me.”
Tarvek glared and shook her. “No! Don’t you go to sleep!”
Lucrezia opened her eyes and felt Tarvek holding her tightly. How interesting. “Ooo, Tarvek! You naughty thing! Are you taking advantage of a lady?”
Tarvek almost dropped her. “Of… of course not, my lady.”
She settled a bit deeper into his arms and smiled at his obvious discomfort. “What a pity,” She sighed. She frowned, and looked at him seriously. “Have they found your sister yet?”
Tarvek sighed.
Zeetha and Maxim trotted up to the rest of the group. Neither was breathing hard. “We ran around the whole castle.” Zeetha said. “None of the gates are accessible.”
Dimo scratched his jaw. “Gun be toff,” he admitted.
Maxim nodded. “Kent turn off dot lightning moat.”
Oggie felt he should contribute. “Kent fly.”
Krosp lashed his tail in frustration.
Lars stood up and dusted his hands. “We’ll just have to search for the secret passage.”
He became aware that the others were staring at him. “…What?” he looked at them in confusion. “They’re in all the stories.”
Several minutes later, they were, again, trudging through the city sewers. Krosp was miserably clutching onto Lars’ vest.
“You didn’t say it was in the sewers!” he hissed, his ears flattened.
Now that they could see them, it had to be admitted that as sewers went, the sewers of Sturmhalten seemed to be remarkably well-designed and maintained. Shortly after they had re-entered, they had found lanterns, as well as a collection of waterproof leather cylinders, which proved to contain well drawn, waxed maps of the system.
Large stone galleries were lined with walk-ways. There was no disguising the place’s purpose however. If the omnipresent smell wasn’t enough, now that they had sufficient light, they could actually see what it was that they were desperately trying not to step in.
Lars tried to ignore the more disgusting aspects of their surroundings, and looked for signs of secret passages. He felt a slight sinking feeling when he realized that subconsciously, he was expecting a small discrete sign with an arrow that said “secret passage.”
“Every good story about rescuing the princess from the castle of the evil Spark has a secret passage scene. There’s always an entrance in the sewers.” He muttered.
The others looked at each other and shrugged. It wasn’t like they had any better ideas. Lars halted and unrolled the map. He looked up and examined a small enameled metal sign that had been bolted to the upper wall. He checked the map again, and gave a small grunt of satisfaction.
“Okay, there should be something around here.”
Krosp stuck his head over his shoulder. “What? How do you figure?”
Lars indicated the map. “Not too close to the castle. Not too far. Close to the city gates for escape. Close to the armory and the main barracks to rally the troops. This place is rife with dramatic possibilities. It makes sense to put it here.”
Krosp stared at him and then waved his paws about in an impotent, but adorable, fury. “I can’t believe I’m listening to this! You expect to find a secret passage because of some idiotic stories?”
He no doubt would have said more, but there was a dry scraping sound, and a section of the far wall shivered, sending a cascade of dried material to the floor.
Krosp felt a hand grab the back of his collar and he was jerked back behind a buttress where the others already waited. He felt lips tickling his ear, and Lars breathed, “The thing you have to remember, is that everyone has heard the same stories.”
Zeetha sidled closer. “So what can we expect, story boy?”
Lars shrugged. “It depends. Could be a princess—”
The wall swung open and a clank, startlingly reminiscent of the long-lost Tinka stumbled out. Her eyes glowed with a blue fire. Immediately behind her came four worried looking retainers, carrying a bizarre container. “Hurry!” the clank whispered. “We haven’t got much time!”
The carriers were obviously hard used, and were puffing and sweating. One of the rear men glanced back and shrieked, “Highness!”
From the open wall, five pale figures leapt to the ground. They caught sight of the princess and the lead Geisterdamen pointed. “Tikka zok!” she screamed.
“—Could be a monster,” Lars finished.
The clank girl whirled and yelled back, “Voda za! Shibbak!”
Everyone looked at Lars. He shrugged. “Could be both.” Then he shook his head. “But those are Geisterdamen. In a town. I’ve never even heard of that happening.”
Dimo gnawed his lower lip. “I iz more interested in der doll gurl. She iz speakink like a Geisterlady, bot she hez miz Agatha’s voice.”
Krosp hissed. “They might know something about her. But which side—”
Oggie patted him on the head. “Ho! Dot’s easy, poozy cot!” With that he straightened up and stepped out into the open between the two groups, who froze. He gave each a big smile and waved genially. “Hey dere!” he called out cheerfully, “Who vants to be my friend?”
Several seconds passed, and then all of Anevka’s retainers shot a hand into the air and waved frantically. At this, all of the Geisterdamen raised their swords and with a yell, leapt forward.
Ognian nodded in satisfaction. “See? Now ve know who to fight!” Two of the pale women darted straight for the Jäger, who brought his halberd up horizontally and braced himself.
From the shadows behind him, Maxim and Dimo surged forward, leapt onto the halberd, and used it to boost themselves up and over the two attacking women, who were so distracted by this, that Ognian was able to take out one with a vicious kick that broke the Geisterdamen’s neck. The other quickly recovered and stabbed at Oggie in a blind rage, which was probably why she didn’t see Zeetha slide from behind the J�
�ger and punch her sword through her.
The third Geisterdamen was closing in on Anevka when Maxim sailed in from above and cleanly decapitated her. Dimo landed between the last two and while managing to stab one, was unable to stop the last from driving her sword into his chest. The shock of the thrust threw him back and he dropped to his knees. The pale woman followed up swiftly, sword ready for the final stroke, when another Geister sword erupted from her chest. She froze and then dropped, while Anevka pulled the sword from her body.
She calmly examined her rescuers with evident interest. “Jägermonsters,” she declared. “Of course. You must be looking for the Heterodyne girl.”
For a horrible moment the Jägers and Krosp thought that the secret was out, until Lars nodded and said, “Yes! That’s right! The girl from the Heterodyne show! Do you know where she is? Is she all right?”
Anevka’s eyes narrowed and she nodded slowly. “I do. She is a prisoner in the castle. She was fine the last time I saw her…” Her head jerked. “But now you must all come with me! Quickly!”
Lars pointed towards the entrance through which she’d emerged. “Through here?”
Anevka shook her head. “That would be extremely foolish.” She pointed at the dead women on the ground. “This was merely an advance party. Those tunnels will be swarming with Geisterdamen.”
Dimo had been listening at the entrance, and he hurried up. “She gots dot right,” he informed them. “Dere’s lots of pipple and odder tings comink.”
Lars looked stricken. “But—”
Anevka pulled him and the others began to move at her insistence. “I can get you into the castle. But not this way!”
Quickly they dashed down a short corridor until they found a rusty ladder. Behind them, they heard someone discover the dead Geisterdamen. Thanks to the efforts of the Jägers, they were able to boost up Anevka’s container, and the rest climbed quickly. At the top, they pushed aside a large iron door and found themselves in a municipal storage vault that held spare paving stones. The only way out was an ornate iron gate, which was securely locked. As Maxim swung the heavy door closed behind them, Anevka fished a set of keys out from a pocket, and after some fumbling, found the one that snapped the ancient lock open. They darted through, slammed the gate shut and relocked it, just as the grate in the floor began to rattle alarmingly.
It was only when they had managed to dash around a corner out of sight did they pause. Zeetha stepped over to Dimo, who was letting Maxim examine his chest wound. The Jäger was obviously annoyed that he had been hit. “You going to be okay?”
Dimo waved his hand impatiently. “Iz honly a scratch.”
Maxim smacked the wound with the back of his hand, causing the green Jäger to flinch and then curse. Maxim grinned. “She heet a bone. Iz mebbe cracked. Bot heez a tuff guy.” He continued. “Iz gunna be a bit rough for a day or two, so dun go round tryin’ to impress der ladies.”
Dimo snarled. Zeetha smiled and headed back to the others, to find they were already talking.
“Okay, your brother killed your father. So that makes him the new Prince?” Lars summarized.
Krosp interrupted, “And you really think he’s planning to take on Baron Wulfenbach?”
Anevka nodded sadly. “I’m sure of it. The Geisterdamen and their creatures were tools of my poor father. Tarvek controls them now.”
Ognian shrugged. “Makes sense. Dere ain’t been a decent rebellion against der Empire in vhat—two years?”
Maxim joined them. “Three. Dot magnetic prince guy. He kept der Baron busy for two whole months.”
“Dot vas only becawz all der compasses got messed op and dey kept gettink lost,” Oggie pointed out.
Both of the Jägers shook their heads. In their professional opinion, no one had come out of that conflict looking particularly good.
“But, jah, der Empire’s due.” He smiled ruefully. “A pity ve’s gunna miss dot, dem Geisterladies might be fun in a schtand-up fight.”
Zeetha scratched her head. “But, why did he kidnap Agatha?”
Lars looked at her askance. “Is that a trick question?”
Krosp nodded slowly. “Maybe it is a trick question.” Lars looked surprised. Krosp continued, “But not for the reason the meathead thinks it is. If this Prince Tarvek is about to launch a rebellion against the Empire—well that’s not something you do at the drop of a hat. It’s complicated. You need a plan. The last thing you’d want to do is throw in a… a random kidnapping the night you set things in motion.”
Zeetha frowned. “By that logic, the reason he started his rebellion today was because he had Agatha. That doesn’t make any sense.” She looked at Krosp and the Dimo, who were looking at each other worriedly. “Does it?”
Anevka broke in. “There is always a use for a Spark. My father collected girls with the Spark whenever he found them. I imagine my brother is continuing this repellent practice. It does not help that your friend is rather good looking. I do so hope my brother can control his vile appetites.”
She noted with satisfaction that her words had steered their imaginations into realms of speculation that were more alarming than accurate. That would have to do for now, but it was obvious that these people… especially the cat… person, were too dangerous to be allowed to live. But perhaps their deaths could be useful… if only one of them would drag their mind out of the gutter she’d suggested—
“You said you could get us into the castle,” said Krosp.
Well done, faithful animal companion. “Indeed I can,” said Anevka gratefully. “There are many tunnels under the town. We always kept a few hidden, even from the Geisterdamen, I doubt even my brother will be so reckless as to give them all the family secrets.” They came to a corner and paused. The town was still eerily quiet, although there were a few dimly glowing windows now. They had to get off the streets.
“We will proceed to the home of my loyal friends, Lord and Lady Selnikov. They have long harbored fears of what would happen to the town were my brother to gain total control. I will be safe with them, and from there I will be able to secure you supplies and guides will be able to get you safely through the sewers, into the castle, and lead you to the controls for the lightning moat.”
“What about you?” the annoyingly smart cat asked.
Luckily, here she was back to the original plan. “I will rally the town and the army. When the moat comes down, we will take the castle. This evil must stop.”
The cat stared at her. “The Baron is sending a Questor. Once he sees what’s going on here, he’ll send a fleet. Why fool around with storming the castle yourselves?”
When this was all over, she really hoped this creature was still alive. She’d keep it in a cage, poke it with sticks, and bring it to all of the planning sessions.
“The last thing I want is the Baron thinking that I cannot administer this town on my own. If I crush this rebellion myself, he has no cause to usurp my right to rule.”
Krosp nodded and to Anevka’s surprise, looked relieved. She realized that the cat, at least, must know that Agatha had no wish to encounter the Baron or his representatives.
Lars spoke up. “It’ll all boil down to partisan loyalties then. Are you sure that the townspeople and the army will rally to you instead of your brother?”
Anevka gently touched her newly re-tuned voicebox. “Oh yes. Everyone in Balan’s Gap will do what I say.”
Several minutes later, one of Lord Selnikov’s under-cooks was stumbling towards the back door of the kitchens. Before he got there, another set of blows landed on the far side, rattling the dishes.
All right! All right!” he shouted. “Keep your hair on!” Grumbling mightily, he threw the great deadbolt, and heaved on the iron-bound door. “You must be new,” he said as the door groaned open. “We don’t accept deliveries before—”
The heavy door pushed into him and he stumbled back with an oath. Furious, he grabbed a broom and turned back to find a monstrous, green face leering at him fr
om scant centimeters away.
“Bot dis iz a very special delivery!”
A jolt of fear surged through him as a crowd of people pushed into the kitchen. One of them called out, “Hey! Dere’s food!” —And instantly, most of them fell upon the remains of last night’s banquet. The under-cook was aghast, if only because, by tradition, this was the morning staff’s breakfast that was being devoured before his eyes, and he knew who was going to get blamed for it. He raised the broom—
“Stop!” A tall girl with green hair snagged his sleeve. “I’d step back, if I were you. Those are Jägermonsters and animals eating there.” Krosp waved his paw in acknowledgement. “How smart do you think it would be to get between them and food?”
The under-cook paused, remembering the face at the door. It was said that if you interrupted a Jäger at dinner, you’d be the dessert.
He saw Lars industriously carving himself a slice of roast swan. “Hey! What about that guy?”
“He’s an actor.”
This, the under-cook knew how to deal with. “I’d better go hide the silver.”
He turned to go and found himself face-to-face with a bemused Princess Anevka, who was supervising her bearers as they gingerly edged her catafalque through the smaller doorway. In his panic, he executed a perfect curtsy. “Forgive me, your Highness!”
Genially, she waved aside his apologies. “It’s quite all right, my good fellow. It’s been awhile since I wasn’t the strangest thing in the room. Now fetch your master.”
With a quick bow, the under-cook took off like a shot.
Less than three minutes later, a very stout man clad in a lavish, ermine-trimmed dressing gown burst, huffing, into the kitchen.
He had been quite muscular once, and there was still some evidence of this under the fat that now swaddled his frame. He had a small dapper moustache that was sadly out of place on the broad, square face. His features revealed that he was obviously related to the Royal family from somewhere in the not-too-distant past. “Princess Anevka!” he gasped upon seeing her and her entourage. “It is you! Are you all right?”
Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess Page 37