Tarvek had the grace to look away. Agatha patted her device. “I can use this to let the Baron’s man know what’s happening before he lands.” She frowned. “It’s chancy. We have to get it to the roof without her priestesses noticing, and we’ll have to make sure it goes off at just the right time. But at this point, it’s all I can do.”
Tarvek frowned. “But you’re supposed to be hiding from the Baron. Once he knows you’re here, he’ll see to it that you’re taken. He’ll lock you in a lab and—”
“Good!” Agatha declared vehemently. “Maybe he can find a way to reverse this! Get her out of my head! The Baron might destroy me—but The Other certainly will! Me—and a whole lot of other people as well. I’ve been keeping the upper hand, but I’ve told you—It won’t last. I have to make sure I stop her.”
Agatha paused, and looked Tarvek in the eye. “I can… feel her… even now. You… you just can’t understand how… alien her thoughts are. She’s terribly mad. Stopping her… That’s… that’s worth giving myself up to the Baron.” She shivered and looked at him pleadingly. “Don’t you think?”
And seeing her there—seeing the fear in her eyes, alongside the simple raw courage, Tarvek realized that he would do anything. Move mountains, crush cities, toss all of his carefully laid plans into disarray, if that was what it would take to help protect this young girl who was willing to sacrifice herself in order to save Europa, who was standing there alone and helpless before him.
“No!” he whispered. “No!” This time he shouted it so loud that it rang throughout the vast laboratory. The clanks swarming about paused stared at him in astonishment. “No, I won’t allow this!”
He pulled Agatha up from her chair. “You’re still here. She hasn’t won yet!”
“Tarvek, I don’t even understand how she did this to me! It might be different if I had time to work on the problem, but I don’t!” Agatha shook her head. “I’ve examined that throne machine. It’s more advanced than anything I’ve ever seen before! I don’t even know where to start. It’s completely beyond me. I may be a Spark, but I was just a student, for goodness sake!”
Tarvek rubbed his temples. “All right. Listen. I’ve actually had a lot of time to study it, and there are still parts that are beyond me. You’re not stupid, it’s just that your mother has achieved a level of technology we’ve never seen before.
“The truth is, Anevka and I have a plan. It’s why we were trying to duplicate The Other’s command voice. But we never expected father’s ‘Lucrezia’ to actually come back!”
Agatha wobbled slightly on her feet, and a vague look crossed her face, which Tarvek failed to notice before he enfolded her in his arms. “I won’t let her ruin everything!” he declared vehemently. “And I won’t let her destroy you. To find you, out of nowhere—it’s too perfect. Wulfenbach is a usurper—his empire won’t last a day once he’s gone!
“With The Other’s technology, and you by my side, I’ll re-establish the rule of the Storm King. We’ll bring real stability to Europa! You must not give up!”
Suddenly, he realized that the figure in his arms was chuckling softly. He froze as Lucrezia flowed sensuously out of his embrace, and regarded him with amusement.
“My, my,” she purred, “You are ambitious, aren’t you?” She stretched languorously, and smiled as she noticed Tarvek’s breathing speeding up. “So you want Klaus’ little empire and this girl, do you?”
She made a show of examining herself. “Yessss… of course you do.” She smiled devilishly at him. “Well, I don’t mind. In fact, this could work out even better than I’d thought, with…” she slowly shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Tarvek swallowed. “…benefits to everyone.” She smiled again. “Shall we make a deal?”
Lord Selnikov entered the morning room and paused. “Why, your Highness! You look splendid!”
Anevka turned away from the window. “Don’t I though?”
One of the latest fashion trends from Paris had been heavily influenced by a recent visit to the City of Lights by the Ice Tsars, who had swept in, camped in one of the finer hotels for three months, enriched a significant number of restaurateurs, artists and courtesans, and had measurably added to the city’s annual revenue. They had behaved abominably, of course, as despotic, isolated Sparks tended to do when confronted by the wonders of civilization such as indoor plumbing, electric lighting and citizens who considered themselves to be more than slaves or mobile furniture65.
Exciting times indeed, which the fashion trend setters of Paris distilled down to; Cossacks may be cretins, but they certainly look snazzy66.
Thus Anevka was dressed in a white uniform, adorned with lavish amounts of red and gold trim, topped with a massive ermine fur hat. “I must get the name of your dear wife’s dressmaker.”
Selnikov rolled his eyes. “Easy enough, I’ve certainly got enough of their bills around.” He changed the subject. “Now, we’ve nearly finished gathering everyone—” He gestured towards the window.
Anevka glanced out. The crowd she’d seen earlier was already larger. Selnikov continued.
“Couldn’t fit everyone in the square at once, of course. I figure it’ll take three gatherings before we’ve got all of the important people, so you can begin addressing them whenever you’re ready.”
Anevka nodded and moved to a mirror to check her outfit a final time. “Very good. I want to move quickly.”
His Lordship pulled a decanter from inside a hollow book and poured himself a small glass. “Oh yes,” he spoke up, “I almost forgot. It took a bit of doing, but we’ve managed to isolate everyone who was at the theatre with your father last night.” He waved a hand, “All except the actors, of course. I’ve talked to a few of them. They’re not too pleased. My lawyer, Von Karloff, is one of them.” He swirled his drink and pondered. “It was odd…” he sipped. “There was something… strange about them.”
Anevka faced him. ”Yes, I was afraid of that. They’ve imprinted on the girl. They belong to her now.”
Selnikov looked as if the drink had soured in his mouth. “I see. I suppose we’ll have to—”
“You will kill them.”
Selnikov snorted. “Pft. That’s hardly necessary. It’s not as though that actress is the real thing.”
Anevka slammed his hand upon the table. “Kill them.”
Selnikov stared at her. “But… she… she can’t…” He stared with a growing horror at the implacable face of the princess. “She isn’t really… is she?”
Anevka folded her arms. “She can. She is.” She turned away. “Kill them.”
Selnikov gawped at her. “Wilhelm did it? He finally did it? The Mistress has returned?”
Anevka tossed up her hands. “So Vrin and the rest of the Geisterdamen believe,” she conceded. “I heard that much before I fled.”
Selnikov started pacing back and forth. He picked up his drink, stared at it and put it back down again. “But—but if she is back…” He looked at Anevka. “I swore to serve her! The Order swore!” He picked up his drink and put it down again. “If they find out I sided with you over her—” He stared at Anevka again. “If she finds out—” He grabbed his glass and downed it in one swallow.
“Calm yourself, uncle. The Order was created to serve the Storm King. My father and the Council may have been fools, but there are many in The Order who never liked how the organization was subverted. They will support us. By the time the Council learns of this, if they ever do, Lucrezia will be dead, her shrine destroyed, and the remainder of her machines and creatures firmly under our control.”
Selnikov looked ill. “But… your brother…”
Anevka chopped the air with her hand, cutting off his objections. “You’ve assembled the people and the army with no interference, have you not?”
“Well, yes…”
Anevka nodded in satisfaction. “He is doing his part inside the castle. I am doing mine here. We must trust him.”
The older man thought about this
. “But you told those people with the Jägers that he—”
Anevka turned away dismissively. “What of it? It was a simpler story than the truth. Now their romantic imaginations are all fired up. They’re probably having a marvelous time, dashing off to rescue their friend from the wicked prince!”
She turned back. “It’s all moot anyway, as soon as they have served their purpose, Veilchen will take care of them. We must be ready to move when the moat is shut down.”
Selnikov took a deep breath. “It will come down, yes?”
Anevka glanced out the window. The castle could be seen in the distance. “Oh, yes. Between Veilchen and my brother, there is no fear of that.”
She turned back and gently patted Selnikov on the cheek. “It’s a lovely plan, uncle. We should be able to smooth everything over before the Baron’s people get here.”
CHAPTER 11
The Storm King united all the land
He gathered the Sparks beneath his hand
He tamed the lightning and held the line
But then he met the Heterodyne—
—A Ballad of the Storm King
(Unknown. Possibly Montcriffe of Tours.
Then again, maybe not.)
A dramatic light flared in the darkness. Music, strange, unearthly music swelled. Suddenly, there was Agatha. Her face was tired, but determined. When she spoke, her voice was firm and compelling.
“I am Agatha Heterodyne. Daughter of Bill Heterodyne and Lucrezia Mongfish. I have discovered that my mother was… is—The Other. Her servants have captured me. They’ve done something to me, and as a result, her mind is trying to take over my body. I can’t fight her off for much longer.
“Her forces have taken the castle at Sturmhalten. Prince Tarvek is helping me. Tell Baron Wulfenbach. Tell everyone. Someone needs to stop her. Please, I—” her eyes lowered and Agatha realized that she was still wearing nothing but the few scraps of clothing that Lucrezia had donned as a sop to Tarvek’s sensibilities.
She gave a squeal and vainly tried to cover herself. “You could have said something!” she said hotly.
Tarvek sighed, and turned off the recording equipment. “I thought you said you wanted to get everyone’s attention,” he said weakly.
Agatha glared at him. “Gi—I mean, everyone’s going to see this. Get me something decent to wear! Please!”
Tarvek nodded. “Of course.” He thought for a moment. “I think I know what we need. Wait here.” He took off. Agatha waited a few seconds after he had left, and then dropped her shielding hands.
“Quickly! We don’t have much time!” From the swarm of small clanks, four moved forward from the rest. Agatha addressed them. “Did you record that?” A series of green lights flashed.
“Good. Prince Tarvek says that there’s no way for us to contact the outside world. That seems… suspicious to me. I’m sure he isn’t telling me everything. But even if he’s lying to me, this message has to get to Gilgamesh.” She realized what she had just said, and blushed. “And the Baron, of course,” she hastily amended. “You’ll leave town. Find any airship coming in this direction. Play the recording. I don’t know how long you can remain airborne, but I’m sure at least one of you will make it. You’re my backup, in case something goes wrong here.”
She swung open the window. With a final flash of green, the four devices lifted off and flew out the window. “Good luck,” Agatha called after them. “I don’t know what’s out there, so try to stay out of sight.”
She saw a final glint of moonlight reflected from a lens, and then they vanished into the night. Quickly she shut and bolted the window and scurried back to the center of the room just as Tarvek returned, bearing a bundle in his arms.
“Here you go! This should be decent and look quite good for the message!”
Agatha smiled at him. “Oh, thank you, Tarvek! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Outside, up on the roof, a pair of Geisterdamen were huddled around a brazier, when their nighthunter, a shaggy bird-like creature, startled them by shrieking suddenly and launching itself from its roost. It had glimpsed a small flock of objects flying by. Time to hunt.
High overhead, a small airship of peculiar design droned through the sky. The pilot, one Ardsley Wooster, agent of British Intelligence, was hunched over the controls. Even after hours of flight, he couldn’t help frequently glancing upwards, and suffering a quick stab of panic every time he failed to see the reassuring bulk of an overhead gasbag. The airship was an experimental heavier-than-air contraption put together by Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, and was held up by nothing but aerodynamics and its own engine. Wooster found piloting it one of the more nerve-wracking experiences of his career.
However he couldn’t complain about the craft’s performance. His map and instruments confirmed that he was indeed over Balan’s Gap, hours faster than the quickest dirigible in the Wulfenbach fleet could have made the trip. He was already planning on trying to bring the craft along with Agatha and himself to Britain, where the Queen’s Sparks could begin to tease out its secrets.
He banked the craft slightly, trying to ignore the heart-stopping aspects of the maneuver, and surveyed the town below. Definitely Balan’s Gap, there was the squat immensity of Sturmhalten Castle, but it seemed awfully quiet. A flickering blue light caught his attention and he flew over the center of the town. He stared down at the roiling energies of the lightning moat. Something was definitely up.
For the hundredth time he wished Gilgamesh had given him time to do a little more research on what kind of situation he might be dropping into.
He did know that he wouldn’t have much time. This aircraft was faster, but not that much faster than the oncoming fleet. He had gained no more than six hours on them, by his calculations. Not much time at all.
He began trying to find a level place to land, which was almost impossible in the dark. Luckily, there was just enough moonlight to illuminate the more unsuitable bits of terrain.
Suddenly, another set of glows from the ground caught his eye. Wagons. Camp fires. He realized that these must be the caravan staging areas. Most of them appeared to be unoccupied. This would be a perfect place to land. He swooped around once or twice before selecting his approach. As he did, he began to note the manner of wagons below him. There was a circus of some sort, he realized. Was it the circus that had aided Agatha? The laws of probability made the prospect likely.
With a more tangible line of inquiry before him, Ardsley began to bring the craft down.
But he had been seen.
Back inside the castle, Agatha dropped her hands and took a deep breath. She turned to Tarvek, who finished the shut-down sequence with a pleased look on his face.
“How was that?” she asked.
“I think that’ll be perfect,” Tarvek said with satisfaction. “Let’s see how it looks.”
“No!” Agatha stopped him. “Some of the connections are delicate. I don’t know how many times it’ll work.”
Tarvek frowned. “True, you did slap it together pretty fast. But we should have time to go in and—”
A door slammed open and Vrin appeared. She was now clad in the traditional Geisterdamen raiment. When she saw the two of them, she bowed in Agatha’s direction. “Mistress! The sentries have sighted an airship!”
Tarvek sucked in a breath with a hiss and checked his watch. “Blue fire! The Baron’s man made very good time.”
Vrin continued. “They said that it looked like it was coming down on the southeast side of the town.”
Tarvek nodded. “Caravan field. Fire and oil! The circus is still there.”
Agatha looked surprised. “I’d thought they were gone by now.”
Vrin continued. “It was a strange airship as well. Small and very fast. It looked like a giant bird!”
Instantly an image of Gilgamesh’s flying machine flashed through Agatha’s head, and her heart skipped a beat. A shiver of anticipation ran through her.
She patted her dev
ice. “We’ve got to move this onto the roof now.”
When the man before her didn’t respond, she touched his arm. “Tarvek, it’s time.”
He turned towards her and she was surprised to see that he looked slightly ill. He fished a small device from an inner pocket and looked at her sadly. “Yes,” he muttered. “I’m afraid it is.”
He depressed a switch and a small blue light flared on the device. Every one of the small clanks that Agatha had created spat out a burst of sparks and froze, then toppled over, instantly stopping the underlying drone of the music they had been playing.
Agatha whirled. “What have you done?” she screamed. Tarvek looked at her pleadingly, but said nothing. “Not now! I knew I couldn’t trust you! I—” She gave a violent shudder, and Lucrezia blinked, and then smiled.
“Ah! Tarvek, is it time?”
The young man nodded and indicated the waiting priestess. “Yes, my lady. Vrin says that an airship has been sighted, and it most likely is the Baron’s Questor.”
Lucrezia clapped her hands. “Excellent! Then we can—” Her eyes were drawn downwards as she realized what it was that she was wearing. It was a rather diaphanous gown that, stylistically, owed quite a lot to the Moravian artist, Alfons Mucha67.
Lucrezia took a deep breath and indicated the outfit. “Tarvek… dear… what is this?”
The Prince grinned self-consciously. “Do you like it? Agatha wanted some different clothes, and that’s an old Harvest Festival outfit that I designed for Anevka.
“Now I myself never really thought that she was suited for the art nouveau style, but the theme of the festival…” He realized that both Lucrezia and Vrin were staring at him with rather disbelieving expressions, and he stuttered to a stop.
Lucrezia smiled gently and patted him on the head. “It’s lovely, dear. But now I’m going to change into something a teensy bit more practical.”
Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess Page 39