Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess (43 page)

This was the first time he’d felt comfortable enough to broach the subject. The servants aboard the castle had been buzzing about it for weeks, of course. Even while in the infirmary, Captain DuPree had laughed about it within everyone’s hearing. Wooster had been unsure about what aspect of it the Captain had found funnier, the idea that Gil had been knocked out by his fiancée, or that he had thought he’d had a fiancée in the first place.

Ardsley had met Gilgamesh while they were both students in Paris. Thus, he was aware of the unusual history that the Captain and Gilgamesh shared
⁵⁵
.

It was only after a rather brutal sparring session (where Gil had taken her down in two out of three falls), that the Captain had agreed to stop talking about it altogether.

Gil looked sad. “We weren’t,” he admitted. “But we would have been.” He looked over at Wooster and impatiently waved him over to another chair. Ardsley knew better to argue when Gil was in one of these moods. He sat, and because it was expected, poured himself a mug of tea. While he did this, Gil idly balanced his full mug on his index finger. As he talked, he absent-mindedly bounced it from finger to finger. Wooster was almost
certain
that this was just something Gil did to keep his hands busy, and not in fact, meant to terrify him. This didn’t help.

“Do you know,” Gil volunteered, “I had resigned myself to bachelorhood?”

Wooster almost choked on his tea at this. The dynastic implications of this simple statement could shake Europa. He was also concerned as a friend. “Don’t be absurd. You’re still young.”

Gil looked down from the great height of his twenty-two years and rolled his eyes.

Wooster frowned, “And, if you’ll forgive me, sir—in Paris, you had quite the reputation for being able to secure the company of…” Wooster tried to smile innocently, “any number of young ladies
⁵⁶
.”

Gil looked at him evenly. “Yes, I’ll never hear the end of
that
.” He paused. “Ardsley, do you know how
boring
it is to be with someone who doesn’t understand a thing you’re talking about?”

Ardsley flashed back to a rather one-sided conversation he’d had with the newest scullery maid, fresh from the countryside, about the proper placement of various forks. It had not ended well. “I believe I do, sir.”

Gil looked him in the eye. “That’s how I feel
all the time.”
He paused. “I’d always hoped I’d find—not just someone to marry—but a real partner. I’d read about female Sparks all my life, but even in Paris—” he shook his head in disgust, “Paris, for pity’s sake, forget about finding a female Spark, or any girl I could just really talk to. About things I was working on, or ideas, or—”

Gil ran down at this point and sat slumped forward for several moments. Then he slowly sat back, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. “But Miss Clay—” he grimaced, “Or Heterodyne, or whatever… she had The Spark.” He looked at Wooster a touch defensively. “And she liked me. She did.” He closed his eyes. “And I liked her.”

Wooster felt that he should state the obvious. “She ran away, after giving you a slight concussion.”

Gil shrugged. “I’m not saying it would have been an
easy
courtship. But I believe—”

They were interrupted by the far door being slammed open. A high-pitched squeal announced the arrival of Zoing. The miniscule construct waved its blue claws frantically from within its concealing coat.

From long practice, Ardsley could sometimes actually understand parts of what the excitable creature said, but not this time. It was hooting and piping so quickly that he was completely at sea.

Gil however, listened intently and nodded in satisfaction. “Excellent, Zoing, well done.” He turned to Ardsley and a genuine grin crossed his face. “Time to work!”

Without pause, he followed Zoing out the door. Hurriedly, a concerned Wooster followed. “Seriously?” he demanded as he tried to keep up with Gil’s long strides. “Between marathon sessions in your lab, and your excessive dueling with assorted monstrosities, you’re already driving yourself to an early grave!”

They passed a large boiler that had several red lights blinking ominously across its front. As he passed, Gil casually flipped two switches and gave the side a thump. All the lights changed to green. “Well I certainly can’t stop now,” he said reasonably. “The next few days will be critical. Should I let them die just so I can get some sleep?”

Wooster frowned. “If your father finds out that you have them—”

“I don’t give a damn!” Gil interrupted fiercely. “And you should have thought of that before you helped me hide them.”

Wooster grimaced. He’d thought about little else for days. Gil continued, “Besides, with any luck, we’ll be done and have them out of here before he even—”

“Master Gilgamesh! The Baron demands that you attend him! Now!” Expressions of shock and guilt raced across Gil’s face before he damped them down and smoothly turned to face the Lakya that had appeared at the end of the hallway.

He was not reassured by the creature’s appearance. Ever since Agatha’s escape and death, the Baron had been subtly dispersing the Jägermonsters throughout the vast Wulfenbach Empire. As a result, the Lakya had been given more and more of the day-to-day duties that the Jägers had been entrusted with aboard the castle. This had resulted in an increased superciliousness amongst the dapper constructs.

There was no evidence of that now. The Lakya before Gil looked almost frantic, and was obsessively rubbing his hands together in a frantic dry washing motion that any casual observer of the footmen would have known was only a few steps below actual panic.

Gil tried to marshal his thoughts. “But—”

The hand washing increased in intensity. “Now! Right now!” The Lakya chattered its teeth together. “I have never
seen
him so angry!”

Gil tried again. “Um…with me?”

A frantic nodding. “
Especially
with you!”

A peculiar calm settled upon Gilgamesh. For years he’d imagined what would happen to him if he failed to measure up to his father’s never-ending tests. Surely the reality couldn’t be worse. Probably. He nodded. “Very well.”

He turned to Ardsley and put a hand on the distraught man’s shoulder. “Wooster, go on to the lab without me. Work with Zoing. Keep everything stable for as long as you can. I…” He swallowed. “I may be gone for some time.”

Despite this acceptance, it was still a pale, nervous face that shortly peered around the slightly opened blast door to Klaus’ laboratory. “Father?” he ventured.

“GET
IN
HERE, YOU
IMBECILE!
” Klaus roared.

Gil quickly threw the door open wide and was hit with a wave of moist heat. The lab was like an oven. Even his father, who was a stickler for formal dress most of the time, was clothed in little more than rolled up shirtsleeves and a foundryman’s leather overall. Gil tried not to stare. His father was sweating, which combined with his unshaven face and the circles under his eyes, gave him a terrifying appearance.

Reflexively, his eyes swept the room and discovered it equipped with a baffling hodgepodge of chemical, electrical and medical equipment. Whatever it was that the Master of Castle Wulfenbach had been working on, it had been tortuously complicated.

Gil took in the large camp bed and the various kitchen trays, which indicated that Klaus’ residence here had been prolonged and that this project had required constant supervision. He felt a flicker of curiosity, which was then snuffed out under the force of Klaus’ rage.

Klaus grabbed Gil’s upper arm and dragged him towards the center of the room. Gil saw an ornate, and obviously handmade container, over three meters in diameter, somewhat resembling a steam boiler, but fitted out with a bewildering array of additional devices. Studying it, Gil was even more puzzled. He could identify almost all of the devices in play, but could not conceive of what possible project they could all be working on in concert.

Releasing Gil, Klaus strode up to the container and threw a knife switch on the side. A set of green lights on the bottom of what was revealed to be a fluid filled tank flared on. Klaus spun about and pointed to the tank. “Who the blazes is
that?!
”

Gil stepped forward. Within the tank floated a naked girl. Gil estimated that when she stood, she would be tall and full figured. A short, thick mane of curly black hair floated above her head. Her eyes were closed, and there was a curiously blank look on her face. Gil studied her intently, frantically searching his memory.

Finally he gave up and turned to his father. “I… I don’t
know
who she is, father. Should I?”

This only seemed to further infuriate the elder Wulfenbach. “
That
is the girl who’s
body
you brought back!”

Gilgamesh stared at her. “Girl? What girl? I didn’t—” Realization hit him. “Miss Clay?” He stepped forward. “That’s
Agatha?
”

“No!” Klaus roared. “That’s the girl you
told
me was Agatha!” He slammed his fist upon the container, which boomed in response. “
Weeks
of preparation!
Constant
monitoring! I’m finally set to decant her, and
this
is what I find!” He glared at Gil. “You
fool!”

Gil felt his head start to reel. He stepped back. Not from the heat of his father’s rage, but from the waves of realization that were battering him with successive bursts of insight.

“She’s still alive!” Another realization. “The circus… they
tricked
me!” He looked at Klaus blankly. “Father—they
tricked
me!”

Gil hadn’t believed that Klaus could get any madder. He was incorrect. “Am I supposed to feel
better
because the heir to my empire was duped by a pack of
carnies?
”

Gil wisely realized that there was no good answer to this. Klaus turned away in disgust. Gil felt the ambient heat begin to diminish. He considered breathing.

“Fortunately,” Klaus continued, “I decided to attempt a revival.”

Gil blinked. “But… her head was—”

Klaus waved him into silence. “Yes, the brain was a complete loss. But then, I thought, a Spark’s brain can be such an obstreperous thing. But a
Heterodyne,
ah—
that
would be a useful thing to have in one’s arsenal.” He turned to look at the floating girl. “I
had
the body. If I could repair that, why then I could fill it with any brain I wanted.”

Gil stared. It was an audacious plan. But what left him breathless was the medical miracle that Klaus had developed solely in order to implement it. Even after this fiasco, the Baron’s scientists would be developing and refining this for years to come.

“But now—!” Klaus ended this speculation by again smashing his great fist onto the tank. “I want her back here!”

Gil felt himself nodding frantically. “I’ll—”

“No!” Klaus fixed Gil with a look of contempt. “I will take DuPree and I will fetch her myself!”

Gil blanched. He thought desperately. “Do you know where she
is?
It’s been months.”

This checked Klaus. “True…”

Gil tried to sound reasonable. “You’ve done some astounding work father, but you must be exhausted.
You’re
the one who always says that important decisions should always be made twice—once when tired, and once when rested.”

Klaus hesitated, closed his eyes and wearily rubbed his great jaw. “I do, don’t I?” He regarded Gilgamesh with an unreadable expression upon his face. “Perhaps you are—” he paused. “
Yes,
Boris?”

The four-armed secretary checked the knock he had been about to complete. “An important emissary from Sturmhalten has arrived, Herr Baron.”

This was unusual enough that it piqued Klaus’ interest. “Very well, show him in.”

The Count Hengst von Blitzengaard, immaculately attired in a formal traveling cloak, stepped into the lab and kept from perspiring by sheer force of will. Gil was impressed. He crisply bowed and formally presented a large black envelope, encrusted with the winged sword and gear sigil of the House of Sturmvarous.

“Forgive the intrusion, Herr Baron. I bring most grave news
⁵⁷
.” Klaus accepted the envelope, snapped the wax seal with a thumb and unfolded the document within. He looked at his son.

“Prince Aaronev Wilhelm Sturmvarous IV, is dead,” he announced.

Gil frowned. That meant that Aaronev Tarvek Sturmvarous was the next prince. He shook his head. There would be trouble there—

“A
lab
accident?” Incredulity filled Klaus’ voice. He slapped the paper. “It says here that Aaronev died in a lab accident.”

Gil shook his head. “Preposterous.”

The Count cleared his throat nervously. “The Royal Family assured the medical—”

Klaus interrupted him. “There are many things I can say against Prince Aaronev, but in the lab he was the most meticulous and procedurally brilliant—” Klaus stopped dead. Within his uniquely convoluted brain things were coming together. “It’s her!”

Gil tried to understand. “Her
who,
father?”

“The girl! Agatha! I know it!”

“How could you possibly—”

Klaus waved his hands impatiently. He had enough confidence in his son’s thought processes that he did not even bother with full sentences. “Circus! Passholt gone! Balen’s Gap! Time versus distance. Aaronev is a fan of Heterodyne shows—he was always Lucrezia’s slave! Of
course
that’s where she’d wind up!”

He turned to his secretary, who was already poised to receive his orders, notebook in hand. “”I’ll be leaving for Sturmhalten within the next three hours. I’m assigning the Seventh Groundnaut Mechanical, the Fifth Airborne, a wing of Hoomhoffers and two Bug Squads to come with. They are to be fully armed and should be prepared to encounter moderate resistance. Captain DuPree is to be in Command. I shall travel on her ship. Inform her at once. Within twenty-four hours I shall expect to be followed by a full Inspection Team. I shall want Sturmhalten probed down to the bedrock.”

Boris nodded. “Very Good, Herr Baron.”

During this, Count Blitzengaard’s face has gone white. “My Baron!” he broke in, “The people of Balan’s Gap are completely loyal to the Empire! This is an invasion! You must allow me to contact—”