Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess (50 page)

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 device. “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 Mucha
⁶⁷
.

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.”

She turned away and Tarvek let out his breath. Lucrezia paused, and looked back over her shoulder. “But we can play dolly ‘dress-up’ later, if you’d like.”

With that she moved off, giggling, as Tarvek silently gritted his teeth. He swallowed his annoyance and turned back to Agatha’s machine. The modifications he’d planned shouldn’t take much time.

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in your next life.

Lars read the small sign a final time and turned away in disgust.

“It iz very well dezigned,” Maxim said with a touch of hometown pride.

“The walls are impossible to climb,” conceded Zeetha.

Krosp sat back with mixed feelings of annoyance and relief. “There are drains, but they’re so narrow that even
I
can’t get through them.”

“Can’t anybody think of anything?” Lars asked.

Sturvin sat wearily down upon a collection of bones dressed in a ball gown from sometime in the last century. “I think we’re really stuck here, folks.”

Veilchen shook his head. “No—you’re an old hand down here. Surely you have some trick up your sleeve? Some trade secret?”

The plumber snorted. “Wish I did. My partner now, he was always better at this sort of thing.”

Veilchen sighed. “Well then…” He pulled a compact air gun from inside his cloak and fired it upwards. A small grappling hook soared over the dimly seen lip of the pit and out of sight. Veilchen pulled the rope, set the hook and then shimmied upwards. Before anyone else could blink, he pulled the rope up behind him as he disappeared.

The others realized what had happened and looked at each other in astonishment.

Sturvin sighed deeply. “You know, I keep meaning to get one of those things.”

Zeetha looked upwards hopefully. “I don’t suppose there’s the slightest chance that he’s gone to get help.”

Maxim chuckled. “Ho, no vay! He left uz here to die! Vot a pro!”

Krosp snorted. “Yeah, well your ‘pro’ forgot something important.”

A second passed and Veilchen’s head popped over the lip of the pit. “Like what?” he demanded.

Krosp smiled. “Like why we’re all down here in this pit to begin with.”

A glowing tentacle dropped around the assassin’s throat. “Whoops,” Veilchen admitted. “Gotta go.” And he was jerked from sight. A series of screams and roars erupted from above the pit.

“Now what?” Zeetha asked.