Agatha H. and the Airship City

CHAPTER 6

“I’m the what?”

“You’re the Baron’s beautiful daughter, surely.”

“I am not the Baron’s daughter.”

The hanging man looked nonplused for a moment. His brow furrowed around the visor that hid his eyes. “Are you sure? I’m usually very good at spotting the offspring of evil geniuses…” Then his face cleared. “Ah! Then you must be the plucky lab assistant here to set me free!”

Agatha began to feel like she was on stage and didn’t know her lines. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

The man grinned and, astonishingly, managed to make himself look imposing, even restrained as he was. “Ah, allow me to introduce myself. I am Othar Tryggvassen—Gentleman Adventurer!” He smiled modestly. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me. I’m told the stories are getting around.”

Agatha felt her feeling of unreality increase. “Othar. The Othar. The man who defeated the wooden warriors of Dr. Krause.”

“That would be me, yes.”

“The hero who saved the hamlet of Lunkhauser from the ever-widening moat.”

“The very same.”

“The savior of the town of Mount Horeb from the rain of mustard.”

Othar’s grin slid off his face. He chewed his lip. “I… uh… I’m afraid you have me on that one.”

Agatha nodded approvingly. “I made it up.” She peered down the shaft below. Much to her surprise, the bottom was quite visible, as were the gigantic gears that would swiftly grind anything that fell into them into a fine lubricating paste. She looked back at the again grinning Othar. “You don’t seem too worried about…” She gestured downwards.

“About being a prisoner in a seemingly hopeless predicament? Well I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t inconvenient, but I’ll escape eventually. I am the hero, after all, and you are just what I need!”

“An audience?”

“Ye—no! You can be my spunky girl sidekick. I’m fresh out at the moment. Release me and we’ll blow up the Baron’s Dirigible of Doom, escape by the skin of our teeth, and then it’s cocoa and schnapps all around!”

Agatha folded her arms. “‘Spunky girl sidekick.’”

“Sure! It’ll be fun!”

Agatha nodded and began to resume her edging around the pit towards the far door. “Look, no offense,” she said, “but I’ve been around Sparks and their labs most of my life.”

Othar’s grin faltered. “Oh?”

“Uh-huh, and I’d rather not end up being the Easily Duped Minion Who Sets the Insanely Dangerous Experiment free. Or the Hostage Who Ensures the Smooth-Talking Villain’s escape.”

“Ah…”

“I don’t have any proof that you really are Othar Tryggvassen, or even that you’re really human.”

“Er…”

Agatha reached the far side and dusted herself off. “This Girl Sidekick job doesn’t call for a lot of smarts, does it?”

The hanging man had the grace to look embarrassed. “Um… Not as such, no, but no matter who or what I am, is it right to leave a fellow sentient strung up like this?”

Agatha considered this. “That depends on the nature of the experiment.”

Othar frowned. “I think you spent a little too much time in those labs.”

Agatha looked surprised. “Really? Why?”

The door behind her slammed open. “Vot is all dis yakkink—”A Jägermonster shambled through the door and stopped dead upon seeing Agatha. “GOTT’S LEEDLE FEESH IN TROUSERS!”

He rushed over to Agatha as another monster soldier entered and surveyed the prisoner. “Anodder shtupid easily duped minion!” He waved at Othar. “Don’t you know dis iz an insanely dangerous guy?”

“I knew that!” Agatha responded defensively.

The other Jäger turned towards them. “He’s shtill secure.” He jerked a large thumb over to the other side of the pit, where the door that Agatha had used to enter still swung open. “She came in throo dot idiotic secret door. Dey gots to get rid of dot ting. Vell, let’s just keel her.” He turned towards Agatha. “Ve ain’t suppozed to let anybody in here,” he said apologetically.

“Fiends!” roared Othar. “Kill her and I’ll tell the Baron!”

“Vell mebbe ve keel you too, schmot guy.”

The other Jägermonster began to look troubled. “Gorb…”

“Vat?”

“Gorb, dis iz turnink into von of dose plenz… The kind vere ve keel efferbody dot notices dot ve’s keelink pipple?”

Gorb deflated slightly. “It is?”

The other Jäger nodded and slung a friendly paw over Gorb’s shoulders. “Uh-huh. Und how do dose alvays end?”

Gorb muttered, “The dirigible is in flames, everybody’s dead, an’ I’ve lost my hat.”

His friend smiled. “Dot’s right! Und any plan vere you lose your hat iz—?”

Gorb struggled for a second. “A bad plan?” he ventured.

That earned him a slap on the back. “Right again!”

“Look—” Agatha broke in impatiently, “How about you don’t kill me, and I won’t mention that you let me get in.”

Gorb looked troubled. “But…”

His companion beamed. “Hoy! Excellent! Vut a schmot gurl!”

Gorb spoke up. “Stosh, you mean dis iz vun of dose plenz vere ve dun keel hennybody?”

Stosh nodded glumly. “Yop. ‘Fraid so.” He turned to Agatha and leered. “Zo, howzabout I ezcort hyu beck to you qvarters, Meez—?”

“Clay,” she responded automatically. “Agatha Clay.”

The Jägermonsters stared at each other in astonishment. Gorb looked sheepish. Stosh smacked him in the head. “See? See?” he roared. “Dis iz vhy dot ‘keelink evverbody’ plan iz no goot! Hyu never know, now do hyu?” Another smack on the head.

“Know what?” asked Agatha.

Stosh and Gorb spun to face her. “Ve has orders regadink a meez ‘Agatha Clay.’”

There was something different about him. About them both. With a chill she realized what it was. Nothing she could actually point a finger to, but they weren’t… funny anymore.

“O… orders? What orders?” she asked. A tiny analytical part of her brain wondered how much of their daily behavior was an act put on to put those around them at ease.

Stosh shattered the mood by whooping and sweeping Agatha up over his head. “I gots to take hyu to a party!” And with a loud “Wheeeee!” scurried off with her down the hall.

Othar and Gorb stared after them for a moment until Othar sighed and remarked conversationally, “No one ever takes me to parties.”

Gorb looked at him and smiled. “Ve haff our own party. Hyu ken be da piñata!”

After being rushed along several halls, Agatha realized exactly where the Jägermonster was holding her and demanded loudly to be put down. He did so with a laugh and they proceeded onwards.

“Zo. Agatha Clay, hyu iz da gurl who helped Master Gilgamesh fly smek into General Khrizhan’s qvarters?”

“Well… I…” she saw the look of amusement in the soldier’s eyes and gave up any thought of pretense. “Yes.”

“Heh heh. I bet he vas sooprized. So vat heppened?”

“Your Master Gilgamesh was doing the steering, and he…” she paused, and grudgingly amended her narrative, “we didn’t look where we were going and plowed right into the Castle. We smashed through the wall into your general’s room. He was sitting in a chair reading a book and we skidded right into him and he reached out with one hand and WHAP—”she clapped her hands, “we stopped dead. Can you believe that?”

Stosh’s face was filled with wonder. “You saw him do dat?”

Agatha nodded. “Amazing, huh?”

The Jägermonster just shook his head. “Reading a book. Da tings hyu gots to do ven yous a general.”

“HALT!” The order came from behind them. They turned to see a Lackya hurrying up to them.

Agatha turned to look at her companion and saw that he looked… stupider. It was something about the face…

“Vot hyu vant?” he asked the footman. The newcomer drew himself up and sniffed disapprovingly at the soldier.

“There was an intrusion in one of the Baron’s labs. Equipment was damaged. I am to bring in all personnel that I find in this sector.”

The Jägermonster slowly scratched his jaw while glancing at Agatha. She realized that she was acting nervous and forced herself to relax. “Vos de Baron hurt?”

“No one was hurt, but valuable equipment was damaged, and we were ordered to find the culprits.” Unseen by the footman, the Jäger’s mouth twitched upwards approvingly.

He slowly turned back. “Hovell, den itz not impawtent. Schtuff break all de time. Goot luck.” He turned to Agatha. “Letz go.”

The footman darted forward, reaching for Agatha. “You will both come with me now!”

Agatha did not see the Jäger move, but suddenly the footman’s hand was grasped within the soldier’s paw. The footman hissed, exposing fangs that caused Agatha to take a step back in surprise.

“I dun gotta answer to hyu,” the Jäger said lazily, “and dis gurl iz vit me, so hyu dun gotta vorry about her needer.”

The footman’s arm suddenly twisted and his hand was free. The Jäger was surprised, but covered it instantly. The footman smirked. “All personnel in this sector includes—”

The Jäger interrupted him. “To be ‘personnel,’ hyu gots to be ‘person.’ I is Jägerkin, vitch is better. Vere as hyu is jumped-up lackey boy mit delusions of authority.”

The footman began to vibrate and started hissing. His eyes swiveled towards Agatha. “You will come with me—”

Agatha took a step backwards, and felt her hand deftly tucked into the crook of the Jägermonster’s arm. “De lady has chosen. Now ve gots to be goink.”

The footman stood and stared at them until they turned the corner. Agatha looked at the Jäger beside her. He was obviously thinking hard. “You won’t get in trouble, will you?”

Stosh looked at her in surprise and grinned. “Trouble?” His tongue shot out for a quick raspberry. “The Lackya are veak.” He glanced back at Agatha. A troubled look crossed his features. “But dey is vindictive. Vatch out for dem. Ve do not know how dangerous dey is yet.”

“You don’t?”

“Mm. De Baron inherited dem ven ve smacked down de Gilded Duke last year. Dey is zuper-engineered sqvirrels or zumting. Dey gots to serve somebody, so de Baron has dem delivering messages and annoying pipple. He keeps dem busy.”

Agatha nodded. “Ah, like he took in the Jägerkin after the Heterodynes disappeared.”

Stosh grabbed her and swung her about until they were faceto-face. “Iz not like dot at ALL!” he roared.

He would obviously have said more, but a large door next to them opened, and the massive form of General Khrizhan filled the doorway. “Vot iz dis shoutink?” he rumbled.

Stosh snapped to attention. “Dis iz Mizz Agatha Clay, who smells verra nize, but tinks der Baron iz kippink uz like dose poncy useless Lackya.” He thought for a moment. “Sir,” he added.

The general stared at Agatha through narrowed eyes. “She sees dot, does she?” He stared for another moment and then closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Thank you, Stosh, I vill talk to her. Beck to hyu post.”

Stosh grinned triumphantly at Agatha. “Hah! Hyu tell her, sir!” With that he wheeled about and strode off.

Agatha and the general looked at each other for a moment, then the Jägergeneral pushed the door open further. “I tink dat der are tings ve should tell each odder, Meez Agatha Clay. Pliz to com inside.”

It was a different room from the one that Agatha and Gil had crashed through earlier. It was smaller and cozier, with a large ceramic stove warming the room. An enormous brass samovar hissed upon a table. Agatha glanced at it and saw, to her shock, that it was decorated with naked female demons. Trying to find someplace else to set her eyes, she discovered that all of the walls were filled with paintings and drawings of a similar nature. She settled for staring at her shoes, realizing belatedly that she did not want to examine the pattern on the rug underneath them too closely.

General Khrizhan coughed, and Agatha thought he sounded embarrassed. “Hy must apologize for the decor. General Zog does not belief dot age, or de dignity of his office, should interfere vit a rich fantasy life.”

“Dose are memories, Alexi, un don hyu forget it!”

Startled, Agatha’s head snapped up and saw two other creatures entering the room. The one that had spoken was shorter than General Khrizhan, but was obviously older. The fur that covered his body was snow white, and his teeth were yellow and uneven in his mouth. His clothing looked like it belonged, not to a soldier, but some sort of barbarian warlord. Despite his evident age, however, he moved with a fluidity that Agatha found hard to follow. The effect was startling.

The last creature was the oddest of all. For one thing, he was gigantic, even next to General Khrizhan, towering a full four meters tall. His mouth was easily a meter wide and filled with what appeared to be hundreds of small sharp teeth. Thick brass goggles hid his eyes, and a small brass dome, scratched and battered by the passage of the years, appeared to be screwed directly onto his skull. His large hands ended in small, delicately clawed fingers. General Khrizhan gestured towards them.

“Dis iz General Zog—” The ancient Jägergeneral nodded his head while keeping his eyes locked on Agatha.

“And dis iz General Goomblast.” The tall monster executed a perfect courtier’s bow that he had evidently been practicing for the last three hundred years.

His voice was a surprisingly pleasant contralto. “And dis must be de Meez Agatha Clay dot made such an impression on our compatriot. Velcome.”

General Zog spoke up. His voice rasped and buzzed like his voicebox was constructed from shoe leather and horn. “Vas hyu involved in dis trouble in der Baron’s lab?” he asked.

Agatha looked at the three creatures. Would they know if she lied? Agatha didn’t lie, as a rule. If for no other reason than she had discovered that she wasn’t very good at it. “Well… it was an accident,” she confessed. All three of the generals broke into huge grins.

“Ho!” Zog slapped her on the back, almost sending Agatha into a wall. “En exident!” He leaned in and spoke confidentially. “Vun ting de Jägerkin understand is dat krezy exidents heppen, right, boyz?”

“Hoo boy, yaz”

“Dot’s de trooth.”

Agatha could well imagine. “Yes, that’s all very good, but why am I here?”

General Khrizhan opened a large cabinet and pulled out a small chest that Agatha recognized with a start as one from the Clays’ home in Beetleburg. Opening it up she discovered—”My clothes! My stuff!”

General Goomblast nodded. “It vas collected ven you vas taken from Beetleburg. Somehow, it vas mizplaced, und ve just discovered it. Ve thought hyu vould vant it as soon as possible.”

Agatha nodded happily, but as she repacked the outfits, her movement slowed and her brow furrowed. “Yes… but you could have just sent them to the dormitory.”

General Khrizhan shrugged as he fiddled with the controls on the samovar. “Oh. Yaz, I suppose hyu is right. Oh vell. Vould hyu like sum tea? To make op for de inconvenience?”

Agatha realized that she was hungry again. How could that be? “Oh, I…”

“Ve effen t’row in sopper.”

“But I…” Agatha’s stomach growled. “Supper?”

General Goomblast offered her a silver platter piled high with warm tea cakes. Agatha could see that some were stuffed with custard and jelly, sprinkled with nuts and topped with a thick sugary glaze. Some appeared to be covered in thick chocolate, and a few were evidently stuffed with fruit. A second plate appeared, covered with warm pastries that Agatha could smell were stuffed with savory meats and baked cheeses. “Iz goot! Ve not eat bugs. I svear!”

General Zog looked at his plate disappointedly. “No bugs?” General Khrizhan shushed him with a glare.

Agatha smiled nervously and graciously plucked a small meat pastry from the tray and gingerly nibbled at it. Onions and spices she was unfamiliar with suffused her mouth and she let out a muffled, happy squeak. It was delicious. Intensely so. In three bites it was gone.

General Goomblast was obviously pleased. He poured her a cup of tea and gestured towards the platter. “Hyu like? Take anodder.”

Agatha looked longingly at the platter, but the manners that Lilith had drilled into her stayed her hand. “Oh, I couldn’t—” she began, but was stopped by General Zog’s reaching forward, tilting the platter, and dumping half of the cakes upon Agatha’s plate.

“Degorl is starffing,” he said conversationally as he put the tray back down. Turning to Agatha he said, “In enemy territory hyu neffer know ven you is gonna eat. Don’t pass up an opportunity.” With that he scooped up the remaining cakes in one hand and dumped them into his mouth.

General Khrizhan took a deep breath and smiled alarmingly at Agatha. “General Zog has been a varrior longer dan any uf us. He see sefferyting in terms of…practicality.” He gestured at Agatha’s plate. “Dis doz not mean dot he iz wrong. Please eat up.”

General Goomblast had stared at the empty platter for a second, sighed in disappointment, and from a sideboard produced an enormous cake pan. Lifting the lid allowed the spicy odor of gingerbread to begin filling the room. A crock on the table was opened, revealing its contents to be thick yellow whipped cream. The large creature showed Agatha how to stir a spoonful into her tea, which, he informed her, came from a friend of the Baron’s in China.

After some steady eating, Agatha felt herself starting to relax, a fact the three Jägers noted.

“Zo, my dear Meez Clay,” Goomblast began while refilling her cup, “vere iz hyu family from?”

Agatha looked at him warily. “Beetleburg?”

“Iz dot so? Mine people still liff in Mechanicsburg.”

“Ah. The Heterodynes’ home. Of course. I’ve never been there, but I always wanted to go.” Despite her reservations, the very inanity of the topic was reassuring, Agatha found herself relaxing and discussing the various merits of different towns. Off to one side, the other two generals quietly sipped their tea and observed.

General Khrizhan leaned closer to the older Jäger and muttered behind his hand. “Vot you tink?”

General Zog glanced at him and snorted. “Hy don gotta tink.

Hy knew ven hy smelt her clothing.” He considered Agatha with

a scowl. “Could be a forgotten second cousin, or a by-blow…”

“A by-blow? Dem?”

Zog smiled at his colleagues’ astonishment. “Dey vas hooman.”

Khrizhan nodded reluctantly. “De kestle vould know,” he said quietly.

Zog shook his head. “De kestle iz mad. Dyink. Useless.”

Khrizhan’s shoulders slumped. “Den it iz op to us.” He leaned into the conversation, which had come to a lull. “Tell us about you parents.”

Instantly a wall of suspicion slammed down behind Agatha’s eyes. “My father’s a blacksmith, and my mother gives piano lessons. I’m worried about them,” she admitted.

“Yez. Dey haff disappeared und ve cannot find dem. Dey obviously do not vant to be found, but dey vould vant to know dot hyu vas safe, jah?” Khrizhan shook his massive head. “Iz qvite puzzling.”

“They’re probably hiding,” Agatha admitted. “They don’t… trust the Baron.”

Goomblast waved a hand dismissively. “Who does? Ve’s used to pipple hidink. Vat’s strenge iz dot we cannot find dem.”

Agatha absorbed this information and deliberately reached for another tea cake. There were few left. “These are very good,” she said, and smiled at Goomblast, who frowned at her in annoyance.

General Zog, who had been pacing around the room, dropped into the chair next to Agatha. He smelled like ancient leather boiled in vinegar.

“Zo,” he said brusquely, “hyu vent flyink mit der young master.” He leaned closer. “Vot hyu tink of him?”

Agatha flushed. “Well…” she struggled for words. As she did so, the general’s nostrils flared, and a smile crossed his features. General Khrizhan’s hand smacked the back of his head, sending Zog’s fez flying.

“Vot kind of schtupid qvestion is dot?” Khrizhan roared.

“Vell it vould make tings really simple if—”

“I know vat hyu is tinking! Bot hyu ain’t tinking tinking!”

“Tinking iz overrated!” Zog roared, and tapped his nose. “Dis tells me—”

Khrizhan grabbed Zog’s vest and shook him violently. “Be qviet you idiot!”

Agatha scrunched down in her seat as the generals roared about her. Two delicate furry hands effortlessly scooped her up and deposited her before the door. “I tink hyu better go,” General Goomblast muttered.

Agatha picked up the box with her belongings. “Did I say something wrong?”

Goomblast smiled at her in what he thought was a reassuring manner. “No, no, madam waz qvite charmink. But ve gonna haf a leedle discussion now, and dey can get kind ov loud.” He opened the door and called out, “Minsc!”

A tall Jägersoldier with a particularly toothy grin appeared and snapped to attention. “Yezzir?”

Goomblast pushed Agatha forward. “Dis iz Meez Clay. See dot she’s get beck safely to—”

A scream of rage from within the room was all the warning they got as the samovar caromed off of the back of the general’s head. Spinning about, Goomblast’s head appeared to split in half as his mouth opened wider than Agatha would have thought possible. A scream like tearing metal filled the hallway and the Jägergeneral leapt back into the room, slamming the door behind him. Minsc grabbed Agatha’s arm and dragged her down the hall. “Ve go now,” he advised.

The sound of breaking furniture followed them down the hall, until there was a sudden final shattering of glass and then silence. Minsc turned to Agatha and grinned. “Zo. Vere to, dollink?”

“Um… the student dormitories?”

Minsc brightened. “Ho! Excellent!” He licked his hand with a purple tongue and slicked back his hair. “Mebbe I see my sveetie.”

Agatha stopped dead. “Your—who?”

“De gorgeous Von Pinn.”

“Your sweetheart is Von Pinn? The Von Pinn is your sweetheart.” No matter how many times she said it, it still sounded wrong.

Minsc shrugged slightly. “Vell, if youz gonnaget technical about it, not yet. But I am confident dot she vill pick me!”

“Pick you out of what?”

“All of der Jägermonstern iz desirous of her,” he confided. “She iz zo sharp… zo dangerous, like a pudding bag full uf knives!” He growled at the thought.

Agatha swallowed. “Ah. And that’s good is it?”

Minsc’s eyes went misty and a beatific smile played across his face. He sighed. “Tvice I haff felt de touch uf her hand as it caressed my face.” He pointed proudly. “See der scars? Vunce her elbow lingered as it vas buried in mine kidney. And vunce, ven her teeth seek mine throat, I gaze into her eyes und—”

“You’re crazy!” Agatha screamed, “She was trying to kill you!”

Minsc stared at her and then his face slid into a sly, knowing grin. “Ho, ho, ho. Hyu iz still a leedle gurl in der vays of luff.” He patted her shoulder. “Hyu vill learn.”

Agatha swallowed. “I sure hope not.” She looked up. To her surprise, they had already arrived at the dormitory door.”Thanks. I guess—”

“Miss Clay! Don’t move!”

Agatha and Minsc whirled and saw Von Pinn racing towards them, her hands outstretched, a look of fury on her face.

Agatha squeaked in alarm and froze. Minsc grinned and stepped forward while pushing Agatha through the doorway. “Hyu moof along now, kiddo.”

“But she’s after me.”

“Hee heh,” Minsc smirked as he straightened his hat. “I guarantee dot a kees from me vill make her forgets all about hyu!”

Von Pinn was almost on them and Minsc stepped forward into the crazed construct’s outstretched arms. “Hey beautiful, it’s me,

you Minsc!”

“MOVE OR DIE!”

“Whoo! Already mit der sveet tok!”

At this point the massive door closed behind Agatha and all she heard was a sound that reminded her of a fight she’d witnessed in the biological oddities lab when a soon-to-be-deceased lab assistant had neglected to lock a number of cage doors. A large object slammed into the door, shaking Agatha out of her shock. She raced into the main room and saw a plump young man sporting a yarmulke coming out of the kitchen clutching a large number of bottles. She ran up to him. “Von Pinn is killing one of the Jägermonsters!”

The young man raised an eyebrow. “Oh. So?”

“So we’ve got to help!”

He considered this for a second, then shook his head. “I think Von Pinn can handle them by herself.”

Agatha thought she was going mad. “No,” she explained through clenched teeth, “we’ve got to help him.”

The light dawned. “Oh!” He then turned back to the stairway. “No, I don’t think so.”

Agatha raced around him and pointed at the door, where the noise had grown even more frenzied. “Can’t you hear that?”

The young man looked at her patiently. “That’s what I mean,” he explained. “It’s taking much too long. If she really wanted to kill him, it would be over very quickly. She’s just warning him off.” A pained squeal rose through the air and was cut off with a sharp wet sound. “Ah, Minsc. I should’ve guessed.”

Agatha stared at him. “Oh.” She leaned wearily against the wall. “This is a very strange place,” she observed.

The young man considered this. “You think so? I don’t get out much.” He awkwardly shifted his load of bottles so that he could stick out a hand. “I’m Hezekiah Donewitz.” Agatha gingerly shook his hand. “You must be Agatha,” he continued. “You should come to Theo’s room. Gil is here! He’s telling us about Paris.”

Agatha scowled. “I wouldn’t—”

Hezekiah interrupted her. “Aw, come on!” He jiggled the load of bottles. “We’re going to reinvent the corkscrew. You can help! I hear you’re brilliant at systems analysis.”

Agatha blinked. “What?”

“Sure. Gilgamesh said you really improved his flying machine.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. He says you’re really smart.” He leaned forward: “I think he really likes you.”

Agatha looked closely at Hezekiah’s face, but could detect no trace of irony. Her head felt funny and she desperately wanted to sit down, and the last thing she wanted to do was face Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. “I’m afraid I’m so tired that I don’t think I could stay awake if he was telling you about his trip to… to America by way of the moon. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it tomorrow.”

Hezekiah shrugged with a clink. “Fair enough, from what I’d heard, you’ve had a busy day. Good night.”

Agatha realized that it had been a busy day, and as she climbed the short stairway to her room, felt weariness drop onto her like a blanket.

On the wall next to each of the bedroom doors, Agatha had noticed a set of thin metal pockets mounted to the wall, labeled with the occupant’s name. As she approached her door, she saw that the second pocket had been labeled with her name, and that there was an envelope within. She unfolded it and found a notification that in the morning, she was to report to Minor Mechanical Workshop Number 311. There was a map showing the way from the dormitory. She studied it a moment and then realized that she was swaying slightly.

She pushed open the door and was startled to see a large white cat eating off of a tray of food that had been left on the desk of the room’s other occupant. In a flurry of white, the cat leapt down and vanished under the other bed.

Agatha got down on her hands and knees and peered under the bed. Two large glowing green eyes stared back. “Hiya, cat,” she said. The cat scrunched itself further back into the corner.

Agatha sat back on her knees. “How many cats do they have running around here anyway? Well, you don’t want to come out? Suit yourself.”

The door opened and a tall, aristocratic-looking young lady walked in. She had a long, thin face, pale skin, and an elegant mass of long auburn curls. Her outfit was a standard Wulfenbach overall, but it had been tailored to fit, and shiny brass buttons replaced the regular issue. From the state of her outfit, it was apparent that she had been engaged in heavy labor. Upon seeing Agatha, she stopped dead. In an eyeblink her tiredness had vanished and was replaced by an air of graciousness. “Ah, you are awake. You may rise.”

Agatha realized that she was still on her knees and hastily scrambled to her feet.

“I am Her Highness, Zulenna Luzhakna, a princess of HofnungBorzoi. We are to be roommates, it appears.” She extended a hand. “And you are?”

“Agatha Clay.”

A faint frown flitted across Zulenna’s face and the hand was smoothly withdrawn. “Clay,” she mused. “Not a… noble house. Which member of your family possesses the Spark?”

“Ah, none of them. My father’s a blacksmith,” she offered hopefully.

“A blacksmith. How utilitarian.” Zulenna sat down on her bed and surveyed Agatha. “So, why are you here?”

“Baron Wulfenbach captured my… my boyfriend. He’s a Spark.”

“A captured…” Zulenna’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mean Moloch von Zinzer?”

“You’ve heard of him?”

“I keep tabs on all of the Sparks aboard Castle Wulfenbach. So you are Herr von Zinzer’s bed warmer.” She jumped up, obviously greatly annoyed, and leaned into Agatha. “I have heard about you, and I trust there will be no nonsense within this room.”

Agatha found that she was so tired that her outrage barely flickered. “Look,” she said evenly, “there seems to be a mistaken impression that I’m some sort of—”

“How dare you!” Zulenna interrupted furiously. Startled, Agatha saw that she was holding the tray she’d seen the cat eating from. “This was my dinner. I work the late shift. The kitchen is closed! It was on my desk! How dare you touch it! And how dare you make such a mess!” Indeed, food was scattered across the desktop.

“Oh, now wait a minute!” Agatha objected hotly, “I didn’t touch your stuff. The cat was up on the desk eating it when I came in!”

Zulenna cocked an eyebrow. “What cat?”

“I thought it was yours. It’s a big white cat. It’s under your bed.”

Zulenna looked at Agatha for a moment, a look of uncertainty passed over her face, and she gracefully dropped to her knees and raised the coverlet to peer under the bed. When her head came back up, she was glaring furiously. “You can’t even lie competently.”

“What?” Agatha looked under the bed. No cat. Hurriedly she looked under her bed. No cat. A quick look around the small room showed that there was certainly no place a cat could hide, and she knew it hadn’t left when Zulenna opened the door…

“But it was there!” Agatha looked under Zulenna’s bed again. A small, flat underbed chest, which would have to be removed to be opened, and a ventilation grate were all that were to be seen.

“There’s a ventilation grate here, maybe it—”

Zulenna’s hand snapped down and whipped the coverlet out of Agatha’s hand. Her voice was icy with disdain. “That vent cover is held in place with two snaps. I doubt that any cat, even one as fabulous as the one you saw, could open them. Therefore I must conclude that in addition to being a person of low moral character, you are a liar as well as a thief. I expect nothing less from the lower classes, but I’ll be damned if I will sleep in the same room with you. I imagine your parents expected you to sleep in the foundry; I suggest—”

The smack to her face caught Zulenna by surprise. The force of it spun her around causing her to slam into the wall. Before she could recover, she found herself hoisted up off the floor by an Agatha who was radiating rage.

Agatha felt the fury roaring through her body like a lightning storm. A part of her realized that she had never been allowed to be this angry before. Whenever she got mad, a headache seemed to come along to snuff out the rage. But not this time. For the first time in her life, Agatha could vent all the fury that she was capable of feeling, and a part of her reveled in it. She screamed as years of pent-up emotions found voice.

Zulenna had been about to deliver a solid kick to Agatha’s stomach, but an older part of her brain looked into Agatha’s face, overrode her conscious mind, and she stopped struggling and went limp.

“One thing my parents taught me,” Agatha said in a voice that set off fresh alarms, “was that nobody gets to badmouth my family. I will tell you this one last time. I didn’t eat your dinner. There was a cat. I have had a very long day. And I am not—” this was emphasized with another slam into the wall—”von Zinzer’s… like that.” The embarrassment she felt over this last admission seemed to sap her strength. Zulenna felt her feet touch the ground. She eyed Agatha warily.

Agatha was fading fast now. She felt a great weariness roaring over her, and merely stood there, her hands still grasping Zulenna’s clothes.

Zulenna gingerly reached up, and found that she could remove Agatha’s hands without effort. She stepped sideways. Agatha didn’t move.

Zulenna considered slamming Agatha face first into the wall, but at that moment, Agatha’s face turned towards her, and the thought fled. She stepped back and tried to project self-assurance. She jerked her clothes straight.

“Never touch me again.” She braced herself for another attack, but Agatha ignored her and simply shuffled past her to drop onto her bed. “And I want you out of my room.”

Agatha looked at her, and then closed her eyes. As… exhilarating as the rage had been while she was experiencing it, now that it was gone, she felt sick, exhausted and ashamed. “Nothing would please me more,” she whispered, “but tonight I’m sleeping here.”

Zulenna glared at her and stepped forward, then hesitated. With a disdainful sniff, she turned, disrobed and got into her own bed. She reached out to extinguish the light and stopped. Agatha was already asleep. Zulenna began to ease out of her bed, then reached up and touched the tender spot on her face. Agatha made an odd humming noise in her sleep, then began to breathe deeply. Zulenna crept out of bed, selected one of the fencing foils that was on the rack, and carefully climbed back into bed with it placed between her and Agatha. She left the light on. It was quite a while before she slept.

In Agatha’s dreams, the great celestial machine warped itself slightly. The teeth of the gears grew longer and sharper, and began to fly off and chase Von Pinn, and Zulenna, and Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, and as they ran squealing in terror, Agatha found herself enjoying the show until she realized that the largest and sharpest gear was bearing down upon herself.

She came awake with a jerk, dropping a jeweler’s wrench upon a benchtop which was littered with parts. She looked around in surprise. She was in an empty machine shop. But it wasn’t Adam’s. Where was she? A voice behind her—

“Miss Clay? Good heavens.”

Swinging about, Agatha saw the Baron’s secretary Boris, and Moloch, both looking rather dumbfounded.

Years of training as Dr. Beetle’s assistant kicked in and she leapt to her feet, smoothed back her hair and stood at attention. “Good morning, sir. I… I was asleep, but I am ready to begin.”

This only seemed to make Boris even more uncomfortable. He glared at Moloch. “I dare say she is.”

Moloch tried to control a grin. “Um… Didn’t you forget something—er—darling?”

Agatha looked at them blankly. “What do you—” belatedly she noticed the direction of Moloch’s gaze. Looking downward she saw that she was dressed in naught but her camisole and pantalets. With a shriek she barreled between the two men and dashed from the room.

Once she had vanished around the corner, Boris rounded on Moloch and shook several fingers at him reprovingly. “You are expected to get work done, Herr von Zinzer. Perhaps a different assistant…”

“No!” The last thing Moloch wanted was someone who could tell he knew nothing. “Um… she’s… it’s just—the science stuff, it… um… it really gets her… excited.”

Boris rolled his eyes. “Ah. One of those.” He shrugged. “Well, as long as you’re discreet and it does not interfere with your work. But—” he warned. “Tell Miss Clay not to flaunt herself in front of the Baron or his son. They have no tolerance for such things.” Satisfied that he had cleared up the matter, he steered Moloch deeper into the lab. “Now the one example we saw of your work was rather crude, but the Baron found aspects of the design quite remarkable. He believes that with access to proper materials, your work might be well worth his full attention.”

Moloch smiled weakly. “Great.”

Boris nodded. “If this is so, you will subsequently report to the Baron directly. For now, however he is interested in seeing what you can produce independently.”

“I’ll bet.”

There followed a quick tour of the lab, ending with Boris indicating a small electric bell. “And finally, whatever you need, be it supplies, assistants or food, simply ring this and it will be provided. We look forward to seeing what you will do.” As he left, he passed a fully dressed Agatha coming the other way. Tactfully, neither said anything.

Agatha entered the lab to find a despondent Moloch rummaging about in the chemical locker. With a grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a large carboy of clear liquid and filled a beaker. He swigged fully a third of it down before he sat on the nearest stool.

Agatha examined the label. “That’s supposed to be used for cleaning machine tools,” she pointed out.

“So I’ll die clean.” Moloch saluted her with his glass and polished off another third. “Now what the heck were you doing? Do you always work in your underclothes?”

“No!” Agatha began to pace back and forth in agitation. “I don’t know! I never used to walk in my sleep!”

“Well you sure made a mess of the workbench.” The two of them examined the bench, which did show all the signs of heavy use. “But I don’t see what you were working on.” It was true. Tools and parts littered the area, but there was no device anywhere in sight.

Agatha slumped against the bench. “Probably nothing,” she admitted. She straightened up and turned away. “Well, at least I don’t have another failure staring at me.”

From an upper shelf, a small device paused in its labors. A small lens focused on her, ascertained that she did not require its assistance, and resumed its task.

Moloch finished off his drink just as the beaker began to dissolve. He tossed it into the trash. “So now what?”

Agatha grinned. “Take a look at this!” She turned away and reached into her shirt and hauled out the airship manual and handed it to him.

Moloch looked surprised. “Where’d you get this?”

Agatha shrugged. “Just found it.”

Moloch paged through it, then handed it back. “This has possibilities. There’s a lot of traffic, there’s supply balloons coming and going all day long. Unfortunately, stuff like this will be guarded all the time. But look over here—” He took Agatha’s arm and brought her over to a rack of packages mounted on the wall near the main exit to the lab. A small sign explained how to prepare the devices for use. “This might be easier. These are personal balloon gliders for if they have to abandon the dirigible. You can use these to just glide down to earth, and they’re located throughout the Castle. The problem with these, is that people would see you jumping off the Castle. At night the damn things glow.”

Agatha nodded. “Hmm. Modifying one of them might be our best bet. It glows? We could paint it with tar or something.”

Moloch looked surprised. “That’s a good idea.”

“I want to get out of here too.” She thought for a minute. “I’ll bet they notice if we start messing about with one of these things, in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised—” She stepped over to the rack and examined it closely. She gave a grunt of satisfaction and motioned Moloch over. “Look. See this? There’s a wire running through these rings. Probably some sort of tripwire, I’ll bet. When one of these things is pulled off the rack, it sounds an alarm somewhere. Makes sense, really, even if it’s a genuine emergency.” She studied the wire closely. “This is going to be tricky.” She looked at Moloch. “We can’t afford to do it wrong the first time.”

Moloch sat down heavily. “I wouldn’t even have looked for something like that,” he admitted. He brightened up. “On the other hand, I got to be pretty good at disarming booby traps.”

“How good?”

“I’m still here, ain’t I?”

“Fair enough. I think I might be able to build some stuff that could help.”

Moloch looked at her askance. “You said you couldn’t build anything.”

Agatha paused. “Yes, but I… I think I know what I did wrong. I have some ideas…” She shook herself. “But whatever we do, it’s going to take some time, and we’ve got to make it look like you’re doing something.” She looked around. “An inventory.”

Moloch looked up. “That’s always a good one. Place like this, we could kill a day or two at least before they expect us to produce anything.”

“It’ll work better if you can fake it a bit.” She snatched up a tool from the nearest bench. “Now this, is a wrench.”

Moloch glared at her. “I know it’s a wrench.”

“Ah, but what kind of wrench?

“A 3/17 Occipital Left-Leaning Heterodyne wrench.”

Agatha whipped the wrench up to her face and stared at it. It was. She glared at Moloch. “How did you know that?” she demanded.

Moloch smiled bitterly at her from his chair. “These days, machines are more important than soldiers. If you know how to fix machines, it makes you more valuable.” He stared off into the distance. “My brothers and I, there were nine of us, we crewed this walking gunboat for the Duke D’Omas. Mad as a bag of clams, of course, but it was a good berth. Snappy uniforms, fresh food, and plenty of it, and he paid in gold.” Moloch sighed. “Then it all turned to dung. Wulfenbach blew up the Duke’s mountain and we had to start raiding the countryside to keep the gunship repaired.”

“But why would you do that?”

“Ah, well, you see, the peasants didn’t like the Duke. Which meant they didn’t like us. After the Baron took him down, the gun was the only thing keeping us alive. We figured our best bet was to get out of there, so we headed for Paris. We had to go through Wulfenbach land, sure, but if you keep to the Wastelands and the dead towns, you can travel for days without seeing a soul, which was the plan. But just our luck, we ran into one of the Baron’s patrols, led by this… this crazy woman! We’d have surrendered if she’d asked.” Moloch’s eyes showed that he was far away. “I think Bruno and the kid made it, but I don’t know about anyone else. Nobody but Omar and me. And now it’s just me.”

Agatha placed her hand on his shoulder. “That’s… that’s really rough. I didn’t know.”

Moloch jerked his shoulder away. “Of course you didn’t know.

You’re just a spoiled townie. The big towns are important. They get cleaned up, repaired, disinfected. Not like the rest of the world.” He stalked over to the carboy of cleaning solution and hunted about for another beaker.

Agatha stood behind him. “Oh, that will help.”

Moloch furiously turned upon her. “Get out!”

“But… but the inventory—”

“Screw it. I want to be alone.” He pulled out a beaker and discarded it for being too small. “I’m expected to act like a brooding unstable psychopath? Great. Here’s a chance for me to rack up some extra credit.”

Agatha turned to go, took two steps and then wheeled about. “Now you’re just being stupid.”

Moloch didn’t even look up from his pouring. She continued: “A brooding, unstable psychopath? Fine. But you’ve got to convince the Baron that you’re a brooding unstable psychopath who’s having way too much fun to ever want to leave. They’ve got to see you eager to get to work in this beautiful lab they’ve given you!”

Moloch looked at her and frowned. He harrumphed. “That does make sense,” he admitted. With a sigh, he poured his drink back into the carboy and tossed the beaker into the trash. “Okay. Inventory it is, then.”

They turned and looked at the room. It was a large space, twenty meters square. The main central area was clear, surrounded by benches and work tables. Overhead were lights and a set of winches on motorized tracks. Lining the walls were cabinets and bins filled with various parts, chemicals, tools. The shelves were easily four meters tall. They looked around, but failed to find a ladder.

“Guess we use this a little sooner than I’d thought,” said Moloch as he pressed the bell button.

Less then a minute later, the door opened and an immense man entered. He was over two meters tall and everything about him was proportioned to fit. He wore a gray overall covered in pockets. His head was the thing you looked at, however. His face was open and friendly, but above it was a bald pate that showed the obvious signs of multiple, extensive surgery.

“Hello!” he said in a booming, cheerful voice. “I…” He suddenly appeared to be having trouble remembering something. “I am Dr. Dimitri.”

Moloch and Agatha were surprised. “Doctor?” Moloch exclaimed.

Dimitri nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! I am a doctor! Yes I am!”

Moloch smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry we disturbed you, Herr Doctor, I thought we were ringing for an assistant.”

Dimitri beamed and slapped his chest. “Yes! Yes! I am assistant! Yes!”

Moloch and Agatha glanced at each other. Right.

Moloch spoke slowly. “We need a ladder.”

Dimitri brightened. “I will get a ladder! Yes! I could make you a ladder! A giant ladder that will go up to the sky!”

Moloch blinked. “No thanks. Just a regular ladder.”

“Yes! Yes! A ladder that will carry you up and down by itself! I could make that! I could! Up and down and up and down and up and—”

“No, just a regular ladder.”

“Ah! Yes! Yes! I understand! You want it to look like a regular ladder, and when you are at the tippy top, the blades come out and—”

“Enough!” Moloch shouted. Dimitri looked hurt. Moloch turned to Agatha. “Miss Clay, you’d better go with him.” He thought for a moment. “Get us something without blades.”

“I’ll try.” At this Dimitri began to look worried. Agatha looked at him. He reminded her of some of the faculty back at the University. She gently took him by the arm and pulled him out into the corridor. “Okay, Herr Doctor, where do we keep the ladders?”

“But I go! Yes, me!”

“Well I’ll just go with you.” Dimitri looked very worried now, but he reluctantly began to move down the hall. “I don’t understand what the problem is,” said Agatha. “All we want is a ladder.”

Dimitri looked slightly reassured. “Yes, ladder. We just go to get ladder.”

They quickly came to a large door labeled “LABORATORY SUPPLIES.” Dimitri spun the locking wheel and the door eased open, revealing a large dimly lit store-room, neatly crammed with crates and barrels, cans, jars and tools. Agatha quickly spotted a rack of ladders and moved toward it.

“This looks like what we need—” She paused. Hidden behind the ladders, she saw a small, neat cot.

She turned back to Dimitri. “Oh, do you sleep here?” She stopped because the giant’s face was now set in a rictus of fear. She looked back at the bed. There was nothing there, except…

A closer examination revealed a number of small objects. Agatha picked one up… “Why they’re bears!” she exclaimed in delight. “Made from rags! They’re adorable! Did you make these?” So saying she turned back to Dimitri, only to find him huddled upon the floor at her feet, his tear-stained face raised in supplication.

“Please,” he whispered, “please don’t give them to the Baron.”

Agatha looked at the rag doll in her hand. “What, these?”

Dimitri nodded frantically. “Yes, please…”

Agatha gently placed the bear into Dimitri’s trembling hands. “Why would I give them to the Baron? They’re yours.”

The large man clasped the toy to his chest. “Yes! Mine! I made them! Me!”

“But… if the Baron really wanted them, he’d just take them… wouldn’t he?”

At this, Dimitri’s face underwent a startling change. A look of pure determination crept into it, although it obviously took a great deal of effort. “He doesn’t know!” His voice, too, was different. It was a voice that was used to wielding power, but it was obvious that it was power long gone. He jerkily turned towards Agatha. The look he gave her was of someone who was unaccustomed to asking for help, but who had no choice, and had known it for a long, long time. “It’s my last secret. He’s taken all the others, but not them! I’ve kept them safe!”

Awkwardly Agatha patted his massive shoulder. “Well… I won’t tell anyone.”

Sudden hope flared within the kneeling man’s eyes. “You… help keep my bears… secret? Keep them safe from the Baron?”

Agatha nodded. “Of course. I won’t even tell that man I’m working with, von Zinzer.”

Softly, silently, the large man began to cry. “Thank you! Thank you!” he blubbered. “I’ve been so worried about them.”

An embarrassed Agatha looked about and grabbed a large rag, which she handed to Dimitri, who gratefully used it to scrub away at his face. “They’ll be okay, I promise. Now let’s get that ladder.”

Once again beaming widely, Dimitri climbed to his feet. He wheeled about and addressed the row of bears lined up on the shelf. “Did you hear? She has promised to help take care of you. You will be safe!”

The watcher nodded. He’d heard.

Several hours later, after von Zinzer had dismissed her for the day, Agatha found herself swept up by Sleipnir and several other girls and dragged off to their fencing practice. Agatha had never held a sword, but she had always admired the way actors had flailed about with them onstage. Much to her surprise, the people she watched didn’t seem to do any flailing at all. Indeed, the object appeared to be to hit your opponent while moving as little as possible. The analytical part of her mind found this intriguing, though she did miss the singing.

The girls warmed up fencing with each other in various combinations, but after a while, Sleipnir went off and returned pushing a large cart which was topped by a vaguely humanoid figure possessed of a single arm, holding a fencing foil. Once activated, it turned out to be a fencing clank, and the girls took turns battling it while the others rested.

It took little encouragement to get Agatha to suit up in a padded outfit, and the girls looked on with interest while Sleipnir began to teach her the basics. A stream of humorous comments at her expense were made, but to Agatha’s surprise, instead of feeling hurt, she found herself laughing along with them.

Relinquishing the sword, she sat and tried to ignore how the other girls now attacked each other while singing. It had seemed like an interesting idea at the time.

One of the girls, Sun Ming, handed her a cup of water, and asked her about her first day at the lab. Eventually the conversation got around to Dr. Dimitri, though Agatha omitted any mention of his stuffed bears. “We call him Dr. Dim.” Sun Ming admitted. “I believe him to be some sort of construct that didn’t work out.”

“He’s been here for years,” Sleipnir chimed in. “He seems to be harmless.”

The door to the changing rooms swung open and Zulenna strode towards them. She carried a gold foil over her shoulder. She nodded to several of the other girls, but a frown creased her face at the sight of Agatha. “Miss Clay. I didn’t know you fenced.”

Agatha experienced another wave of embarrassment at her actions last night. She resolved to try and be civil. “I don’t, but Sleipnir said I should try it.”

Sleipnir nodded. “Agatha has pretty good reflexes. I think that with some training…”

Zulenna interrupted, waving dismissively. “Really, Sleipnir. Taking a plow horse to the races?” Whereas Agatha had felt distress at last night’s incident, Zulenna had been replaying it over and over again and getting more and more annoyed. She wanted a rematch. With a sword. And witnesses. Sleipnir blinked. Zulenna continued, “I would like to see these fabulous reflexes.” She turned to Agatha. “If you’re not afraid to face me when I’m armed.”

Sleipnir looked back and forth between Agatha and Zulenna and tried to avert certain calamity. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea. Why don’t we—”

Agatha interrupted. “Sleipnir, would fencing give me a chance to hit her with this sword in a civilized manner?”

“Well…” Sleipnir hesitated, “theoretically, but—”

“Let’s do it.”

Sleipnir closed her mouth and shrugged. Some things just had to be worked out.

Zulenna chuckled as Agatha’s outfit was checked by Sleipnir. “Oh, this will be amusing.”

Sleipnir muttered to Agatha as she finished up. “She’s very good.”

“Indeed I am,” Zulenna confirmed brightly. “So just try to hit me.”

Agatha and Zulenna moved into position. Tentatively Agatha reached forward with her sword, and, languidly, Zulenna flicked it aside.

Agatha frowned and whipped her sword around from the other direction, and again, Zulenna deflected it with ease. She had watched the other girls and the fencing clank, but even her untrained eye could tell that Zulenna was superior to them all. Fascinated, Agatha executed a series of attacks from any direction she could think of. The smirking girl easily batted them all away while moving nothing but her arm.

Agatha stepped back and wiped a trickle of perspiration from her brow. This was developing into a very interesting problem, and Agatha’s anger at Zulenna began to fade as she considered it.

This detachment disappeared when Zulenna reached out with her sword and smacked the side of Agatha’s head. Agatha whipped her foil upwards, but hit nothing. There followed a series of strikes by Zulenna, which Agatha found herself helpless to prevent. The few times she actually managed to hit Zulenna’s sword, it simply slid off and connected with Agatha anyway. Her anger building, she decided to ignore the attacks and concentrate on striking back. There followed a series of attacks and feints delivered at blinding speed, which had absolutely no effect. Zulenna raised an eyebrow, and with an enormous grin, continued to strike Agatha at will while she deftly parried Zulenna’s furious attacks.

“As you can see, Miss Clay,” she said with a smirk, “fencing is the sport of the highborn. There is far more to it than hacking and slashing.” This was punctuated with a sharp poke to Agatha’s stomach. “And while I’m sure you’d do very well with a sledge hammer, which is probably all you need for tavern brawling, fencing is all about finesse, the art of exploiting your opponents’ weaknesses.” A move too fast to see and Zulenna’s sword cracked against Agatha’s hand, causing her to drop her sword. Zulenna smiled and turned away. “This was entertaining.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Those are good reflexes, by the way.”

A panting Agatha reached down and picked up her sword. Blowing a lock of hair from her face, she turned to a watching Sleipnir. “Hey…” she said between breaths, “I just figured out the difference between Dr. Dim and royalty. Dr. Dim is still doing something useful.”

Zulenna froze, and then spun about, sword upraised to strike. “How dare you—Oof!”

This last sound was caused by Zulenna slamming herself directly onto the point of Agatha’s foil, which had been aimed at her solar plexus. Zulenna dropped to her knees and tried to gasp in a lungful of air. Agatha leaned over her. “Your reflexes, on the other hand, could get you into trouble, your highness.”

Zulenna shot Agatha a look of pure hate as two of the other girls helped Zulenna to her feet. When she could stand, she shook them off, wheeled about and stalked off. Sleipnir looked after her and shook her head. “You fight nasty.”

Agatha slid the foil back into the rack. She didn’t feel good about her win. “Back in Beetleburg, we didn’t care much about royalty as such, what was important was if you had the Spark or not.”

Sleipnir nodded. “Yes, we’ve been seeing that trend spreading out from the larger towns for some time. It’s been giving Zulenna’s family some real problems, apparently.”

“Aren’t most of you from noble families?”

Ming grinned. “Some of us, but the important thing here is your position vis-à-vis those who possess the Spark. Baron Wulfenbach needs to control those who can disrupt things, the few royal families that still rule are desperately eager for things to remain calm. Zulenna’s family is a case in point. They rule a small nation in the Germanies. Useful because it controls a pass that at least three major trade routes use. Their defenses were built by the Heterodynes, and thus they’d stood off a number of attacks by madboys until they were annexed by the Baron.”

Agatha frowned. “I would think that would make her a little more willing to get along, not less.”

Sleipnir sighed. “Yes, you would, wouldn’t you? But Zulenna is determined to keep her position.”

“What position?”

The other girls looked embarrassed. A dark-haired girl named Yvette explained. “Most of us came here as children, non? So there was established a pecking order.”

“Sleipnir explained a bit about that,” Agatha said.

A quiet blonde named Gunload spoke up. “When she first got here, Zulenna ranked pretty high, if only because she was used to bossing people around. But as we all got older, things changed. Zulenna’s family is just royalty. She’s not here as a hostage, but because they’re genuinely loyal to the Baron.”

Sleipnir nodded. “Her being royalty is all that Zulenna has, so she tries to make the most of it.” She looked Agatha in the eye. “Be careful. She’ll not forgive you for this.”

Agatha frowned. “Oh, come on. Surely, over time some of you have made similar comments, or worse. You grew up together.”

“True enough,” Sleipnir admitted, “but there is this pecking order thing…”

“Meaning?”

Ming gently patted her shoulder. “Welcome to the bottom of the heap.”

The next few days were quiet ones.

Von Pinn gave Agatha a wide berth.

Agatha returned to her room one evening to discover that Zulenna had moved out.

The biggest change was in Agatha’s sensations. Every day brought new smells, tastes and nuances of sounds that occasionally threatened to overwhelm her. Foods that she had grown up with revealed startling new flavors. For a few days, Agatha felt like she was starving. At meal times she ate until she felt ready to burst, but within the space of two hours, she would be prowling the kitchens looking for more. She worried about her clothes, but over the course of several days, they seemed to get looser, despite everything she was eating. Sleipnir actually got annoyed over this, until she confirmed Agatha’s claims with a tape measure.

A noisy room became a rich aural tapestry of underlying rhythms. The most distracting was her sense of touch. She was aware of the textures of the clothing she wore, the surfaces of the tools in the lab. A prolonged shower left her gasping on her knees.

It was a difficult few days. Sleipnir was concerned. Agatha saw a medic, who examined her and found nothing wrong, and suggested that she was simply over-stimulated by being in a new, exciting situation. Agatha certainly had to admit that was a plausible possibility.

And, most glorious of all, Agatha’s headaches, the Damoclean sword that had always checked her emotions, had stopped.

She noticed it the second day. By the third, she had actually tried to induce one and failed. That night, Sleipnir had found her in her room weeping. She’d never been able to have a good, solid cry, and by the time she was done, she felt wrung out like a rag and slept for twelve hours. After that, while her sensations and emotions remained much sharper than before, everything began to become much more manageable. Thankfully, Agatha found her appetite beginning to diminish.

The crises had passed.

Moloch proved to be adept at finding his way around a lab. The inventory was completed. Agatha tried to create something that would interest the Baron, but these attempts always ended in failure. The biggest problem was caused by Agatha herself, who continued to sleepwalk each night, ending up in the lab, sprawled over one of the workbenches.

On this particular morning, she was awakened by Moloch tossing his coat on top of her. “I wish you’d build something we could use instead of just messing up the place.”

Startled, Agatha thrashed around a bit scattering tools and machine parts to the floor as she pulled the coat on. She glanced at a clock. “You’re late. Did you oversleep?”

Moloch shook his head. “I wish. I got summoned before the Baron. He’s getting impatient. He wants to see something.”

“But what about those plans we’ve been working on the last couple of days?”

“He took one look at them and told me to stop cribbing D’Omas’ designs. It’s like I told you, every madboy has a style like… like a painter—and the Baron can recognize them.”

Agatha drummed her fingers on the bench. “Well… I do have some ideas of my own…”

Moloch waved his hand in dismissal. “Those tiddly little clockwork things that don’t work? Forget it. I’m supposed to be a Spark, not an idiot toymaker. I hand him plans for something like that and I’ll be shipped off to Castle Heterodyne within the hour. We need something Big. Impressive.”

“Well… Maybe stylistic similarities run in families. We could say that you’re D’Omas’ natural son.”

Moloch grinned ruefully. “Not a bad idea, but D’Omas’ taste in women was… well… let’s just say it was lucky for him he could build his own. A lot of people knew it too. There were reasons why the public didn’t like him. No, there’ll be no D’Omas heirs showing up, except preserved in glass jars.”

“Yech. Any ideas on escaping?”

“Only if I want to throw myself out a window, which I’m not ruling out, by the way. But for the moment, the plan is to get out alive.”

Moloch paced back and forth several times and then whirled to face Agatha again. “You were there when that clank in Beetleburg was built. That’s what we need. You must remember something!”

Agatha shrugged apologetically. This was an old subject. “No. I woke up after it was gone. I don’t know anything. I could do some research—”

Moloch slammed his fist down onto the bench hard enough to send several tools flying. “Stuff that!” he screamed. “You didn’t see the Baron’s face this morning! I need something now!” He loomed menacingly over Agatha. “I don’t think you’re really trying.”

Apprehensive, Agatha tried to back up, and found herself bumping into another bench. “You said yourself that I’m no Spark! What do you expect me to—”

Moloch gripped her shoulders. “Think, you stupid cow! You have as much to lose as I do!”

Agatha shook herself free and glared at Moloch. “Wrong! My parents are long gone and in hiding. Even the Jägermonsters can’t find them. You no longer have a hold on me, so if you want my co-operation, I suggest you change your attitude, or… or…”

A change had come over Moloch’s face. His eyes looked dead. He reached out and, grabbing the lapels of the coat Agatha was wearing, hauled her forward. “Or what? You’ll kill me too? Wrong. You’re gonna help me out one more time. A lab accident, I think. That should buy me some more time…”

Horrified, Agatha watched as he raised his fist, and suddenly Moloch’s eyes widened and he screamed and dropped her. A quick glance down revealed the white cat biting and clawing at the inside of one of Moloch’s legs. As he danced away, trying to dislodge it, Agatha regained her balance, reached behind her and felt her fingers close around the handle of a large mallet.

Gilgamesh Wulfenbach strolled down the corridor, his brow furrowed in thought. Eventually he nodded. “Oh very well, I’ll concede the point, it does appear alarming, but you shouldn’t be afraid of it, I’m rather sure it’s just a goldfish.”

Beside him Zoing frantically waved his claws and discoursed at length in high-pitched squeals.

CRASH! A lab door slammed open beside them and the inert form of Moloch von Zinzer was booted out into the corridor. A second later his labcoat was flung over him. Gil and Zoing turned to see a furious Agatha standing in the doorway, clutching a broken mallet. “You pathetic thug! Don’t you dare threaten me again! Come near me and I’ll put you in a glass jar!” It was now that she noticed Gil and his companion for the first time.

“Lover’s spat?” Gil inquired.

“I quit!” Agatha snarled. “I don’t care if you put his brain into a jellyfish!”

Gil frowned. “But you made such a cute couple—” Without visible effort he dodged the mallet handle that sailed past his head.

“You know perfectly well he is not my lover! Now send me home! I have to find my parents!”

Gil looked serious. “Yes, your parents. I can certainly understand your concern. We still haven’t been able to find them. The Jägermonsters haven’t been able to find them, none of your neighbors has seen them. According to the University records you don’t have any other family in Beetleburg. Do you have any other family anywhere?”

“I have an uncle, but he… he disappeared over ten years ago.”

“Not much help then. Did they have any enemies?”

“Enemies?” Agatha looked shocked. “No!” Then certain things she had seen and heard over the years assumed a possible new significance. “At least, I don’t know of any. Why?”

Gil sighed. “It is not uncommon, when my father takes over new territory, that during the confusion, some people take the opportunity to… settle old grudges.”

“That’s… that’s terrible.”

“Foolish, certainly. My father prides himself on maintaining law and order within the Empire, it’s kind of the whole point really, and we come down very hard on things like this. Up until now, we’ve been assuming that your parents were hiding from us, but now we also have to consider the possibility that something has happened to them.”

“Why? What’s changed?”

“One of the things I did was place public notices throughout Beetleburg advising the Clays that we had you in our possession and providing an address where they could anonymously send you a message to at least let you know that they were safe. So far there’s been nothing.”

“I… I have to go back! I—”

Gil interrupted. “And do what? My worry now is that if someone is responsible for your parents’ disappearance, they might be after you as well. Until we find your parents, I’m afraid my father will insist on you being kept here under protective custody.”

“That’s outrageous! He can’t—” Agatha suddenly stopped as she realized who she was talking about.

Gil nodded grimly. “He most certainly can. Now I can understand you not wanting to work with Herr von Zinzer—” Gil nudged the prone mechanic with the toe of his boot—”But I’m afraid everyone aboard the Castle is expected to justify their weight—” Agatha opened her mouth—”Would you consider working with me?”

Agatha’s mouth hung open for a second, then closed with a snap. Her eyes narrowed. “…Why?” she finally asked.

Gil ticked off points on his fingers. “I found your daily reports to be concise and well-written, you very efficiently re-organized the parts warehouse, and, most important, your suggestions regarding my flyer’s engine increased its efficiency by seventeen percent.”

Agatha looked pleased. “Seventeen percent? Really?”

Gil nodded. “Really. And I believe that by working together, we could do even better. Interested?”

“Yes! Yes I am!”

Gil smiled. “Good.” He casually reached down and with one hand hauled Moloch up by the collar. “I shall deal with Herr von Zinzer here. Be at my lab this afternoon.”

Agatha drew herself up and performed the traditional bow. “Yes, Herr…” she paused.

“Doctor,” Gil supplied.

“Herr Doctor Wulfenbach.”

Gil coughed discretely. “Ah, there is one thing, Miss Clay… If you’re going to be working with me, I’d appreciate it if you wore more clothes.”

For the first time Agatha became aware of her appearance and with a strangled “Eep!” vanished inside the lab.

Gil puffed out his breath and grinned. A slight movement at the end of his arm caused him to set his face in sterner lines, and he briskly slapped Moloch’s face several times until the man began to thrash feebly. “All right you, let’s go.”

Moloch’s eyes opened, rotated in different directions, focused upon Gil and then snapped open in terror. His feet began to move, but as they weren’t touching the ground, nothing happened. When he became aware of this, he seemed to give up, and with a sigh, went limp. Gil cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not a very good soldier, are you?”

Moloch shrugged. “That’s why I became a mechanic, sir.”

Gil nodded. “Now I believe this little charade has played itself out, hm? You are not a Spark.”

Again Moloch spasmed within Gil’s grasp. “No! Sir! I… I can explain!”

“Sh—sh—shhh! Relax.” With an alarming smile Gil gently lowered Moloch to the floor, and reached around to drape a friendly arm over Moloch’s shoulders. Another smile and Gil had gently propelled him down the hallway. “I want to help you.” Zoing gathered up Moloch’s coat and scuttled along behind.

Inside the lab, Agatha leaned against the door, her head swimming. She looked over and saw the large white cat, which had bitten Moloch, sitting on the nearest bench glowering at her. “He listened to my suggestions! He actually tried out my ideas—and they worked! Nobody has ever listened to me!”

She hugged herself and did a quick jig over to the bench. The cat continued to stare. “And he asked me to work with him! Do you understand what that means, you beautiful leg-biting cat? Everybody knows that the labs on Castle Wulfenbach do the real, cutting-edge science! The stuff the universities only dream about doing! And I’ll be working with the Baron’s son! Doing real science, in a real lab, with someone who actually listens to me!” Overcome with emotion she scooped the surprised animal up and swung him around. “What do you think of that?”

The cat frowned and leaned into her and pointed at her with an oddly shaped paw. “I think,” he said clearly, “that you’d better be very, very careful.”