Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

CHAPTER 5

THE CAVERNS OF MECHANICSBURG

The town of Mechanicsburg sits atop a land honeycombed with caverns and lava tubes. It is famous among Europa’s spelunking community as it offers a wide range of expeditions ranging from the simple all the way up to the insanely dangerous Class Five, which requires breathing apparatus, submersible gear, a demonstrated proficiency in at least two weapon types, a signed and notarized indemnification release, and a registered copy of one’s last will and testament. (If you are familiar with Europa’s spelunking community, it will come as no surprise that Class Five expeditions are perennially booked up a year and a half in advance, so reserve your spot as soon as possible!)

Lest this put off the curious amateur, let us reassure you that the sights and sounds that can be experienced on the Beginner’s Tour are unique and well worth the laughably small chance of being attacked by bloodbats.

In addition to their natural wonders, the subterranean levels of the area have long been home to assorted servitors and creations of the Heterodynes. These colorful denizens of “Under Town” are always good for an exciting story about “the old days,” and are renowned for their handicrafts and the various species of exotic fungi they cultivate, which are available for sale or trade. (It is only a statistically insignificant number of unlucky visitors that are chosen for the quaint local ritual known as the Surface Tithe, and those who survive to witness it call it “an unforgettable treat that gave us a new appreciation of life”—Professor Strout’s Guide to Roadside Scientific Atrocities.)

Highlights on the Beginner’s Tour also include the Snail Plantations, the Cursed Springs, the Ruins of the Subterranean Empire, and the Cavern of Transmutating Elements.

Expeditions may be booked through any number of Deep Delving Shops. We recommend Lindenbrook’s Subterranean Adventures, located on Heterodyne Square.

—One Thousand and One Things To Do In Mechanicsburg/ It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time Press.

Dr. Sun gave the coded knock and opened the door to the Baron’s sickroom. He had been handed the usual stack of papers as he passed through the halls. He frowned as he examined them.

“Klaus? What is this nonsense I hear—” A muffled sound made him look up. Bangladesh DuPree glared at him. She was chained to the foot of Klaus’s bed, which was otherwise empty. Sun’s eyes darted around the room. Assorted bits of important medical equipment were missing, as was his patient. His eyes went back to the papers in his hand. Realization dawned. “He wouldn’t,” he whispered.

Less than two minutes later, he erupted from the doorway to one of the inner courtyards, scattering a crowd of nervous orderlies. “Of course he would!” he muttered.

Sun paused and straightened up. Center. Focus. Breath like a fern unfolding. You are the lynchpin of your House. Show no stress.

Striding across the lawn was a large clank—the kind normally used for transporting supplies or dealing with dangerous constructs. Now, ensconced behind the two trained nurse pilots, Sun could see that Klaus had installed a bank of medical equipment, as well as his actual hospital bed. An I.V. bag swayed above him as the colossus strode about the manicured walkways, on what was obviously a test run.

“Klaus!” Sun screamed.

From above, the ruler of Europa paused and peered down at him. “What?” He asked innocently.

Sun realized that he was actually jumping up and down in rage. This only served to make him madder. “Are you trying to kill yourself? Or me? You are on strict bed rest!”

“Well, of course,” Klaus said reasonably. One of the walker’s giant manipulators waved at Sun. “That’s why I made sure to recalibrate the controls to respond to minimal hand movements.”

Sun again shrieked with rage and began furiously kicking at one of the giant legs. A few of the orderlies noted with fascination that the industrial grade metal was denting under the onslaught. “That is not the point! After what happened last time, you promised you’d let me do my job!”

A giant hand gently scooped the old man up and brought him close to the operator’s cupola. “Unless it was an emergency. This is an emergency.”

Sun waved his hands in the air. “You always say that! It’s always an emergency!”

Klaus ignored this. “The Other is alive and here in Mechanicsburg. The Empire is being attacked. Hostile forces are still within the walls of the town, and my son is nowhere to be found.”

Sun took a deep breath and folded his arms together. “So you’re going to handle it all personally? Being a successful emperor means being able to delegate authority! Occasionally, you must let other people do things for you!”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “I know that. But there are some things that only I can do.”

“Like what?”

“Like fight a war.”

Sun raised his fists to the heavens. “You are a terrible emperor!” When he looked back at Klaus, Sun’s eyes were filled with an icy rage. “And a terrible patient!” Methodically, he began tying back his long flowing sleeves. “I should have had guards upon your guards. I see that now. Obviously I must take a page from your book and do everything myself.” He took a deep breath and went still.

For the first time, Klaus began to look nervous. A giant metal finger gently poked Sun on the shoulder. The old man began to look positively serene. Sweat appeared on Klaus’s brow.

Suddenly, a shouted voice caught their attention. “Grandfather! Stop making yourself the center of everything!”

Sun frowned and peered down. He saw a slim young woman in a green silk version of the hospital uniform striding towards him,⁴² followed by Captain Vole. “You are needed in surgery,” she declared.

Klaus wisely said nothing and smoothly deposited Sun onto the ground. “What has happened now?”

Daiyu pointed. “This miserable creature—”

Vole interrupted her. “On orders from Master Gilgamesh, Hy haff brought hyu de leader ov dose var schtompers. He iz in need uv medical attention.”

Sun sniffed. “I will be the judge of that. Where is he?”

Soundlessly, Vole reached into a stained canvas sack and pulled forth the surprised-looking head of General Rudolf Selnikov.

Sun blinked and harrumphed. “Yes. Well…tricky, certainly, but I’ve seen worse. Let’s get him prepped.”

The Baron interrupted before they could leave. “Vole!”

The Jäger paused and then made to hand the head off to the older man.

Sun waved a hand at his granddaughter, who gave a heavy sigh and snagged the head by its ear. They took off, with Sun bellowing for the orderlies to begin prepping one of his operating rooms. Those who knew him could see that he was looking forward to the challenge. At the entrance, he paused and whirled about—startling the Baron with a fiery glare. He pointed at Klaus and then at the hospital. The message was obvious. Then he spun back and strode into the building.

Klaus heaved a great sigh. Of course he would protect the Great Hospital. What was Sun thinking? He focused his attention on the Jäger waiting below. “Vole, where have you been?”

The Jäger looked indignant. “Dere vos a lot uv dead guys und busted machines to dig through! Dot’s not as much fun az it sounds like!

“Plus, Hy took some time to tok to sum uf de guards. Az Hy suspected, both of de Heterodyne gurls iz now in de Kessle.” He paused, and his next words were slower. “De second gurl, de vun Hy vas sent to get, she iz der real ting. Hy ken tell,” he said defensively, although Klaus had said nothing. “De Kessle vill listen to her, if it vill listen to ennyboddy.”

“That’s not good, Captain.” The idea of Lucrezia in possession of an even marginally functional Castle Heterodyne? Klaus grimaced. “No, I don’t like that at all.” He leaned forward, “Now enough of your evasions, where is my son?”

“He iz at Mamma Gkika’s, Herr Baron.”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “I have got to get that boy married,” he muttered. “But it could be worse. He’ll be distracted for the moment.” He leaned back down. “I have orders for you to deliver and I think it would be best if he doesn’t hear about them. However, I will want him safely removed from Mechanicsburg before things get under way.”

Vole saluted crisply. “Hy vill drag him avay from here, after Hy beat him senseless, sir.”

Klaus stared at Vole for several seconds. “That might work,” he admitted.

Back in Mamma Gkika’s, Gil shuffled through the papers before him, his mind sorting and calculating automatically. Vanamonde and Krosp watched him silently. Zeetha was happily gnawing away at what appeared to be a turkey leg almost the size of her arm.

The orders concerned a lot of the sort of thing one would expect in a town that was both hosting the Baron and expecting civic disturbances⁴³: the movement of road crews, paymasters, fire fighters, extra troops, quartermasters, emergency communication systems—

Gil paused, and suddenly shuffled back several sheets. His gaze sharpened. He checked a few names—

When he looked at Van, his face was aghast. “He’s going to destroy Castle Heterodyne,” he whispered.

“How?” Krosp asked with professional interest. “The town is legendary for never being conquered.”

Van looked worried, “Yes, the old Heterodynes chose this spot for a reason.”

Gil slapped the papers down onto the table. “Sure, if the defenses were working, an army couldn’t even get up the pass.” He leaned in. “But the defenses aren’t working. My father is already in control of the town. He can walk the necessary machines right up to the castle walls if he wants to.”

He pulled a paper from the stack. “Road crews. It’s true, these days we mostly use the Rumbletoys as earthmovers. But their subsonic wave throwers could liquefy the rock the castle sits on!”

Another paper. “Firefighters? The Ninth Ætheric Vapor Squad usually fights fires in cities and forests, but kick their gas condensers up a notch or two and you could spray the castle with liquid Nitrogen and then crack it open with a hammer.”

Another. “Emergency Communications System. The Heliolux Airship Fleet. If we order it, their mirror and lens arrays could melt this entire town off the map.” He thought about selecting another but instead just tossed the entire pile in front of Vanamonde.

“I’m sure you get the idea. For almost twenty years my father has been collecting Sparks and their tools, repurposing them for peaceful uses within the Empire. But rest assured, he always remembers that they were initially built as war machines, and he knows how to use them.”

Everyone stared at the pile of paper. Van took a deep swallow of coffee. “This is…not perfect,” he muttered.

Zeetha swallowed. “He’s bringing all that just to get at Agatha?”

Gil sat back and snorted. “No, he’s bringing a hell of a lot more than that. According to the time signatures, this was the work of ten minutes. I assure you that for the Other, he’ll bring in everything in a hundred kilometer radius, if not more.”

Now everyone stared at him. Gil shrugged. “He believes he has cause.” He leaned forward and stared back at them. “And let’s be honest here, he does have cause.”

Van’s eyes narrowed. “So you think we should just let him—”

“You still don’t understand,” Gil interrupted. “It’s not a case of you letting him do anything. If all you’ve seen are the official reports about what happened at Balan’s Gap—” Van was flustered enough that he allowed himself to look guilty, confirming another of Gil’s suspicions. “—you don’t know a tenth of what’s happening there. If Agatha doesn’t surrender herself peacefully, the Empire is going to come in and cauterize this place.” Gil sat back and took a sip of coffee. “Frankly? The best thing you can do is evacuate the town.”

Vanamonde drew himself up. “We serve the House of Heterodyne. We will not desert her.”

Gil frowned. “The Heterodynes have been gone for years. You can’t tell me…” His eye was caught by Mamma striding out onto the stage. “What’s this?”

Van fished out a large silver pocket watch and looked startled. “Is it that late already?” He stood up. “It’s time for us to take this conversation somewhere more quiet.” All around them, servers were efficiently scooping up mugs and plates, some still full, dumping them into narrow three-wheeled carts and heading for a bank of swinging doors as quickly as they could.

Mamma waved her hands. “Hokay lads, leesen op! Efferboddy knowz dot dere’s beeg tings afoots, yah? Ve gunna hav to get beck to vork.”

There was a guffaw of laughter from the room. Mamma smiled. “Bot not yet. So iz time for heveryboddy to blow off sum schteam, hey?”

Gil realized that he was sitting alone. He stood up and spotted Vanamonde, Zeetha, and Krosp quickly weaving through the crowded room towards the doors. He wasn’t sure why, but something told him to take off after them. Around him, the Jägers at the tables were still and silent, leaning forward with a palpable air of anticipation.

On stage, Mamma made a show of fishing a glittering silver whistle out from her ample décolletage. She held up a clawed finger. “Vait for de vistle, now!”

If anything, Van increased his pace through the crowd. Gil noted that he was obviously worried about something.

Gil caught up to the three. “What’s going on?” he asked.

Mamma raised the whistle to her lips and blew a single clear, pure note.

Van flinched. “It’s the evening bar fight.”

Pandemonium erupted around them. Jägers howled and leapt about, swinging, clawing, and smacking Jägers that they had been laughing with just seconds ago (although, to be fair, they were still laughing).

Gil had been caught in several bar fights around the Empire and had to admit that this had to be the jolliest he’d ever been in. A Jäger tumbled back screaming with laughter, with another Jäger latched onto his ear with his teeth. Jollity aside, it was definitely time to go.

Suddenly a furry bundle of claws enveloped his head. After a second, he realized that it was a panicked Krosp, who, as cats are wont to do in times of danger, had scaled the tallest thing in sight. “Evening bar fight!” the cat yowled. “They do this every day?”

Van ducked beneath a thrown chair. “They’re Jägers! What did you expect?” He staggered as a tankard bounced off his head. Gil caught his arm and kept him from falling to the ground. Van nodded his thanks and pushed forward. “Just be glad it’s not Thursday,” he shouted back. “That’s poetry slam night.”

The inevitable finally happened and a Jäger was thrown towards them. Gil grabbed the creature in midair, swung him about, and let him slam into another churning pile of combatants.

Van went white and clutched at his arm. “Don’t do that again! At the moment, we’re still considered noncombatants!” Suddenly he paused and glanced around. “Where is Miss Zeetha?”

All it had taken was a single misstep and Zeetha had found herself separated from the others. Initially she had been all-too-willing to leap into the fracas but had quickly discovered that she was garnering undue attention as an exciting novelty.

“Woo!” yet another admiring monster yelled at the sight of her. “Fight mit me, varrior gurl!” A boot to the face knocked him into another melee, but Zeetha found herself getting pushed backwards towards a corner, which was bad news.

Suddenly, she felt no pressure on her back.

She turned and stared. She had been pushed into a small pocket of calm. At a corner table sat a slim, rawboned man. His hair was a golden brown, twisted in the back into an airshipman’s queue and extending forward in a pair of lovingly maintained muttonchops. Incongruously, he was wearing a Wulfenbach airshipman uniform. Apparently while the fighting had raged all around him, he had, with a rather sleepy-eyed look on his face, been quietly nursing an enormous tankard of beer, smoking his pipe, and, Zeetha realized, with an uncharacteristic jolt of annoyance, gazing appreciatively at her as she fought.

“Hey!” she yelled. The man blinked, and shifted his focus up to her face. “Wake up, you fool! We’re cut off! Aren’t you paying attention?”

The fellow removed his pipe. “If you want to make any headway towards the door, you’ll need more than just your fists,” he advised her.

A large Jäger with flapping ears reached for her, and Zeetha gave him a right cross that caused him to spin twice. When he stopped, he was facing in a different direction, and with a laugh, he launched himself into another fight.

“Well I’m not going to use my swords in here,” she declared, “Agatha wouldn’t like it.”

The man nodded and took a pull from his tankard. “Of course not. No weapons. You want to keep it friendly.” He unfolded himself from his chair. “Hold on.” He then snagged the chair he’d been sitting on and threw it into the face of a Jäger who had been about to tackle Zeetha from behind.

Zeetha looked puzzled. “You just said: No weapons!”

Although his eyes remained half closed, the man looked surprised. “That wasn’t a weapon, that was a chair,” he explained.

Zeetha grinned. “Then give me a chair!”

The man smiled slightly and handed her one. “Aye, aye.”

Zeetha took the chair, and sweeping it back and forth, began clearing a path towards the kitchen doors. The man’s eyes followed her and he smiled. Then a slight frown crossed his features and he glanced longingly towards his beer. As he pondered, another Jäger flew through the air and smashed into his table, reducing the tankard to dripping shards.

With a philosophical shrug, the man put his hands in his pockets and slouched off after Zeetha, who was slowly progressing through the room. If Zeetha had watched him she would have been struck by how the man never was where you thought he was. Fists, bottles, tables, and casks flew towards him but somehow he never was there when they arrived.

When he caught up to her, he cleared his throat. “So, uh, what brings you in here?”

Zeetha’s chair disintegrated as she broke it over a stout Jäger wearing a fancy pickelhaube. “Oh, you know, I came with some guys.”

“You need to find them?”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to make sure one of them doesn’t get into trouble.”

The airshipman glanced about at the seething chaos and seemed to accept this statement at face value. He picked up a new chair. A barrel sailed past his head. “Smart guy?” he asked as he handed it to Zeetha.

Zeetha considered this. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Found ’em. Is he the one with the cat on his head?”

“Probably.” She paused. “Wait—how did you know they’re smart?”

“They’re not fighting a bar full of Jägers.”

“Ha!” Zeetha laughed. “Good one!” Then both of them realized what he had said. “Wait a minute, what are you implying?”

The airshipman turned, and the look in Zeetha’s eyes caused him to break out in a cold sweat. A long dormant survival instinct awoke within him. He smiled disingenuously. “Miss, you look so extraordinarily dangerous that I wouldn’t think of implying anything I couldn’t directly observe.”

To her astonishment, Zeetha found herself blushing. “Do I really look dangerous?”

“Absolutely. Now let’s get you back to your friends.”

Zeetha nodded and then analyzed the entire exchange. “HEY!”

But the airshipman was wasting no time. Zeetha frowned. He wasn’t pushing or shoving, and, in fact, never seemed to actually hit anyone, but they were now moving at a respectable clip and Jägers melted away as he approached.

From near a doorway, Van detected a different pattern in the melee, and pointed. “Here she comes.”

Gil recognized the hallway as the one he’d entered by. He looked back towards the room he’d awoke in. “Wait, I need—”

From that very room, Dimo, Ognian, and Maxim emerged. “Here iz hyu zappy stick,” Dimo sang out.

Ognian carried a small sack. “Here iz de sctuff hyu had in hyu pockets!”

Maxim presented the pièce de résistance. “Und hyu hat!”

Gil stared at the hat with loathing. “I do not need—”

Krosp interrupted him in a low voice. “The hat. The special hat. The hat the Jägers made to show you how impressed they are with you. The Jägers who saved your life and are devoted to Agatha. The girl you want to impress. The girl who doesn’t trust you, but does trust the Jägers. That hat?”

Gil instantly took all the loathing that he had reserved for the hat, doubled it, and now directed it at the cat, who, disappointingly, did not burst into flames but simpered at him. “Helping,” he purred.

“…I’ll take the hat,” Gil said leadenly.

Disconcertingly, every Jäger within earshot paused in their fighting and cheered. “YAY!”

Van turned to Krosp. “An excellent call, Krosp. That was very diplomatic.”

Krosp grinned maliciously. “It makes him look like an idiot.”

Thanks to the lull in the action, Zeetha and her escort were able to push through the last few meters relatively easily.

It was obvious that the airshipman was uncomfortable. “Here are your friends. I’m off.”

For some reason, this seemed to make Zeetha even more annoyed. “So go already.”

“You! Wulfenbach airman!” Gil’s stern bark caught them both by surprise. “You’re with me.” Before the airman could say anything, he found the improbable hat thrust into his hands. “Carry this.”

The airman’s eyes narrowed. “Who…”

Gil grinned. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Gilgamesh Wulfenbach.”

For the first time, the airman’s mask of imperturbability cracked. He turned to the others. “You’re…he’s just sending me out for a crate of balloon juice. Right?”

“I’m afraid not,” Van said.

Maxim pointed proudly. “Iz on hiz hat!”

The airman dragged his eyes downward and examined the legend on the front of the hat. When he looked up, he appeared to have aged several years. However, he snapped to a loose approximation of “attention” and gave a salute. “Airman Third Class Axel Higgs reporting for duty, sir.”

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Higgs.” Gil paused. “Higgs…Oh! You’re the one who rescued my father!”

Higgs looked surprised. “Um…could be,” he admitted warily.

Gil took his hand and shook it. “I want to thank you. There’s a promotion somewhere with your name on it.” Higgs looked uncomfortable. “Oh, well…”

Suddenly, Gil’s gaze sharpened and his hand tightened. “Wait a minute, I heard you were seriously injured.” He stared at the man for a second—

Dimo gave a roar of a laugh. “He shoo vas!” He punched Gil in the arm, “Joost like hyu vas ven ve brought hyu in here!”

Gil considered this. “Oh, yes, I suppose so. But why—?”

At that moment Mamma Gkika stepped up. Behind her, the fight continued. She tucked an errant lock of hair back behind a long elegant ear. “Iz hyu folks leafink? Vell please come again!”

She turned to Airman Higgs. “I’m glad to see hyu iz feelink better, sveethot. A gurl likes to pay her debts, yah?”

Higgs shuffled his feet. “I told you that you don’t owe me anything, Ma’am.”

Mamma tilted her head to the side. “Vell, I suppose dot’s a leedle more true now den it vas yesterday.” She turned to Gil.

“Hyu account is schtill op in de air, young man. Hyu gots a lot uf credit for slappink dose guys down mit de lightning.” She leaned in and gave him a hard look. “But if hyu cause Miz Agatha trouble, den der vill be a reckonink.”

Gil looked her in the eye. “Of course I’ll cause her trouble. But I’ll do my best to protect her.”

Mamma’s cheeks dimpled as she laughed and patted his cheek. “Oh, dis vill be so interestink,” she crooned. Then she straightened up. “Hokay, get out uv here!”

Gil turned back to Higgs. “Anyway, you’re assigned to me, now. Come along.”

Higgs sighed. “Yes, sir.”

As they moved off, Zeetha sidled up to him. “So, what did you do for the Jäger lady?”

Higgs kept his eyes straight ahead. “Nothing much. She’s makin’ more of it than she should.”

Zeetha would have continued but they came to a steep set of stairs, almost a ladder, that disappeared up into the darkness. They scrambled upwards for what Gil estimated was close to twenty meters before they came to a wooden hatch that Van opened by throwing a lever set into the wall. The hatch swung up and over on silent, well-oiled pneumatic hinges and they clambered up into—

“A wine cellar?” Gil looked around in astonishment. “How deep underground are we?”

“Deep.” Van selected a lantern from a well-supplied shelf. “And we’re still two levels down.”

Gil nodded slowly as they passed rack upon rack of bottles. He noted that it wasn’t only wine stored here. They passed alcoves neatly stuffed with what appeared to be assorted food stores. Mechanicsburg was still well prepared in case of siege.

“Is this sort of thing common around here?”

Van raised an eyebrow.

Gil waved a hand. “These extensive cellars. I mean, we’re still finding underground passages in Balan’s Gap, and I spent a lot of time in the Paris Undercity,⁴⁴ but does every city have stuff like this? I grew up on an airship. We didn’t really have a basement, per se.”

The Jägers laughed. “Vell, dey’s not all as extensive as ours,” Dimo said thoughtfully.

“Or else Europa vould have collapsed after a hard rain!” Maxim chimed in.

Gil raised his lantern and looked around. “Are there monsters?” He looked back at the Jägers. “Present company excluded, of course.”

Dimo laughed again, “Ho, yaz! But dey all vork for de Heterodynes. Ain’t dot right, Franz?”

This last was asked at a shout, and Gil realized, with a start, that the giant statue they were walking beside was not a statue, but instead, a living creature. Zeetha and Krosp realized it at the same moment. Both jumped and then looked annoyed at having done so.

The monster’s great head swung slowly towards them. Its skin was cracked and pebbled and covered in a grey coating of dust. Enormous nostrils blew out a gust of air redolent with flammable hydrocarbons, and a pair of sleepy green-gold eyes opened slightly. Gil noted a tarnished brass dial set into its nose. The needle flickered at the far left, and there was a trilobite symbol set into the space between its brows. The rest of the enormous body was hidden in the shadows.

“Yeh, yeh.” The gravelly slow voice roiled over them. “Heterodynes forever. Now shottop. I’m trying to get some sleep here.”

Gil stared at the creature with awe. “I didn’t think there were any dragons left,”⁴⁵ he breathed.

The dragon slowly shifted his attention to him and again sighed. “Until de Heterodyne returns,” he muttered as his eyes closed, “you iz correct.”

The sound of deep breathing filled the cavern.

At the next stairway, Dimo stopped. “Dis iz as far az ve goes,” he said to Gil. “Hyu iz on hyu own now.”

Zeetha looked disappointed. “You’re not coming? Why not? We could use you.”

Dimo shrugged. “Ve iz not supposed to be in de town until de Heterodyne iz back officially. Den dey rings de Doom Bell. Until dot happens, ve gots to stay underground, vere ve’s technically not in de town.”

Zeetha looked skeptical. “But didn’t you go through the town to get here with him?” She pointed at Gil.

Dimo winced but it was too late. Ognian and Maxim’s eyes had widened and they looked at each other in obvious distress.

“She iz right!” Ognian said with a troubled voice. “Ve broke de solemn oath ven ve brought Meester Gil in through de Sneaky Gate!”

“But de regular tunnels vas too far,” Maxim said, “and he vas too injured!”

“Ve had no choice! But ve gafe our vord!”

“Now our honor is foreffer shattered!”

“Ve kin only redeem ourselves mit honorable death!”

“Yez! Svift, painful, honorable death!”

Ognian drew a wicked looking knife from inside his coat. Its blade glittered in the lantern light. “Hyu knife, brodder,” he intoned.

Maxim’s own knife appeared. A tear ran down his face. “Right here, brodder!”

Simultaneously, they reached up and placed their knives at each other’s throats. They closed their eyes—

Dimo cleared his throat. “Ve didn’t actually get caught, hyu eediots.”

The two Jägers stared at him owlishly for a moment and then with a relieved sigh, repocketed their blades.

“Scary,” Oggie muttered.

“Yeh,” Maxim agreed. “Dot vas a close vun.”

Gil and Zeetha exchanged glances.

Dimo strode over and clapped Gil on the shoulder. “Goot luck, Meester Gilgamesh! Ven hyu sees Miz Agatha, hyu takes care uf her until ve gets dere, hokay?”

Gil snorted. “If she’ll let me.”

Van, meanwhile, had been collecting the lanterns, extinguishing them, and storing them on a rack similar to the one in the wine cellar. He turned to the others now. “All right, folks, one last gauntlet and we’re out.”

Gil looked apprehensive. “What, more monsters?”

Van shook his head. “Tourists.” He opened the door and a pulsing wave of sound boomed outwards. It was a driving polka beat that vibrated the floorboards and rattled the tableware. Gil and his party found themselves in another bierstube, but this one was brightly lit and hung with garish Jäger trophies and pictures that inevitably portrayed the Jägers as buffoons and dimwitted clowns.

The place was packed with tourists, drinking and dancing, along with teams of saucy girls barely dressed as Jägers.

Van put his mouth next to Gil’s ear. “This is the Mamma Gkika’s you’ve heard about,” he yelled.

Krosp had clapped his paws over his ears. “No wonder nobody can hear the Jägers fighting down there.”

Gil nodded. “Let’s get out of here. I have an idea, but we’ll have to move quickly and quietly.”

As he spoke, a meaty hand grasped his collar and hauled him up onto the stage. It was a large, drunken patron, who waved Gil around in the air and bellowed; “Hey look! It’s Gilgamesh Wulfenbach! The guy who saved the town!”

Immediately the hall erupted into cheers. Vanamonde sagged against the wall. “So much for quietly.”

Krosp shrugged. “So we’re doomed. Cope.”

“No, really, we’re doomed,” Moloch moaned. “No one’s ever been in this part of the Castle.”

“The map says to go this way,” Agatha said confidently.

“But the traps aren’t marked.”

Agatha nodded. “Then that pink harridan won’t follow us.”

“WRONG.” A ghastly voice echoed through the cavernous room they had been traversing. Moloch whimpered and hugged the tools tighter. The voice of the Castle continued, “This is very interesting. They want to kill you so much that they are killing each other.” It sounded amused. Then its tone became aggrieved: “Why is that? Don’t they know that killing all of you is my job?”

Agatha took a deep breath. Another personality fragment. This one, at least, sounded…different. More complex. “They want to kill me because I am the rightful Heterodyne, and the girl leading them is a usurper.”

“Oh, really?” The Castle was obviously interested now.

“Yes, really. I spoke to you in the crypt. You told me to get to the library.”

There was a pause. When it spoke again, the voice was thoughtful. “The Crypt? I don’t remember any crypt, but the library is where you should go…”

“I know you have trouble with your memories. You don’t control as much territory as you know you should. It’s one of the reasons I’m here to repair you. The other girl is a false Heterodyne. She wants to shut you down and kill me. The people after me are her minions.”

“Ah. That I understand.” This was followed by a snap and a scream from behind Agatha. She whirled and found Moloch stuck in a trapdoor in the floor, saved only by having wedged himself with the pack he had been carrying.

“He’s with me!” Agatha said, as she helped haul him up.

“Ah,” the Castle admonished. “Then you should have said, ‘the people after us.’ If you are a Heterodyne, you must remember that words are important.”

Moloch yanked his feet free just as the opening in the floor resealed itself. “I hate this place,” he gasped.

The Castle chuckled. It then made several helpful suggestions regarding where they should go and thereafter kept up a stream of idle, if slightly disturbing, chatter as they navigated the hallways. Agatha took the time to look around a bit. The damage to this part of the castle seemed superficial, though parts of the floor were slightly off-kilter.

Windows were cracked, furniture was tipped to the side, and there was a thick coat of dust everywhere. Cobwebs hung thick, and rotted drapery and tapestries hung from the walls. The air was thick and silent.

“It’s obvious no one’s come this way since the explosions,” Agatha muttered.

“Technically, that’s not true,” the Castle replied. “Master William visited the library before he left. He told me to guard it, that it was the most important room in the entire castle. But since then, you are correct.”

They turned a corner and saw a gigantic wooden door, labeled with tarnished brass letters that spelled out “BIBLIOTHECA.” To either side of the door stood a statue of a solid-looking young lady carrying an axe in one hand and a large lantern in the other. Evidently the artist had thought that these accoutrements were stylish enough that the ladies could skip any other semblance of clothing.

Agatha smiled. “Well, I appreciate you letting me get here so easily.” With that, the lanterns the statues carried began to glow along with their eyes, and with a grinding sound, the two statues turned their heads to look at them.

The Castle chuckled. “It will only be easy if you are an actual Heterodyne.”

The statue on the left hefted its axe. When it spoke, its voice was eerie and whispered. “One must die—”

The other statue continued smoothly, “—so another may pass.” The axes were lifted and the blades began shifting back and forth between Agatha and Moloch. The statue on the right whispered, “You must decide who must die—”

The statue on the left continued, “—so that one of you may pass.”

Moloch shrieked and dropped to his knees. Agatha thought furiously. “I choose…” Then she pointed to the statue on the right. “Her!”

Instantly, the blade of the left-hand statue flashed out and smashed the head of the other statue. Ceramic and clockwork exploded into fragments. The right-hand statue shuddered once and then slumped into stillness. The statue on the left then paused. “Wait a minute…”

Agatha nodded. “Excellent. That secures passage for my companion.” She indicated Moloch, who was staring at the smoking stature with an open mouth. She then stepped forward. “Do we have to play the same little game to secure my passage?”

The eyes of the statue flicked from Agatha, to the other statue, to Moloch, to the other statue, to its axe, to Agatha… and then it stepped back and the shaft of its axe slammed into place on the floor.

“Test passed!” it declared, and then its eyes went dark.

“Well,” Agatha said, “that was a lot easier than I thought it would be.”

Moloch shuddered. “The horrible thing is that I know you’re serious.” He then walked up to the large double doors. “So this is the library. How is this going to help? It’s just a bunch of stupid books.”

The Castle was clearly offended. “These books contain the secrets of the Heterodyne family.”

“What, like A Thousand and One Ways to Kill People?”

The Castle chuckled, “Oh, there’s far more than that.”

Agatha, meanwhile, had been tugging and pushing at the great brass and onyx handle with no success. “The door’s locked.”

The Castle paused. “The door is not locked.”

Moloch put down the supplies and gave the handle a twist. It clicked but nothing happened. He looked for hinges, and seeing none, gave a shove with his shoulder. The door shifted slightly.

“That’s your problem,” he announced. “I’ll bet the doorframe’s warped. The door is just stuck.”

“It always sticks a bit,” the Castle agreed.

Something about the way the Castle said this set off an alarm bell in Agatha’s mind. Nothing she could put her finger on, but…

“Stand back,” Moloch said, hunching his shoulders, “One good smack oughta do it.” He then launched himself at the door.

“Wait,” Agatha yelled. It couldn’t stop him, but Moloch did manage to check himself in mid-rush, which is why he grabbed hold of the great handle as the door burst open. This prevented him from sailing freely out into open space. It did not, however, prevent him from screaming.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” the Castle chuckled.

“There’s no library here!” Agatha looked down onto a rubble-strewn courtyard several stories down. “There’s nothing here at all!”

“Yes!” Von Zinzer yelled. “Lots of nothing! Help me!”

Agatha leaned out and managed to get a tenuous grip upon some of the door’s brasswork. She braced herself and slowly began to swing it closed with her fingertips. Finally Moloch got close enough that his feet could touch the stone sill and he lunged back inside, sprawling onto the floor and taking deep breaths. Agatha stared out at the open area.

“This is another test.” She waved her hand outwards. “The library is here, isn’t it?” “Very good,” the castle said approvingly. “The door you seek is right in front of you.”

Agatha stared out again and squinted. Nothing. Suddenly, her depth of focus shifted slightly and she saw, tucked into the far wall approximately fifty meters away, a small, unassuming opening. She pointed. “That’s it? Over there? What, am I supposed to fly to it?”

Again the Castle chuckled. Moloch pulled himself into as small a ball as possible. “Flying is not necessary. But I do insist on a leap of faith.”

Suddenly, there was a rattling of stone upon stone, and before Agatha’s astounded eyes, the rubble on the ground shifted, wobbled, and slowly floated upward. A vast cloud of bricks and paving stones drifted upwards, rotated in place for several seconds, and then condensed into a narrow, irregular path of stones that floated in mid-air between the two doorways.

There was a final “clink,” and the Castle spoke. “There. Our own little ‘Bridge of Trust.’ Anytime you are ready, ‘My Lady.’”

Moloch stared at the floating path in horror. “Ready to die, you mean. There is no way I’m going—”

“Correct.” The Castle was serious now. “The Heterodyne must enter alone.”

Agatha nodded. She pointed to Moloch. “Please don’t kill him while I’m gone.”

Moloch looked appalled. “Hold on—you’re not actually going, are you?”

Agatha took a deep breath. “Of course I am.” And she stepped out upon the pathway. She expected it to give slightly or to sway, but the stones beneath her feet were as solid as if they were resting upon rock. She had listened to enough of the stories that the circus’ aerialists had told around the fires at night to know not to look down, though this was proving difficult to adhere to. She took a step. Then another…and another after that. She was about to release the breath she had been holding, when a clunking sound caused her to freeze. She turned as quickly as she dared and looked back in time to see the stones that were positioned against the doorway begin to wobble and then fall, one by one, to the courtyard below. Slowly the disintegrating edge moved towards her.

Agatha sighed, turned back, and continued onward.

“You’re very trusting,” the Castle remarked.

“And you’re very annoying.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll drop you?”

“No.”

Now the Castle sounded peeved. “Why not? I could, you know.”

Agatha continued moving. “You’re like the people in Mechanicsburg, I think. You want a Heterodyne. You keep threatening to kill me, but you’re not sure, so you’re herding me towards the library where I might actually be able to repair you, if I am who I say I am.”

She took a deep breath and continued. “Besides, from how much fun you’re evidently having from these games, I imagine you’d be disappointed if I didn’t survive long enough to take whatever test there is to prove my legitimacy.”

“Games? I don’t know what—”

Agatha gestured downwards. “This path, for one. You could have easily made it three meters wide and as straight as a ruler.”

A note of embarrassment crept into the Castle’s voice. “Yes… well…”

“So, thank you.”

The Castle clearly hadn’t been expecting this. “For what?”

Agatha stepped off of the bridge and into the doorway. As she had surmised, a dark passage twisted off to the right and vanished into the darkness. “For getting me so annoyed that I didn’t have a chance to get scared or disoriented. You did that.”

The Castle was silent.

“Now no more games,” Agatha said.

Behind her the last of the stones pattered to the ground. “Agreed,” the Castle said. Then the floor opened beneath Agatha’s feet and she dropped out of sight.

A fall, a jolt, a disorienting slide in the darkness. With a cry of shocked surprise, Agatha crashed through a wooden lattice and landed upon the floor of a new room. She took a minute to catch her breath and rub at her painful hindquarters. “I thought I said—”

“SILENCE!” With the Castle’s roar, iron shutters slammed back, revealing a magnificent stained glass window. Through this, the afternoon sun washed the room with bright shades of red, yellow, and purple. Agatha stared.

The room was large and high ceilinged. Directly beneath the window was an unadorned altar of black stone. The walls and the ceiling were lined with bones. Human bones, inset and tessellated in patterns that caught the eye and always brought it back to the altar.

Agatha had heard of churches decorated like this, walls and furnishings supplied by victims of plague or war, but reading alone had failed to prepare her for the actual experience. She took a small step and almost fell over. The floor was paved with skulls.

“This is no longer a game,” the Castle said. “This is where you will prove your claim, or where you will die.

“Over the centuries, there have been other times when my masters have gone missing. You are not the first stranger who has come to me claiming the family name. Sometimes they strode in leading armies. Sometimes they skulked in on moonless nights. One flew in on wings made of bone and brass. All claimed to be lost Heterodynes, and all found their way here to this room to be tested.

“Sometimes they were delusional. Sometimes they were…false men. Puppet things of shadow and dead meat. Sometimes they were simply…honestly…wrong. They never left.

“Now it is your turn. Take comfort in knowing that if you fail, there will still be a place for you here, forever.”

Agatha took a deep breath. “Then let’s get started.”

A rumble emanated from beneath her feet. The vibrations swelled until the room shook and Agatha lost her footing, landing atop the pavement of juddering skulls. Before her, the floor bulged upwards. Skulls rolled off, bouncing away as a vast mechanical claw thrust its way up into the light. Another appeared. They bent, and slammed into the ground, levering a vast serpent-like form up from the depths. Corroded brass covered by cracked dials writhed upwards. Agatha could see furnaces glowing within the thing’s structure. A great head shot upwards, paused as it reached the ceiling, and then swung down towards Agatha.

As opposed to the utilitarian gears, springs, and dials of the rest of the mechanism, the face had actually been sculpted. It took the form of an enormous gargoyle—all fangs and spines. Nervous as she was, Agatha had to admire the workmanship that went into its creation—it actually seemed to change its expression as it hovered less than a meter from her.

“Yes,” mocked the Castle’s voice. “Do let us get started.” The gargoyle’s great jaws, easily two meters wide, split open in a great gap-toothed grin. “Place your hand in the mouth.”

Agatha stared into the dark recess. There were…things moving in there.

“…And?”

The mouth drifted open even wider. “And if you are of the family, I will know.”

Agatha squared her shoulders and slipped her left glove off before gingerly inserting her hand between the great teeth. “I am a Heterodyne,” she declared. The mouth gently closed down, trapping her hand. “I…I know I am,” Agatha said gamely. “How will you know?”

The eyes widened innocently. “Blood.”

Agatha had steeled herself for pain, but she screamed nonetheless.

Gilgamesh Wulfenbach gritted his teeth as he felt Krosp climbing up his back. The cat had evidently decided that he liked the height that Gil’s shoulder provided, and Gil (correctly) assumed that the pain and inconvenience this gave him was considered a bonus.

Krosp dipped his head so his whiskers were tickling Gil’s ears. “So,” he said—one eye on the road ahead, “just for laughs, you wanna share what this great plan of yours was?”

Gil brushed a whisker away. “To quietly find my father and explain the situation.” Krosp gave a snort. “And if that didn’t work, drug him into insensibility until I could sort things out.”

Krosp raised an eyebrow. “His doctor would allow this?”

Gil snorted. “If your reports about what my father is doing are correct? Dr. Sun would hand me the syringe.”

Krosp considered this. “That’s…not a bad plan.”

Gil shrugged. “Thank you.”

Krosp looked around at the huge crowd of revelers that seethed around them, yelling, cheering, playing musical instruments, and chanting various slogans as they stumbled towards the Great Hospital. “Got another? Preferably one that instead of stealth, involves half the town?”

Gil nodded seriously. “I’m working on it.”

The appearance of an apparently genuine Heterodyne had brought forth a tremendous wellspring of excitement and jubilation in the populace of Mechanicsburg. This was only slightly dampened by the fact that no one was sure which Heterodyne girl was the genuine article and both of them were still in the Castle, but it was the considered opinion of the populace that the real Heterodyne would shortly appear, preferably with the fake’s head on a pike.

Once Gil had been identified by the denizens of the tavern, he had quickly become the focus of all the pent-up bonhomie and Spark-associated goodwill.

Thus wherever he went, he was accompanied by an ever-growing crowd of boisterous well-wishers.

He found this very odd as usually whenever people in general discovered a person was a Spark, the crowd tended to run in the other direction.

He shook his head. This is Mechanicsburg, he reminded himself.

Riding above the crowd, Krosp noticed a snail-seller pause. The man began looking around wildly. Krosp sniffed. Was that coal gas?

With a roar, a column of flame erupted from the nearest lamppost, sending the snail-seller stumbling back until he collided with his cart.

The crowd screamed. Some in fear, some in delight. This only intensified as, one by one, other lampposts also burst into flame. Soon every street was lined with brightly burning posts.

Gil stared. “This is no ordinary gas leak! What—” He turned back to his companions, and saw the look on Vanamonde’s face. He grabbed the man’s coat and dragged him closer. “Von Mekkhan! You know what this is?”

Van’s eyes looked like they had seen something impossible. “The Lady Heterodyne,” he said, gesturing at the lamps. “She must have woken something. The town is… is beginning to defend itself.”

Gil looked at him blankly. “Defend itself from what?”

Aboard the pink airship serenely drifting above Bill and Barry Square, things were quiet. The lights had been dimmed to night-watch levels. The only oddity a seasoned flyer would have noticed would have been gleaned from the gauges and dials themselves, which revealed that the batteries and boilers were still operating at full strength. Usually at night they would have been switched off and set to standby mode.

Captain Abelard grimaced as he checked his instruments for the hundredth time that day. An airman learned that as far as airships were concerned, less was better. This naturally led to an abhorrence of waste and the thought of fuel being burned while the ship simply hovered gnawed at him. The only balm was the agonized grousing of Duke Strinbeck, who was apparently the man paying for it all.

The captain glanced over at the man responsible for this “wasteful extravagance” and sighed. Kraddock was a damn fine wheelman and no mistake, but right now he looked like a middie who’d been given the wheel for the first time and told, in strict confidence, that the only reason the ship stayed up was because the wheelmen kept telling themselves that they were really birds.

The thought brought a touch of a smile to the captain’s mouth. He’d always loved that one. But not here. Not now.

The second mate came onto the bridge. Shift change already? Indeed it was. Lieutenant Waroon activated the shipboard intercom and deliberately rang the ship’s bell twice, paused, and then once again. “Three Bells,” he announced. “Stand down for the Night Crew!”

The Night Crew, who, as tradition demanded, had stood off the bridge until it was their time, entered and went through the official turnover procedure.

Captain Abelard ran a tight ship, but a happy one, and so the crew felt free to chat briefly, not that there was much to report. As Ensign Stross reported to his replacement, “Dead simple and boring all the way, Mate.”

But, as the captain had expected, there was trouble with Kraddock. His replacement stood by and requested the wheel but the old man refused to relinquish control.

Abelard sighed. It happened sometimes. “Airman’s Grip” they called it, when, for whatever reason, a crewman latched ahold of something and simply refused to let go, convinced that if they did something terrible would happen.

It usually was the signal that an airshipman was ready to settle down and leave the air. The captain shook his head. He’d have never in a million years have thought that would happen to an old cloudnuzzler like Kraddock.

He stepped over, and spoke in a low, but firm voice. “Hey, old timer, shift’s over.”

Kraddock turned and saluted sharp enough, but his face was enough to cause the captain to draw in a quick breath. The wheelman was sweating like a ballast tank and his eyes looked like a pair of bloodshot boiled eggs. The captain wondered if he had blinked in the last several hours.

“Something is wrong, Captain,” the old man said. “I can feel it.”

Sturgeon, the other wheelman, rolled his eyes. “Patch the gas leak on him, will you, sir?” he appealed to the captain. “He’s been like this all day.”

“And don’t I know it. Ensign Kraddock, you are relieved—”

He was interrupted by one of the spotters. “Captain! Fire on the ground!”

The captain paused. “Let me see.”

The spotter pointed to a small park near the castle. Sure enough, it appeared that one of the lampposts was on fire. Odd.

The captain nodded. “Very good, Mr. Owlswick. Helio the coordinates to the town watch and—”

“No!”

The bridge crew turned as one man and stared at Duke Strinbeck as he stepped onto the bridge. Captain Abelard took a deep breath. Now what? “Your Grace?”

The Duke crossed his arms. “No communication with the town until Oublenmach gives the order. Were we unclear?”

The captain frowned. “But, your Grace, fire spotting is one of an airman’s sacred duties.”

The Duke waved a hand dismissively. “I am your employer, and I don’t give a bent gear about your ‘sacred duties.’ You will—”

“Another fire!” This time it was the starboard spotter.

Both the captain and the Duke paused.

“And another!” This time it was the navigator, peering out the windows.

“Two more over here!”

Mr. Owlswick gasped. “I don’t believe it! Sir! There’s dozens of them! Everywhere!”

“GET US OUT OF HERE!” Kraddock’s shriek caused everyone to leap into the air. “NOW!”

So frantic was the man that two of the bridge crew grabbed him as he tried to head towards the captain. “He’s gone mad!” one of them shouted.

Kraddock ignored them and addressed the captain, desperation in his voice. “Captain! Get us up! Get us out of Mechanicsburg airspace!” Kraddock’s hand, dragging one of the men holding him, pointed towards the ground, where hundreds of sparks could now be seen below. “It’s the Torchmen!”

Captain Abelard drew in a sharp breath as the old stories roared through his mind, but before he could say anything there was the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. Silence fell instantly. The Duke pointed his weapon at Kraddock. “I will shoot any man who tries to move this ship,” he said coldly.

Fury filled Captain Abelard. “Get that gun off of my bridge,” he roared, shaking a fist.

Strinbeck stared back. “Don’t touch me. We stay here!”

This galvanized Kraddock, who again began to thrash against the men holding him. “Take us up!” he screamed. “We’ll all die!”

Strinbeck’s eyes narrowed and he placed the barrel against Kraddock’s temple. “You will die now unless you shut up.”

“And don’t threaten my crew,” the captain snarled.

The two glared at each other. The pause was broken by Mr. Owlswick’s shout. “Captain! The fires! They…Sir, they’re moving!”

Captain Abelard froze. “It is the torchmen,” he breathed.

Strinbeck rolled his eyes. “I don’t like your tone, hireling.”

Captain Abelard had seen military action, fought hand-to-hand against pirates, and was once the last man standing at the end of a glorious fight at Montgolfier’s Rest—the notorious airshipman’s bar in Paris—but the punch that he landed upon Strinbeck’s jaw was the most satisfying one he had ever thrown. The aristocrat went down like a cut sandbag and crashed to the deck, motionless.

“That’s Captain to you,” Abelard snarled. Then he grabbed the intercom. “All hands,” he roared. “Dump all ballast! Emergency climb! Engines ahead full! We are birds! Fly for your lives!”

Immediately the report came back. “Ballast dropped, sir!” They could feel it in their guts when the ship lurched beneath their feet.

The bridge crew took over.

“Engines to speed.”

“All hands rig for pressure loss!”

“Full speed ahead, Mr. Ajayi. What’s our bearing?”

“Due North, sir.

“Due North it is.”

Below, over a thousand fires burned. At the heart of each fire, a decorative gargoyle—one atop each of the town’s lampposts—shivered and swiveled its head upward, seeking until it found the rapidly climbing airship.

There was a great cracking sound across the town, and the burning figures stood atop their posts. There was another great snapping and hundreds of sets of flaming wings extended. They reached down in unison and, grasping the center light globe, drew it forth, revealing a long, steel lance. As one, they all pointed their lances at the little airship and launched themselves upwards.

Aboard the airship, the great flaming swarm of torchmen could be seen coalescing above the town and heading towards them in a tight spiral.

“They’re coming right at us!” Mr. Owlswick shouted.

“Engine’s in the yellow,” the engineer reported.

The captain stared at the advancing wave. He didn’t like what the trigonometry was telling him. He again grabbed the intercom.

“All hands! This is an Emergency Dump! Food! Fuel! Ammo! Everything!”

The bridge crew looked shocked. This was a desperate measure indeed. Reserved for those situations where every gram made a difference in weight and speed.

Behind him, Kraddock, now a model of professionalism, smacked the back of both wheelmen’s heads. “Hold your wheels!”

Hands that had gone lax snapped back to true North. One of the newer wheelmen, called out: “Kraddock! You know about these things. How far will they follow us?”

The old man’s eyes went distant. “If you’d live to see the end of day, from Mechanicsburg you’ll two leagues stay.”

Silverstein looked lost. “Two leagues? Um…whose leagues?”⁴⁶ He thought again. “And what’s that in kilometers?”

Kraddock stared at him. “How the freefalling hell should I know,” he roared. “We just stayed away from the damned place!”

Lieutenant Lorquis removed a set of earphones. “Sir! Chief says that he’s dumped everything but the bag!”

Mr. Owlswick piped up. “They’re still gaining, sir.”

The captain thumped a fist down on a bulkhead. “Blast! There’s got to be something we can toss!”

“You scum!” The voice caught everyone by surprise. It was Duke Strinbeck. He had pulled himself up to a sitting position. “You dare to strike my royal personage? I’ll have every member of your crew flayed alive! I’ll see to it that you never collect a pfennig of your pensions! You’ll never fly again!”

Lieutenant Lorquis exchanged a glance with the captain. Occasionally, problems solved themselves.

Less than a minute later, the two men returned to the bridge. Lorquis ran his tongue over a split lip. The captain fussed at a lost button.

“That did it, sir,” Mr. Owlswick sang out. “We’re pulling ahead.”

This announcement fell flat. The rest of the bridge crew was tense and silent. Lorquis took a deep breath. “So, uh, Captain…we pirates now?”

The captain froze, and then deliberately stood tall and brushed off his coat. “No. He didn’t count. I’ll log him in as ‘Lost Due to Own Stupidity.’”⁴⁷

The lieutenant and the rest of the crew relaxed. “Just checking, sir!”

The navigator called out, “Heading, Captain?”

Ah, now that was a question. Captain Abelard had had a belly-full of these conspirators, but they were powerful, there was no denying that. He had to think carefully about what came next. Or so he believed.

“Whoa!” That was Van Loon, one of the wheelmen. “Captain! Clouds moving in fast out of the West! I’ve never seen—”

“Wait.” Kraddock gasped. “Hard to starboard!”

The wheels spun and the bridge crew was suddenly blinded as they were caught in a web of searchlight beams. Castle Wulfenbach’s spotters had seen them and now the enormous grey expanse of dirigible loomed before them. Apparently Castle Wulfenbach had been running dark, but now decided that this was pointless. Thousands of lights burst forth from the structures covering her hull, making it appear as if a flying city were bearing down upon them.

“Captain! We can’t let them delay us! The torchmen are still following us.” It was the new kid who suggested it. “If we slide around ’em, then the torchmen will go after them, and we can—”

Kraddock’s fist slammed into the kid’s jaw, and the other airmen nodded grim approval. Sometimes airmen fought other airmen, it was true, but that was under orders or for similarly good reasons. Until then, you were all part of the Brotherhood of the Skies.

“Heliographs,” Captain Abelard roared. “Signal flares! Sound the sirens! Warn them what’s coming and tell them we offer all aid and assistance!” He then grinned at his crew. “And I’ll bet that’s the first time anyone’s said that to the flyin’ whale.”

The crew chuckled as Captain Abelard gazed back at the onrushing wave of flaming death. And I’ll also bet they’ll take it, he thought.

On the ground below the crowd oooh’d and ahh’d as the torchmen rose after the rapidly departing dirigible. A few tasteless people were noisily taking bets as to whether or not the craft would escape.

Gil heard Vanamonde sigh with pleasure. The young man was staring upwards, possessive pride radiating from him like a beacon. He saw Gil looking at him and he pointed upwards. “Look at them! Still operative after all these years!”

Yes, Gil thought to himself. Father will be annoyed that he missed that.

Van continued, “Back then, ‘Made in Mechanicsburg’ really meant something!”

Gil pondered this as he stared upwards. Something about the patterns of the flying looked…off to him. “If I remember correctly, it usually meant ‘death and destruction.’”

Van shrugged. “That’s still something.”

The meaning of what he was seeing became clear, and Gil gasped as a dozen flaming machines smashed to earth. Instantly, Van was all business. “Fire fighters,” he shouted. “To your stations!” His voice seemed to break the spell and dozens of locals threw down their drinks and raced off into the night.

Van frowned as a few more of the torchmen hit the ground.

“I don’t understand,” Krosp muttered. “That airship isn’t shooting at them.”

Van looked embarrassed. “They haven’t been properly maintained. Not since the Castle was damaged. Since the Baron took over, we haven’t even dared test them.”

“And yet she still got them running.” The admiration and excitement was obvious in Gil’s voice. “She’s amazing. Together we will—”

Krosp batted at his ear. “Focus! We’ve got a problem!”

Everyone gasped. The Castle Wulfenbach airship had now appeared from out of the clouds. It was clear even from the ground that it was the torchmen’s new focus, and—unlike the tiny pink dirigible—the capital of the Empire was equipped to fight back.

Almost as one, a hundred anti-aircraft guns flashed. Several seconds later, the sound of the fusillade reached the people on the ground, rolling over them like a continuous roar of thunder. Dozens of torchmen exploded into burning fragments. Now the hundreds of smaller support ships that traveled with the behemoth airship could be seen, and they also began firing. Unfortunately, their presence complicated the battle. The compact group of torchmen broke apart and spread out. Weaving and ducking amidst the flock of ships attacking them, grazing envelopes, igniting gondolas, leaving trails of burning devastation behind them, they made it almost impossible for the Wulfenbach ships to fire on them without hitting their own allies.

Before long, several of the smaller ships could be seen bursting into flame and spiraling down to the ground. Luckily, it appeared that all of them would fall to earth outside the city limits.

Gil stared upwards, aghast. “This will complicate things. My father is already convinced that she’s a threat, but I don’t think he’d considered her effect upon Mechanicsburg itself. There’s no way he’ll listen to me now.”

Krosp sounded worried. “So what can we do?”

Gil nodded. “I do have an idea,” he admitted, “but it’s a bit desperate.” He signaled to the others and then took off in a slightly different direction. “The only uncertainty,” he muttered, “revolves around just how much my father actually cares about my physical well-being.”

They rounded a corner and Gil gasped as Krosp’s claws sank into his head. Behind him, the remnant of the crowd that had kept up shuddered into silence and began skidding to a halt at the sight before them.

A full squad of Wulfenbach troops filled the street: two dozen troopers armed with rifles, their bayonets glittering in the light from the surrounding fires. Three of the tall brass trooper clanks, armed with machine-cannons, loomed behind them. Bringing up the rear was a gigantic green-furred monstrosity wearing a set of goggles and a tall plumed hat.

At the head of this assemblage was Captain Vole. When he caught sight of Gil, his mouth split open in a fang-filled grin. He pointed dramatically at Gil’s chest with a clawed finger. “Hokay, brat! Hy haff been charged by hyu poppa mit collectink hyu, end escortink hyu beck to Castle Wulfenbach, vere hyu vill be safe!

“Hy haff been also told dot Hy ken beats der schtuffinks out uv hyu if hyu giffs me teeny veeniest problem. Hyu gots dot?”

Gil turned to Krosp, Zeetha, and the others. A small tear trickled from his eye. “He really does care. This is perfect!”

Krosp flattened his ears. “How is this perfect?”

Gil spoke rapidly. He could feel the blood coursing through his head. It was perfect! It would work! And he could help Agatha… “Here’s the plan. I’ll escape from this fool and then let everyone see me entering the castle!”

Krosp’s jaw dropped. “Are you crazy?”

Vole nodded matter-of-factly. “Yez! He iz in de madness place! He iz capable uf ennyting!” He turned to the green behemoth. “Sergeant! Take him out qvikly!”

“Yes, this will work,” Gil said with confidence, his voice rising with the excitement of a Spark working on a new scheme. “My father probably won’t destroy the castle once he knows I’m inside! At least, not right away—OW!”

He turned to Krosp, who had dropped to the ground and was furiously scrubbing away at his mouth. “You bit me.”

“We’re about to get shot,” the cat screamed. “Exactly how are we escaping?”

Gil looked up and saw the business end of two dozen rifles. “Stun rounds only,” the green behemoth shouted. “Or I will personally eat your ears!”

Gil’s face went blank. He’d been busy thinking about Agatha and Castle Heterodyne. Getting captured wasn’t the part of the plan…“Oh. Um…”

And then he disappeared.

Moloch von Zinzer leaned against the faux doorframe and idly watched the fireworks taking place overhead, munching away at some dried apples that he’d stowed in a pocket of his apron.

Suddenly, a brick sailed up out of the darkness and smacked into the doorsill at his feet, causing him to jump. More followed. Dozens, hundreds of them, flying through space and creating an intricate latticework structure that quickly resolved itself into a beautiful, ornate bridge that curved out of the darkness.

Moloch nodded to himself. He wasn’t surprised when, several moments later, Agatha came striding across the bridge. “So, you got the job, then?”

Agatha grinned. “Oh, yes.”

A glint of red caught Moloch’s eye and he saw that there was a deep cut on the back of Agatha’s hand.

“You’re bleeding! What happened?”

Agatha rolled her eyes as Moloch pulled a roll of bandages out of one of his pockets. “Let’s just say that somewhere in this place there’s a dial marked ‘high drama’ and it needs to be turned way down.”

Moloch nodded as he expertly wrapped her hand and tied the bandage off.⁴⁸ “Probably next to the one marked ‘Crazy.’”

“I like to think I have a certain flair,” the Castle remarked.

Moloch only jumped a little, then snorted. He turned back to Agatha. “I’ll bet. So now you’re the queen and we’re not gonna die, right?” From his tone of voice, it was obvious he expected to be corrected.

The Castle obliged him. “Not quite.”

“It’s not that easy,” Agatha agreed. “The Castle’s intelligence is fragmented, remember? As of now, I’ll only be recognized as the Heterodyne in areas that are subordinate to this fragment. Anywhere else, we’ll still be in danger. I need to reconnect the whole system to get it working properly. For that, I need to know where the damage is, so I still have to get to the library for that map.”

Moloch pondered this. “I thought you just went to the library.” Agatha shrugged.

Moloch slumped, but didn’t look surprised. “Hmm…well, the part of the Castle that controls the library is the one that sent you here, right? So it won’t try to kill us…”

“Probably,” said the Castle. It sounded a bit pleased with itself.

“Good point,” said Moloch, thinking hard. “And this one knows you, now, so that’s two relatively safe places.”

Agatha brightened. “That’s true. And as I repair the fragmentation, we’ll gain more and more ground. We’ll have Pinky and her thugs out of here in no time! And when I’ve got the whole thing running, the Baron will have to talk to me. Maybe I can finally convince him that I’m not a threat.”

Moloch goggled at her. “Not a threat?” he asked incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“Well, of course. I don’t want any more trouble with him.”

“I don’t think he’s gonna believe that.” He glanced upwards. “I think he’s gonna be pretty mad, actually.”

“Mad? Mad about what?” She thought for a minute, and a nasty suspicion grew to a certainty. Agatha addressed the Castle. “What did you do?!”

Moloch was looking at the sky and Agatha followed his gaze.

In the Northern sky, Castle Wulfenbach was fighting for its life. Patches of the great airship were burning. Squads of firefighter dirigibles hovered nearby, pumping streams of water and carbon dioxide foam, even while they themselves were trying to fight off attackers. Hundreds of torchmen still swooped and darted throughout the fleet, wreaking havoc indiscriminately. The flares and explosions were reflected off of the growing cloud of smoke that filled the night sky.

Castle Wulfenbach was already moving off as quickly as possible, but speed had never been part of its design specifications.

“I only did what you told me to do,” the Castle responded, in a hurt tone of voice.

“You’re attacking Castle Wulfenbach?!” Agatha screamed. I did NOT tell you to do that!”

“Of course you did.”

The pain in her hand receded quickly as the great ivory jaws relaxed. “Welcome home, my lady,” the Castle said, a tone of deference and relief in its voice. “How may I serve you?”

Agatha spared a moment to look at the injury on her hand. Apparently the Castle had been able to examine her blood and from that had determined that she was a legitimate member of the family. Fascinating.

She looked up. “So—that’s it? I’m the Heterodyne now?”

“That appears to be so. Yes.”

“I guess I expected something a bit more…I don’t know…dramatic.” She paused as she realized what she was talking to. “Not that I’m complaining, mind.”

“Yes, well,” the Castle conceded, “ordinarily, when a new Heterodyne assumes control of the town, the Doom Bell rings, there’s a quaint little ceremony in the Red Cathedral, the populace parades about singing folk songs, and the princes of Europa offer you tribute and beg you not to plunder their lands.”

Agatha nodded. “Sounds nice, but I don’t think we have the time—”

The Castle interrupted. “But right now, I can’t even kill the usurper for you! I am broken! She isn’t even in an area where I can perceive her. Forgive me!”

“Uh—I don’t think you need to kill her.”

“YES I DO!”

Agatha sighed. “No, you don’t. Just keep her away from me. If she comes where you can get her, just try to contain her. Once you’re fully repaired, she won’t be much of a threat anyway. Seriously, I just wish I could chase her stupid pink airship out of here—

“Really?” the Castle interrupted eagerly. “I can do that. I can keep all your enemies out of Mechanicsburg airspace.”

Agatha nodded. “There you go! That would make me very happy!”

“It is an enemy airship in Mechanicsburg airspace. I am merely following your wishes,” the Castle continued.

Agatha realized that her mouth was hanging open and closed it with a snap. “I’m going to have to think carefully about everything I say to you, aren’t I?”

“It will be fun!”

“I’ll bet.” Agatha stared up at the fire in the sky and frowned. “All right then…Don’t kill anyone. Don’t do too much damage. But…do keep harassing them until they’re…hmm…ten kilometers outside of town.”

“I believe tradition calls for two leagues.”

“What’s that in kilometers?”

“Ah…Let me get back to you on that.”

“What are you doing?” Moloch asked, scandalized. “The Baron…”

“Has his flagship looming over my town.” Agatha stood straighter and a new note entered her voice. “In its heyday, Mechanicsburg was an unbelievably strong fortress. It was one of the reasons the Heterodynes answered to no one. The whole point of repairing the Castle is to reestablish that strength. Clearing the skies is as good a start as any.”

“You…” The Castle sounded surprised. “You’re not angry?”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “Did you want me to be?”

“No, Mistress, but…” and here the voice echoed hollowly, “your father and your uncle…nothing I did ever seemed to please them.”

A number of thoughts tumbled through Agatha’s head. First, there was a burst of sympathy for the Castle, a warped intelligence, certainly, but it had remained true, in its way. It was its masters that had changed, changed to the point where it could no longer please them, to the point where they had apparently abandoned it, and it couldn’t even understand why. There followed the worrying realization that she had already developed a strange fondness for the thing. Apparently she was nowhere near as intolerant of evil as her father and uncle had reportedly been. She would have to watch that.

“No,” she said gently. “I am pleased. You did good.”

“Good.” The Castle considered this. “Ah…Perhaps you could phrase it…some other way?”

Yes, Agatha realized, patting a wall, this place was going to be a real “fixer-upper.”

_______________

⁴² Sun Ming Daiyu. MD, PhD. Granddaughter of Dr. Sun. Daughter of the Wulfenbach ambassador to the Court of China. She was raised with Gilgamesh aboard Castle Wulfenbach, where she met Agatha. While not a Spark herself at this time, she was one of those on the short list of people expected to break through at any time.

⁴³ Experience showed that the two were closely interconnected.

⁴⁴ The city of Paris is famous, amongst those who are interested in such things, for its elaborate sewer system. There are also an extensive series of catacombs, quite a number of hidden vaults, a few natural caverns, some subterranean rivers, a thriving ecosystem, and at least one hidden civilization, along with two known enclaves of thieves, one of which runs a famous black market and the other the smugglers’ railroad, all of which is ruled by the Shadow Court. Frankly, it’s a wonder that any people are left to wander the streets above ground.

⁴⁵ Back when they called it “Mad Alchemy,” the creation of dragons was actually fairly popular. There were any number of towns and kingdoms that wanted them as protectors, or mascots, the most famous being the City of London. Inevitably, however, being long-lived, frugal creatures, they tended to amass hoards, which people tended to want to steal from them. Thus, most of the dragons were wiped out. The few remaining alchemists who could create them were annoyed at this and started creating dragons that were much, much harder to kill. But “harder” is not the same as “unkillable,” and after a dragon was finally killed, the knights went after the smart-ass alchemist that made it. And even a philosopher stone that granted immortality did not grant protection from a meter or so of Toledo steel. And thus the secret of making dragons was presumed lost. This is technically untrue, as apparently the real secret to viable, successful dragons was never found, which was: make them philanthropists.

⁴⁶ A legitimate question. Before the Baron enforced the adoption of the metric system, local units of measurement were based on systems designed by such diverse sources as the Romans, Charlemagne, Moorish Spain, the Bible, Greek mathematics, how many steps it took a man to find enlightenment divided by his love of a good woman, and the size of assorted potentates’ feet. However everyone insisted on using the same names. Thus depending on where you were in Europa, a “foot” could be anything from fifteen centimeters to fifty, and it just got worse from there. Especially if you were a cobbler.

⁴⁷ A notation that appeared all too often regarding new airmen. It also tended to close the ledgers on suicides, thieves, crooked gamblers, and practical jokers. It says something that when this verdict was eventually delivered to Duke Strinbeck’s next of kin, none thought to question it.

⁴⁸ The status of minions is a tricky thing. It is calibrated, by those whose job it is to do so, using a complicated algorithm involving aspects of loyalty, coercion, and flammability. Experts agree that by being the first to spontaneously aid the new Heterodyne, Herr von Zinzer cemented his place as Agatha’s Chief Minion. No one has ever had the heart to tell him this.