Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

CHAPTER 8

After Faustus Heterodyne finished his Great Work, the waters of the river Dyne ran clean—at least beyond Mechanicsburg’s famous “mouth of the Dyne” sculpture through which it leaves Castle Heterodyne and falls to the base of the pinnacle from which it springs. Previously, the waters had been possessed of unusual and generally poisonous properties and had wound through the landscape, killing or mutating man and beast alike.

Once the waters of the Dyne were cleansed and the Castle and its defenses improved, the Heterodyne began the task of fully establishing his town.

Faustus liked the idea of ruling his own city, but—aside from his own band of reavers, the occasional oppressed servant, and the extremely odd camp followers that favored his men—the area was sorely lacking in people. The Heterodyne was forced to create a thriving population from next to nothing. He threw himself into the challenge with a will.

From that point on, across Europa and Asia, indeed, wherever he raided, Faustus was seen consulting what his men jovially called “The Master’s Shopping List.” But it was not a list of stores, treasure, or materials—it was a list of people.

Like a hausfrau at market, the Master of Castle Heterodyne browsed the World and carefully selected farmers, carpenters, engineers, stonemasons, and a half a hundred other professions, all lured or looted to populate the town that was to become Mechanicsburg.

As a result, while there are many other adjectives that can be used to describe the Heterodyne’s creation, the first and foremost one must be cosmopolitan.

—Mechanicsburg: Economic Principles of a Town That Should Not Work by Professor Isaac Horowitz/ Transylvania Polygnostic University Press

Agatha had set out by herself, following the Castle’s directions, and she now found herself toiling up a tilted floor. There were cracks throughout the stonework. She climbed upward gingerly as the cracks became wider. The Castle had assured her that this broken hallway was the quickest, safest way to Gil—but it had been quiet for a while, now. She wondered just how much perverse amusement it was getting from watching her clamber around, puffing with effort. She briefly considered turning back and demanding another, easier route. Then she realized that it could probably always find someplace worse—and more entertaining—to send her.

As she pulled herself to the top of the incline, she realized that she was now standing upon a giant saw-toothed gear. Faintly gleaming in the darkness around her, she saw several more, equally large. Agatha marveled at the sight. She again moved forward, but carefully. She didn’t want to damage anything else.

The Castle broke in on her thoughts with a wracking, metallic cough. “Oh, now this is interesting. I really do have to thank your young man, my Lady. I can now observe several areas formerly closed to me.” It made a sound remarkably like a fussy professor clucking his tongue. “I really do need dusting.”

“What about Gil?” Agatha felt a flash of annoyance at the eagerness she heard in her own voice.

“Ah. He is with our imposter.”

“That pink fake? What’s he doing with her?!”

Gil slammed a hand down on a countertop. “You shot him in cold blood!”

“I’m the Heterodyne,” Zola said in a low, furious voice. She glanced at the prisoners. “People have expectations. I had to!”

“Had to? You didn’t even hesitate!”

The Castle paused, processing the conversation. “He is complimenting her.”

Agatha felt a pang in her heart. “Really?”

Zola stomped her heel and leaned in. “If I show weakness, these scum will defy me!”

Gil shook his head. “But you didn’t even try anything else.”

Zola rubbed her temples. “I’m not as clever as you,” she muttered, “and I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Generally, shooting people is the last resort!”

“He is impressed with the way she does things,” the Castle said. Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “And she thinks that he is clever,” the Castle continued, helpfully.

“For a normal person, yes! These people are animals! They have to fear us, or else they’ll turn on us!”

“Of course they will!” Gil’s voice was sarcastic. “So how about we just shoot them all now and get it over with? Then we can build a nice doomsday device and wipe out all of Europa!”

“He has asked her out on a date.”

Agatha took a slow, deep breath. “I see.” She blew a lock of hair away from her eyes. “Well, I don’t care what he’s getting up to with the sugarplum airship princess. He can jolly well put it on hold until he’s had a look at Tarvek.” She kicked a fragment of rubble that lay at her feet—hard enough to send it smashing through a nearby window. It seemed to activate something. A warped wooden wall panel juddered aside and a large clank, armed with a rusty polearm, swiveled towards her.

“Die!” it rasped.

An instant later, its head and most of its torso boiled away into super-heated vapor. “I never said he was my boyfriend,” Agatha snarled as she stomped past. “That’s just what the rest of Europa seems to have decided!”

“Er…My Lady—” The Castle sounded slightly worried.

Agatha ignored it. “After all, let’s not forget why I’m risking my neck trying to find the idiot. I’ve already got a perfectly good ‘suitor’ on the slab—assuming I can keep the treacherous, duplicitous weasel alive!”

A faint sound came from above. Agatha kept walking—she merely raised her weapon and pulled the trigger. The rain of javelins directly above her exploded into a metallic mist along with an entire section of ceiling, upper stories, and roof, as the rest thudded to earth around her.

“Of course, my Lady, but…”

“And you know what really gets me angry?”

“Er…”

“I actually do like Tarvek. I mean, I can’t trust him, but that doesn’t mean I want him to die.” She paused. “Or even stay that weird color.”

The Castle tried again: “Ooh, but could you just—”

She came to the end of the hallway and glanced at the giant door before her. Agatha saw an intricate locking mechanism connected to a series of copper dials cunningly inscribed with alchemical symbols. She frowned.

“Behold!” a voice boomed. “The Puzzle of the Philosopher’s Conscience. If you can—”

Agatha raised her gun and a hole three meters in diameter burned into existence, its edges glowing red. She stepped through it.

“And the really annoying thing is that even if you completely misinterpreted the situation—which I wouldn’t put past you, by the way—Gil has still managed to get himself tangled up with Miss Pinkie Psycho Pants. He’s such an idiot! It’s just a good thing one of us has a death ray!”

Agatha glared around and seemed a bit put out at the lack of further obstacles to incinerate.

“Yes, my lady!” the Castle spoke quickly now: “It is indeed a lovely death ray! But… could you perhaps lower the power just a little more?”

Agatha made a moue of disappointment. “Aw, but I already turned it way down.”

“Which is probably the only reason I am still standing.” When it spoke again, there was an odd quality to its voice. “Er…Please?”

I’ve scared it, Agatha realized. A feeling of guilt swept through her. She knew she was being unreasonable, and the thought aggravated her more. “All right. Fine. I’ll turn it down. Anyway, it’s not like we can’t rebuild everything when—”

“Oh dear.”

“What? Am I about to be amusingly dumped into lava or something? Because at this point—”

“No, my lady, it is the Imposter. She is now showing your young man the device with which she intends to shut me down.”

Agatha gasped. “Oh no. Already?”

The Castle paused. There was a slight gloat in its voice when it spoke again. “Ah. It seems they are missing some essential parts. Good. But…do act quickly.” It paused. “Also, please be careful, you are about to leave the area under my direct control.”

Agatha swiveled about and stared back at the corridor she had just come through. “I thought I already had! What were all those traps about, then?”

“My apologies. But many of the more sophisticated traps currently have minds of their own. I do not control them.”

The Castle’s unconcerned attitude was not helping Agatha’s mood.

“Tch. When I get around to redesigning you, it’ll be with a hammer.” She sighed. “So, what am I heading into now, then? More of the same?”

“Oh, dear, no. It’s much worse from here.”

“Lovely. It’s not more of those fun-sized tiger things, is it?”

“Oh, yes. There’s one of those directly ahead of you, as a matter of fact—” Agatha stopped dead. The Castle continued, “but it has been incapacitated.”

Warily, Agatha peeked around the doorway. The hulk of one of the fearsome mechanisms was stretched out on the floor before her. Its carapace gleamed in the light that poured in through tall stained glass windows. The reason for its incapacitation was clear—several of the javelins that Agatha had encountered earlier had pierced it. Dried puddles of fluid crusted the rug beneath it.

Agatha frowned. “Wow. What happened?”

“I have said the controlling mind here has gone mad. Here is the proof. It has begun to destroy Castle systems. The Serpent’s Gallery is beyond this room. I will not be able to communicate with you when you leave.”

Agatha leaned down to examine the prone machine. As her hand passed before one of its eyes, the device shuddered and a massive paw flexed. She leapt back. “You said it was incapacitated!”

“That is not the same as deactivated.”

Agatha knelt down and reexamined the machine. An idea flickered. “Hm. I can use some of this…” she muttered. “Fine. I’ll stop here for a moment and you can tell me how to get to Gil.

“How many of Pinkie’s people are with him?”

“The Imposter has three minions with her. They are armed, as is she. There are also five prisoners. Four Sparks, one minion. They are all dangerous.”

Agatha pondered this. As she thought, she began to hum, the strange, faint sound rising and falling through the empty halls. Suddenly she stopped, a gleam in her eye. “Oh yes,” she said under her breath. “I can use some of this.”

“My Lady…while I realize the futility of trying to dissuade you from acquiring greater firepower, could you please try not to hit anything…er…structural?”

Agatha had to smile at this. “Oh, stop whining. You’ll be fine,” she told the Castle. “You’re incredibly overbuilt.”

The Castle was pleased. “Oooh! Do you really think so?”

As the Castle preened, Agatha pulled out a little pocket clank—the near twin of the one Gil had sent into the Castle walls—and began winding it. With a whir and a snap it clicked to attention.

“What is that?” the Castle asked with a touch of alarm.

“It’s a little clank,” Agatha explained. “I like to have assistants when I work, so I make them.”

The little device gave her a salute. Agatha brought it down to the broken fun-sized tiger clank. “Let’s see what we can do with this thing, okay?” she told it.

“I don’t like it,” the Castle boomed.

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. It’s just one little clank.”

The little clank examined the mechanism it had been offered and its gears squeaked with glee. There were lots of parts here.

A short while later, Gil let out a deep breath and settled back onto his heels. “And then all I have to do is hook this lead up to this connector!”

“¡Ingenioso!” Professor Diaz rubbed his jaw. “Superb.”

Gil waved a hand. “You’re too kind, Professor.”

Diaz snorted. “I assure you, young man, I have never been noted for my kindness.”

Zola came up behind them. “What are you two doing here?”

Diaz tapped the device before them. “Your pirata, señorita. He has reworked the device! How, I am not quite sure, but he has eliminated the need for all but a few of the stolen pieces.”

Gil shrugged. “Give me a machine shop and a few days and I’ll replace those, as well.”

Zola smiled with delight. “Another day is simply too long, and the men I sent should be back with the parts soon enough. But still,” Zola patted Gil on the cheek. “That was very sweet of you.” She took his arm and pulled him away from the device. “Now you should come, sit down, and get something to eat. I’ll bet you’ve forgotten again, haven’t you?”

A gurgling sound from his midsection confirmed this and Gil allowed himself to be led to a seat. Zola handed him a bottle of homebrewed beer and a sandwich made from some sort of crustacean that apparently could be eaten whole, much like a soft-shelled crab. It was savory and unexpectedly tasty. He had his suspicions as to its origins⁷² but realized he was so hungry that he did not particularly care.

Zola silently watched him eat, which was unusual behavior for her. When Gil took a final pull from the bottle and sighed in contentment, she leaned forward and wiped a spot of mustard off his nose.

“You know, Gil,” she said fondly, “I have to say, when I first saw you, I had some very mixed feelings.”

Gil blinked. “Zola, I told you, that money was a gift, not a loan.” A wistful smile flitted across Zola’s face. “No, I meant that usually, back in Paris, when you showed up it meant that something had gone wrong.” She shyly glanced at Gil, who was desperately trying to keep his face neutral. “And I was…I was going to need rescuing. Again.”

Gil looked guilty. “Oh, well, I…”

A new voice cut in: “Oh, something’s certainly gone wrong.”

There, in the doorway, stood Agatha. She was very pointedly ignoring Gil—instead glaring furiously at Zola. In one hand, she held something that looked like a repurposed soldering gun. In the other, she gripped the handle of an ornate lantern-sized battery cylinder—the kind one might find in a medium-sized clank. A short cable connected the two devices.

Agatha pointed the gun-like part of the device directly at the astonished people in the room but continued talking to Zola: “But whether or not you’re going to need rescuing? That’s up to you.”

“You!” Zola rose, baring her teeth in a fierce snarl. “Kill!” She screamed to her men. The order was drowned out by a hellish crash, as the stained glass window beside her shattered. Through it leaped a roaring nightmare built like a huge metal tiger.

As he leapt to push Zola out of its path, Gil saw that one of its huge glowing eyes had been smashed and in the socket rode one of Agatha’s little pocket-watch clanks. He found himself wondering if it was the one he had released into the Castle wall or another one entirely—and then one of the monster’s great forepaws caught him and slammed him to the ground. One of its padded toes was planted firmly over his mouth—and to his chagrin, he found that he couldn’t call out to Agatha. All he could manage were muffled, inarticulate noises.

The other paw had trapped Zola, who stared up at the creature’s teeth in horror. “…Nothing.” She whispered. “Kill nothing. Nothing at all.”

One of Zola’s minions apparently didn’t hear her. He pulled an odd little pistol from its holster and shouted: “NO! Take her down!” Agatha frowned and raised the weapon—blowing a hole in the wall above his head. Debris rained down upon him, knocking him to his knees. His weapon went skittering away as he ducked behind a bench. “Don’t just stand there,” he screamed at the Castle prisoners. “Don’t you know who that is?”

In one smooth arc, Professor Tiktoffen swung his arm, scooped up a nearby piston, and slammed it across the back of the man’s head. The Tall Man dropped unconscious to the floor. The professor then deliberately tossed the weapon aside and executed a formal bow towards Agatha. The other prisoners followed his lead.

“Of course we know who she is,” he said with an evil grin. “We are at your service, Lady Heterodyne.”

Zola’s other two minions stared back and forth between the Castle prisoners and Agatha, then simultaneously dropped their weapons. Agatha nodded once, then strode over to loom over Zola, who was still held firmly beneath the huge mechanical paw.

“I am Agatha Heterodyne. You are in my town. In my Castle. And in my way. This little play of yours is over.” Agatha’s voice had taken on a dangerous edge that Gil recognized as that of a Spark. An extremely displeased Spark millimeters away from unleashing unholy vengeance upon a hated enemy.

Zola made a valiant effort: “But…but I am—”

Agatha stepped back and the tiger clank brought its nose down to brush Zola’s face. Even the little pocket clank—who appeared to be controlling the larger one from inside the eye socket—looked angry.

Agatha tapped her foot. “I said, it’s over.” The great jaws opened and a burst of hot metallic steam washed over Zola’s face. Agatha continued through clenched teeth: “One way or another.”

Zola thrashed and shrieked. “Yes! I yield! Please!”

Agatha briefly closed her eyes. “Good. Now…” She opened her eyes, and her expression grew colder as she spun toward Gil. “As for you—” Gil winced. An extremely hated enemy, he thought. I’ve got to do something. She’s—

“Wait!” Zola called out. “Don’t hurt him! He doesn’t know about any of this!” Her voice broke. “He’s my only friend! The only one I can trust. Please don’t hurt him!”

Agatha turned her glare back to Zola. “The only person you can trust is Gilgamesh Wulfenbach? He’s all you’ve got? I’m almost starting to feel sorry for you. Wasn’t that your army of clanks that he completely destroyed yesterday?”

“I…He…He’s…Gil? You’re—” Zola was stammering with shock. “He’s Gilgamesh Wulfenbach? The Baron’s son? But—”

Gil rolled his eyes back into his head with frustration. If he ever got a chance to speak, he had no idea what he was going to say… to either of them.

“Oh?” Agatha still sounded like she could level an entire hapless town at any moment. “You didn’t know?”

Agatha glanced back at Gil, who looked away. Then she nodded slowly. “I see. You didn’t know. Well, then. I guess he didn’t trust you all that much. Mind you, I can see why… He was probably judging you by his own standards—”

Now, Gil felt his own Spark rising. If she would only stop bullying Zola long enough to get her monster off his mouth so he could speak to her… He made another attempt to wriggle free, and the clank bore down ever so slightly to hold him in place.

Zola made a peculiar sound in her throat. Her eyes filled with tears. “But I…he’s always been there…I’ve known him for so long!” Zola’s voice was breaking. Her head slammed back against the floor and she erupted into deep, wracking sobs.

Agatha stared down at the weeping girl in astonishment. Professor Diaz sidled up and clapped his hands. “Delightfully done, my lady!” He shook his head in admiration. “Your enemy is thoroughly crushed. You are indeed a true Heterodyne!” His voice was ghoulish and nasty and reminded her a bit of the Castle, but he clearly meant it as a compliment from one villain to another.

“But…” Agatha looked back at Gil. He was glaring up at her. A wave of horror washed over her as she imagined herself through his eyes. Then her shame exploded into fury. “Oh, I can’t believe this!” she shrieked, her rage growing with every word. “Fine! Just…fine!”

She held up a hand. Her voice grew quiet, but the deadly tones of an enraged Spark still resonated. “I get it. I see where this is going.” She pointed at Zola. “She came in here, claiming to be the Heterodyne, with her stupid pink airship and her pretty perfect clothes and her cheap theatrics, trying to steal my town and my Castle—” Gil continued to glare silently and Agatha leaned in towards him: “Not to mention that she tried to kill me as soon as she saw me, and probably is the one responsible for that army of clanks at my gate—but I’m the big meanie because I made your little psycho princess cry!

“Sure, I’m the bad guy, because—for whatever reason—you didn’t tell your nasty little friend who you are, and now she’s sad! So you’re mad at me, because now she’s all sweet and teary and needs rescuing—”

Agatha knew she was shouting again but she was so angry, she didn’t care. And I’m the evil madgirl with the death ray and the freakish ancestors and the town full of minions and the horde of Jägers and the homicidal Castle full of sycophantic evil geniuses and fun-sized hunter-killer monster clanks and goodness knows what else—”

She stopped, panting. A thought had just struck her. A wonderful, terrible thought. She was that madgirl and she did have all those things.

“And you know what? I can work with that!”

Agatha turned to the prisoners, who were staring at her in awe. She stood tall and addressed them. “So listen up, all of you. I am armed, extremely annoyed, and the mistress of this Castle. You will follow my orders, and I will tell the Castle not to squash you. Everybody okay with that?”

One of the prisoners, a tall, corpse-pale man with a battered metal console implanted in the center of his bare chest, stepped up and nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, absolutely, my lady.”

Agatha blinked but remained poised. “Good. I expected a bit more of an argument.”

The man laughed merrily. “Normally? You’d be quite correct! Those with the Spark are constantly engaged in a dance of dominance! There is a delicate balance between crushing one’s enemies and being crushed. It takes an excessive amount of time and mental effort.”

He ran his gloved hand through his thick, snow-white hair and again grinned. “But you—you are a Heterodyne deep within your own lair. There is no question as to who is in charge here.” He took a deep breath. “Socially, it removes a great deal of pressure.”

Agatha stared at him. “Who are you?”

The man grinned and came to attention while clicking his heels together. “Herr Doktor Getwin Mittlemind. University of Vienna. MD, Psychology, PhD, Sociology, at your service.”

Agatha nodded. “I…see. You don’t meet many mad social scientists.”

Mittlemind snorted. “Of course not! All the funding goes towards building those flashy clanks and death rays! It’s so unfair!

“I told the Baron: ‘Give me a thousand orphans, a hedge maze, and enough cheese and I can give you the Empire of the Polar Lords within three years!’ But noooo…”

Agatha had had enough of this. The man was working himself up toward a full-blown Spark rant.

Agatha interrupted him. “You are not reassuring me.”

A short, solid young woman dressed in protective gear sidled up to Agatha. “Your pardon, my lady, but you probably can rely on most of us. Hexalina Snaug, at your service, my lady.”

Agatha looked at her. “Oh?

Snaug nodded. “Sure. If you are the Heterodyne and the Castle gets fixed…” She spread her hands. “Then the Baron won’t be using the Castle any more. We’ll be free to go. It’s even one of the conditions of our sentences.”

Agatha glanced over to Gilgamesh and raised an eyebrow inquiringly. “Really.”

Gil, still pinned under the tiger clank’s paw, made affirmative noises.

Agatha turned back to the prisoners and smiled happily. “Very well. Cross me, and die.”

The prisoners beamed. Mittlemind rubbed his hands together. “You won’t regret it, my lady!” He then pulled a battered notebook from his pocket and began flipping through pages. “Now, if I might make a suggestion? I couldn’t help but notice that with the addition of just a very few added walls, your town will make an excellent maze!”

Agatha shrugged. “Let’s get the Castle repaired and I will listen to any scheme—um—proposal that you want to submit.”

The others gasped. This was largesse on an unexpected scale.⁷³

Agatha couldn’t put it off any longer. “All right, I’m going to let them up. Take their weapons and get ready to hold onto Pinkie.”

When the clank finally lifted its paw, Gil raised himself on one arm and looked up at Agatha, an unreadable expression on his face. Agatha’s Spark rage had passed and now she felt slightly ill. It was so hard to see him again. She reminded herself that she still hardly knew him…yet…he had cared for her and she had let him think she was dead…and now, here he was—unexpectedly close with this scheming rival…She knelt next to him and the two stared at each other, silently.

When she spoke, her voice was even and calm. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t cry and let you rescue me, but it looks like I’ve got to be the big bad Heterodyne for a while. I’ve got a lot of people counting on me, starting with someone who’s really sick. That’s why I need you to come with me now, even though I’m really mad at you.” She bit her lip. That would have to do—she didn’t have time for any more explanations right now.

Gil nodded and with a single fluid movement was on his feet offering her his hand. She looked up at him and noticed—for the first time—the ring he wore on a thin metal chain around his neck. Her ring.

The ring he had given her on Castle Wulfenbach. The ring that she had left on poor Olga’s burned corpse. He’d kept it. He…

He spoke. “All right, then we’d better get going.”

Agatha felt relief wash over her. Maybe things weren’t so hopeless after all. She took his hand and pulled herself to her feet. Her heart was pounding. She didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, she pulled him toward her and leaned in until their faces were only centimeters apart. “And later?” she told him, a hint of the Spark still in her voice, “We are going to have a long talk.”

Gil took her other hand in his. He leaned in even closer, glaring down into her eyes. “Yes,” he growled, “Yes we are.”

And then they stood there. He continued to hold her hands and gaze into her eyes. His expression softened. Agatha realized that her breathing was accelerating. “Well…um…good.” She couldn’t move. His eyes were so beautiful—deep and golden brown… “Uh… so that’s settled, then.”

“Um…yeah. That’s settled.” Gil spoke softly, pulling her toward him

Just as she was about to shut her eyes, Agatha glimpsed a sudden motion in her peripheral vision. Her mind’s rosy fog vanished in a flash and she thrust Gil away as hard as she could. They spun away in opposite directions as a burst of mechanical gunfire chewed into the wall next to where they’d been standing.

It was Professor Silas Merlot. He was looking down on them from behind the controls of a heavy walking transport which sported two arm-like guns. “Finally! It’s just too perfect! Now the both of you can die!” he cackled maniacally. Once again, a double stream of metal pounded into the wall, swinging toward Agatha.

“Everybody scatter!” Agatha screamed.

The guns stopped. Merlot deftly slapped a new ammo feed into the intake hopper. “Oh, I don’t care about the rest of them, Miss Clay! But you are going to die!”

Another spray of bullets chased her as she darted away, leaping over furniture and around debris until she slid, gasping, behind the relative safety of a thick stone wall.

Professor Diaz was already there, staring at her with wide eyes. “That was an amazing display of agility, señorita.”

“Thank you, Zeetha! Thank you, Zeetha!” Agatha panted. She looked around frantically. “Where is my stupid death ray?”

Merlot snapped another ammo belt in and then engaged the controls. The machine began to walk forward, Merlot laughing wickedly. “You can’t hide forever!” he called.

With a thump, Gilgamesh leapt onto the back of the walker—scrabbling toward its driver. “She doesn’t have to!” he shouted.

“Guh. How Romantic,” Merlot sneered. He smoothly pulled an efficient looking little zipgun from his pocket and fired a shot into Gil’s shoulder—knocking him back off the machine.

Then he spun and yanked the controls about, just in time to unload both gun barrels into the huge, clawed tiger-clank, which was leaping toward him. The bullets caught the mechanical beast at point-blank range, blew it back against the wall, and pinned it there while they ripped it apart.

At last, the guns ran dry, and the clank finally collapsed to the floor with a crash.

Gil’s groan filled the silence as he stirred on the floor. “Gil!” Agatha called—fear in her voice. “Get out of there!”

Merlot let out a giddy laugh as he reloaded. “Oh my, so many potentially interesting experiments present themselves! Is killing his only son and heir a fitting revenge upon the man who sent me here? Or is he too much of a coldhearted despot to care? We shall see!” He swung about to face Agatha. “But I do find it amusing that you care, Miss Clay. It would be fascinating to find out how much. But…it is the fascination one has when dealing with any monstrously dangerous creature. And if this place has taught me anything, it is caution—so I shall just have to satisfy myself with your immediate death!”

He slammed the controls forward, and the walker stumbled. Apparently the left leg had seized up. Merlot swore. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another.” He threw open a hatch cover and attacked the mechanism inside with a screwdriver and pliers.

Behind the wall, Diaz eyed Agatha. “Our Doctor Merlot is an intense and bitter little man, yes? But what is his grudge against you?”

Agatha shook her head. “I don’t know! I never knew! He was just one of my teachers at the University!”

Diaz held up a hand, his expression knowing. “Ah, say no more. I too, have had students.”

On the other side of the wall, Merlot was raging as he fussed with the machine. “It was all you! Everything that went wrong was because of you!

“Doctor Beetle’s notes were in some sort of fiendish code. The Baron assigned a team of the finest cryptographers to examine them. I never expected them to crack it—I never could!”

Agatha risked a look from behind the wall. Gil was still out in the open. She could see her weapon lying in the middle of the floor where she had left it. It was across the room but she would have to try to get to it while Merlot was working.

“But they did! They found everything! Beetle knew who you were! Knew who your construct guardians were! Knew who your real parents were! I had always wondered why he kept an incompetent fool like you around!”

Agatha motioned to Diaz to keep silent. Then she left her hiding place behind the wall and crept softly across the room. Merlot’s voice became more shrill and hysterical as continued to rant.

“It was all there—and I had never known! And I—I had expelled you! I tried to find you, but you had vanished. The Baron was going to crucify me!

“So I burned it all. Beetle’s notes, every one of his secret labs that I could find, the entire hall of records, and all the cryptographers—

“And I still wound up in here! Is that unfair or what?”⁷⁴ He slammed the cover closed and the walker shuddered forward. “But now!” he shouted. “Now, I will—NO!”

Merlot had seen her. And she was still too far from the weapon. Agatha made a dash toward her death ray, but a volley of bullets smashed into the stones in front of her, and she jumped back, lost her footing, and fell, directly in the path of the walking machine.

Merlot was savoring his victory. “At last!” he cried. He swung the tips of the walker’s guns around until Agatha could look directly into their barrels.

She was gathering herself for a desperate leap between the walker’s feet when Gil slammed into the side of the machine so hard that the foot nearest him briefly left the ground.

Agatha stared up at him as he stood between her and the machine. One of his sleeves was caked in blood and raw fury was on his face. “You shot me!” he roared. “And it hurts!” He took hold of the walker, and, through sheer strength, lifted it a few inches off the ground before flinging it to one side.

He then staggered and clutched at his shoulder. “Oh. Oh dear.” His voice was weak. “…and that hurt, too…”

The second Gil tossed the machine aside, Agatha leapt to her feet and dived for the death ray. She spun back to Gil in time to see him sinking to his knees.

“I…I seem to have overdone it…” he whispered. His eyes were losing focus and he looked like he was about to faint.

“No!” Merlot frantically slammed at levers as he tried to right the machine. One of the gun barrels was smashed. “No! No! No! I’ll not be cheated again!” He gave a cry of triumph as the walker rolled to its feet, then swung the remaining gun back toward Gil—

But Agatha stood in his path, her death ray purring ominously. “You warped, nasty little buffoon!” Her voice had once again taken on the full tone of an angry Spark. “You’re blaming me for all that? Fool! You deserve everything you got!”

The audacity of this gave Merlot pause. Students, even Heterodynes, were not supposed to speak to their professors like that. “How dare you?”

“Idiot!” She was shouting at him now. “Do you know why you couldn’t find me? I was on Castle Wulfenbach! I was already the Baron’s prisoner, but he didn’t know who I was. If you’d told him before I escaped, you probably would have been rewarded! You killed all those people for nothing!

“So if you don’t stop this stupidity right now, I will have no qualms about putting a hole the size of the Castle in you!”

Agatha was panting with rage. She saw the truth of her words percolating through Merlot’s enraged brain. It was apparently too much for the man. His face went blank. “No,” he whispered. Then he yanked back on the controls and the cannon began to spin as he screamed inarticulate defiance. Agatha heard the Castle’s calm voice cut through the shrieks: “Oh dear.”

A block of stone easily four meters on a side slammed straight down from the ceiling. There was a flash of blue light and a contained explosion that sent a shudder through the floor.

“We can’t have that,” the Castle finished.

The prisoners gawped. “Castle?” Agatha asked in disbelief.

“Impossible!” said Tiktoffen. “This is a dead room! I know it!”

The Castle gave a ghoulish titter. “Hello, Professor. Surprised? I found a group of nice young people—not any of yours—just wandering around. They were ever so helpful, and they were able to repair several previously inaccessible areas.”

It sounded pleased with itself. Agatha felt cold. Were Zeetha and her other friends also in the Castle? They had been with Gil when she saw him outside…

“Of course, my lady, I was only able to direct their repairs because of the work that your young man had already done.”

Agatha started. “Gil!” He’d been hurt…she turned to find him, and froze in shock. Gil lay on the ground, sitting up slightly with his head pillowed on Zola’s bosom. She was kneeling behind him, holding him against her with one hand on his bare chest. With the other, she was pouring something out of a small vial onto a nasty looking bruise on his shoulder. She was admonishing him in a tone that Agatha found unnecessarily familiar. You’d think he was her pet or something…Agatha ground her teeth in fury.

“Don’t move, you fool,” Zola was saying. “You always try to move around too soon after you get hurt.” She paused as she stroked the skin next to the bruise. “Huh. It looked like he shot you point blank, but this doesn’t look that bad…”

Agatha briefly considered blowing them both to dust. Then she caught herself and slowly set down her weapon. She doesn’t own him and neither do you, she told herself silently. She hardly knew him. She had no right to be angry…it was just the Spark in her that made her think so strongly of things—and even people—as “hers.” Agatha swallowed hard, and moved to stand at Zola’s side. If she loomed again, just a bit, she thought, it was only because she was the Heterodyne…it was hardly even her fault if she was a little intimidating, really.

“How is he?” she asked Zola, coolly.

Zola looked up at her, paused, and then answered carefully. “Um… not that bad, actually. The shot must have been deflected somehow.” She dabbed tenderly at Gil’s sweating brow with a pink handkerchief. “But he’s really out of it. I think he’s in shock.”

Agatha nodded. She felt like her heart had stopped beating—like she no longer even inhabited her body. She spoke like some ancient spirit long separated from the concerns of the living. “Mmm. You seem to…care for him.”

“What? Yes, of course! He’s always been there when I needed him! He’s saved my life dozens of times!”

Agatha glowered down at Zola, who had the sense to ease Gil carefully off her lap and scoot back on her heels slightly. “And now that you know who he really is?”

Zola didn’t even hesitate. She stared at Agatha, wide-eyed and sweetly terrified, while she answered. “He…Well…I guess it makes sense that he had to hide it…”

Agatha nodded. She liked terrified. “All right then.” She spoke clearly and slowly, with a controlled tone that still marked her as every inch a Spark. She wanted to make sure Zola was paying attention. “Listen carefully. You are now mine. Your only job is taking care of Gil.”

Zola started to protest but Agatha overrode her. “I have a lot of things to do. If I have to drop everything in order to make a girly fuss over him, we could all wind up dead.

“So you make sure nothing happens to him, don’t even consider giving me any more trouble, and stay where I can see you. If you can manage that, I might be persuaded to let you both live when this is all over. Do you understand me?”

Zola only stared at her goggle-eyed and gurgled.

Agatha blinked. “What was that?”

Zola gave a loud wordless moan.

“I am doing my best to be calm, but—”

Zola’s face was turning red.

Then Agatha realized that she had her hand around Zola’s throat. She let go with a start and flushed. She wondered what she was becoming, here in this place.

Zola gasped as she drew in a huge breath of air. “Yes! I understand! I’ll do it!”

Agatha retrieved her death ray and turned back to the Castle prisoners, who had been watching with evident approval. This was already taking far too long. She needed to sort them out fast and get back to Tarvek. She pulled herself together and gave her audience a cheery smile. “Well!” she told them. “I feel better now that’s all sorted out. Back to work. Show me this ‘Castle killer’ machine.”

A dark-haired man, whose lower body had been replaced by a set of six mechanical, insect-like legs, stepped forward with a smart clack.

“Ah, ‘Fra Pelagatti’s Lion’!⁷⁵ Right this way, Lady Heterodyne. I am Professor Caractacus Mezzasalma.” They approached the device, a thing of warm, shining metal adorned with blue glass globes.

“This is it,” Mezzasalma said. “Capable of generating a low-pulse ætheric ‘roar’, punctuated by short bursts of trans-dimensional dissonance harmonics.” He stepped back and watched Agatha closely.

She nodded. “Hm. All right, I’ve got it.”

Mezzasalma blinked. “You…you what?” His metal feet made a syncopated clicking sound upon the floor. “Young Wulfenbach took only thirty minutes to figure it out—but you—you’ve just glanced at it. How can you possibly—?”

Agatha raised a hand to forestall him as she selected a stout monkey wrench from a nearby bench. She raised it behind her shoulder and, with a powerful swing, shattered the largest of the blue glass spheres.

“To be fair,” she said as she turned back to the horrified man, “what I was after was a lot simpler.”

“YAY, MISTRESS!” the Castle cheered.

Agatha tossed the wrench back onto the bench. “Oh, quiet, you.” She pointed to a section of the mechanism. “But really, it didn’t look like it would have worked anyway.”

Professor Diaz picked up a long shard of blue glass, “Oh, well, some of the parts are missing…” he admitted. Regretfully, he tossed the shard into a waste barrel. “We’ve sent some men to get them. But the theory was quite sound!”

“Ah,” the Castle interrupted. “Those parts, they were in the cistern?”

“Why, yes.” Diaz said.

“The one with the giant electrified squid clanks?”

Diaz waved a hand. “Tch. Those are deactivated.” He froze. “Oh.”

The Castle chuckled. “Oh, I do feel good today!”

Diaz glowered. “Those parts…it is good we won’t be needing them, yes?”

“Actually,” Agatha said. “I am going to want those parts.”

“What? What?!” The Castle was outraged. “Why?”

“Don’t worry. I…have my reasons. I don’t suppose any of those people they sent survived?”

“Now you’re just being unreasonable,” the Castle huffed.

Doctor Mittlemind stepped forward with an eager grin. “Oh! Do allow me to assist, Mistress.”

Agatha was surprised. “You’re volunteering to go get them?”

“But of course!” He then swept out an arm and pulled Fraulein Snaug to his side. “Even though I am incarcerated here, I still have my best minion! Fraulein Snaug, go fetch those parts!”

Snaug closed her eyes and whimpered in resignation. “Yes, Doctor.”

Agatha spoke up. “Castle, not only do I not want you to hurt her, I want you to help her get me those parts.”

“Hmf. How dull.”

“Cope.”

Snaug’s eyes shone as she gazed at Agatha. “Wow! Thank you, Mistress!”

Agatha waved a hand. “It’s nothing.”

Mittlemind gave a conspiratorial chuckle. “We are alike, you and I.”

Agatha eyed him with alarm. “Er—and how do you figure that?”

“I too tend to be overly softhearted.” He beamed.

“Really?” Agatha was doubtful.

“Oh, yes! Why, back when I was conducting research at the University, I always insisted that the children be allowed out of their containment tanks for Christmas!”

Everyone in the room stared at him.

Mittlemind flushed with embarrassment and waved a hand. “Oh please, what do you all take me for? I’m obviously not talking about the Control Group!”

The other prisoners relaxed, chuckling.

Agatha stared at Fraulein Snaug, who dimpled into a nostalgic smile. “I love Christmas,” she sighed.

“All right! Enough!” Agatha shouted. “I don’t have time for this!” She pointed to the prisoners. “You lot stay here and keep an eye on things.” She waved a hand around the dilapidated lab. “You can clean up a bit while you’re at it. And don’t go wandering off or the Castle may get testy.”

“It’s true…I sometimes do, you know.”

The prisoners glanced helplessly at one another. Mezzasalma spoke for them all. “But for cleaning, we’ll need to get squeegees and mops and…” he shrugged, “…and minions.”

Diaz nodded vigorously. “Oh yes! There must be minions. Although Doctor Mittlemind does share…” at this he and Mezzasalma bowed slightly to the genial doctor, who nodded in appreciation, “…but if you expect this to be done while we Sparks are disassembling ‘The Lion’…”⁷⁶

Agatha paused. “No, don’t disassemble it yet…Guard it, and get all the bits together so that I can have a look at them later.”

“My lady,” the Castle wheedled, “I really don’t like—”

Agatha cut it off. “Look, you can just squash anyone who actually tries to activate it, okay? Other than me, of course.”

“But I still—”

“HETERODYNE!” Agatha screamed.

The Castle gave in. “Yes, Mistress.”

“That’s better.” Agatha turned back to the prisoners and pointed to Zola’s remaining Tall Men. “You will assist the professors. If you survive, you’ll be free to go.” The men looked dubious.

Agatha continued. “Without Pinkie here.” With a sigh of relief, the men picked up brooms and got to work. Agatha nodded. “Professor Tiktoffen? You’ll come with me. From what the Castle has told me, you probably know this place better than anyone.”

The professor grimaced. “Enough to know that I’d rather stay here.”

Agatha looked interested. “Permanently?”

Tiktoffen stood up and dusted his hands together. “I’ll get my notes.”

Agatha turned to Zola, who had once again pillowed Gil’s head on her lap. “We’re going. Get him on his feet.”

Zola gave her an imploring look. “But—you can’t make him walk around the Castle like this! It’s dangerous out there. He’s hurt! He’s not even coherent!”

“Making him the only one here who won’t give me an argument. It’ll pass, but I’ll take it while I’ve got it. Now get him up.”

Gil stirred. “Um…Zola? Did Professor Belette get away? We’ve got to stop him before he steals the Moulin Rouge.”⁷⁷

Agatha ignored him. “We’re going,” she told Zola. Then she called to the room: “All right! Now, did I forget anyone?”

“Oh, yes,” hissed a chillingly familiar voice from behind her.

It was Von Pinn. Agatha stiffened, then, with preternatural calmness, turned to face her.

The construct hadn’t changed. She towered over Agatha, blonde hair pulled back hard into a severe bun, a ruby monocle covering her malevolent, inhuman left eye.

“If you’d wanted to kill me,” Agatha said, “you could have done it ten times over.”

Von Pinn’s mouth twitched, briefly revealing beast-sharp teeth. Perhaps she had changed, somewhat, after all. She seemed…almost subdued.

“I am not here to kill you. You are the Heterodyne girl. I must keep you…safe.”

This was too much. A wave of fury fueled by grief, stress, and the Spark washed through Agatha. “Safe? From my parents? You tore Adam and Lilith to shreds while I watched!” Agatha’s voice rose to a maniacal scream. “DIE!” She raised the death ray and fired it, point blank, blasting a hole through the wall in front of her.

“Tsk.” Von Pinn was, somehow, behind Agatha. The construct lifted Agatha into the air effortlessly, pinning her arms to her sides. Agatha could feel the pointed claws digging into her skin through their protective gloves. “I see I must also teach you manners,” Von Pinn said.

She studied Agatha’s face and a slight moue of puzzlement crossed her face. “You are…genuinely upset about the deaths of the constructs back on Castle Wulfenbach. I am surprised to find you so sentimental.”

Agatha thrashed uselessly. She was vaguely aware of the Castle’s voice, making conciliatory noises, but she was too enraged to listen. “Those constructs were my parents!”

An expression of regret stole across Von Pinn’s face. “You know as well as I that they were not. They were merely expendable caretakers. As, in many ways, am I.

“But I have waited over two hundred years to fulfill my purpose. My beloved King charged me with the solemn duty of protecting you.” Von Pinn gave Agatha a brief shake. “He was a romantic fool in many ways, but I can not—” Another shake. “Will not—disobey him.”

“I don’t want your protection,” Agatha snarled. “You stay away from me or I will find a way to kill you!”

Infuriatingly, Von Pinn smiled. “Ah, that is where it becomes… interesting.” She made a low sound in her throat. “Truly, I serve too many masters. My creator did not charge me with your protection. My creator’s last orders to me were to keep you ‘safe.’ He meant ‘safe for those around you.’ He knew what you were. He knew what would happen if you were not watched. I once thought I could render you harmless by killing you, and still ‘protect’ you by guarding your tomb…”

Agatha was still furious. Her struggles had done nothing. All she could do was listen as Von Pinn continued.

“Sadly, due to the interference of my last mistress—may her bones burn green—I am instead compelled to defend your unworthy life with my own.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed. Her fingers found the trigger of the death ray that she still clutched in one hand. She couldn’t see it, held as she was. “Really.” She said. “You’re prepared to die to protect me.”

“Whether I want to or not,” Von Pinn said.

Agatha grinned nastily down at her. “Fine. Then now’s your chance.” As the Castle howled in protest, she pulled the trigger on the death ray, and a large circle of floor boiled away beneath Von Pinn’s feet.

“Truly you are your mother’s child,” Von Pinn shrieked as she flung Agatha away from her. Her voice grew fainter as she tumbled away into the depths of Castle Heterodyne, screaming with rage.

Agatha hit the floor in an ungraceful roll, coming to a painful stop against one of the stone lab benches. Professor Tiktoffen and Snaug were at her side instantly, helping her to her feet. “Are…are you all right, my lady?”

Agatha rubbed her left shoulder as she peered into the hole that she had created. Neither Von Pinn nor the bottom of the shaft could be seen. The blast had cut a perfect hole through floor after floor of the Castle below them. Even as Agatha watched, the final bit of illumination provided by the molten edges of burnt stone faded back into darkness.

“That was hardly necessary, my lady,” the Castle complained. “I can assure you that Mistress Von Pinn poses you no threat.”

Agatha glanced back at the hole she had made. No wonder the Castle was upset. “Is—is she still alive?”

The Castle took a moment to answer. “An interesting question. I do not know.”

“How deep does this thing go?”

“Deeper than The Great Movement Chamber, which is as far down as I know. Also, you have now damaged several of my systems. By some miracle, you hit nothing essential, but I am still fond of them.”

Agatha nodded. “Ah. I’m sorry about that. No more death ray then.”

“Thank you,” said the Castle.

“It’s nearly out of power anyway,” she told it.

“Such a shame.”

Agatha turned to Tiktoffen. “And now, we are getting out of here before anybody else shows up.”

Tiktoffen nodded enthusiastically. “I am completely in agreement with that plan.”

Agatha turned toward Gil. She had rather expected him to say something about Von Pinn, or at least, well, would it kill him to compliment a girl’s death ray? But she saw now that he hadn’t been paying attention to anything that had been going on. In fact, he was still flat on his back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked Zola. “That wound doesn’t look bad enough to keep him off his feet.

“He won’t get up,” Zola said defensively, “and I can’t carry him.”

Agatha took a closer look and bit her lip. Zola had bandaged the wound expertly. Gil’s skin was flushed and he was sweating. His breathing was deep but quicker than if he was simply resting.

“Well he can’t stay here, especially if there’s something weird wrong with him.” He may not be much use like this, but at least I’ll have both sick idiots in one place, she thought.

Gil was mumbling in French: “Sorry, Professor, my latest experiment ate my lecture notes.”

He thinks he’s in Paris, does he? Agatha had an idea. She leaned down to shout in Gil’s ear. “Hey, Gil! All of Paris is about to go up in flames and Zola has her head caught in a bucket! Up and at ‘em, hero boy!”

It worked. Gil’s eyelids fluttered and he jerked up into a sitting position. “A bucket?” He shook his head ruefully. “Again?” With a sigh, he swayed to his feet. “Okay, I’m comin.’”

Agatha glanced at Zola’s expression of rage and nodded in satisfaction. “Yessss, I suspected as much.”

When they had been walking for a while, Agatha looked up from the map of the Castle. She had borrowed it from Professor Tiktoffen and it was hand-drawn, much marked and tattered. She looked down the long, enclosed stone corridor, checked the map again, and nodded. She tapped the vellum with a fingertip. “We’re here. And…I’m afraid that the way we’re going is through one of these red marked areas.”

Tiktoffen took his map and nodded matter-of-factly. “Ah. We are indeed in uncharted territory.” He carefully rolled the map back up and placed it in the satchel he carried. “I will scream like a little girl now,” he informed them.

“Please don’t,” Agatha said.

“No, no—I insist.”

“Oh, do let him, Mistress,” the Castle said. “It’s very funny.”

Zola interrupted them. “Are we anywhere near this medical lab of yours?” She glanced back, worry evident on her face. “Gil’s still pretty much out of it.”

This was clear. Gil was ambling along the corridor as though he was enjoying a garden stroll. As Agatha watched, he approached an empty suit of armor and politely addressed it. “Pardonnez-moi, Monseiur, mais où est la catastrophe?”

“And what is that noise?” Zola asked.

Agatha had been trying to calculate their best route back to the lab and Tarvek. When Zola spoke, she realized that there was a noise, and it was growing louder. A terrible banging and clonging noise, like a half-full water tank being dragged fast behind a team of oxen.

A spiked ball of steel, easily the height of two men, came hurtling around a far bend in the corridor. It rumbled toward them, apparently under its own power.

Agatha stared at it in astonishment and asked no one in particular: “Why do I even have one of those?”

Tiktoffen shrugged. “I’d always wondered where that thing went on Tuesdays.”

Zola stared at the onrushing ball and then screamed for help. “GILLLLL!”

This jolted Gil from his distracted mood and he snapped into action. He leapt forward, scooped Zola into his arms and without breaking stride, ran directly toward the ball. Agatha’s heart stopped as she watched. There was no way around. With its spikes, the ball filled the corridor neatly from side to side.

Fortunately, the hallway was higher than it was wide. With Zola shrieking in his ear, Gil spun and jumped towards the wall. Hitting it, he instantly pushed off and bounced towards the other side of the corridor, then back again. As he made his highest leap, the spikes of the ball swept past centimeters below his feet. As the ball rolled on, Gil bounced them back to the floor.

As his feet touched the ground, Gil blinked with the look of a man awakening from a particularly absorbing daydream. “Wait. Back there…” He spun in place and watched the ball crashing away down the corridor. “Was that…Agatha?”

Zola tightened her arms around Gil’s neck and stared at the twisted wreckage of Agatha’s death ray, scattered across the floor where the ball had passed. “Oh dear,” she said breathlessly, “How tragic! I guess my Castle is even more dangerous than I’d imagined!”

“MY Castle!” Agatha’s voice rang out from above. Gil nearly dropped Zola as Agatha drifted down towards them. Professor Tiktoffen was clutching frantically at the arm she had slung around his chest. With her other hand, she held tightly to a small device that looked like another of her little pocket clanks. As she was about to touch down, the little clank burst with a loud crack, and everyone ducked as a barrage of short propellers ricocheted off the walls and into the darkness.

As he ducked, Gil set Zola on her feet and covered her head with his arms. When the clattering died down, he raised his head. “My Castle,” Agatha repeated, glaring at Zola. “And don’t you forget it.”

Gil beamed at her happily. “Agatha! What are you doing in Paris?” Agatha just looked at him. “Are you going to Professor Goodwin’s freestyle reanimation demonstration?” A hopeful thought entered his head. “Afterwards, let’s get some coffee and—”

Agatha grabbed hold of Gil’s shoulders and gave him an impatient shake. “No! You are coming straight to my lab so I can look you over properly!”

Gil felt a blush work its way up his face. That had gone even better than he had hoped! “Wow. Really?”

Agatha just looked at him. “Let’s go,” she said and stalked off.

Gil started to follow her and ran the toe of his boot into the remains of the little clank. As the metal casing clanged across the floor, he looked around him. Suddenly, he had a realization. “Hey! This isn’t Paris!”

Agatha blew out a sigh of relief and kept walking.

“This is Castle Heterodyne!” Gil tried to catch up to Agatha, but Zola took his arm and lightly squeezed his shoulder. “OW!” Another memory surfaced. “And I got shot!”

“Yes,” Zola said. “But don’t worry, I’m taking care of you.”

Gil stared at her, glanced at Agatha as she hastened away, and then turned back to Zola. He felt he should make things clear right away. “Listen, about Agatha, you should know—”

Zola waved a hand. “Oh, her. She’s taken us prisoner, you know.” Zola dropped her voice. “She’s been acting all crazy and violent and she talked mean to me.”

Gil looked at her. “Well, you did try to kill her,” he reminded her. Zola rolled her eyes and snuggled in closer. A thought hit him. “But—she’s really mad, huh? Hmmm…” Agatha had a lot of reasons to be angry with him.

The group continued on their way. Zola kept her arm locked with Gil’s, and Tiktoffen stopped frequently to check his maps and instruments.

Agatha said nothing, staring fixedly ahead. Every so often, Agatha stole a look at Gil and Zola out of the corner of her eye. She could tell that Gil wanted to talk to her but she was not going to have any kind of conversation with him with Zola clinging to him like a newlywed.

Agatha knew she wasn’t being completely fair to him. Back on Castle Wulfenbach, they had been friends, of a sort. They had worked together, fought slaver wasps together. He had believed in her. And, in the end, she had left him and lied to him. What was she going to say?

Things might have continued this way but Professor Tiktoffen cleared his throat and engaged Zola in consultation about the types of traps that might await them ahead. Zola had reluctantly released Gil’s arm and the two of them now paced on ahead.

Gil glanced at Agatha’s profile and his breath caught. Here she was, less than a meter from him. Alive and whole and…if the firming of her jaw was any indication…extremely annoyed.

He had to speak to her. Had to find out if she cared for him at all. He didn’t have much hope—all she had done was run from him. She had let him think she was dead, and she had pretty obviously never meant to see him again. But Zeetha had been encouraging, and the green-haired girl was her friend…

By sheer force of will he opened his mouth. “So…” Gil coughed and tried again. “So, Aga—” Was he being too familiar? She wasn’t his lab assistant anymore. Gil switched gears. “Miss—um—” No, you idiot! She isn’t Miss Clay anymore!

“Lady Heterodyne,” he said. She turned to look at him. Yes! This was working! And then the yawning chasm of conversation loomed bleakly before him. What to say? “I’m so glad you’re not dead?” Moronic! Of course you’re glad she isn’t dead! Who wouldn’t be glad about that? That’s patently obvious! Saying that would make you look like a fatuous simpleton! She’s smart! Say something smart! “So who’s this…sick…person?” Gil closed his eyes. People who pay attention in medical school call them “patients,” he reminded himself. Maybe she’ll—

“The patient?”

Gil died a thousand silent deaths while Agatha considered this.

“He’s a…friend.”

“A friend.”

Agatha sighed. “Well, as long as I keep an eye on him, anyway.”

“And…‘he’?” Gil couldn’t help himself. He tried to get a look at her face as she answered, but she kept walking just ahead of him, avoiding his gaze.

“Yes. He’s sick and injured, and you’re a much better doctor than I am.”

Gil felt gratified that she thought so. He also felt Zola clamping once again onto his arm. He almost screamed in frustration. This was the last thing he wanted. But he was torn. Zola was obviously in way over her head. If he pushed her away, she might break down altogether and that would just delay things more. He couldn’t run the risk. Surely Agatha would understand.

Agatha glanced back at them and her eyes hardened. “It was his idea,” she said. “I wanted the Castle to throw the both of you out.”

Gil tried to step forward but Agatha was striding ahead and Zola was too much of an anchor. He ground his teeth. “Well excuse me! I can help you, you know,” he snapped.

Agatha was unimpressed. “Yes, that’s what he said, too.”

Gil narrowed his eyes at this. “Well, I can’t wait to meet him.” And possibly kill him, kill him, kill him, he thought.

“He’s a sneaky, manipulative, fast-talking smoothie,” Agatha said tartly. “You’ll like him.”

This conversation was proving extremely unsatisfying. But then, what did she want to say to Gil? That she still dreamed of him at night? That she never wanted to see him again? That maybe they could work out something in the dark?

She cut that thought off with a savage inner snarl. She mentally braced herself to speak, and found she couldn’t look straight at him.

She began hesitantly: “Look…Gil, I really—”

“EEEEE! GIL!”

The scream made her jump. Zola had been ensnared by a rusty set of mechanical arms that had descended from a set of holes in the ceiling. They were dragging her toward a gaping pit in the floor.

“HELP!” she squealed.

Gil jumped on cue. “Coming!” With the aid of an old iron curtain rod, he pried the arms apart and dragged Zola to safety. He then left her to walk by herself while he returned to Agatha, brushing broken pieces of machinery out of his hair.

“Sorry about that. You were saying?”

Agatha was torn. She didn’t like the way he leapt to Zola’s rescue as though it was his sole purpose in life. The idea that the two apparently shared a long history of adventures together before she had even met him annoyed her. On the other hand, watching him in action had perhaps been worth the interruption. The evident strength and speed he displayed sent a shiver down her spine.

She carefully examined the tips of her boots while she tried again. “Well, it’s just that—”

“GIL!”

This time, Zola had ventured too close to what looked like an elaborately framed picture of a large fanged mouth and had been pulled halfway inside by some unseen mechanism. Once again, Gil dashed away to pull her out, leaving Agatha in mid-sentence.

By the time Gil stumbled back, Agatha had been examining a large painting of Mechanicsburg’s Red Cathedral long enough to count all five hundred and fifty one gargoyles on the façade, none of which dared return her gaze.

“You were about to say?”

Agatha turned away from him. She couldn’t do this now, after all. It was too ridiculous. “Oh, never mind,” she said.

Then Gil’s hands were on her shoulders. He spun her firmly around and glared directly into her eyes. His voice was intense. “No. No ‘never mind.’ Listen, you—”

“GIL! HELP!”

One of the many clocks in the corridor had unfolded itself into a vaguely human-shaped clank and had grabbed Zola with one great, articulated hand. Zola thrashed and squealed in terror. Professor Tiktoffen was pulling on one of her legs, trying to get her free but had only succeeded in removing her boot.

Agatha was on it in an instant, ferociously smashing it to bits with a heavy wrench. She reminded herself that this…whatever it was… was her property and part of the Castle, but she didn’t care. It felt good to smash something. Zola dropped to the floor and stared wide-eyed. Agatha thrust the wrench savagely back into a loop on her belt and stalked back to Gil.

They came to the end of the corridor. Agatha recognized the area.

“Um…I’d have…” Gil began.

“Oh, no,” Agatha snarled back. “It was so very much my turn.”

Gil nodded approvingly. “Mm. Good job. You’ve been practicing.”

“Well, the place is all full of monsters and traps—and if I stood around looking all pink and pretty and squealing for help, I’d never get anywhere.”

“Agatha—” Gil gently tilted her chin upward. They looked at each other for a long moment. “You—”

“AIEEEE!”

Both of them sighed.

Gil held up a hand. “No, no! Relax! I’ll get this one.” He turned towards the noise and froze.

Agatha came up behind him, and there was Zola, pressed into a corner, shivering and hugging herself in fear. Advancing toward her was brightly colored spider, easily as large as an adult hand. When Gil and Agatha arrived, it paused long enough to make a small lunge toward them, audibly snarling, before turning back to its original prey.

Gil stepped back. “Wow. You know, on second thought, you go ahead.”

Agatha shook her head. “What? No way. She’s your…um…your whatever she is. This one’s yours.”

Gil made a face. “Are you kidding? Look at that thing! Anyway, it’s in your house—”

“Yesterday you took out a whole army of clanks!”

“That was a small army. This is a big spider!”

“Well, those things’ll jump on your boots, run up your leg, and bite your butt!” Agatha shuddered. “You get it!”

“No way! When you stomp one that big, it makes this horrible crunching noise—”

“Ugh! Stop!” Agatha went pale. “That’s disgusting!”

Gil nodded. “I know!”

During this exchange, they had recoiled away from Zola and the spider and closer and closer to one another. Now, their shoulders were pressed up against each other, which both seemed to find reassuring. “Well…” Agatha whispered, “We’ve got to do something.”

“I know,” Gil whispered back. Zola’s eyes were now staring at them from within a silk cocoon. The spider was brandishing something that looked unsettlingly like a knife and fork.⁷⁸ “This is just embarrassing everybody.”

At that moment, Moloch von Zinzer walked in through a door carrying a sturdy pole with a trigger mechanism built onto one end. The other end sported a large mechanical hand. This he closed hard upon the shrieking arachnid with a sickening crunch.

“Ooh, nice.” A small woman dressed in shades of grey and purple had followed him and was admiring his work.

Von Zinzer shrugged as he retracted the mechanical hand-on-a-stick. He examined the green slime that now coated its palm and tossed it away. “Yeah, you don’t want to touch those things.”

“Poisonous?”

Von Zinzer shook his head. “Nah, just really, really icky.”

Zola had fainted, apparently from sheer disgust. Gil decided to leave her tied up for now. He turned back to her rescuer. “Von Zinzer! You’re the patient?” Gil beamed, relief flooding through him. He had known the mechanic briefly back on Castle Wulfenbach and was confident that the man was no rival. “Well, that’s—”

Von Zinzer blanched. “What? No! Am I changing color?” He examined his hands.

Gil drew back. “Changing—is that what this is about?”

“Well, yeah.” Von Zinzer and the purple girl nodded.

“Sweating? Fever? Delusional?”

“Yeah.”

Gil rubbed his jaw. “Vericus Panteliax’s Chromatic Death,” he pronounced. “Interesting.” “Chromatic Death?” the girl looked alarmed. “As in dead death?” Gil waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, it sounds worse than it is. Did the patient get anything weird into an open wound?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he was poisoned. Someone tried to kill him with a dart while he was in the Great Hospital. And then we knocked over a whole rack of stuff and he fell on the broken glass and then—”

Gil frowned. “Poisoned in the hospital? Sifu is going to love hearing that.” He thought for a second. “Chromatic Death seems a bit…”

“Flashy?”

“No, actually, it’s a bit of an imprecise choice for an assassin. It’s too easy to spot and cure, especially if you’re already in a hospital. Do you have any open wounds? Swallow anything? Hold still, you.” Gil took the girl’s hand and checked her fingernails, then pulled up her eyelid to get a close look at her eyes.

“No!” she said quickly. “And I’m Violetta, by the way, not ‘you.’”

“Violetta. Good.” He looked around the room. “This is a medical lab? Fine. See if you can find me…let’s see…a large syringe, some Ichor of Somnia, at least one hundred grams of Hesperidial Salts, some kind of disinfectant, oh, and a hammer.”

Von Zinzer jumped to attention. “Oh, yeah! On it!”

Gil turned back to Violetta. “And stick Zola here in a safe place for a while, okay? In another room, if possible.”

Tiktoffen stepped forward. “I think I can handle that, sir.” He lifted Zola, sticky web and all, and carried her out of the room.

Agatha put her hand on his arm and he turned.

“Okay, let’s look at this friend of yours,” he said to her.

Agatha held her other hand up to stop him. “No.”

Gil was surprised. “What? But you said—”

“First I’m going to have a look at you.” She steered him toward a nearby workbench. Violetta disappeared through the door she and von Zinzer had come through. She returned with a small, standard-issue Wulfenbach medical kit—probably something von Zinzer had been carrying, Gil thought—and a basin of water; then disappeared again, leaving Agatha and Gil alone together. Agatha turned her back to him while she washed her hands.

“Now, remove your shirt, please.” Her voice was brisk.

Gil cleared his throat. “Look, I’m sure I’m fine. Shouldn’t I be looking at this person who’s really sick?”

Agatha half-turned toward him. She was picking through the medical kit. “You just said he’s not as bad as we thought. Whereas you just got shot, threw a clank across the room, were severely disoriented, and are now insisting you’re fine. Don’t you think that’s a bit odd? If it was your patient…”

Gil considered this. “I’ll get my shirt off.” He turned away to hide his embarrassment and searched for something to say. “So…you’ve had medical training?”

Agatha glanced over her shoulder and quickly turned back to the workbench. “Took a lot of classes. Observed a lot of procedures. Did a lot of assisting in the university labs…” she said.

“But they never let you practice.”

“Nope.” Agatha tried not to sound bitter. She stole another glance at him over her shoulder; then turned fully around, her eyes lowered pointedly to his wounded shoulder. She was clearly avoiding his eyes.

When Gil had removed his shirt, he had felt the ring around his neck turn on its chain until it hung down his back and now he wondered if she had noticed it. He wondered if she recognized it, and what she felt if she did…

“Well, you’re pretty smart,” he said, finding it difficult to speak, “so…so you’ll probably be fine.”

“Thank you,” she said, and began to examine the bandaging Zola had applied. Her hands were cool and every touch sent an electrical jolt through him. Her fingertips were slightly rough. She likes to work with machines. He thought of the devices she had built in his lab, the times they had spent working together under the influence of the Spark. It was all he could do to hold still while she examined him. He wanted to sweep her into his arms…

Her hands brushed the chain around his neck, and he heard her breath catch. She tentatively touched it again, like she was reassuring herself of its existence, then she moved on.

The silence stretched out for several minutes. Gil stared at the ceiling. His cheeks were burning. Finally he stole a glance down, just as Agatha glanced shyly up. Their eyes met, and held. He caught her upper arm and pulled her closer. He could feel her hand resting gently on his chest and his breath stopped.

Finally, she looked down again, and spoke. “Gil—you…you were right.”

This was not what Gil had expected to hear. “What?”

“You were absolutely right. And I felt so bad and I’m really sorry.”

Gil was confused. Right about what? Wanting to marry her? Bringing her to his father? Entering the Castle? “Ah—What about, exactly?”

“Othar.” Agatha stepped away and waved her hands in front of her. “I was so mad at you—you threw him out that window—and then, within the hour, I threw him out of an airship, too!”

Gil waited. “And you felt bad for throwing him—”

“I felt bad for yelling at you!”

Gil understood. “Oooh. Yeah, it’s okay. Othar does that to people.” He pulled her toward him again. “And listen, while we’re talking about annoying people, let’s talk about Zola.”

Agatha tried to pull away. “Oh. Yes, I suppose we should go and—”

He held her firmly and tried to look her in the face. “No. What I mean is, she’s just someone I knew in Paris. I came into the Castle to find you. At least—I hoped it was you.”

Agatha kept her head turned away from him, looking at the floor. “I really want to believe that…” she said.

Gil pulled the ring back around his neck and tapped it. “I thought you were dead.” He felt his hand shaking. “And there was so much that I wanted to say to you. Needed to say…and I thought I never could.” Agatha turned to meet his eyes again, and he put one hand to her cheek. She wasn’t trying to get away, now. “And then my father told me that you were alive…and I just—when I thought you were dead, I just—”

His voice faltered. “Please. You’ve got to believe me. Please.”

“I…do believe you,” Agatha said. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly, resting her cheek on his bare chest.

Gil had more to say but it all flew out of his head as he wrapped his arms around her. He buried his face in her hair. His lips were close to her ear and he whispered to her. “But it is you! I’m so glad. I know about the Other—your friend, Zeetha, told me some of what’s going on. She said…”

He remembered the green haired girl’s sharp-toothed grin. “The best thing to do is get it all out of your system first, so you can start talking to each other intelligently.”

Gil closed his eyes. “…She said a lot of things. But I’ll help… somehow, we’ll find a way to—” he faltered. He just wanted to stay that way—to lose himself in the scent of her hair.

Agatha’s breath was warm against his chest as she spoke: “I’m sorry I…upset you—I wouldn’t…couldn’t risk getting captured again and I was so scared.” Gil tightened his arms protectively around her. “Tricking anyone who came after me into thinking I was dead was the only thing we could think of. And then…then it was you who came to get me—and with that crazy pirate girl—and all those clanks—and I didn’t know what to think.”

Agatha lifted her head. Her hand brushed the ring lightly. Gil saw tears in her eyes. “But if you were really unhappy when you thought I was dead, then you’ll understand why you need to leave. Now.”

Gil’s entire body had been awash in a growing bliss but at this pronouncement, it changed to cold shock. “Leave? But I’m here to help you!”

Agatha hugged him tighter. “You can help me. This place is too dangerous. I need you to get yourself and Tarvek, somewhere safe. Away from the Castle.”

Gil stared at her in horror. “Tarvek?” his voice rose to a shout. “Tarvek Sturmvarous? That smug, condescending snake?” Spark harmonics were creeping into his voice.

Agatha looked up at Gil in surprise. “You know him?”

“I most certainly do! Of course someone tried to kill him! Who wouldn’t want to kill him? Where is the little toad? I’ll—”

Gil realized that Agatha was now bent backwards, trapped against the workbench while he leaned over her, ranting. Before he could let her up, a voice rang out behind him: “Gilgamesh Holzfäller! It is you!”

Gil turned where he was, still pinning Agatha to the bench. And indeed, there was Tarvek Sturmvoraus himself, standing in the doorway. He was wild-eyed, swaying, and a vivid turquoise all over his mostly naked body. “I knew I’d heard your degenerate bleating! You get away from her, you swine!” He lunged forward and would have fallen to the ground if von Zinzer and Violetta hadn’t darted forward and caught him. Gil and Agatha stepped away from each other and stared.

“Sorry,” von Zinzer grunted. “Couldn’t stop him!”

Violetta nodded. “We couldn’t find a hammer!”

Tarvek was glaring at him. “I can’t believe you! Every time I see you, you’re…you’re en déshabillé and up to the same tricks! Have you no shame?” He shook von Zinzer and Violetta off and staggered forward, waving a trembling fist at Gil. “You stay away from Agatha! She…she is a nice girl! Not part of your harem of nightclub tarts and pirate doxies!”

Gil wasn’t really listening. Tarvek was blue. That wasn’t right…

“Agatha,” Tarvek was saying, earnestly waving a finger under her nose, “If this cad insults you with his lewd advances again, just give him a good smack with one of these lovely fish and I will—I will—” his voice weakened as he collapsed face-first to the ground.

“Tarvek!” Agatha’s voice was frightened. She fell to her knees at his side. Gil knelt beside her and laid a hand on the back of Tarvek’s neck. He was out cold. “This is not good,” Gil muttered.

Agatha was frantic. “You said it sounded worse than it was!”

“I was wrong!” He grabbed Tarvek under one arm. “Help me get him up off the floor! Hurry!”

Agatha helped him move Tarvek onto a weathered table that looked as if it had once been used for patients or—considering their location—victims. “This isn’t Chromatic Death! What did this idiot get himself into?”

Agatha bit her lip. “Then, what is it? You sounded so sure.”

Gil stepped back. “This is Hogfarb’s Resplendent Immolation. It’s similar, but a lot more rare.”

Tarvek was rambling. “I’m…I’m sorry, Agatha. Um—I’ll thrash him later, ‘kay? …don’ feel so good…”

Agatha looked worried. “Resplendent Immolation…what on Earth is that?”

Violetta was looking over his shoulder. “Um—this is another ‘sounds worse than it is,’ right?” She didn’t sound very hopeful.

“Ah, no,” Gil said distractedly. He walked to the workbench and started to clear a space. “The name’s a bit of an understatement, actually.”

Agatha followed him. “He’s going to burst into flames?”

Gil swept piles of long-unused debris off the bench. “Well, probably. There’s a small chance he’ll just melt.”

Agatha made a choked, miserable noise deep in her throat.

Gil winced. “Of course, there’s always a chance that he’ll be perfectly fine,” he added.

Agatha looked at him hopefully. “Really?”

Gil nodded confidently. “Oh, yes. If we assume that this is an infinite universe, then theoretically, anything, no matter how unlikely, has to happen somewhere.”

Agatha looked sick. There were tears in her eyes. Gil was puzzled… that always comforted him…

“Castle, could he have contracted this here?” Agatha asked.

The Castle’s voice echoed around them. “Hmm…possible. There is Vipsania Heterodyne’s Cabinet of Contagion, and, of course, the Ghostmaker Mice…”

“Well,” Agatha said, “knowing my ancestors, there must be a poison pharmacology around here somewhere.” She turned to Gil, “I assume most poisoners have antidotes to hand.”

“Your ancestors weren’t terribly concerned about antidotes…” the Castle said, “but you may certainly search for one, if you think you have time…”

“See?” Agatha pounded the table with both hands and shouted at Gil. “This place—this is why I want you out of here!”

Gil wasn’t budging. “No way. Anyway, there won’t be an antidote, it’s more of an illness than a poison. But he didn’t get it by mistake, not even in here. Violetta is right. Someone got him with this on purpose.”

“Sir?” Von Zinzer and Violetta stood in the doorway, carrying a canvas sheet full of jumbled bottles and tools. “Found the stuff you wanted, except the hammer.”

Gil glanced at Tarvek. “Pity.” He turned back. “See if you can find some Hypatia’s Clove. The red kind.”

Von Zinzer nodded and ran back out. Agatha, Gil, and Violetta began setting the bottles out on the bench. Von Zinzer appeared again, a glass canister held in his hands. “Bad news, sir,” he said simply. “There was a jar marked ‘Hypatia’s Clove’,” he held it up, “but the stuff inside is yellow.” He glanced at it. “Nearly white, really.”

Gil pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, of course. Everything here is nearly twenty years old. Most of it won’t be any use at all!” He groaned. “This isn’t good.”

Agatha shook her head. Even though Gil seemed to hate Tarvek so much, he wouldn’t just let him die…would he? “Gil—you’ve got to take him back to the hospital. I…I don’t think I can stand losing any more friends.” She laid a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Please.”

Gil clenched his jaw. “He is not going to die.” He swung around to von Zinzer and Violetta. “Have either of you ever assisted in a Si Vales Valeo system-transferal procedure?”

The two stared back at him blankly. “I’m a mechanic,” von Zinzer said. “If he was a clank, I could maybe change his oil…”

Violetta gently shoved him aside. “Never heard of it, but we can follow instructions if you tell us what to do.”

“Wait.” Everyone looked at Agatha. “I’ve heard of that…” She thought furiously. “Si Vales Valeo…” Her eyes went wide. “That’s that horrible reanimation process from Krakow! That kills people!”

Gil waved his hand dismissively. “Only if you do it wrong.”

“But at the very least, you’ll get whatever this is that Tarvek’s got.”

Gil shrugged. “Quite probably, but I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Agatha stared at him, sure in the knowledge that somebody should worry about it.

Gil continued. “My father figures that a ruler should be hard to kill. So whenever a new disease is found, we’re inoculated against it or simply infected with it. Same with building up a resistance to poisons. I’m probably proof against almost anything.”

Agatha was dubious. “That…seems a bit risky.”

Gil smirked. “Most people just know my father as the despotic warlord who rules Europa, but he does have his amusing Sparky quirks. Did you know he really loves waffles?”

“Wait! I see it now!” Tarvek announced, clutching at Agatha’s wrist.

Agatha frowned as she thought. “Don’t try to distract me, either of you. No—we studied this. Doctor Beetle said that even under ideal conditions, most of the people who tried it died, or at least came out of it raving mad.” She paused a moment. “Really mad. Worse than when they started. Gil, you’re talking about trying this on a living person. The systemic feedback could short out your entire nervous system.”

“True, it could…” Gil conceded, “but as long as he stays relatively calm, there shouldn’t be any major problems.”

Tarvek suddenly flung himself upright. “I am the prettiest frog in this entire pond!” he shouted triumphantly. He then rolled off the bench onto the floor with a crash.

Gil shrugged again and bent to lift him back onto the table. “And, of course, I’d hate for it to be boring.”

Once Tarvek was off the floor, Agatha took a sheet and tucked it tightly around him so he wouldn’t fall off again. She spoke as she worked: “And let’s not forget how that sort of thing—even if it works at all—has a good chance of leaving the subject an out-of-control monster that has to be hunted down and shot.”

Gil flung his hands into the air. “Well, there you go!” he shouted. “In that case he’ll be right back to normal!”

“Gil! I’m serious! Even if we wanted to do this, we don’t have any of the right equipment. I’ve already checked. Everything here is useless!”

“Surely not all of it.” Gil waved a hand and indicated the machines scattered throughout the room, the piles of discarded components and shelves and drawers full of tools. “I mean, this was some powerful Spark’s workroom! Look at all this stuff! What about this thing?” He gestured to an intricate copper lattice.

“That one will electrocute him in one of eight amusing ways.” She pointed to another. “That one can transplant his mind into a wide variety of household pets, and that one will drain all of his blood and artistically replace it with molten brass.”

Gil paused, and pointed to a small metal box. “Oh. Well, what about this one? It sort of looks like a toaster.”

Agatha nodded. “It sort of is a toaster.”

Gil waited. “Sort of?”

Agatha sighed. “Oh, yes. It could toast the whole town. Look, Gil, my family…they weren’t nice people.”

Gil stared at it. “How did you figure all this out so quickly?”

“Apparently the Castle moonlights as a set of instruction manuals.”

“You should be more grateful,” the Castle said. “When you’re standing in the body-washing rain simulator trying to decide which knob activates the scrubbing powder dispenser and which the boiling water, I’m sure I will have quite forgotten.”

Gil leaned wearily back against a cabinet and ran a hand through his hair. “Agatha, listen. I…I can see that you really like this toad.” He looked at his boots and waved vaguely at Tarvek.

Agatha blushed. “What? How—I mean—why would you say that?”

Gil gave a humorless snort. “Listen to yourself. You’re a strong Spark, but you’re holding back. You’re so afraid of hurting him, you’ve gone all sloppy and helpless.”

This was just insulting. “How dare you?” Agatha snapped.

“This isn’t like you!” Gil snarled back. “You haven’t even tried!”

Who did he think he was? “What do you know about it? About me? You hardly know me!”

Gil swept a hand around the room. “I know you well enough! You’re better than this! Look at this stuff! ‘This isn’t what we need’? Are you serious? Do you think molecular destabilizers show up in pork pies? Of course not! You have to build them out of sausage grinders and automatic bootjacks just like everyone else! With the machines in this room alone, you could cannibalize enough material to make anything if you weren’t all frozen up worried about killing him, which is stupid!”

By this time, Gil was shouting in full Spark voice, and Agatha’s tones matched his. “Gil, this stuff is dangerous! It would be easier to just kill him and then revive him!”

The two of them stopped and stared at each other round-eyed as amazing possibilities began to blossom in their imaginations.

“It…it would greatly simplify the procedure,” Agatha breathed. “But…there’s still the danger of catastrophic mental breakdown for both participants…”

Gil put his hands on her shoulders and looked up at the nearest machine. “Nonsense!” he said. “Once we cure him, sorting out the minor side-effects will be simple! Come on, if we try to get him to the hospital, it will be too late. We’ve got to act fast or we’ll lose him for good. I think, if we’re creative, these machines might actually be useful.”

Agatha turned to face him. She could feel her blood roaring through her veins. “Ah! Yes! We may be able to reconfigure that blood-to-brass thing to act as a filter!”

Gil’s eyes were wide. “Oh! Yeah! And it may be possible to eliminate death-trauma memory loss entirely if we shunt him out of his body while we work—”

Agatha slapped the copper lattice. “And we even have something that can generate the nuanced current!”

Gil was actually hopping in place. “Ooh! Ooh! And if we keep high voltage running through everything the whole time, while applying—”

Agatha squealed and clapped her hands. “Exactly! Then the cascade effects that usually kill everyone and set the lab on fire probably won’t even have a chance to begin!”

The next few minutes saw the two of them dashing about the laboratory, excitedly producing bits of arcane technology and figuring out how they could be repurposed. At the end, they were laughing and yelling, clutching each other’s hands, and jumping up and down while finishing each other’s equations. Finally they both simultaneously shouted out a final “Zero!” and stood panting, staring at each other with shining eyes.

Agatha gripped Gil’s shoulders. “This has a small, but fascinating, chance of actually working. Let’s do it!” she growled.

Gil wiped the sheen of sweat off of his brow and stared back at her with smoldering eyes. “This will be great!” he said fervently. “I can get killing Tarvek out of my system and give him a hard time about it later!”

At the mention of his name, Tarvek stirred and let out a small groan. Agatha flew to his side. His eyes fluttered open. “Agatha,” he whispered. “I don’t think I’m at all well.”

“No, no!” Agatha brushed his long bangs out of his face and patted him happily. “It’s all going to be all right! We’re just going to kill you and then you’ll be fine!”

Tarvek goggled up at her. Agatha wasn’t sure if he understood or not, but—

Gil stepped in. “Agatha… Okay, my turn.” He clutched his forehead. “Tch. You have a lot to learn about talking to patients.”

Agatha was confused. “Oh, but—Science—”

Gil put a finger to her lips and she paused. He then sat on the table next to Tarvek, who continued to look horrified. Gil was, apparently, something much worse than a simple nightmare. Gil leaned in. “Shut up,” he told Tarvek.

Tarvek, who hadn’t actually said anything, blinked, and continued to be silent. Gil took a deep breath. “Okay. Listen up. Because you are an idiot, you’ve somehow managed to get yourself infected with Hogfarb’s Resplendent Immolation. If you were paying attention in Professor Fauve’s lectures,⁷⁹ which I rather doubt, you’ll know that once the second stage begins, you’re going to go up like a torch. We’re going to try to prevent that by destroying the chroma igniters that have invaded your system.

“Now, we’ve got a bunch of old Heterodyne torture machines here, so we’re going to tear them up and try to cobble something together with the parts. It looks like we might have to drain all your blood and run it through an improvised filter—but we’re thinking we’ll combine everything with a modified si vales valeo which, yes, means that we’re going to have to kill you for a while. Unless…huh. Interesting. Actually, it’s possible that instead of a single moment of death, you’ll experience a continual rolling death for as long as we run the current. Still, that’s only if we can’t transfer your mind into a rat, or something…either way, do try to pay attention so we can take notes later.

“Also we think we probably might have a way to keep you from becoming a ravening monster but we’ll keep you chained down just in case.”

Agatha gently put her hand over Gil’s mouth. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks. I think I’ve learned a lot.”

Gil raised his eyebrows in pleased surprise. Agatha turned to Tarvek and took his hand. It had turned lime green. Her heart was pounding. He looked so terrible…what could she say to him… “Tarvek, I—”

“It…It’s brilliant!” He pressed both her hands in his. “Oh, Agatha! You really do care!”

Agatha wondered if he was still hallucinating. “Well, of course, but—”

Gil snorted and stalked off, taking von Zinzer with him.

Tarvek gazed at her adoringly. “It’ll work! I know you can do it! You’re so amazing! Yes, let’s start right away!”

“Wait—but first,” Tarvek said. He looked around cautiously. “Where is Violetta?” He asked in a low, serious voice. “I need to talk to her. Now.”

Violetta, who had been, frankly, cowering next to Moloch while watching Agatha and Gil rant around the room, calmed herself using the secret Smoke Knight technique of biting her tongue, and stepped up. “Well, talk! I’m right here! You Sparks get all into your freakish, twisted courtship rituals and completely forget that you have an audience, don’t you?” She scowled at him. “Have you also forgotten that I’m supposed to keep you alive?

Tarvek was overjoyed. “Yay! There you are!” He grinned up at her. “I really am sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you—” Violetta looked like she had a bone caught in her throat. Tarvek blithely continued, “but I’m going to make it up to you!”

Violetta turned to Agatha. “Did you already swap out his brain and I missed it?”

Tarvek settled back onto the table and gazed upwards, contemplating infinity. He spoke in a whisper that Violetta had to bend over him to hear: “Since I’m going to die, I hereby release you from all duties to the family and to the Order.”

Violetta gasped.

Tarvek nodded. “And I’m sending you into the service of the Lady Heterodyne.”

Violetta clutched at her head. “Oh no,” she moaned. “I’m sick too! I’m starting to hallucinate!”

“You’ll do fine,” Tarvek assured her. “You’re like a faithful hound, with your cold little nose…”

“Oh my gosh!” Violetta was starting to hyperventilate. She turned to Agatha. “Oh my gosh! If…if I could stick with you—And…and do girl things…and I…I could go to your party and wear a pretty dress…”

“She’s always wanted to, you know,” Tarvek confided to Gil, who was walking past with an armload of syringes, tubes, and bottles. Gil gave him a blank look and continued across the room to where von Zinzer was setting out a selection of bizarrely shaped glassware and connecting it with pipes.

“ARRGH,” Violetta scowled. She leaned in again to whisper furiously: “But it…it won’t work. You don’t have the authority!”

Tarvek raised his eyebrows. “I’m the King!” he shouted cheerfully to the whole room.

“Stupid!” Violetta smacked him. “Not if you’ve been killed and revived!” her voice dropped to the barest whisper. “The Order will throw you out!”

“Not if we don’t tell them,” Tarvek whispered. “It’ll be a secret!”

“But I’m sworn to…” She stared at Tarvek. “This is how you do it,” she said faintly. “This is how you get people to…to betray their vows and perjure themselves and commit blackmail and murder for your schemes—”

“Murder?” Tarvek closed his eyes and wearily held up a hand. “Baby steps, Violetta, baby steps.” He cracked open an eye. “Well?”

Violetta sagged. “I’ll do it,” she whispered.

Tarvek’s voice returned to normal volume, and he playfully waggled his finger at Violetta. “Excellent. So you obey Agatha. Keep her safe.” He waved a regal hand toward Gil, who was lifting jars off the workbench and checking their contents. “And don’t let this Lothario bother her. After all, she is my future bride!”

“What?!” Gil shouted. The jar he had been holding smashed on the floor, scattering iridescent green powder across his boots. “I’ve changed my mind,” he informed them all at full volume. “Let’s just kill him!”

“Oh my,” Violetta marveled. “For the first time in my life, I don’t actually want to.”

Agatha crossed her arms and frowned at them. “Stop it. We’re going to kill him properly.”

Tarvek nodded sagely and smiled. “I hear birdies,” he chuckled.

Agatha nodded. “Great. Then that’s settled. Let’s get started.”

Gil raised a hand. “Oh. Wait. I’ve just remembered something I have to take care of first.” He turned to von Zinzer. “Did you find that Ichor of Somnia?”

Von Zinzer nodded. “Yessir. The jar is still sealed, so it might even still be good?” He found the correct jar and handed it to Gil, who examined it, nodding in satisfaction.

“Excellent. Come with me.” Gil said, and led von Zinzer out of the room.

Once they were in the hall, von Zinzer cleared his throat. “Ah… sir? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What was all that about messing up this guy’s being king? King of what?”

Gil rolled his eyes. “Tarvek is in the direct line of descent for at least three thrones that I can think of off the top of my head.” He waved a hand. “Oh, a bunch of his relatives would have to die first, but let’s just say I wouldn’t sell any of them insurance.”

Moloch considered this. “But—all that about being dead and revived?”

Gil waved a hand. “Oh, well—Sturmvoraus is a Prince. You know—traditional royalty…they’re all about succession, right? That’s why the dying thing is important.”

“I guess.”

“Well someone who’s been waiting twenty or thirty years to assume power doesn’t much like it when their predecessor goes and gets reanimated. So they’ve come up with all kinds of rules about that sort of thing. As far as the Fifty Families are concerned, once you’re dead, you’re dead. Even if someone zaps you back later.”

Von Zinzer looked worried. “But, the Baron…there’s rumors that he’s….I mean, um…no offense, but…”

Gil laughed. “None taken. My father doesn’t choose to play by their rules and they can’t make him.

“But he knows them. And, every so often, some blueblood succumbs to the lure of resurrection and then desperately hopes no one ever finds out.” Gil lowered his voice conspiratorially. “But my father always does.”

Von Zinzer nodded. “I’ll bet.”

Gil held up a hand. “Hold that thought.” He opened a door and found Professor Tiktoffen stripping the last vestiges of spider silk off of Zola. “Ah! Professor! Zola! And how are you doing?” he asked cheerily.

Tiktoffen waved a hand gummed with spider silk. “Very well, thank you! I’ve just managed to get the Lady…er…Zola loose!”

Zola was livid. “Gil! Are you seriously going to—AAH!…and why is your shirt off?”

Gil smiled and poured a small amount of Ichor into his hand. “Yes, yes. Now, I need you to test something for me!” He raised his hand and blew a cloud of powder at them just as Zola was drawing in a deep lungful of air. She and Tiktoffen collapsed to the ground.

Zola began to snore gently. Gil nodded. “Still good.” He turned to von Zinzer. “—and, of course, my father believes that it’s best if we’re the only ones who find out.”

Von Zinzer knew an implied threat when he heard one and accepted this one with remarkable equanimity. “Find out what, sir?”

Gil nodded. “Good man.”

_______________

⁷² These suspicions were fully justified. These creatures are apparently a mutated form of louse (pediculus humanus gargantua heterodyne) sold throughout Mechanicburg as “Deep Fried Crunchy Castle Crabs.” By all accounts they are incredibly delicious, but no native of Mechanicsburg has ever been able to bring themselves to eat one.

⁷³ Agatha had no idea what she was in for. As the largest supplier of money, resources, and personnel in Europa, the Wulfenbach Empire received hundreds of proposals for insane schemes every day. What made it truly maddening was that all-too-often a scheme might be horrifying, insane, counter-intuitive…and the perfect solution for a current problem. Thus, Klaus insisted that every one of these ideas had to be fairly evaluated. It was challenging, infuriating, and occasionally dangerous work. The clerks assigned to the Department for the Containment of New Ideas were bureaucrats who regularly earned Hazard Pay.

⁷⁴ To a chronicler of the life of the Lady Heterodyne, the tragedy of the destruction that Doctor Merlot claims credit for cannot be overstated. Tarsus Beetle was evidently enough of a confidant of Barry Heterodyne that he was entrusted with his niece. Although historical records show that Barry was a prodigious diarist and notetaker, none exist after the date of the destruction of Castle Heterodyne up through his time in Beetleburg (which may have lasted as long as a year). It is not unreasonable to assume that any and all writing that he generated, which would certainly have covered or at least mentioned tangentially, where the brothers had been and what they had been doing since their disappearance, had been deposited with Dr. Beetle for safekeeping before Barry left town. So, in answer to Merlot’s rhetorical question, no—it was not particularly fair, but the Baron did not permit torture.

⁷⁵ Fra Pelagatti was an Abbot of the Corbettites, a monastic order based in Ireland. Whereas many orders raised a little pocket change by brewing up various alcoholic beverages, the Corbettites ran a railroad system that united Europa and was making inroads into Asia and the Middle East. While it welcomed and sheltered Sparks, the order also attracted quite a few of the overlooked mechanics, engineers, tinkerers, and self-taught inventors who were not Sparks but didn’t feel like working for the Wulfenbach Empire. The order gave them a home and a greater purpose. It also gave them access to tools, workshops, and large, dangerous things that went very fast.

⁷⁶ As it may be inferred, most Sparks have much in common with small children in that they may be cheerfully breaking the laws of physics one minute and be astonished that their room has not been cleaned in the next. For many Sparks, the most heinous part of being sentenced to Castle Heterodyne was that they were stripped of their minions and found that they were expected to do everything for themselves, from preparing their own meals, to seeing if a pair of wires are, in fact, live.

⁷⁷ This comment may explain a curious and heretofore unexplained incident when the famous cabaret briefly disappeared from its usual lot on the Boulevard de Clichy. A month later it was just as mysteriously returned, unharmed. No perpetrator or motive was ever revealed. The only evidence of the theft was a series of postcards sent to the Master of Paris showing the iconic structure standing in front of the Taj Mahal in Agra, the Emperor’s Palace in the Forbidden City, the Kaaba in Mecca, and the Hofbrâuhaus in Munich.

⁷⁸ The Variegated Knife & Fork Spider (Theraphosidae Cultro Furca Mechanicsburg) is a species endemic to the Mechanicsburg Valley. Like many other spiders, it cocoons its victim, paralyzes them and injects them with eggs, which hatch into young that feed upon said victim’s liquefying, but still living, flesh. The difference is that the Knife and Fork Spider does this with impeccable table manners, which is why it was selected as the mascot for the Mechanicsburg Restaurant Association.

⁷⁹ Professor Tybalt Fauve, MD, PhD. Became renowned for his lecture series about esoteric diseases. One of his more memorable teaching aids was to randomly infect various members of the audience with some of the diseases that he was discussing in that session. Extra credit was awarded to students who could correctly diagnose these various illnesses (either in themselves or in others) before the lecture ended (or before the victim died, whichever came first). Due to the perversity of human nature, Professor Fauve’s lectures were always packed to capacity, which made things really interesting when he covered some of the more contagious pathogens.