Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess (52 page)

Sturvin threw the lever, and with a squeal, the lift began climbing upwards past endless walls of blasted rock.

“Fixed by whom?” Zeetha asked. “Lars once said that the Jägers don’t let doctors near them, even if they’re wounded. He says that you’re waiting for a Heterodyne to fix you up.”

Dimo eyed a preoccupied Lars. “Huh. Dot vun, he knows hiz stories,” he conceded.

Maxim waved his mechanical arm. “Iz true. Sum uf uz have vaited for a very lonk time.”

Ognian draped an arm over Dimo’s shoulder. “Yah! But lucky for Dimo, ve got—”

Zeetha didn’t see Dimo’s arm move, but suddenly his fist was buried in Ognian’s midsection. The Jäger gasped and dropped to the ground. “Hokay!” Dimo said brightly, “Right arm? Schtill feelin’ goot! Tenks, Oggie!”

From the floor, Ognian wheezed, “S’okeh, brodder.”

Sturvin called out. “Pay attention, people. We’re nearing the top. We don’t know what’s up here.”

As it turned out, there was disappointingly little. It was evidently just another platform stage, but the other elevator had been disabled by the crude, but effective, method of filling the shaft with large rocks.

“No way we can clear this,” Kalikoff declared with finality.

“But—but we can’t go down again,” Lars said. “The lift is too noisy. Those things will be waiting.”

“Ve could climb down,” Maxim suggested.

“But Dimo—”

“Aw, he bounce pretty goot.”

The subject of this discussion slumped to the floor, and gingerly rubbed his shoulder. “Eediots,” he muttered. “Ve must find anodder vay. Miz Agatha—”

“—Is a Heterodyne?” Zeetha asked quietly.

Dimo froze, and then gave a forced chuckle. “Vot? Dot’s krezy tok.”

“One of you is always near her,” Zeetha said flatly.

Dimo rolled his eyes. “She safe uz. Ve gots to pay her beck.”

“And so you did. On the bridge to Passholdt.”

Dimo frowned. “Dot vas for me. Maxim and Oggie gotta vait for dere turns.”

Zeetha snorted. “Good one. You remind me of some of the people I knew back home.” She crossed her arms. “I know you don’t work for the Baron. Lars says that you wild Jägers are still looking for a Heterodyne heir. I think you’ve found one.”

The two eyed each other. Finally, Dimo let his head thump back against the wall. “Iz hyu gunna expose her?”

“Of course not,” Zeetha huffed. “She is zumil. My student. I protect her. So you can tell those elephants sneaking up behind me to relax.”

Ognian and Maxim froze, looked at each other and then straightened up with embarrassed looks upon their faces. “Dose vere prime goot sneakin’-op moves, lady,” Ognian muttered.

Maxim rolled his eyes. “Brodder? I vould just drop it, hokay?”

“Hey!” Krosp caught everyone’s attention. He held his paw up and motioned for silence. “Does anyone else hear… singing?”

(It is here, with great reluctance, and a full awareness of how a chronicler should
report
a story without
being
the story itself, that one of your professors enters this narrative.

Surely the tedious whys and wherefores of how he came to find himself in this particular prison at this particular time have no significant relevance to the greater story, and thus, shall be ignored
⁶⁸
.)

Anyway, it was shortly thereafter, that a lone prisoner, who had been attempting to lighten his pitiable fate by engaging in some heartfelt balladeering, was started when one of his cell’s floor stones suddenly flew upwards, propelled by a hirsute green fist.

A few more stones disappeared, and an unshaven green face emerged. “Hello dere,” it said cheerfully.

“Good grief,” the prisoner replied in astonishment. “You’re Jägerkin! Nov shmoz ka pop
⁶⁹
?”

“Oho!” Dimo exclaimed as he hoisted himself up. “A home boy! So vere iz ve?”

Another Jäger appeared. The Professor offered him a hand up. “We’re in a cell somewhere under Sturmhalten castle.”

Dimo eyed the thick iron-bound door and nodded. “Vell—hit’s been fun—” He reared back and with a vicious kick, smashed the door from its frame. “But ve gots to go.”

The Professor stared at the door, and only slowly registered the parade of people climbing up from the floor and heading out. His attention was caught by a large white cat in an elegant coat, which paused long enough to poke him in the stomach. “I’d get moving, if I were you,” he advised.

‘I’ve just gotten excellent advice from a cat,’
he realized. “At least the day can’t get any weirder,” he muttered.

This was when a large clawed hand swept him up in a hug, and a distressingly familiar face roared out, “Great-great Grandson!”

The crowd in the square shouted out a final sustained “Huzzah!” and then began a series of cheers that Anevka allowed to wash over her for several minutes before she pulled back into the room and closed the French doors. Even through the glass, the susurrus of the crowd could be heard, and Anevka hugged herself in glee as she gracefully stepped around her container’s attendants.

“I could get used to this,” she confided to Lord Selnikov. She looked at the list he was perusing. “And that crowd was the last of them?”

He looked up. “Oh, yes, your highness. The entire town should be under your sway.”

Anevka hugged herself again. “Lovely. When the Baron’s man sees how loyal the townspeople are to me—” She looked over and saw her uncle staring at the castle and frowning. “Why, whatever is wrong?”

Selnikov looked at her. “I fear for your brother.”

Airily, she waved a hand. “Oh do relax. I promise I shall forgive him immediately.” She thought for a second. “Almost immediately,” she amended.

Selnikov shook his head. “Not from you, my darling niece, but from Lucrezia. He’s all alone. Surrounded by her priestesses.”

Anevka turned away. “Please. Tarvek could charm Klaus himself.”

“But if she’s enslaved him—”

Anevka spun and glared at the older man. “Your Lady’s filthy wasps don’t work on Sparks. That was part of the deal she made with those fools in The Order.”

She studied Selnikov’s face. “—But of course. There’s something you’ve been keeping from me.”

Selnikov looked at her, gave a small snort of amused resignation and sat down. He pulled open a desk drawer, and selected a glass. He then reached over to the ornate pen holder on his desk and pulled the pen toward him. A small spout popped out and a stream of brandy filled the glass. “No, he’s safe enough from Lucrezia’s wasps.” He took a sip, and settled back deeper into his chair. “But there are others.”

He looked at Anevka. “Your father may have been the Head of The Order, but there were others who were tasked with guarding some of The Lady’s devices. She probably didn’t trust any one person enough to own
all
of them, even someone as devoted to her as your father was.”

He hoisted himself up from his chair and strode over to a map of the region. He poked a finger at a large red pin that was stuck through a town. “Remember Herr Doktor Snarlantz? The fellow with the unfortunate teeth? Over in Passholdt? He was the one entrusted with most of her hiver engine manufacturing secrets.” He toasted the pin with his glass before drinking.

He turned back to Anevka. “To be fair, he was fascinated with them. He was always trying to improve them.”

Anevka stopped him by raising a hand. “Wait—Passholdt? But—”

Selnikov drained his glass and drew another. “Oh yes, I see you’ve heard about how well
that
all worked out.” He sighed. “Damned fool, that was an important pass. All to our short-term benefit, of course, but it’s important to remember the bigger economic picture.”

“Wasps?” Anevka said, tapping her foot.

“Yes, yes, yes. Anyway, Snarlantz occasionally got some amazing results from his meddling. This particular device, well, if we can believe his notes—”

Selnikov put down his drink and held his hands about ten centimeters apart. “It’s a miniature Hive Engine. Capable of generating but a single wasp, but a wasp designed to infect a Spark.”

“How very useful,” Anevka purred. Then she started. “Wait. Are you saying this thing is in the palace?”

Selnikov nodded and gingerly picked up his glass. “Oh yes. The Jotun Brothers and I found it in Snarlantz’s lab, after we lost contact with Passholdt. We had to remove all traces of The Order’s involvement before the whole mess became public.” He drained his drink. “It was quite a fire. We had a fine old time getting out.” Astonishingly, one could tell that the old fellow had actually enjoyed himself.

Anevka leaned in. “Why wasn’t I told?”

Selnikov looked at her blandly. “Because your dear father didn’t trust you. I cannot imagine why.”

Anevka looked away. “Does my brother know of this?”

The idea of Tarvek being considered more trustworthy than his sister caused his Lordship to snort in amusement. “No. My dear brother-in-law hid it away in a secret safe of his own design. I will show you where it is, but good luck getting it open.”

Anevka drummed her fingers on the table for a second, then spread her hands. “A device Lucrezia doesn’t even know about, hidden where she cannot find it, in a safe she cannot open? No, I think we have more pressing things to worry about.”

Vrin frowned down at the small device in Prince Tarvek’s hand. A small gaggle of Geisterdamen clustered around and tried to get a better look. It certainly looked like a diminutive Hive Engine, but—

She glared at the smirking young man. “And this will enslave a Spark? You’re sure?”

Tarvek idly tossed the device up and easily caught it again. “Quite sure.”

Vrin considered the device and the annoying fellow who held it. “So, what, exactly,” she said slowly, “Is keeping us from using it on you?”

Tarvek rolled his eyes. “And go against your Lady’s wishes? Now that would be stupid. Besides—” He casually tossed the sphere to the priestess, who frantically caught it in midair and then glared at him. “There is only the one. She isn’t foolish enough to waste it on me, since I’m already so obviously loyal to her.”

Vrin ground her teeth together silently. Tarvek smiled and continued. “Evidently not everyone who gets infected stays sane, you know.” He deftly reached out and plucked the sphere from Vrin’s hand. “Or even lives. And since she still needs me…”

“For now,” Vrin conceded. She eyed the device speculatively. “So she will try to use it on the Baron?”

Tarvek shook his head. “Not this one. Not at first, but in time. We still have to find out how it works. My uncle wasn’t able to recover the creator’s notes. A pity, that.” He sighed. “But once we’ve relocated, we’ll find a minor Spark and infect them with it under controlled conditions. With that data, and with the spent engine to reverse engineer, we should be able to duplicate it, and construct as many of them as your Lady wishes.”

Vrin reluctantly looked impressed, and Tarvek spun the tiny sphere on a fingertip. “And then this little bauble will hand us the Empire.”

Vrin looked like she had something to say about the word “us,” but at that moment, another priestess entered and hurried up to them. “Lady Vrin,” she said respectfully, “All of the Lady’s devices have been removed.”

Vrin nodded. She looked at Tarvek and smiled. “Excellent. Prepare the charges to collapse the tunnels. All traces of our Lady’s work must be erased. Bring in fuel for the fires, enough that there is no trace of this chapel.”

“What?” Tarvek exclaimed. “A fire? In my family’s castle? I think not.”

Vrin gently placed her hand upon the pommel of her sword. “Putting your family’s castle ahead of the safety of our Lady? You disloyal pig. A fire in the chapel will ensure—”

Tarvek interrupted her. “—That the Baron’s Questor will examine the place with a fine tooth comb! You couldn’t
do
anything more suspicious!”

Vrin’s grin faltered. “But we must hide—”

Tarvek rolled his eyes and strode over to a wall. Without even counting, he gently pressed down on a particular brick. “You people,” he sneered, “Have all the finesse of a Jägermonster sandwich.”

The room rumbled, and before the Geisterdamen’s startled eyes, walls, floors and the ceiling split and folded, spun and dropped around them, and less than thirty seconds later, the chapel laboratory had been transformed into a rather neglected looking library filled with old books.

Vrin blinked in astonishment as the dust settled. Tarvek stepped up behind her. “We
have
had the Baron’s people visit Sturmhalten before, you know,” he said conversationally.

The chief priestess glared at him and then strode off. Tarvek watched her go, and then pocketing the sphere and humming a tune, he went looking for Lucrezia, who he found dressed in traveling clothes in a small laboratory attached to one of the parlors.

When you had Sparks in residence, having quick access to materials and equipment became a high priority. Architects and decorators learned to just swallow their objections and expect the client to want a smelting furnace next to the master bedroom.

“My dear lady,” he said as he entered. “I would appreciate it if you would have your servants refrain from trying to ignite parts of my house.”

Lucrezia looked surprised. “Oh. Well, if you wish. I rather thought when we were done, you could just build another one. Besides, a fire can be so jolly on a chilly night.”

Tarvek considered this and carefully removed his spectacles and cleaned them with a bit of silk. “Yesss—In a running, screaming, trying to save life and property sort of way…” he allowed.

“Anyway, we’ve been having so much fun!” She gestured, and Tarvek noticed the occupant of the nearest chair with a small start of surprise.

“Come, come,” Lucrezia said, pulling at his arm, “I’ve been telling her our plans!” She turned to the chair. “This is Tarvek Sturmvarous, my dear!”

The occupant of the chair smiled. “Heavens! He
does
look like dear Wilhelm! Possibly a bit handsomer!”

Lucrezia grinned. “Isn’t he though!”

Tarvek made a graceful bow. “Hello, my Lady. It is, as ever, an honor to meet you.”

“Ooh, and so polite! Well, we always did have exquisite taste.”