Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess (56 page)

If Tarvek had actually been looking at Lucrezia’s face, he would have had much to think about, as upon hearing his innocent question, her face had involuntarily reflected a bleak terror that almost drove her to her knees. With a herculean effort of will, she gracefully clutched the doorframe and kept herself upright. She took a deep breath. “You have no idea.“ Her voice was odd enough that it caused Tarvek to glance at her, but all he saw was a rueful smile.

He waited for her to say more, but when she did not, he shrugged and began the process of selecting a coat. Lucrezia rolled her eyes. This façade could get tedious.

She was saved from ennui by Vrin appearing at her elbow. “Mistress. The Baron is here!” Unbidden, she took Lucrezia’s elbow, and pulled her over to a hidden window that looked out upon the courtyard. There was a crowd of townspeople there.

“His Questor, you mean? Well it’s about time.” She looked out, but everyone was staring upwards.

“What’s happening? I don’t see anyone—”

Shadows spread across the courtyard. The crowd began to seethe. Tarvek slammed himself hard against the dusty glass and craned his neck sideways to stare upwards. “Oh no,” he whispered.

The sky above was filling with airships. Even as he watched, more of them dropped into sight from the clouds overhead, falling towards the town. As they began to slow, they seemed to fray about the bottom edges. This visual confusion was resolved when the dots bursting free from the airships got closer and were seen to be even smaller airships. These quickly spread out over the entire town while continuing to drop. There were dozens of them.

“Have my priestesses gone
blind
?” Lucrezia screamed. She turned to Tarvek, “Or even your sentries! How could they have not seen them coming?”

“They weren’t
there
a minute ago,” Vrin declared.

“There’s always a bit of high altitude cloud cover that forms over the mountain at this time of the day. They must have known that.” Tarvek muttered. “They could drift in with it, and then drop fast.”

Lucrezia looked at him in amazement. “What—All of them? Flying in close formation? Within the clouds? That’s extremely dangerous! Why would they do that?”

Tarvek looked at her and his face was grim. “It’s part of the standard procedure for quarantining a Slaver-infected town! That’s no Questor—that’s the Baron himself up there and he’s brought an army! He
knows!
”

Meanwhile, on a low rooftop, a grate was pushed upwards, and Krosp poked his head out. “It’s clear!” he announced, and then he was pushed upwards by the flood of the others.

For several minutes, all they did was breath deeply, savoring the clean air.

As they were doing so, the Professor braced himself for the inevitable grilling. He was not disappointed.

“Zo!” Ognian gently punched him in the arm, “Hy gots any great-great-
great
grand cheeldrens yet
⁷¹
?”

The Professor sighed. “No.”

The Jager frowned. “Hmf. Married?”

“No.”

“Got’s a gurl?”

“No.”

Ognian gnawed on his lower lip. “
Vants
a gurl?”

“
Yes.
”

Ognian’s eyes narrowed. “Iz hyu steel on der road? Iz hyu steel lookink for dot ‘perfect story’?” He snorted. “Get a job!”

The Professor snarled back. “Still looking for a
Heterodyne
, old man? Get a
life!
”

The Jäger bared his teeth. “Hyu vait und see, hyu young punk! Hy
vill
!”

The Professor rolled his eyes. “Shyeah. Fine.
I’ll
get married, when
you
find a Heterodyne.”

Ognian stood there with his mouth open. Then he gave the most alarming grin his hapless descendant had ever seen. “…Really?”

At that moment shouts and screams from the courtyards below caught everyone’s attention.

It was Krosp who glanced upwards. The sight of the approaching armada caused the fur to stand out from his body. He whirled and called out, “We have to find Agatha!”

Another watcher sat upon another castle roof and stared at the skies. It sat silently, except for a faint ticking. Its single eye slowly and methodically swept back and forth. An airship swam into view. The eye paused, and focused with a small whine. The emblem upon the side, the winged rook, sigil of the House of Wulfenbach was examined, and matched against an image stored within. The small clank leapt to its feet and began to chime.

The sharp, clear tones were far louder than one would expect from a mechanism of this size, carrying far across the castle rooftops. After a minute, it paused. There was no response. The little clank looked upwards at a square keep that loomed in the center of the castle, but it saw no activity. It chimed again, astonishingly, even louder. Again, there was no response.

The device tapped its miniscule foot impatiently, and then scuttled forward. It slid under the nearest door, and found itself upon a staircase that wound upwards and downwards from where it stood. Unhesitating, it leapt up the nearest riser and began the laborious climb.

After several stories, it saw a window, the sill occupied by a lounging cat. The cat saw the small movement and instantly focused its attention on the device. It stared in fascination as the device approached, its muscles tensing, when the clank snatched the fluttering tail and gave it a quick bend.

The cat instantly rocketed off, the backwash of its departure sending the small mechanism skittering across the floor.

Grimly, it picked itself up and hauled itself onto the windowsill. It looked down upon the roof of the keep. To its obvious distress, the roof was empty. It was at a loss as to how to proceed, when it heard several people approaching while arguing. One of them was the man it was supposed to avoid. The other was the Mistress! But she had said to avoid her as well, until this task had been completed. But if the task was impossible to complete, surely it would be acceptable to report this?

The programming conflict swirled about its miniscule mind, as it ducked behind a drape and listened.

“But
what
does he know?” The Mistress asked.

“Stop asking me that! I don’t know! I do know that this changes everything! He’ll tear this place apart! He’ll find my secret labs! The tunnels!”

“That thing my daughter was building! Do we need to deactivate it?”

“Don’t worry about
that
. She wanted it moved up to the roof. It’s still in my lab. It’s harmless.”

“But what does he know?”

The voices faded as the small group moved off. The small clank peeked from behind the drape and seeing no one, leapt to the ground. Tarvek’s lab then.

“I’ll bet ten.”

“Double.”

“Three muses.”

“Four sparks.”

“Damnation!”

“Pay up.”

Master Payne leaned back in his chair and reached inside his waistcoat. A look of surprise slid across his features as his hand felt around inside an obviously empty pocket. “My purse is gone.”

Opposite him, a hard-bitten Captain of the Prince’s Guard lowered his brows and deliberately removed his cigar from his mouth. A severe look came into his eye.

“Are you telling me…” he paused, “Sir—That you cannot pay your gambling debt?”

Payne looked at him owlishly for a frozen moment, and then chuckled appreciatively. “Nasty touch.”

The Captain grinned and took a sip from the drink beside his elbow and smacked his lips. “Aye, we get a passel of new recruits with that one.”

Payne picked up the cards and examined them with professional interest. “Always said you can learn more about cheating from an old soldier…”

The Captain blew a plume of smoke. “Well, we get shot if we’re caught,” he said philosophically. “That sharpens the mind right quick.” He saw Payne counting the cards, grinned, and pulled one out from his cuff. “Must say, I thought you’d do better than just stuffin’ muses up your sleeve.”

Payne paused slightly and a small expression of embarrassment flitted through his beard.

“Sir!” He said with offended gravitas, “You wrong me! I am but a simple entertainer. But wait—” His hand came up from underneath the table clutching a battered military wallet. “What is this, tucked into this wallet that you have so obviously dropped?”

The soldier’s drink slammed onto the table and he frantically patted himself down in vain. “You devil! When did you—”

Payne ignored him and studied the documents he’d extracted from the wallet. “Oooh, a love letter from your commander’s wife! Mighty spicy, I must say, sir! And this—my goodness! It’s a layout of Sturmhalten’s defenses! And look at this! It seems that
somebody’s
been selling off army stores to the black market!” He tutted disapprovingly.

His last comment had caused the old soldier’s face to go white. “That’s a hanging offense! I’d never—!”

He saw Payne’s slow grin and caught himself in mid-babble. The two men assessed each other for a moment, and then the soldier raised his glass and saluted the caravan master with a grin. “T’cha! That’s another one to you, you damn thimble rigger.”

Payne was reaching for the cards, when the door to the wagon opened. Abner stuck his head in.

“Master Payne. Sorry to interrupt, sir, but it’s dawn, and we have a visitor.”

He was then pushed aside by a tall, determined looking man in a leather and fleece flying jacket. His hair was tousled and his face was coated with a layer of oil and dirt, except for two pale rings around his eyes, which had been shielded by the aviator goggles hanging around his neck.

“Good morning, sir.” His accent marked him as English, and upper class English at that. “I’m looking for a girl.”

While this was not at all what Payne had expected him to say, it was not entirely unprecedented. Many traveling shows were popular not because of the quality of their acts, but because of the quality of their actresses
⁷²
.

While Master Payne and the Countess turned a blind eye to the occasional sporting liaison various members of their troupe engaged in, they discouraged commercial prostitution per se, if only because the Baron taxed and licensed it, and mandated periodic medical exams for the entire caravan. This was a level of scrutiny they felt was best avoided.

“This is a respectable show, sir,” Payne rumbled. “The girls here are not for sale.”

The Captain leaned back and shrugged. “Astonishing, but true, sir! Me and the lads have tried.” He brought his chair down with a thump and he looked serious. “Now, sir, might I ask your business in Balan’s Gap?”

Wooster rubbed his eyes. “I don’t have time for this. There have been too many delays as it is.”

He leaned on the table and addressed Master Payne. “I think you will know the girl I mean. Agatha Clay.” Both Payne and Abner blinked at this, but gave no other indication. “You tricked the Baron into thinking she was dead.”

Surreptitiously, Abner began sliding a leather cosh out from behind his belt.

Wooster continued. “But he’s not fooled any more. He’s coming for her.” He tapped the table. “Here. Soon. I’ve been charged with getting her to safety. Where is she?”

The Captain blew out another plume of smoke. “And what does the Baron want with some girl?”

Wooster paused and then nodded. “Her real name is Agatha Heterodyne. She is the long lost daughter of Bill and Lucrezia. Raised in secret by the constructs Punch and Judy.” They all stared at him in stunned silence. “At the very least you must have noticed that she’s a strong Spark.”

At this the Captain burst out with a guffaw that almost dislodged his hat. “A lost Heterodyne heir? You came to these people for a—” Again he laughed. Not noticing that in this, he was alone. “You daft fool! These people are actors! They do Heterodyne stories! They play Sparks! And you thought—”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the Countess appearing at the doorway, breathing hard. “Payne! Get out here! The Baron is invading! His airships just appeared out of nowhere! They’re sealing the town!”

“What!” Instantly the old soldier was all business. He glared at Wooster. “You mean to tell me this fairy story is—”

With an elegant move that brought a look of approval from Wooster, Payne and the Countess, Abner leaned over and smacked the back of the soldier’s head, sending him senseless to the floor.

Payne looked at Wooster. “Prince Sturmvarous took her. She’s not here.”

Ardsley frowned. In the town? In the castle? In the middle of an infestation sweep? This was going to be a tricky one.

A spinning metal disk bounced down a winding set of stone stairs, finally impacting upon the wall at the bottom before clattering to the ground. For several seconds, nothing happened, and then a small set of arms and legs unfolded from the main disk. With a snap, the small clank leapt to its feet, and then staggered slightly before its balancing mechanisms finally reset themselves.

It then set off at a run, dashing down several corridors and passing through a small courtyard, which was filled with anxious people staring upwards at the looming airships.

Up another set of stairs. Finally, it reached the door of Tarvek’s laboratory. Executing a perfect third-base slide, it slid under the door. When it stood, it was confronted by a pile of deactivated clanks scattered about the room. Even more distressing was the Mistress’ machine, standing in the middle of the room.

Frantically, the small clank spent almost a minute trying to move the heavy device by itself before it conceded the futility of trying.

There was nothing else to do. With the mechanical equivalent of a shrug, it reached up and activated the machine. Then it ran away. Very fast.

“Captain! Explosion in Sturmhalten Castle!”

Bangladesh was on her feet instantly. “Are they shooting at us?”

One of the other spotters lowered his scope. “No, Captain,” he reported. “It appears that something actually exploded within the south tower keep of Sturmhalten Castle itself. A lot of the roof is gone.”