Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess (51 page)

High overhead, a small airship of peculiar design droned through the sky. The pilot, one Ardsley Wooster, agent of British Intelligence, was hunched over the controls. Even after hours of flight, he couldn’t help frequently glancing upwards, and suffering a quick stab of panic every time he failed to see the reassuring bulk of an overhead gasbag. The airship was an experimental heavier-than-air contraption put together by Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, and was held up by nothing but aerodynamics and its own engine. Wooster found piloting it one of the more nerve-wracking experiences of his career.

However he couldn’t complain about the craft’s performance. His map and instruments confirmed that he was indeed over Balan’s Gap, hours faster than the quickest dirigible in the Wulfenbach fleet could have made the trip. He was already planning on trying to bring the craft along with Agatha and himself to Britain, where the Queen’s Sparks could begin to tease out its secrets.

He banked the craft slightly, trying to ignore the heart-stopping aspects of the maneuver, and surveyed the town below. Definitely Balan’s Gap, there was the squat immensity of Sturmhalten Castle, but it seemed awfully quiet. A flickering blue light caught his attention and he flew over the center of the town. He stared down at the roiling energies of the lightning moat. Something was definitely up.

For the hundredth time he wished Gilgamesh had given him time to do a little more research on what kind of situation he might be dropping into.

He did know that he wouldn’t have much time. This aircraft was faster, but not that much faster than the oncoming fleet. He had gained no more than six hours on them, by his calculations. Not much time at all.

He began trying to find a level place to land, which was almost impossible in the dark. Luckily, there was just enough moonlight to illuminate the more unsuitable bits of terrain.

Suddenly, another set of glows from the ground caught his eye. Wagons. Camp fires. He realized that these must be the caravan staging areas. Most of them appeared to be unoccupied. This would be a perfect place to land. He swooped around once or twice before selecting his approach. As he did, he began to note the manner of wagons below him. There was a circus of some sort, he realized. Was it the circus that had aided Agatha? The laws of probability made the prospect likely.

With a more tangible line of inquiry before him, Ardsley began to bring the craft down.

But he had been seen.

Back inside the castle, Agatha dropped her hands and took a deep breath. She turned to Tarvek, who finished the shut-down sequence with a pleased look on his face.

“How was that?” she asked.

“I think that’ll be perfect,” Tarvek said with satisfaction. “Let’s see how it looks.”

“No!” Agatha stopped him. “Some of the connections are delicate. I don’t know how many times it’ll work.”

Tarvek frowned. “True, you did slap it together pretty fast. But we should have time to go in and—”

A door slammed open and Vrin appeared. She was now clad in the traditional Geisterdamen raiment. When she saw the two of them, she bowed in Agatha’s direction. “Mistress! The sentries have sighted an airship!”

Tarvek sucked in a breath with a hiss and checked his watch. “Blue fire! The Baron’s man made
very
good time.”

Vrin continued. “They said that it looked like it was coming down on the southeast side of the town.”

Tarvek nodded. “Caravan field. Fire and oil! The circus is still there.”

Agatha looked surprised. “I’d thought they were gone by now.”

Vrin continued. “It was a strange airship as well. Small and very fast. It looked like a giant bird!”

Instantly an image of Gilgamesh’s flying machine flashed through Agatha’s head, and her heart skipped a beat. A shiver of anticipation ran through her.

She patted her device. “We’ve got to move this onto the roof now.”

When the man before her didn’t respond, she touched his arm. “Tarvek, it’s time.”

He turned towards her and she was surprised to see that he looked slightly ill. He fished a small device from an inner pocket and looked at her sadly. “Yes,” he muttered. “I’m afraid it is.”

He depressed a switch and a small blue light flared on the device. Every one of the small clanks that Agatha had created spat out a burst of sparks and froze, then toppled over, instantly stopping the underlying drone of the music they had been playing.

Agatha whirled. “What have you done?” she screamed. Tarvek looked at her pleadingly, but said nothing. “Not now! I knew I couldn’t trust you! I—” She gave a violent shudder, and Lucrezia blinked, and then smiled.

“Ah! Tarvek, is it time?”

The young man nodded and indicated the waiting priestess. “Yes, my lady. Vrin says that an airship has been sighted, and it most likely is the Baron’s Questor.”

Lucrezia clapped her hands. “Excellent! Then we can—” Her eyes were drawn downwards as she realized what it was that she was wearing. It was a rather diaphanous gown that, stylistically, owed quite a lot to the Moravian artist, Alfons Mucha
⁶⁷
.

Lucrezia took a deep breath and indicated the outfit. “Tarvek…
dear
… what is this?”

The Prince grinned self-consciously. “Do you like it? Agatha wanted some different clothes, and that’s an old Harvest Festival outfit that I designed for Anevka.

“Now I myself never really thought that she was suited for the art nouveau style, but the theme of the festival…” He realized that both Lucrezia and Vrin were staring at him with rather disbelieving expressions, and he stuttered to a stop.

Lucrezia smiled gently and patted him on the head. “It’s lovely, dear. But now I’m going to change into something a
teensy
bit more practical.”

She turned away and Tarvek let out his breath. Lucrezia paused, and looked back over her shoulder. “But we can play dolly ‘dress-up’ later, if you’d like.”

With that she moved off, giggling, as Tarvek silently gritted his teeth. He swallowed his annoyance and turned back to Agatha’s machine. The modifications he’d planned shouldn’t take much time.

BY ROYAL APPOINTMENT

Another fine oubliette from the

ancient and honorable guild of

Murderous Device Fabricators.

To view our full line of fine goods,

please visit our

Mechanicsburg showroom

in your next life.

Lars read the small sign a final time and turned away in disgust.

“It iz very well dezigned,” Maxim said with a touch of hometown pride.

“The walls are impossible to climb,” conceded Zeetha.

Krosp sat back with mixed feelings of annoyance and relief. “There are drains, but they’re so narrow that even
I
can’t get through them.”

“Can’t anybody think of anything?” Lars asked.

Sturvin sat wearily down upon a collection of bones dressed in a ball gown from sometime in the last century. “I think we’re really stuck here, folks.”

Veilchen shook his head. “No—you’re an old hand down here. Surely you have some trick up your sleeve? Some trade secret?”

The plumber snorted. “Wish I did. My partner now, he was always better at this sort of thing.”

Veilchen sighed. “Well then…” He pulled a compact air gun from inside his cloak and fired it upwards. A small grappling hook soared over the dimly seen lip of the pit and out of sight. Veilchen pulled the rope, set the hook and then shimmied upwards. Before anyone else could blink, he pulled the rope up behind him as he disappeared.

The others realized what had happened and looked at each other in astonishment.

Sturvin sighed deeply. “You know, I keep meaning to get one of those things.”

Zeetha looked upwards hopefully. “I don’t suppose there’s the slightest chance that he’s gone to get help.”

Maxim chuckled. “Ho, no vay! He left uz here to die! Vot a pro!”

Krosp snorted. “Yeah, well your ‘pro’ forgot something important.”

A second passed and Veilchen’s head popped over the lip of the pit. “Like what?” he demanded.

Krosp smiled. “Like why we’re all down here in this pit to begin with.”

A glowing tentacle dropped around the assassin’s throat. “Whoops,” Veilchen admitted. “Gotta go.” And he was jerked from sight. A series of screams and roars erupted from above the pit.

“Now what?” Zeetha asked.

“Dependz on who vins op dere,” Maxim replied cheerfully.

“How will we know that?” Zeetha asked.

Maxim patted a surprised Krosp on the head. “Dot’s simple! Ven der noize shtops, ve toss de kitty op dere, and he’ll tell us!”

“And if there’re still monsters up there?” Krosp demanded.

“Jump down! Hy’m sure sumvun vill ketch hyu.”

“At this point, I will be favorably disposed to some other plan,” Krosp declared.

Ognian held up a hand. “Hey! Iz qviet,” he announced.

“Is that good?” Lars whispered.

Overhead, about a dozen monsters leaned into sight and examined them hungrily.

“Guess not,” Lars muttered. Above, the monsters surged forward trying to leap into the hole. This caused a blockage, and a small fight broke out amongst them. This was to be expected, as monsters have poor conflict resolution skills.

Ognian picked up his halberd and spun it about, limbering up. “Hey!” he said with a grin, “Howzabout ve keel enough monsters dot ve ken climb out over der bodies?”

“That’s
your
plan?” Lars demanded.

Zeetha slid her swords from their scabbards and gave the Jäger a nod. “Under the circumstances, that’s a pretty good plan.”

Lars shook his head. “I’m with Krosp on this, I want another plan.”

“
I
got one.”

Everyone jerked their heads up in surprise. A block in the wall about three meters up had slid aside, and Kalikoff waved at them before tossing down a rope. “Come on up! Hurry!”

Sturvin grinned. “Man, I wondered where you were!”

Several minutes later, they were trudging along a stone gallery. Along one side was a series of openings that revealed a large causeway below, illuminated by faintly glowing green spheres. These stretched off in both directions until they were out of sight.

Lars sidled up to Kalikoff. “So, no offense, but the last time I saw you—” he made chomping motions with his hands.

The shorter man waved a hand airily. “Oh that.” He fished out a bizarre looking multiplex knife. “Thank my Official Sturmhalten Sewer Rat Knife.” He flicked his hand, and a screwdriver appeared. Flicked it again, and a small saw blade slid out. Once more, and a small sword clicked into place. A final snap, and they all slid back into place.

“Wow,” Lars breathed. “Where can I get one of those?”

Kalikoff shrugged apologetically. “Sorry man, you gotta be a Sturmhalten Sewer Rat. It’s a union thing.”

“I’ll join.”

Up ahead, Sturvin was studying his map, and frowning.

“So where are we?” asked Krosp.

“Not in a damn oubliette,” the plumber snapped, “So I’d say anywhere is a big improvement.”

Kalikoff chimed in. “I don’t know either.”

Ognian glanced out a window. “Hy s’poze ve could ask dem,” he pointed.

Below, a procession of Geisterdamen marched silently by. There were easily hundreds of them. Phalanxes strode eight abreast, escorted heavily-laden wagons being pulled by bizarre animals that were like pale wolves, but with a dozen glowing eyes. Interspaced between these were troops of the gigantic white spiders. All of the ghostly women were fully armed, either with their slim curved swords, tall, crescent-moon bladed spears, or both.

Ognian found a half dozen hands covering his mouth.

“Where are they going?” whispered Lars.

Kalikoff whispered back. “Some of the old records mention ancient caverns, down beyond the Deep-down. There’s supposed to be strange things living there—” he gazed at the passing ghost women. “I thought it was made up,” he sighed.

Sturvin gazed down at them. “Man, there’s gotta be hundreds of them. S’a damn army.”

“Dey’s actink like dey’s guardink sumting,” Dimo mused. “Sumting impawtent.”

Below them, several wagons containing machinery trundled past. None of the group could have been expected to recognize the components of The Other’s mind transfer device.

“So they had some sort of base under Sturmhalten,” Zeetha realized. “A good place to hide. No wonder no one ever knew where they came from. But why are they leaving?”

“The old Prince is dead,” Lars breathed. “I’ll bet he was their protector or something.”

Krosp was staring at the last wagon of machinery as it moved on past. “There’s something about that stuff that looks familiar,” he grumbled. “I wonder what it’s for?”

“Hy tink Hy know,” said Ognian in a strangled voice, “And in der Master’s name, keep qviet!”

The others looked back and shuddered into silence. A series of huge, misshapen creatures, larger than oxen and covered in spines and writhing tentacles, lumbered forward. Strapped to the wooden carts that groaned behind them, were a series of large glass and metal spheres, covered with softly glowing dials and gauges. Behind the thick glass, undefined shapes roiled endlessly within a thick, oily liquid.

A squad of Geisterdamen marched grimly alongside each one, and a single pale warrior stood atop each sphere, easily high enough to look into the windows of the gallery. Instantly the group flung themselves to the ground and huddled beneath the openings as the great mechanisms rolled on by.

“Doze iz Slaver Engines,” Ognian growled.

Lars spasmed in place. “Slaver—You mean like revenant wasps?”

“Ho yez.”

Maxim sidled up to Dimo. “Der Baron gots to hear ’bout dis,” he said grimly.

“Agreed.”

“Ken ve keep Miz Agatha out uv dis?”

Dimo gave a single, silent laugh. “Ask me ven ve
find
her. Eef ve effer gets out uv here.”

Maxim gave the green Jäger a light punch on the arm. “Patience, brodder. Soon ve gets lucky.”

It was about a half an hour later. The procession had finally passed. The group had headed back up towards the way from which the Geisterdamen had come.