Agatha H and the Siege of Mechanicsburg Page 21

Tarvek glowered up at her. “Yeah, I’m beginning to see why old Andronicus wrote about you lot the way he did.”

  The clank nodded. “And, as I did with your ancestor, I will leave you with something to ensure that you behave.”

  One of the smaller tiger clanks padded forward and, with a low chuffing sound, took up a position behind Tarvek’s right shoulder. “I will now go,” Otilia said. “Do not attempt to follow. Your guardian is not as sophisticated as I. Your clever words will most likely only annoy it.”

  With that, she turned, and the rest of the clanks fell into formation behind her. Sleipnir and Theo had clambered aboard one of the smaller ones waved goodbye as the entire pack thundered out of the chamber and down the hall.

  Tarvek, Agatha, and Violetta watched them go. “Right,” Tarvek sulked. “I’ll just sit here on my useless, royal butt.” He turned to Agatha. “Come on, let’s fix that last break.”

  He was surprised at Agatha’s expression. “Tarvek,” she began—

  He turned away. His heart felt sick and he badly wanted a distraction. “We’ve still got work to do if they’re going to get past the Castle gate.”

  Agatha tried again. “Tarvek, you’re not—”

  He waved her aside. “Now, it looks like a simple break, so you probably don’t even need me to—”

  Suddenly Agatha grabbed his arm and spun him around. “Shut up and listen to me!”

  Tarvek blinked. Agatha continued. “Tarvek, I’m sure Gil will be all right. That reprogramming you did on Madame Otilia was brilliant. She’ll get him through to Castle Wulfenbach and he’ll . . . he’ll take over the empire and we’ll have time to fully repair the Castle. I know this is all . . . difficult for you, and yet you’ve still done everything you can for him. Without you, well—you’ve been wonderful.”

  Tarvek had trouble meeting her eyes. “That . . . that’s nonsense. I haven’t done anything for him.” He looked at her. “Obviously, it’s all been for you. Everything. That, at least, isn’t going to change.”

  Agatha looked flustered. “Tarvek . . . I . . . ”

  He waved his hands and gently took her shoulders. “Agatha, no matter what happens, I’ll . . . I’ll always be your ally! I’ll always do everything I can do to help you. Even if you don’t—I mean . . . ” Tarvek suddenly realized his face was scant centimeters away from Agatha’s and that her hands were now clasped atop his own. “Even if you and . . . and . . . ”

  He realized where his traitorous mouth was taking the conversation and clamped it shut.

  Agatha found herself drawn closer as she stared into his eyes. “Oh—thank you . . . ” she managed. “I . . . um . . . ”

  They gazed at each other for a long moment and both began to blush feverishly for no reason whatsoever. Tarvek jerked his hands back. “Oh. Ah, hey! Listen to me blather! We’d better get to work!”

  “Yes!” Agatha took a step back and had to refrain from reaching out to him again. “Yes! Yes, we certainly should!”

  Tarvek’s hands flexed and he deliberately turned away. “You go ahead and get started,” he said faintly. “I’ll get the rest of the tools and stuff out of the squid and be right back.”

  “You do that,” Agatha said. “And . . . and we’ll get this placed fixed.”

  She turned and walked, her head aswirl with conflicting emotions. How about that kiss with Gil? a distant part of herself was shouting, a delirious subsection of her brain that had been replaying it over and over and over again, but . . . she was also all too aware of the feeling of Tarvek’s hands on her shoulders. The way she had wanted to listen to him talk forever. The way she felt with his face so very close to hers . . .

  Tarvek, meanwhile, was listlessly tossing tools into the leather satchel he’d been hauling through the Castle. He paused and examined a particularly worn-out screwdriver. Well, he thought with a bitter sigh, at least I know what to get them as a wedding present.

  Suddenly Violetta was there. Her face was a study in outraged wonder. “I can’t believe it,” she said.

  Tarvek sighed. There was nothing like family to twist a knife in a broken heart. “Ah, Violetta, here to play ‘taunt the loser’?”

  She ignored this. “What the heck was that back there?” she demanded. “You’re all set to get the girl, so you try to run off and get yourself killed?”

  Tarvek slammed a steel file into the bag with a satisfying clang. “I was not going to . . . ” The part of his mind that continually parsed Violetta’s dialogue for content and humorous mistakes delivered its message, and he paused. “Wait. All set to what?”

  He turned to see his cousin slumped against the wall, a look of amazement on her face. “I’m totally going to win that bet with von Zinzer.” She looked at Tarvek. “I never win anything.”

  Tarvek felt a touch of concern. “Violetta, have you been licking your knives again?”

  Violetta shook her head. “No! Seriously!” She pointed back towards Agatha. “You’ve won! The way things are going? You’re going to be the one she keeps!”

  “Don’t be insulting. When she kissed Wulfenbach, my glasses started to melt. There’s no way I can compete with—”

  “She was kissing him goodbye!”

  “Explain.”

  Violetta stared at him. “You’re joking. I really have to explain this to you? You live for this stuff.”

  Tarvek put a hand on hers. “Violetta, please.”

  A look of surprise widened her eyes. “You’re not joking!” She massaged her temples. “Argh. It must be love,” she muttered. She looked Tarvek in the eye. “Power balance! Think! The Baron is dead . . . ”

  Tarvek blinked. “Gil is the heir. He’s the new ruler of the empire.”

  “And my Lady Heterodyne is—?”

  Tarvek considered this. “Ah. A powerful spark in charge of a historically troublesome rogue state. Oh dear.”

  “‘Oh dear’ is right!”

  “But if she can get the Castle repaired and Mechanicsburg’s defenses back to their full strength—”

  “Then there’s even less chance she’ll want to sign on as his happy vassal, but as ruler of the empire he’ll feel like he can’t just let a Heterodyne run loose.”

  “But . . . but surely if she marries him . . . ”

  Violetta looked skeptical. “Oh? And what happens the first time there’s a conflict?” Tarvek opened his mouth and she waved a hand peremptorily. “I don’t mean something you can fix with a nice bunch of flowers, I mean when Gil cracks down on the smugglers, or any of the hundred-and-one unsavory things this place considers perfectly normal.”

  Tarvek looked at her inquiringly. Violetta just shook her head. “I told you, I was assigned to the Bürgermeister. There are two calendars here. There’s the public one for the tourists with all the market days and feasts and whatnot, and there’s the one they take seriously. The one the smugglers and shapeshifters use. The one that tells when things are due to rise from the underground and the townspeople congregate for chanting and secret processions. Rituals the people of this town are convinced are necessary to keep life as we know it safe.” She took a deep breath and looked at Tarvek with eyes that had seen too much. “And I . . . I can’t tell you they’re wrong,” she shook her head. “Let’s just say it would be a hard sell. Anyway, with that much of a power imbalance, would he be asking her to clean things up? Or ordering her?”

  “Oh, please. All he has to do is ask her—” He shrugged knowingly. “In a politically respectful yet romantic manner . . . ”

  The look on Violetta’s face stopped him and his eyes widened. “Sweet lightning,” he whispered, holding his head in his hands. “This is all going to end in flames.”

  “Not necessarily,” Violetta said triumphantly. “That’s where you come in!”

  “Where I come in?” A sudden realization hit him. “Wait . . . a bet? You bet on me? And how is it even possible you are on my side?”

  Violetta carefully examined a speck on the wall. “You know . . . family
. . . ”

  Tarvek crossed his arms. “That means I should be looking for the knife in my back.” He paused and then gingerly felt about on his back.

  Violetta threw up her arms. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I was brought up to be one of your Smoke Knights. Keeping you alive and out of trouble. Useless junk like that. Then suddenly, I’m reassigned. I’m sent out here to Mechanicsburg—supposedly to spy on the Town Council—who, in less than five minutes, I realize are a bunch of idiots who, half of the time, don’t know which end of their pretzel to hold, if you know what I mean. Of course everybody knew the real reason I got sent out here was that I wasn’t good enough to be anywhere important. Then I found out it was your fault.

  “You were the one who weaseled around, pulled a bunch of strings, and got me sent out here. No matter how much I hated you before, I hated you more after that. After years when I didn’t know if anybody was even bothering to read my reports, I found out you were here. Wounded. In the Great Hospital. They also mentioned I had been lucky. That in the last three years, someone had taken out twelve of your assigned knights. Three of them didn’t even last a full month.” She glared at Tarvek. “So something was going on and you knew! You got me out of the way on purpose, didn’t you?”

  Now it was Tarvek’s turn to look evasive. “Violetta, it’s not like you ever liked being a Smoke Knight. So what if it was boring out here? At least you didn’t get killed doing something you hated!”

  Violetta looked at him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. And I figure, if you’ll do that for me, you’ll burn down Hell to keep someone you love alive, and I want the Lady Heterodyne kept alive!”

  Tarvek considered this. “You think I can do that?”

  “That’s what I’m betting on. You’re a spark, use your brain for something useful for once! Sure, if she marries kissy-boy she’ll be happy. Very happy . . . ” A faraway look came into Violetta eyes, “Okay, super blissed out in every possible way—”

  “Yes, yes!” Tarvek snapped. “I GET it, all right?”

  Violetta sighed. “But she’d be giving up a lot of her power and I’m worried about how long she’d live. Now you—you’re a total sneak.”

  “What’s that got to do with the price of body parts?”

  “You’ll weave treaties, build alliances . . . you’ll rebuild the Empire of the Storm King from scratch, and you’ll do it from a place of strength—right here in Mechanicsburg. And because the two of you are both starting from the same level, you’ll have a much better chance of working together and being happy for a long, long time!” Violetta sighed, but this time, there was a look of anticipation in her eyes. “And there will be lots of parties,” she whispered, “and I’ll get to dress up and dance with . . . ” She shook her head sharply and looked at Tarvek more seriously. “You’ll probably wind up as some sort of evil dark lords or something, but I have a feeling the Lady Heterodyne might be one of those girls who can get into that sort of thing, if you know what I mean.”

  Oh, Tarvek knew. He started to say something, but Violetta leaned in, “And I think she could make the whole ‘Evil Queen’ look work for her, you know?”

  A look of anticipation filled Tarvek’s face and he shivered. “Tricky . . . ” he breathed. “She’s an Autumn.”79

  “Anyway,” Violetta declared, “you just stop trying to be some kind of hero and stick to Plan B: Be helpful, be patient, and be there! Now I’m going to go make sure nothing eats her while she’s working. You snap it up and pull yourself together! Put those royal madboy skills to work and help her win!”

  Tarvek shooed her off. “Okay, okay! I’ll be right behind you!” He stood staring at the wall for several seconds, his grin fading as he began spooling through possibilities.

  The first thing she’ll want to do is get as many of those fools in the Order—those who aren’t in thrall to Lucrezia—on her side. Weeding her loyalists out will be tricky, but the Smoke Knights will help there . . . they’ve got a grudge. He allowed himself a quick smile. Or they will, when I’ve finished explaining things to them. Whom to approach first . . . Von Bulen, I think. He loves a good Heterodyne story . . .

  He brought himself up sharp and gave a small, amused snort. “Tsk. I’m plotting like there’s a chance this could even happen. Still, whether she wants me or not, it won’t be wasted effort. She’ll still need strong alliances.” He sighed at the images that flickered down his inner runway. “And she really would look lovely in black . . . perhaps with a bit of a bat-wing motif . . . ”

  He took a deep breath, clapped his hands and stood tall. “Maybe Violetta is right! Maybe I do have a chance! Yes! Things are looking . . . ”

  —and that was when Sanaa plummeted from above, enveloping him in a rough canvas sack.

  “Ha!” she crowed. “Gotcha!”

  Tarvek began to shout and thrash. Reluctantly, she brained him with a pry bar. He went limp. “Sorry about that,” she muttered. As she wound him in ropes, she hummed a little ditty about the joys of rescuing royalty: “Rescuing the prince! Rescuing the prince!”

  A cacophony of noise burst from the next room and, after a final shriek of rending metal, Othar strolled in, wiping oil from his hands. “Sorry,” he said. “One of those steam cat things. What is this?”

  Sanaa pointed proudly. “I got him! I got Wulfenbach for you!”

  Othar looked impressed. “Indeed you did! Well done!” He pulled the wrapped man to his feet and frowned as he began to slump back down. “You didn’t hit him too hard, did you? I am supposed to bring him back alive.”

  Sanaa waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, he’s fine! But you said he was all dangerous and stuff, so I knocked him out quick!”

  Othar shrugged. “Oh, you did very well! Good girl!”

  Sanaa giggled. “I rescued him good.”

  Tarvek began failing about and, even though his voice was muffled, it was obvious he was working his way up to a prolonged rant about something. Othar grinned. “Actually, it sounds like you didn’t hit him hard enough. Go to sleep, you.” He expertly delivered a sharp rabbit punch to the back of Tarvek’s head, causing him to again pass out.

  Sanaa looked a bit distressed at this. “Not too hard, he is awfully cute.”

  Othar was instantly serious. “Young lady, that is no reason to be soft on a villain! What have I told you about getting romantically involved with evil?”

  Sanaa closed her eyes. “ ‘It’s not a bad way to kill time as long as it ultimately results in the total destruction of her lair and the ruination of her nefarious plans.’ ” She then looked up at Othar innocently.

  “Uhh . . . well . . . I meant . . . ”

  Sanaa smiled devilishly and patted her brother on the cheek. “Oh, don’t worry. It sounds like he’s in love with the Heterodyne girl, anyway. But don’t forget to tell him it was me who rescued him!” She gingerly touched her collar and frowned. “Oooh, I wish I could go with you—it’ll be so cool!”

  Othar swung the limp body over his shoulder. “Of course you shall have the credit! And fear not! When I deliver him to the Baron, I’ll demand that you be released immediately or I shall throw this lout out of the airship!” And with a jaunty laugh, they headed towards the exit.

  CHAPTER 7

  The Doom Bell is one of the crowning achievements of the science of sound. Audiologists and acoustical researchers go to great lengths to ensure they stay as far away from it as possible.

  Long ago, when Mechanicsburg was a much smaller town, the Heterodyne announced important events like his return from abroad or the birth of an heir, by personally running up to everyone in the town and shouting, “Guess what?” Considering the predilections of the Heterodyne family, this was incredibly nerve wracking, especially if you guessed wrong.

  Eventually, the town grew to the point where approaching every inhabitant became impractical, and the Heterodyne at the time (Cain Heterodyne) ordered the construction of a bell that “Would have the same effect on the people as my own self!” It is safe to say
the engineers who undertook the casting of the bell from his designs fulfilled this mandate.

  The actual construction process of the great bell itself, down to the composition of the alloys used in its casting, have long been the subject of speculation among metallurgists, but as the Heterodynes were never free with their secrets, speculation is all that remains to us. Attempts have been made to replicate the bell. These experiments are never officially sanctioned, as even when they “succeed” the results are invariably distressing.

  The University of Vienna Music Department once constructed a model that, when struck, caused every animal within five hundred meters to commit suicide.

  The Research Department of the Czar’s Imperial Marching Band built a replica that was struck once—and never stopped ringing, the sound growing louder and louder by the minute. The noise was perceived over three hundred kilometers away before the bell could be destroyed by cannon fire. Everyone within twenty kilometers remained deaf for the rest of their lives.

  Today the Tower of the Doom Bell is one of the enduring symbols of Mechanicsburg and is featured on a wide variety of souvenir items. It is spoken of with pride by the locals and the Official Ringer is a provisional member of the Mechanicsburg City Council.

  Unlike every other bell within the empire, it is not rung for ceremonial occasions, to commemorate anniversaries, or to mark special days on the Mechanicsburg calendar. In fact, evidence exists that the bell can no longer ring at all, which is just how everyone likes it.”

  —An excerpt from “Chapter 3: Things of Interest Within Mechanicsburg That Will Not Technically Kill You,” Pontexeter’s Guide to Transylvania, Moldavia, Wallachia, & Croatia, 10th Edition

  Within the Tower of the Doom Bell, Baron Krasimir Oublenmach gave a grunt and, with a CLUNK that echoed throughout the stairwell, managed to hoist the great hammer up onto the next step.

  He paused, panting, and glanced down at the steps that spiraled away behind him. He’d felt every one of them. He took a deep breath and surveyed the steps ahead of him. They looped around the perimeter of the great tower a soul-crushing number of times, but—but! He was able to catch a glimpse of a trapdoor that led to the outside.