Summary: When Agatha Sannikova learns she is, in fact, Agatha Heterodyne, she inadvertently kicks off a series of events that reopens old wounds, drags secrets into the light, and brings war to the doorstep of the all but defenseless Mechanicsburg. Saturnus struggles to crush his enemies with a town almost as broken as his body; Agatha, determined to undo the chaos she's unleashed, plunges into the depths of Castle Heterodyne.
Raised by a literal saint and the devil incarnate, Agatha - with an unleashed mind, a burning spark, and a band of very unexpected allies - will fight to do the unthinkable: be a good Heterodyne and a good person.
Fic is in progress and out of 40 chapters. I update this once a week, usually Friday but sometimes Saturday. COMPLETE holy shit.
Links below are to tumblr posts, I also post it on AO3
Chapter 1: Catalysis
Chapter 2: Girl on the Run
Chapter 3: Time to Go
Chapter 4: Tunnel Talk
Chapter 5: An Unexpected Meeting
Chapter 6: Home
Chapter 7: The Spark
Chapter 8: Forewarned is Forearmed
Chapter 9: The Enemy Approaches
Chapter 10: In the Castle
Chapter 11: Ask.
Chapter 12: A Further Complication
Chapter 13: Higgs and Vole and Gilgamesh, Too
Chapter 14: You've KILLED Me, Agatha!
Chapter 15: The Jägers Arrive
Chapter 16: The Reunion
Chapter 17: Nighttime Conversations
Chapter 18: The Mysterious Mister Higgs
Chapter 19: Bring Me to Life
Chapter 20: The First Reveal
Chapter 21: Castle, Conversations With
Chapter 22: Relations and Revelations
Chapter 23: Two More Important Conversations About Secrets
Chapter 24: Spark Wrangling
Chapter 25: Jäger Repair
Chapter 26: Vole!!
Chapter 27: Betrayals, Past and Present
Chapter 28: It's Time
Chapter 29: Vole Faces Facts
Chapter 30: Vrin vs Consorts (or, Vole!!!)
Chapter 31: A Good Grade in Heterodyning
Chapter 32: Ring it In
Chapter 33: Hail the Lady Heterodyne...
Chapter 34: ...Long May She Reign
Chapter 35: The First Day of the Rest of Your Life
A simple job, the head mechanic had said. A ship that won’t fly. Go out and take a look at it. Easy as can be.
Oh, and by the way, it’s in the high temple because it belongs to the priests.
Kwei didn’t even have his sword with him. He’d started leaving it at home, satisfied that wrist blades and shield would be enough in this place where you couldn’t start a fight to the death without permission.
And now he had to go to the temple.
And talk to priests.
They had given him directions, but Kwei didn’t need them. The high temple was easy to locate, being in the exact center of the city and the only building surrounded by five hundred foot tall statues of the gods.
The temples of Eya-Maith were carved into the cliff faces, deep in the ancient rock where there was no light but the lanterns powered by the blood of the priests themselves, and the air was still and dead. They weren’t pleasant to visit, but at least they didn’t loom over you every day, drowning you in their shadow, impossible to ignore or overlook.
Kwei’s reluctant feet eventually dragged him to his destination. He glanced up at the seemingly thousands of stairs that led to the top of the pyramid, and wondered whether it was an honor or a penance to have to climb them all.
Fortunately, Kwei did not need to find out. The second tier of the pyramid was dotted with wide-mouthed doorways, each topped with a carved names that meant nothing to him. They might have been ancestors, long-gone high priests, warriors of legend. It didn’t matter. All he needed was to find the right door, fix the ship, and get out as fast as he could.
He was fortunate enough that he was only one side off from the entrance he wanted, although it still took him twenty minutes just to reach the right corner. The door was already open and, trying not to look nervous, Kwei stepped through it.
To his surprise, he found himself not in a dim, low-ceilinged hallway, but an airship hanger that held two space worthy ships, two drop ships, and four short-flight ships that could easily carry ten people. Sunlight streamed through previously unseen windows – one sided, Kwei realized, designed to look like stone from the outside.
The closest of the short-flight ships had a yautja leaning against it, and he lifted his hand to Kwei in a wave. He was young, not much older than Kwei, and dressed in the loincloth and mesh that was the common fashion in Ya’Ytiirh. Around his neck hung a loose necklace of bones and beads intricately braided in wire.
Kwei glanced around, but saw no sign of the priests themselves, and relaxed slightly as he approached.
“Nad’qa, son of Vaithuai and Duahti,” the stranger said, pointing somewhat redundantly at himself. Nad’qa had a round, open face of the sort more easily inclined to laugh than to frown.
“Kwei, son of Na-Caihtea and…” He trailed off, his father’s name suddenly stuck in his throat.
Nad’qa did not seem to notice the hesitation; his eyes lit up.
"I heard about you!"
"You did?"
"Everybody has. It was all over the city by the first day." He smiled. "I think it was very brave of you."
Kwei's shoulders hunched. He did not like the idea of his business being so widely known; even less did he like the gentle approbation in the voice of this man he did not know and who did not know him. It made him feel open and exposed, as if Kwei had somehow revealed a weak point.
“This is the ship that’s broken?” Kwei asked bluntly, and Nad’qa, clearly understanding the subject change, moved on smoothly.
“Yes! I know enough about engines to fix little things, but this one, um…Well, I couldn’t really figure out what was wrong, but I thought if I kept looking I’d figure it out eventually, but I, uh. I ended up, um… ” He edged aside. “I kind of—”
“Disemboweled it?” Kwei finished, staring at the exposed underside of the ship with its hanging tangles of wire and tubes, the scattered bolts and rivets on the floor.
“And you can fix it? Right?” Nad’qa asked hopefully.
“Probably,” Kwei said, putting his bag down. There was a roller next to the ship. He ratcheted it up a few notches, lay down on it, and slid under the ship to get a better look.
“Before sundown?”
Kwei grabbed the edge of the ship and hauled himself back out again, looking up at Nad’qa with raised brows. The smile was now pleading.
“So I don’t have to tell anyone that I grounded the head priest’s personal ship that he wanted to use tomorrow?”
Kwei stared at him for a long moment.
“The priests know I’m here, right? You did tell them you were calling in an outsider.”
“Yes, of course!” Nad’qa said. “Obviously I told them I was calling a mechanic, I just…didn’t mention the part where I didn’t call you first.”
Kwei sighed heavily. On the one hand, Nad’qa had gotten himself into this mess through his own incompetence. On the other, Kwei didn’t even want to think about the kind of punishment a layman might face at the hands of a high priest he had personally inconvenienced.
“I will try,” Kwei said. Nad’qa heaved a huge sigh of relief. “What’s wrong with it? What was wrong with it before you made it worse?” Kwei corrected himself.
“It was making this grinding noise every time I turned it on, and if I left it on the grinding would stop but the ship would shake.”
“Grinding like stone on stone, or like stone on metal?”
“Sort of like…” Nad’qa paused for a moment, and then did a surprisingly good imitation of a pair of misaligned rotator gears rubbing against each other.
“Was the shaking in the floor or in the walls?”
“Both. Vibrating underfoot but rattling on the walls.”
“Hmm.” Kwei considered for a moment, and said “Absolutely none of what could cause that would be found in the part of the ship you just broke.”
Nad’qa shut his eyes.
“Please don’t tell me it’s something you could have fixed in ten minutes if I’d called you first.”
“I won’t.”
Nad’qa groaned and thumped his head against the side of the ship. Kwei dug through his bag of tools and brough out the things he would need to undo Nad’qa’s ‘repairs’, and once more slid under the ship.
He worked in silence for a few minutes, although he was aware that Nad’qa had not left. Probably outsiders needed to be chaperoned, although why anyone would willingly go wandering anywhere in a temple uninvited was beyond him. He didn’t even want to go in when he was invited.
“So,” Nad’qa said. “Were you a mechanic in your old clan, too?”
“In my spare time,” Kwei said.
“You had a different profession?”
“No.”
“You were…a part-time mechanic?”
“I didn’t have a profession yet,” Kwei said. “I only had my first hunt last year.”
“But I heard you had a planet killer skull for a trophy.”
“I do.”
“You hunted the planet killers for your first hunt?”
“Yes,” Kwei said, not bothering not to sound smug. “I did.”
He remembered how proud his father had been, and the smug feeling vanished. For some reason, the memory of that pride now felt sour and uncomfortable.
Normally he wasn’t one for small talk, but he wanted to change the subject.
“What do you do?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” Nad’qa asked, puzzled.
“For a profession. When you aren’t not being a mechanic.”
“…I’m a priest,” Nad’qa said.
Kwei sat upright, banged his head on the underside of the ship, and fell back again. He hauled himself out, rubbing his forehead and staring at Nad’qa.
“You’re a priest?”
Nad’qa hooked his thumb under his necklace and lifted it up, pointing to it as if that meant something. Kwei sat upright, eyes flicking over the exposed skin of Nad’qa’s arms, legs, and chest.
“You can’t be a priest,” he said. “Where are your brands?”
“Brands? You mean—” Nad’qa imitated pressing a branding iron against his skin. “Hot metal searing into your flesh, brands?”
“Yes! With the words of the codex!”
Nad’qa opened and shut his mouth a few times. Once again he pointed to his necklace.
“We wear the tea'ilh,” he said weakly.
“Was this some kind of trick?” Kwei demanded. It was easy to imagine. Get his guard down, get him to talk without minding his words, trap him into admitting weakness or blasphemy, proof that he was unfit to join this clan and their strange ways.
“No! Why would I trick you? I thought you knew! I didn’t know Eya-Maith priests— Brands? Really brands, on their skin? All of them, all the time?”
“It is how they show their devotion,” Kwei ground out. This was a priest. As stupid and silly and, and friendly as Nad’qa was — acted as if he was – he was still a priest, and it was dangerous to be disrespectful.
“Branding,” Nad’qa said again. “I thought the northern clan’s four days in the tundra was a lot but that is…”
“Nad’qa.”
The young priest whipped around.
“Insane!” he yelped. “I mean, hello! Hello, Hau-ta.”
The newcomer had arrived on silent feet. He was an ancient, his locks snow-white and long down his back. He wore a necklace, too – what had Nad’qa called it? Tea’ilh? – but his was more tightly woven and hung all the way down to his waist. He carried himself more like a priest than Nad’qa did, dignity and superiority in every motion, but he, too, was unblemished save for the usual hunting scars found on any yautja his age.
His eyes moved from Nad’qa to Kwei, to the exposed underside of the ship.
“High Priest Hau-ta, this is Kwei, son of Na-Caihtea. He’s the mechanic I called for.”
This skin along Kwei’s shoulders tingled. A high priest was better than the head priest, but he would have preferred to go forever unknown to any of them. Kwei bowed his head politely and averted his eyes. He did not know the proper way to greet the priests of Ya’Ytiirh. His ignorance didn’t bother the clan leader; he would not assume the same about a priest.
“And,” Nad’qa said, plunging on through the conversation with somewhat desperate cheer, “he’s the one who came from Eya-Maith! Remember, with–?"
“Nad’qa,” Hau-ta said shortly.
“Hmm?”
“Were you tinkering again?”
“I called in a professional!” Nad’qa said, with such wounded innocence Kwei could barely keep his face straight.
“I will have it functioning before the end of the day,” Kwei said, still not raising his eyes. The priest rumbled low in his throat, a suspicious sound, but Kwei saw his shadow move out of sight. When he dared glance up again, the priest was gone.
Nad’qa let out a sigh of relief.
“You lied to him,” Kwei said. “You lied to a priest. And you are a priest.”
“What would happen to you if you had told him what you did?” Kwei asked.
“Another lecture about pride and limitations,” Nad’qa said, grimacing. “And probably make me sweep all 70,000 steps. Again.” He paused and then, in a voice that indicated he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, he asked “What would your priests do?”
Kwei shrugged.
“Skin you, probably.”
“Hmm,” said Nad’qa, his voice curiously high pitched. “How interesting.”
Kwei slid back under the ship, but stared blankly up at the wires overhead.
“I don’t understand this place,” he said at last. “Everyone is so…”
“Kind?”
“Soft.”
“Ah.”
“But not weak. There is strength here. It is different, but it is here. All my life I was told that strength can only come through struggle and hardship. Life here is so…so easy, but somehow people are no less strong for it.”
Nad’qa was quiet for a moment. When he did speak, he hedged his words very, very carefully.
“One of the things we learn as priests is that while the codex seems straightforward, there are many valid interpretations. It is the lens we use to make sense of the world and that guides us to honor and survival. Every clan’s situation is different, and interprets the codex in a way that makes sense for—”
“There is something wrong with my clan,” Kwei said abruptly. “Isn’t there?”
It was unthinkably dangerous to interrupt a priest, especially when one was talking about the codex, but somehow Kwei got the feeling Nad’qa wasn’t going to hold it against him.
“Do you want the polite answer or my honest personal opinion?”
“I want to know what people here say about us. Them.”
Nad’qa took in a deep breath and let it out.
“Public opinion is that Eya-Maith is a fundamentalist cult, conservative to the point of irrationality, dangerously violent, their leaders using pride, paranoia, and misinformation about the outside world to keep their people in line.”
Kwei forced himself to keep his breathing slow and even. If he didn’t, he would fly into a rage at this insult to his people, to the core of everything he believed. Kwei couldn’t actually feel the anger, but it had to be there, somewhere deep inside. It had to be. It should be.
“What is your opinion?” he asked.
Nad’qa didn’t answer right away, and when he did, it was in a quiet voice.
“I think when I hear the elders talk about Eya-Maith’s views on the codex, I don’t recognize the texts I have dedicated my life to. It acknowledges only one type of strength, it has no flexibility. Life is already hard, and Eya-Maith seems to revel in making it harder. So much of what it demands just sounds like excuses to hurt people.”
Kwei clutched the wire cutter in both hands until the handle felt like it was going to cut into his skin.
“Dek isn’t weak, here,” he whispered.
“Some people will think so,” Nad’qa said. “But only enough to demand he prove he isn’t. Not enough to demand he die for it.”
“Weakness in one means weakness in the clan. They can bring no honor in life, so they bring honor with their deaths.” The words were rote, automatic, and for the first time in Kwei’s life, utterly empty of meaning, bones after burning – hollow shells that would crumble to ash the moment he pressed too hard.
“Weakness is dishonorable only when it’s a choice. There is no dishonor in being born weak. Culling is a mercy, to save someone from the pain of a life without hope of honor, the shame of being unable to serve their clan. Society only works if we care about each other.”
“Yautja are friend to none.”
“You have no idea,” Nad’qa said, “what a doctrinal clusterfuck you have just touched on.”
Kwei started, choked on a laugh despite himself. Nad’qa continued, his voice no longer solemn but the animated exasperation of an often-repeated rant.
“We have walls of records, going back millennia, that are just the debates over the word ‘friend’ – which, by the way, is not the universally accepted translation of the word used in the original codex, because there is no universally accepted translation, because nobody can agree on a translation.
“If it does mean friend, how do we define friend? As in a partner? Are we not allowed to feel affection to each other? Or friend as in someone you rely on, a warning against being unable to survive on your own unaided? Does it even refer to other yautja, or to non-yautja only? Some people say the word has connotations of subservience; it means we have to guard against being taken advantage of by another race—”
“What do you think it means?” Kwei asked, cutting off the flow of words. Nad’qa sputtered; Kwei could see his shadow flailing as the priest flung his hands up in exasperation.
“I just said no one can agree! Our own high priests get into physical altercations with each other over—!”
“Not them. You.”
Silence. After a moment, Nad’qa spoke again, his voice soft.
“I think the real question is what it means to you.”
“You’re a priest,” Kwei snapped. “You’re supposed to tell me what it means, that’s your job.”
“Yyyesss…” Nad’qa said, dragging the word out uncertainly. “But also no. Our job is to do all the studying and debating and contextual cross-referencing so we can come to you and explain what it all means…but what you do with that is up to you.”
Kwei said nothing.
“Do you want to maybe come out? It’s hard to have a theological debate with a pair of feet.”
Wordlessly, Kwei slid out from under the ship. The two yautja settled side by side on the stone floor, resting their backs against one of the low thrusters. Nad’qa bent one leg and rested his arm over it.
Despite Nad’qa’s talk of a debate, they sat in silence for some time. Nad’qa was at ease; Kwei fiddled with a piece of copper wiring, winding and unwinding it around his fingers.
“You never answered my question,” Kwei said abruptly. “What does it mean to you? Friend to none.”
“The codex was written after we freed ourselves from thousands of years of slavery. There was no one alive who remembered the Hish, let alone freedom. The yautja had only ever been slaves. We had nothing that bound us together but our enemy, and with the amengi gone, we risked turning on each other.
“We needed something that would give us structure, guidance, an identity. Something that would keep us strong and ensure we never again be victims.”
Kwei said nothing. Nad’qa pulled in a breath and let it out in a slow sigh.
“The codex tells us to find our prey among the stars – not among each other. I think sometimes people overlook how important that is.
"Everyone has weaknesses, no matter how strong they are. That is just how the world works. The important thing is to learn how to use your strengths to surmount your weaknesses. And that is how a clan works, too – when there is always someone to be strong in the palces we are weak, a clan has no weakness at all.”
“The schools will teach Dek this,” Kwei said, although it was more of a hopeful question than a statement.
“Of course.” Suddenly Nad’qa grinned mischievously. “What kind of clan would not welcome one with the self-confidence to attack a blooded warrior with nothing but a knife and your teeth?”
“You can’t tell me that made it all over the city,” Kwei protested.
“No, my cousin was there and he told me about it. I wish I could have seen it,” he added wistfully.
“You know Aunko?”
“We were in school together. He’s always been an ass.”
“What is his problem?” Kwei demanded.
“I don’t know! None of his brothers are like that! I think his mother coddled him – he was her first son and I think she didn’t want him to feel less than. So of course he ended up thinking he’s better than everyone else.”
Kwei snorted indignantly.
“I’m my mother’s first son and no one coddled me,” he protested. “My father’s first son, too. I have—” He stopped to count on his fingers. “Twenty-three full-blood sisters, and another twelve from unbonded matings. I don’t remember how many he sired that didn’t live to their blooding but they were all females, too.”
Nad’qa let out a low whistle.
“Sounds like someone has the gods’ favor,” Nad’qa said. “Is Dek your only brother?”
Kwei nodded.
“And two sisters born between us. My oldest sister told me people used to think Father might not be physically capable of siring sons.”
“No wonder your mother chose him for her mate.”
Nad’qa looked amused.
“You must have been quite the shock, then.”
“Father was pleased to finally have someone to train,” Kwei said, “but I think Mother was always annoyed I broke her streak.” Certainly she had bestowed no extra favor or affection to him. He’d always assumed she’d simply had no interest to spare in a child she would send away soon enough – at least, until Dek was born. Dek she had seemed fond of, or at least had found amusing.
Kwei thought she had, anyway. Certainly there had been no sign of attempted interference from her on Dek’s behalf.
“Did you ever play with the locking puzzles?” Kwei asked abruptly. “The round ones, where you have to turn the dials the right way to get it to open without hurting you?”
“Yes! We had one when I was growing up. I loved that thing.” He raised a hand to show off multiple jagged scars that crisscrossed his fingers and palm. A few of them looked to have come close to severing a digit.
“I was terrible at them. The one we had, I could never even get past the first lock. Once it shocked me so badly my arms went numb from the elbow down for two hours. A few years before my blooding, I was visiting the female clan and I decided to give it another try. I almost made it, too – all the way to the final lock.”
“Uh oh,” said Nad’qa. Half the excitement of the locking puzzle was knowing that the farther you got, the greater the danger was.
“Dek was watching me, and he figured out I’d gotten it wrong before I did.” His throat felt tight, suddenly. “Grabbed it right out of my hands just in time. Took the edge of the blast – lost his fang. Saved my life.”
“A good brother,” Nad’qa said softly, somehow managing to radiate a sympathetic understanding that did not make Kwei want to punch him. “And a brave one. He’ll do well here.”
Yes, he would. He had to. He didn’t have a choice. Kwei had dragged him away from home without telling him that he would never be able to go back. He could have at least given Dek the choice of what clan to go to. Or tried harder to convince their father to give Dek another chance. Or—
“Do you want to hear about the time we went on a school trip to hunt karnaks and Aunko tripped over his own spear into a pile of dung ten feet deep?”
“Yes.”
Hau-Ta was in the library, turning ancient pages with the very tips of his claws. Nad’qa stood a respectable distance away and waited. Hau-Ta did not look up. After several moments, Nad’qa cleared his throat.
“You are here to tell me that the ship is not repaired,” Hau-Ta said, turning another page.
“Yes, sir.”
“It is more damaged than initially thought?”
“No, sir. He didn’t work on it– but it’s my fault. He’s the one from Eya-Maith, who came to protect his brother. We got talking and he needed…guidance.”
Hau-Ta looked up sharply, but did not interrupt.
“He knew he would be leaving behind everything he knew, but he didn’t realize how much everything there was. Suddenly things he believed were fundamental truths are just opinions, and ones that people here disagree with. It’s stirring up all these doubts, and I don’t think people in Eya-Maith are allowed to have doubts.”
“He said this to you?” Hau-Ta asked.
“No,” Nad’qa admitted. “But he was asking a lot of questions about weakness and the codex and how we do things here. I couldn’t just tell him to shut up and get back to work. I think he felt better afterwards.”
Hau-Ta set the book aside and turned to face Nad’qa.
“I do not think,” Hau-Ta said, “you realize the magnitude of your victory. The priests of Eya-Maith are not the sort anyone opens his heart to, unless he wants it torn out. This man was raised to think of priests as an authority to be feared and obeyed at all costs – yet he trusted you.”
Nad’qa blinked at him, not quite comprehending.
“So I’m…not in trouble?”
Hau-Ta chuckled and patted his shoulder.
“You must work on understanding your limits – not just what you can’t do, but what you can do. You are a very good priest.” He turned back to his book. “Have the mechanic return tomorrow. We will take another ship in the meantime.”
Nad’qa bowed slightly.
“Yes, Hau-Ta.”
His hand was on the doorknob when he was called again.
“Nad’qa.”
“Yes?”
Hau-Ta turned a page of his book.
“I noticed the temple steps have grown quite dusty. Perhaps you might take care of that, when you have a moment.”
“Do I have to?” Dek asked, the merest hint of a whine in his voice. Warily, he eyed the squat, dusty building that served as the place for training and teaching the unblooded younglings of Ya’Ytiirh. Not for the whole clan, he reminded himself, not even all of the ones in this city – just the ones who lived in their neighborhood.
It was hard to believe, looking at the sheer number of children swarming around the building.
“Yes.” Kwei said the word the way their father did – in a tone so firm, so authoritative, the listener instantly understood the futility of all further argument and abandoned any attempt at resistance.
Kwei was not Father.
“But I already went to school!”
“They stay in school longer here, and that means so do you. Besides, you need to be trained.”
“Why can’t you just train me?”
“Because I have to go to work and you can’t sit alone in the apartment all day every day.”
“But I don’t want to go!”
A loud, solemn bell tolled and the horde of children surged forward as one through the doors.
Kwei put his hand on Dek’s back and shoved him forward hard.
“I don’t care,” he snapped. “Shut up and do it.”
Dek flared his mandibles, baring his teeth; Kwei bared his right back. With one last sullen glare, Dek crossed the road and passed through the electrified gates with their inward facing barbs. He hung back, letting the others go ahead of him, not wanting to be surrounded by all of these strangers.
There were no strangers in Ea’Maith, not really. The commune Kwei and Dek lived in had no more than 100 yautja. You recognized the face, if not the name, and even outside their commune, everybody knew someone who knew someone. But here? How could anyone know anyone in this sea of people?
There was an adult yautja standing just inside the door; he spotted Dek instantly despite Dek’s best efforts to slink in unobtrusively.
“You’re the new one,” he said. Dek nodded warily. “Right. You’re in class 27 – morning training today.” He reached out as if to put a hand on Dek’s shoulder to steer him, but stopped when Dek shied away. “Follow,” he said instead, and led the way down the hall.
Class 27 consisted of 15 younglings, all Dek’s age, and the moment the door swung open, all heads snapped around, eyes instantly fixing on Dek, who stiffened and went very still. The children were standing in a cluster in the center of the room, all holding practice spears – undersized, for use by children. At the front of the room was an older yautja, face cut in half by a long, jagged scar.
“This is the new one?” the teacher asked.
“Yes. His name is Dek,” the other yautja confirmed. He nudged Dek all the way into the room and shut the door firmly behind him.
Dek stayed where he was, eyeing his classmates with suspicion. They all stared at him, unabashedly, with expressions ranging from curious to suspicious to wary. Dek’s mandibles twitched; he fought to keep them steady.
“Alright Dek. I am Tagui. I teach your class how to use weapons to kill your prey and not yourselves.”
Dek didn’t move.
“Would you like to join in or just observe?” Tagui asked snidely. A few of the class snickered. This time, Dek couldn’t stop his mandibles from flicking open briefly in a warning sign. He quickly crossed the room, although he positioned himself a good few feet away from the others. Tagui picked up a practice spear from a stack leaning against the wall and held it up. “This week we’ve been working on spears – not a combistick, just a basic piece of wood with a knife on the end. Your clan taught you how to fight, yes? You know how to use one of these?”
Dek nodded.
“Good.” Tagui passed the spear to Dek. “Let’s see how much you know. Mahraa, you’re with Dek. Everyone pair off – and aren’t we all grateful to Dek for giving us an even 16.”
Spaced evenly across the floor were carved circles, spaced far enough apart to give each pair the freedom to swing as wildly as only half-trained warriors could without fear of smacking anyone else.
There was something odd about the spearhead, but before Dek got a good look at it, Tagui called “Fight!” Instantly, Mahraa thrust the spear forward; Dek managed to knock it aside. They traded a few blows, both equally clumsy, none landing a hit, then paused to circle one another.
The next time Mahraa thrust, Dek did not manage to block properly. The wooden hafts slid against each other easily, and Mahraa’s speartip grazed Dek’s side, just under his ribs.
Dek took a step back, hand pressed to his side, teeth gritted against the pain—
He blinked. There was no pain. In confusion, he looked down at his side and lifted his hand away. On his palm and his side there was no blood, only a streak of paint that glowed brightly from the warmth of his skin. Dek examined the head of his own spear, touching the end of it with a finger, and found it blunt. It wasn’t even metal, but a hard plastic mold coated in the same kind of paint.
He put his hand on the spear butt, braced himself, and rammed the blunt end into Mahraa’s stomach with all his strength. The move caught the other yautja off-guard and hit true. Mahraa collapsed to the ground, retching. Shifting his grip, Dek lifted the spear up and over his head and brought the haft down as a blunt weapon, cracking against Mahraa’s shoulder. Mahraa yowled in pain and curled up into a ball, arms shielding his head.
Dek lifted the spear again and felt it wrenched out of his grasp.
“What are you doing?” Tagui bellowed.
The entire class was staring at Dek with gaping mouths and wide eyes. Dek shifted uncomfortably, hunching his shoulders.
“Sparring?” he said, uncertainly. Then he bridled, defensiveness rising “How else was I supposed to make it hurt enough to keep him down?”
The class erupted into whispers, which only made Dek’s shoulders hunch higher.
“You are practicing,” Tagui said, his voice very stiff. “Which is when you learn how to kill someone without actually killing them at this moment.”
“I wasn’t killing him!” Dek said, hands balling into fists. “I was just making it hurt! How are you supposed to learn if it doesn’t hurt!”
The whispers stopped. Tagui said nothing. The only sound was the whimpering gasps of Mahraa trying to suck air into his lungs without being sick.
Tagui shut his eyes and rubbed his fingers up and down the scar on his face. After a moment, he opened his eyes again.
“We’re doing drills,” he said. “Everyone line up.”
The class groaned in unison.
“Now,” Tagui ordered them sharply. He nudged Mahraa with his foot. “Up. Warriors fight through the pain.”
The rest of the class was spent on imitating the patterns Tagui showed them while the teacher walked up and down the line, correcting stances and grips. As dull as it was to spend so much time jabbing away at empty air, Dek didn’t mind it. Anyone whose attention wandered by staring or whispering was soon brough back to order with a sharp rap from Tagui’s spear.
This went on until a bell tolled overhead, a single sonorous boom that sent the rest of the class fleeing for the door, erupting into chatter. They tossed their practice spears haphazardly in the pile and shoved each other out of the way as they left.
“Dek,” Tagui said. Dek, already hanging back to allow everyone else out so he wouldn’t have his back to them, looked to the teacher. Tagui crooked a beckoning finger.
Dek swallowed hard but tried to keep his face free of fear as he approached. Tagui held out his hand for Dek’s practice spear. Dek handed it over and braced himself for the expected blow.
It didn’t come.
Instead, Tagui waited until the last straggler was out of the room.
“Do you practice with live weapons, in Eya-Maith?”
“Sometimes,” Dek said, not relaxing in case this was a trick to get his guard down. “Or electrified edges, so it shocks you when you get hit.”
Tagui nodded, though his expression was slightly distracted. He was examining the blunt end of the spear in his hand.
“Sometimes I’ll have you spar to take each other down,” he said. “Strength building, healthy competition. But I am not teaching you how to hurt someone, Dek. I am teaching you how to kill someone. I want you to learn how it feels to hit bone instead of flesh, and I want you to learn how it feels to be hit in bone or flesh. When the day comes where you fight for your life, I want there to be no difference between what you learned and what you must do in the moment. Do you understand?”
Dek nodded, his eyes wide.
“Explain it to me,” Tagui said. Dek’s brow furrowed. “Don’t just tell me you understand, prove it.”
“When we practice, we pretend the weapons are real, and try to kill each other the way we would in a real fight, so we know what to do when we fight for real. And that is more important than making it hurt.”
“Very good,” Tagui said. He jabbed Dek lightly in the chest with the spear tip, leaving a smear of paint behind. “Now get out. It’s feeding time for the horde – just follow everyone else.”
Dek left, feeling strangely light. He still didn’t quite understand how anyone was supposed to learn to avoid a blow if it didn’t come with real consequence, but it was comforting to know Ya’Ytiirh took fighting so seriously, even if they were weak.
The second he stepped into the hallway, he stopped. The horde, Tagui had called it, and it was a good word for it. A river of children – a flooded river, bursting the banks – swarmed by, their voices raised in a wave of sound that thundered against Dek’s ears.
It was stillness, not motion, that caught his eye. Three of his classmates – three of the largest – were leaning against the wall against the other side of the hallway. Their eyes were fixed on him. The moment his eyes met theirs, they straightened up and began to move through the crowd directly towards him.
Dek knew that look of old. He knew exactly what was coming.
And then a new face filled Dek’s vision – Mahraa, his eyes shining and his fangs clacking with excitement.
“That was amazing!” he exclaimed. “You hit me so hard I thought you’d actually managed to stab me!”
Dek found himself surrounded by a cluster of younglings.
“How did you do that?” one of them asked.
“You put your hand on the end and push,” Dek said, uneasy to be the center of so much attention. “It lets you put extra force behind it.”
“Can you teach me?”
“Does everyone in your clan learn how to do that?”
“Did you really stab Aunko in the throat?”
“I heard it was the heart.”
“Did your brother really hunt a planet-killer queen?”
The questions were all asked with genuine enthusiasm, no sign of derision or mockery, and if they were pretending to like him to get his guard down, they were doing a very good job of it. Dek allowed himself to be herded down the hall, almost shielded from the horde by his cluster of admirers.
When he glanced back over his shoulder, he saw no sign of the three who had been waiting for him. It brought no sense of relief. Dek knew the inevitable was only delayed.
Lunch was served in a large, high-ceilinged room filled with tables. Along one wall were a series of openings from which unseen hands pushed out trays laden with food. Dek imitated the others, lining up and grabbing the first tray that was available. Dek tried to peek in to see what was on the other side, but only saw waves of steam and the vague impression of flashing knives and shadowy figures, before the press of the crowd moved him onward.
He followed the others to an empty table and sat down, when he got his first look at his food.
A pile of something green and slimy. A pile of something brown shredded so finely it was like a mass of tangled thread. A pile of something orange and mashed. Something oval shaped with bumpy green skin; when Dek poked it with his fork, it gave slightly.
Va-sou pointed at each item in turn.
“Boiled zarrh leaves, shredded chui meat, mashed roots, and a thuah fruit.”
Dek scooped up some of the zarrh leaves and let them slide back off with an unappetizing splat.
“This is what you eat here?” he asked, trying to make it a neutral question.
“Not willingly,” Va-sou said, mandibles flicking up into a grin.
“The thuah fruit isn’t too bad,” another boy, Ua’ke, said.
“Probably because they didn’t cook it,” Dek said. To his surprise, everyone laughed.
They showed him how to peel the rind off the thuah fruit without getting the pulp all over his hands, and told him not to bother with the zarrh leaves unless he enjoyed eating slime.
At first, they peppered Dek with questions about his clan and his family, but as Dek’s answers grew shorter and more monosyllabic, they switched to talking about themselves and the school. Mahraa's parents had finally had their second child, and he was relieved to have them fussing over someone else for a change. Va-Sou's eldest brother had left on a hunt and promised to bring him back something; he was hoping for a tooth or claw he could fashion into a knife.
Ua'ke told Dek he could sympathize about starting a new school - his father had died on a hunt a year ago, and Ua'ke had been sent from a much smaller city to live with his uncle. Dek felt it wasn't quite the same as being jammed into an entirely new culture, but it was nice to commiserate with someone who felt like they might drown in numbers.
Before long, the bell rang again, twice this time. They left their trays on the table and followed the horde out of another door – Dek noticed most of the trays had piles of untouched zarrh leaves – and into the sunshine. The air was still awful and wet, and somehow felt hotter than the hottest desert days.
Outside, the building formed a square around a large courtyard. Half of the ground was covered in paved stone, marked with guides for games Dek didn’t recognize. The other half was hard-packed earth where children clambered up climbing trees and swung from dangling ropes, chased each other around the courtyard, or just wrestled in the dirt.
“Let me go get a stick,” Mahraa said eagerly. “You can show us how you did that thing.”
“I heard Clan Eya-Maith are cannibals.” The voice rang out loud and clear, cutting easily through the playful babble.
The three larger boys were back. Their leader, or at least the one who stood farthest forward, was sneering down at Dek, eyes half-lidded and mandibles flexing.
“Shut up, Cauyaat,” Mahraa said, although Dek could hear the tension in his voice. “You did not.”
In a way, it was a relief. Dek would meet his enemies, learn what kind of violence to expect: whether Cuayaat preferred to inflict physical pain or humiliation or both. It was easier to prepare yourself for pain when you knew what form it would take.
“I heard that every year, they choose their weakest warriors,” Cauyaat went on, “cut their throats and drink their blood, then eat the flesh off their bones while they’re still alive.”
“Nobody does that,” Dek said, confused. “It violates the codex.”
“My father says you kill each other all the time,” Cuayaat said, ignoring this. All play around them had ceased; Cuayaat raised his voice to ensure the entire courtyard could hear him. “He says you cull anyone who loses any fight.”
“If we did, there wouldn’t be any of us left,” Dek said. “Everyone loses sometimes.”
“He said they were going to cull you,” Cuayaat said, his eyes shining maliciously. “He said your own father was going to have you culled for being weak.”
Dek said nothing. The clan leader had been very forceful about Dek not saying that Ya’Ytiirh allowed weaklings to fester in their midst, and Dek did not know how else to explain it.
“Well? Is it true, runt?”
“I am not weak,” Dek said.
“Then why did your father want to kill you? I think you are weak. You’re so weak your own father didn’t want you. Weak, worthless, useless little runt.”
He shoved Dek in the chest.
Dek launched himself forward, slamming into Cuayaat and bringing him to the ground. He punched Cuayaat in the face as hard as he could, but managed only one blow before Cuayaat twisted them both and pinned him to the ground on his back. Trapping one of Dek’s arms under his knee, he got the other in a lock that Dek could not free himself from, no matter how he struggled.
“Yield,” Cuayaat said, eyes gleaming with triumph. “Runt.”
Dek roared and thrashed, but Cuayaat only twisted his arm harder. The pain made spots burst before his eyes.
“Yield!” Cuayaat ordered.
“Not even…if you…break it,” Dek ground out, and let out a cry of pain as Cuayaat increased the pressure.
“If you say so,” Cuayaat said with a smirk.
“Alright, alright!” an adult’s voice boomed. “Knock it off, you two.”
Cuayaat released the arm lock, sneering at Dek.
Who lunged upwards and grabbed Cuayaat’s face, digging his child-blunt claws into his skin with all his might. Cuayaat yowled and tried to break free, inadvertently releasing Dek’s other hand. Instantly Dek grabbed Cuayaat’s mandible and pulled, fully intending to either tear the taut, delicate skin or rip the bones out of their sockets.
Large hands closed around his wrists with iron force, the crushing pain forcing Dek to release his victim, who toppled back, hands pressed to his face and screaming.
“I said enough!”
Dek was wrenched to his feet. He kicked at Cuayaat, which only got him dragged backwards.
“I am not weak!” Dek yelled at him. “And if you fight me again I’ll show you!”
Cuayaat scrambled backwards, clutching the side of his face as blood trickled from the few puncture wounds Dek had managed to inflict.
“You little freak,” he shouted. “Freak from a whole clan of maniacs. I’ll gut you for this!”
“You will do no such thing, Cuayaat son of Vahda. You know the rule about fighting – no long-term damage.” The teacher released Dek’s hands only to take him by the scruff and shake him slightly. “And now you know the rule, too.”
“Only a weakling surrenders to pain alone,” Dek said, baring his teeth. “I show no mercy to my enemies.”
“You do when you’re in my school,” the teacher snapped. He released Dek and pulled Cuayaat to his feet.
“He broke it!” Cuayaat said, hand pressed to his mandible.
“No, he didn’t. If he did, you’d be screaming. Go to the infirmary,” the teacher ordered. “Get the cuts cleaned and balm for any bruising. Go.”
Cuayaat left, flanked by his cronies. He looked back at Dek, glaring daggers.
“As you were,” the teacher ordered to the silent, watching crowd, who reluctantly returned to their games.
Dek felt suddenly very small and alone. Even as the babble of voices rose again, he could hear the whispers underneath, see – almost feel – the sideways glances or outright stares. It was just like the day back home, a few weeks and a lifetime ago, after Father had spoken with the doctor. Nhjorr, cold and distant even in his good moods, suddenly looking through Dek as if he wasn’t there. And all around him, whispers.
Everyone else had known, somehow. The adults, the other children, everyone. He was marked to die and he’d been the only one who didn’t know. They hadn’t even given him a chance to prove he could be strong. No one had ever given him a chance. But maybe it wouldn’t matter. It didn’t seem to matter here. He’d proved he was strong and now everyone was staring at him like some sort of monster.
Hands grabbed his arms; Mahraa shook him while making a wordless cry of delight. He released Dek and punched at his arms, weak blows intended for emphasis rather than harm.
“You! Are! So! Cool!” he cried.
“I’m what?” Dek said, confused. Ua’ke appeared at his side, practically vibrating with excitement.
“‘Not even if you break it’,” he said, in a low growl that Dek realized was somehow supposed to be an imitation of him. “It’s like you walked out of one of the epics!”
“Everyone is looking at me,” Dek said, uncertain how to take this. “Like they’re afraid of me.”
“Afraid of getting on your bad side, maybe,” Va-Sou scoffed.
Dek looked again. Several of the other children flinched away from his gaze, but one of them met his eyes and jerked his chin upwards in the kind of nod the adults gave each other – one warrior to another. Something strange happened in Dek’s chest, but before he had time to think about it, Mahraa was shoving a long, slightly knobbly stick into his hands.
“Come on, show us that move you did to me!”
The rest of the day was spent in classes, learning things Dek saw no purpose in. What would he ever do with mathematics more complex than addition or subtraction? Who needed to know what an ecosystem was, beyond the parts of it you planned to kill? Dek thought for sure he would die of boredom, and the thought of having to participate in this for years and years made him want to jump out a window.
But he survived, and at the end of the day, when the final bell sang their freedom, his new friends – real friends! – invited him to join them in the nearby park for a game of "hunters".
The game turned out to mostly involve running around in circles trying to tackle one another, just like it did back home; although, Dek quickly noticed that the rough housing was not nearly as rough. No claws or biting – the point seemed to be not to win, but to let each other get away so you could run around some more.
Dek liked it. Not trying to win meant everybody wasn’t immediately piling on him as the easiest target. For the first time in a long time, Dek forgot…well, everything. There was no pressure to be the best, no need to prove he deserved to be allowed to join in. He could stop thinking and enjoy the thrill of the chase.
He wasn’t sure how long they’d been playing before that moment came to an abrupt end. Dek had Mahraa in a headlock, Mahraa laughing too hard to break free, when a shadow blotted out the sun. They looked up.
With the sun behind him, Kwei’s face wasn’t visible, but fury poured off of him in waves that Dek could feel cold against his skin.
Dek remembered, then, that he had been told to wait for Kwei at the school.
He released Mahraa, who scrambled away.
“I—” was as far as Dek got before Kwei backhanded him across the face so hard it knocked him to the ground.
“Oooh, Dek’s in troub~le,” someone said in a sing-song voice.
Kwei leaned down and grabbed Dek by the forearm, yanking him up to his feet.
“Ow! Let go!”
Without a word, Kwei dragged him away, moving so quickly, Dek could barely stay on his feet.
“See you tomorrow, Dek!” Mahraa called after him. “If your brother doesn’t kill you, first!”
Embarrassment flared in Dek’s heart. He tried to dig his fingers under Kwei’s to force his grip open, but Kwei jerked him forward, almost wrenching his arm from its socket.
“I can walk on my own!” Dek protested, to no response. “I wasn’t even that far from the school! Let me go!”
The good thing about living in a city full of strangers, Dek thought, was that it was much less embarrassing to be dragged down the street when it wasn’t full of people who knew you enough to mock you.
Kwei released his arm when they reached the apartment building, only to grab Dek by his tresses and drag him up the stairs, Dek’s feet sliding for purchase on the smooth stone.
“Ow! Kwei, you’re going to pull them out! Quit it!”
Kwei unlocked the door and hurled Dek in with such force he flew halfway across the room and rolled a little when he hit the ground. When Kwei slammed the door shut it made the shelves on the walls tremble.
“I told you to wait!” he bellowed. Dek scrambled to his feet, fists clenched, baring his teeth.
“I forgot!” he shouted. “I was playing with my friends!”
“You forgot?” Kwei repeated. “You forgot? That’s all you have to say for yourself, you forgot? I gave you a direct order, but I shouldn’t mind because you forgot?”
“What are you so mad about? So I went and played with my friends, it’s not illegal!”
“Do you have any idea what it was like for me to stand around at the school waiting for you? To have to ask for you? To have them tell me you weren’t there? I didn’t know where you were!”
“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you!” Dek protested, although he did feel a little bad.
“Embarrass--!” Kwei roared, and cut off. He stared at Dek. “Embarrass me,” he said. He shut his eyes and pressed his knuckles between his eyes. “Embarrass me,” he muttered.
“I just forgot. You didn’t have to make such a big huge deal out of it in front of everyone.”
“I was not embarrassed,” Kwei said, dropping his hand and, apparently, his anger. “I was afraid.”
Dek’s mouth popped open in shock.
“Afraid? You’re not afraid of anything!”
Kwei let out a bark of a laugh, a short, sharp clack of his fangs.
“Fear is weakness!” Dek insisted, “You’re the strongest warrior I know, except for Father! And Mother,” he added, judiciously.
“It is my weakness,” Kwei said, not quite looking at Dek. “I fear only one thing in this world, and it is that you will die a dishonorable death.”
Dek’s throat went tight, mind reeling, staring in total incomprehension.
“The thought that you might die before you have a chance to prove yourself, and that you might be remembered as nothing but something broken – I fear that more than anything. And when I came to the school and you weren’t there, and I didn’t know how to find you in this city full of people we don’t know and don’t understand…I let the fear win.”
Dek’s mandibles trembled slightly.
“I make you weak,” he whispered.
Kwei knelt before him and gently gripped his shoulders.
“No. This weakness comes from within me. The failure is mine and mine alone, no one else can be to blame for it. It is not your fault that I am this way, any more than it is your fault Father allows his pride to blind him to your potential.”
“But it’s my fault you had to come here.”
“It was my choice,” Kwei corrected. “I chose to defy Father. If anything is anyone’s fault, it’s mine – I didn’t even give you the choice to leave. I took you.”
“Wouldn’t be much of a choice,” Dek muttered.
“It wasn’t much of one for me, either.”
Dek hesitated, then pressed his forehead to Kwei’s.
“’m sorry,” he mumbled. Kwei squeezed his shoulders gently.
“Just don’t do it again,” Kwei said. Dek met his eyes, guilt and shame choking him. Kwei could see it on his face, and sighed heavily. “I shouldn’t have told you,” he muttered. More firmly, “It is not. Your. Fault. If I do not blame you, you don’t get to blame you.”
Dek nodded, but looked away.
In a tentative, strangely hopeful voice, Kwei said “You made friends?”
Dek brightened.
“Yes! I beat Mahraa in sparring and then he and some of the others wanted me to show them how he did it. We had lunch together. I got into a fight, but,” he added airily, “I won.”
“You did?”
“I sent him to the infirmary,” Dek said. “Everyone was very impressed.”
And scared, he didn’t add, because he didn’t like to think about that part.
“To the infirmary?” Kwei repeated, delighted. “Well done!” He rose, ruffling Dek’s locks until he swatted Kwei’s hand away. “Show them how we’re built in Ea-Maith.”
But we aren’t Ea-Maith anymore, Dek wanted to say. We’re Ya’Ytiirh. Nobody was ever this impressed with me back home.
He decided not to say it, although he wasn’t sure why. He just got the feeling Kwei wouldn’t like to hear it right now.
“Then after school Mahraa invited me to go play hunters in the park, and I got really excited and forgot.”
This time, Kwei nodded in understanding. It had been a long time since Dek had been invited to play, rather than allowed to join on sufferance.
“Come,” Kwei said. “Let's have something to eat. Tell me all about it.”
[That's right, folks, not only am I acknowledging this fic I am also making it a multichapter so PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR THAT]
Njohrr decides to take care of the Dek problem sooner than in canon - much, much sooner. Only just made a blooded warrior himself, Kwei takes Dek and runs, his goal Clan Ya'Ytiirh - a wealthy and powerful clan with a reputation for being more lenient on weakness.
The two brothers struggle to adjust not just to a new home but to a new culture and the discovery that much of what they believed about the world and the codex was wrong. But even as they find a way to fit into this new life, the shadow of their past lingers - and Njohrr accepts defiance with as much grace as he does weakness.
[AO3 Links: Ch 1 Ch 2 ]
Kwei had already been awake for several hours when the expected knock came. Sleep had been slow in coming, and fitful when it finally did. By dawn, he'd given up any attempt at meaningful rest, and instead spent hours pacing the room with nothing to do and nowhere to go.
It was almost a relief, then, to hear that knock. While it meant the beginning of more difficulty and stress, it was at least the beginning. Anything was better than the waiting.
When he opened the door, the humidity slapped him in the face like a sticky wave, dragging with it the smells of stone dust, cooking food, engine fumes, and – even in the depths of the city – the cloying green of the jungle. The unpleasantness of it, combined with the sheer impossibility of the face before him, meant it took Kwei a few seconds to recognize who his visitor was.
“Good morning,” said Na’Jui.
He had no guards. He had no weapons.
Automatically, Kwei reached for his belt knife – but hesitated when he remembered the reaction from the day before. Honor dictated blood must be spilled, and as Kwei had not officially done so in a hunt as a member of this clan, he should spill his own, and yet…
“Never mind,” Na’Jui said, correctly interpreting Kwei’s thoughts. “I would not want you to get blood on your floor.”
Embarrassed, Kwei stepped aside. The clan leader entered, shutting the door behind him.
“I brought you this,” Na’Jui said, holding out a bag. Kwei stared at it, uncomprehending. “Food. Something to tide you over while you get settled.”
Kwei bristled instantly, though he tried to remain respectful.
“We do not need charity.”
Na’Jui only looked amused, and rather pointedly placed the bag on the table.
“Think of it as a welcoming present. I would not like two of my people to starve within days of arriving.” He looked around. “Your brother?”
Automatically, Kwei looked back over his shoulder to the loft bed, where the miserable lump of blankets still lay unmoving.
“Dek,” he said. No reaction. “Dek.”
A sullen grunt of general refusal, the blankets shifting slightly as the shape within curled up more tightly.
“Never mind,” Na’Jui said again. He leaned casually against the table. “It’s been a very long time since an outsider has come to us. I couldn’t even remember what the laws were; I had to look it up.”
“You said that you accepted my request,” Kwei said, hiding his nervousness. Had he changed his mind? Was this some sort of trick?
“And I do! You and your brother will be of clan Ya’Ytiirh, but there is more to it than my say so. I am a clan leader, not a god – even I must obey the laws.”
Kwei raised his chin stubbornly.
“Whatever must be done, I will do it.”
“I have no doubt,” Na’Jui said, with approval so overt it left Kwei feeling unbalanced. “Your brother’s case is surprisingly straightforward.”
There was a subtle shuffling from the loft, and from the corner of his eye Kwei saw the edge of the blanket lift up ever so slightly.
“Legally speaking, he is an unblooded warrior, who is tied to a clan only by blood and custom. He may come and go as he chooses. As long as he resides in clan territory and I say he is of this clan, he is.”
“Because you take weaklings here,” Dek said in a low, bitter voice, only visible as a pair of glaring yellow eyes in the darkness under the blanket. Kwei’s head snapped around, a bolt of fear shooting up his spine.
“Dek!” he snarled.
“I do not consider you a weakling,” Na’Jui said calmly. Kwei stared at him. Nhjorr would have killed anyone, even a child, over such an insult without hesitation, but Na’Jui did not seem even annoyed. “You possess an unfortunate handicap, yes, but no one your age capable of taking a blow from a fully blooded warrior at least four times his size without flinching is what I would call weak. When the day comes, you will have your hunt. You will die with honor, or become a blooded warrior and make our clan stronger for it.”
For the first time in four days, Kwei relaxed. He could not help himself. His eyes slid shut and his shoulders untensed. Dek was safe. Dek was safe. Dek was safe.
“You, on the other hand.”
Kwei’s eyes snapped open. Na’Jui was now regarding him with a grave expression.
“You are a blooded warrior. You do have legal ties to your clan.”
Dek sat bolt upright, the blanket falling away, his eyes wide now with fear.
“The codex says a warrior may choose his clan. That is good. The codex overrides all else. However. Each clan has its own laws. Clan Ya’Ytiirh allows anyone to go as they please – why would we want to keep any member who did not want to stay?”
A sinking feeling began to gather in Kwei’s stomach, and he knew what Na’Jui was going to say. All the same, the words hit like knives sliding under his heart.
“Clan Ea-Maith, on the other hand, requires a blooded warrior be granted approval by his clan leader, and something about being cleansed of the blood spilled for his first clan. Since I can assume you did not speak to your father beforehand…” He let the sentence trail off.
“I need to go back,” Kwei said, in a dull voice.
“No!” Dek scrambled down the ladder and raced across the room, grabbing Kwei’s wrist, looking desperately between the two yautja. “No, you can’t! You can’t!”
“Of course he can’t,” Na’Jui said, startling both brothers. The clan leader let out a snort of mild derision. “Huh! I might as well kill him now and save him the trip! No. I want you in this clan. You are strong, not just in a hunt, but in understanding the value of protecting what is yours. I am explaining this only so you can understand.
“Normally I would simply send you on a hunt. Let you blood yourself as would any other member of this clan. But this is not a normal situation, and for the time being I want you within our borders, where you are protected by our laws, in case your father gets it into his head to try something…drastic. So instead, I am going to bring in something very big and dangerous, and you will kill it and we will call that good enough while I…sort things out.”
“You are confining me?”
“Not forever,” Na’Jui assured him. “I would never deny a warrior his hunt. Think of it as taking time to get adjusted to your new clan. There is a school nearby that Dek can attend—”
“School?” Dek cried in dismay. “But I already went to school!”
There was a pause, and it was a particular type of pause that Kwei was beginning to recognize.
“Once a youngling leaves the female clan, only combat training and trade skills are necessary,” Kwei said, and added “in clan Ea-Maith.”
“Your females must be excellent teachers, to fit so much learning in so little time,” Na’Jui said tactfully. “Schooling and training are done together here.”
“For how long?” Dek demanded, horrified. Kwei nudged Dek hard in warning and was ignored.
“When you are old enough for your first hunt.”
“Kweeiii,” Dek whined. Kwei clamped his hand around Dek’s mandibles again.
“Would you stop whining and show respect to the clan. Leader,” Kwei hissed. Dek glared at him and jammed a claw beneath one of the tendons in Kwei’s wrist, forcing him to let go with a strangled yelp of pain.
“Nobody said anything about having to go to school,” he hissed back.
“I’m afraid it is non-negotiable,” Na’Jui said solemnly. Dek dropped his head back and groaned, loudly, then slouched against the wall and settled in to sulk.
“He will go,” Kwei said. “I will make sure of it.”
“Good.” The clan leader straightened up. “Now, one more thing before I go.” And all at once those pale eyes were shards of ice, glinting and dangerous, and the voice was as sharp and uncompromising as a knife. “Both of you have mistaken my sympathy towards your situation for pity. I make allowances for your behavior. I understand how you were raised to think, and the stress of the situation you are in, but even I will allow only so much.
“This clan is strong, and I expect you both to make it strong. You will act like joining this clan is the honor that it is, not a punishment.”
Kwei and Dek stood very still, staring at him with wide eyes.
“Am I clear?”
“Yes,” the brothers said in unison. Instantly, the aspect of the terrifying clan leader was gone and the good-humored Na’Jui was back.
“Excellent. Be at ease. You are both safe here.”
Neither Kwei nor Dek dared to move. Na’Jui lifted his mandibles in a polite smile.
“I’ll let myself out,” he said.
They both held very still until his footsteps faded away.
“Now look what you did!” Dek hissed.
“Me?” Kwei exclaimed.
“You’re the one who kept saying we came here because they let weaklings live.”
“I’m not the one who said it to his face!”
“Well he was mad at both of us, so obviously he knew you were saying it.” Dek trotted over to the table and began to tug the bag open. “I’m hungry.”
Kwei opened his mouth, and gave up. He shoved Dek out of the way, earning himself a stinging kick to the shin that he pretended didn’t hurt.
Inside the bag were several cuts of meat, wrapped tightly to keep them fresh, and a variety of what were probably fruits and vegetables, although Kwei had no idea which were which. Each had a tag tied to it with a piece of string. Kwei ran his fingers over the tags and found they had handwritten notes – the letters pressed hard into tight fiber matting to bulge out on the other side. The tags gave the name of each item and how to eat it. Cut off the leaves and boil for an hour before eating; scoop out the seeds and leave the rind; crack the shell open with anything but your teeth…
Kwei’s pride stung that Na’Jui thought they were so helpless as to not be able to eat a simple piece of fruit. His common sense said to be grateful, because they didn’t. Not these ones, anyway.
“I think I can cook these,” Kwei said. Dek snorted.
“I can cook them,” he said, plucking a long, spiral-curled root from Kwei’s hand. His hands brushed across the tags. “This one, this one, and…this one.”
“I can cook,” Kwei protested, offended. Dek gathered up his selected items and made for the kitchen area.
“What you do is not cooking,” Dek said, dumping everything on the counter. “You bring dishonor on the clan every time you pick up a pot, that’s what you do.”
“I do not!”
“Wash those while I find the knives,” Dek ordered. “Even you can’t mess that up.”
“Yes, oh great and wise elder,” Kwei said, dripping sarcasm.
Welp. It's done. Holy crap. I'm so proud of it. Thanks everyone who stuck with me for the ride.
One more last shout out to @leletha-jann for being the best editor anyone could ask for - I am literally a better writer for your help, and I don't think I could have done anything as good as this without you.
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Mechanicsburg had one school, funded by the town itself, which taught all the children who lived there from the youngest ages until they were ready to go to university, if they so chose. It was fairly large, but not unmanageably so – everyone knew everyone else at least by sight, and most of them knew Agatha by reputation if nothing else.
They had enjoyed the unexpected week off, but now they were back, and the classrooms were buzzing with the same excitement that held the rest of Mechanicsburg in its grip. There was a Heterodyne again – at long, long last.
Agatha waited out of sight until it was just late enough that she could be sure everyone would be seated. Frau Munteanu had just told everyone to quiet down, I’m sure you’re all very excited, now it’s time to—
“Ahem.”
Frau Munteanu stopped breathing. Everyone stopped breathing. The entire room froze at the sight of their Heterodyne standing in the doorway wearing a polite but earnest expression.
“I’d like to say something, if I may?” she asked. There was a pause, and Agatha saw Frau Munteanu realize she was waiting for permission, as if her teacher still had the authority to tell her not to do something.
Frau Munteanu nodded jerkily.
“Thank you.”
Agatha walked up to the front of the room - Frau Munteanu backed away a few steps - and turned to face the class. As Agatha spoke, she let her gaze sweep over all of them in turn, taking care not to single anyone out or linger on any one person in particular.
“I realize it’s a little odd for me to be here. I was told the Heterodynes traditionally are educated by tutors, but I wanted to hold on to a little normalcy. While I’m here, I don’t want anyone to treat me differently, or be afraid of me.” She turned to the teacher. “Or be afraid to correct me when I’m wrong.”
Frau Munteanu forced a terrified smile.
“I know we all haven’t always gotten along. Some people…well. I just wanted to say, I am putting all of it behind me – and I’d like you to do the same. I want to start over fresh, now that we can all know each other properly.”
She smiled beatifically.
“I forgive you,” she said, warmly, genuinely.
No one spoke. All stared at her with the wide eyes of deer who’d heard a twig snap. Agatha sat at her usual desk, right in the front row, and folded her hands before her. She smiled expectantly at the teacher, who shakily approached the board and picked up the chalk.
Behind her, Agatha heard Nora start to cry.It was good to be the Heterodyne.
Here we are folks, the last chapter before the epilogue! It's been a wild ride...I can't believe we're there.
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The room was very still. They all had moved to sit around a large table while the Jägers talked. Tea had been served and poured, and sat stone cold and untouched in every cup. Saturnus was staring at the hive engine blueprint, his cheeks red but his breathing slow and steady. Teodora, in contrast, had gone ashen and barely seemed to be breathing at all, her gaze fixed unseeing in the distance. Agatha reached out and hesitantly touched her hand. It was ice cold.
Tarvek was watching the Baron very carefully, his expression impassive. The Jägers gave all the appearance of being quite casual and relaxed, but Agatha could tell they were prepared to move the moment the Baron did.
But Klaus Wulfenbach did not look as if he intended to move. He had his elbows on the table, his fingers laced together and pressed against his mouth. He stared hard, fixedly at the pile of papers before him. The only motion was that of his right index finger, which tapped slowly.
Finally, Dimo spoke.
"If ve tought he vuz vorking vit his poppa, even a liddle bit, ve vouldn't have let him come here alone. Ve vould have brought him back in der sack, no matter vut he said."
"Ve iz tinking he is an oddball," Ognian said cheerfully. "He din get de loyalty bred out of him."
The Baron's face twitched. Agatha wasn't sure if the laugh he was holding back would have been one of derision or amusement.
"That is," he said, "not an entirely uncompelling argument."
The Jägers looked to Agatha. She gave them a subtle thumbs up to indicate that this was a good thing, and they grinned and nudged each other.
The Baron spoke again, this time in a faraway, thoughtful voice.
“Gilgamesh spoke on your behalf.”
Tarvek started in his chair, eyes going wide.
“He did?”
“He argued quite strenuously to your innocence in both this and…previous cases. Quite a lot of emphasis was put on the evidence of guilt, or lack thereof.”
Agatha tried not to look too pleased, in case the argument coming from her through Gil would make the Baron take it less seriously.
“However,” the Baron said, his eyes hardening. “The absence of evidence is not the same as proof of innocence, and I do take into consideration my own skills in reading people—”
The door opened, and Captain Vole strolled in.
Maxim lit up and waved enthusiastically. "Hey! Look! Ve made it back!"
"Dot's cause hyu iz too shtupid to die," Vole said sardonically, but he was smiling a little as he said it.
Agatha, her outrage at the Baron temporarily derailed by her natural inclination to prefer her work not being undone every time she looked away, glared at him. He wasn't swaying and his speech was clear, but he was still very pale, and despite his casual air he held his torso very stiffly.
"You are supposed to be resting," she said disapprovingly.
"I'z fine," Vole said, casually. "I heals qvick."
"You didn't even put your arm in the sling!"
"I dun need it," Vole said, coming to a halt at the Mechanicsburg side of the table, exactly behind and between Agatha and Saturnus. The latter furnished Klaus with a wide, shit-eating grin as Vole put on a mock-serious expression and drew himself up.
"Captain Vole of der Mechanicsburg Security Division, reporting, Herr Baron, sir." He went to give what would have been the most sarcastic salute in history, but only got his arm halfway up when he flinched and winced.
"Aha!" Agatha cried, whirling in her seat to thrust an accusatory finger at him.
Saturnus grabbed her elbow and swung her back around.
"Focus," he muttered.
"You told me you were no longer a Jäger," Klaus said.
"Ya, I did."
"You were very emphatic about that."
"Ya, I vuz."
Agatha saw the exact moment it clicked. Klaus shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"There are no Jägers in Mechanicsburg," he said.
"No," Vole said. "But dere vuz me."
The enormity of Vole's deception struck Agatha. He had been thrown out of the Jägers and out of Mechanicsburg. He had been left with no one and nothing but his loyalty to his last true Heterodyne. When the Jägers had been taken from Mechanicsburg, he had gone to the Baron and convinced him that that loyalty wasn't there.
No one had given him the idea, no one had guided him or instructed him. Vole had, entirely on his own, armed with nothing but loyalty and his own guile, fooled Baron Wulfenbach.
Outplayed by a Jäger.
That had to sting.
And Vole knew it, too. His smile matched Saturnus', and he couldn't help himself from twisting the knife that much deeper.
"After all dot ranting I did about how much I hated de Heterodynes for being veak, und I din' even try to kill vun dot couldn't fight back. Dot din' tip hyu off even a liddle?"
“I assumed you were smart enough to know it would lose you the safety the Empire afforded you,” the Baron said woodenly.
Vole snorted derisively.
“Ya, cuz I had such a hard time survivink out dere vitout hyu to hold my hand. De only ting I needed from hyu vuz a vay into Mechanicsburg. Now der kestle is fixed und de Jägers are back. Both my Heterodynes vill be safe. So I— Hy dun need hyu anymore.”
Vole took off his hat. He examined it, the large Wulfenbach crest stamped in the center, gleaming against the pure white fabric. He looked at Klaus and his lip curled.
“Hy qvits.”
Vole tossed his hat away. It skimmed over the pile of paper and notebooks and spun to a tidy halt right in front of Klaus. A gasp went up from every throat except that of Klaus, who had seen it coming, and Tarvek, who wore the look of someone who knows something alarming has just happened but does not have the context to know why.
"Efferyvun knows hyu dun like dis vun." He jerked his chin at Tarvek. "Hyu got all deze people saying dey dun tink he is involved, und no evidence dot he is. If hyu arrest him, all de odder people involved in dis ting is going to say dot hyu is arresting dem because hyu dun like dem, too, no matter how much evidence hyu got."
Vole pointed to the piles on the table.
"Hyu vant de Fifty Families to see dis mess as dem und hyu against de Odder again. Hyu don't vant dem to see dis as dem versus de Baron who is usink all dis as an excuse to get rid of de vuns he dun like."
Everyone stared at him. Tarvek's jaw hung open.
"What the hell was that?" Saturnus asked, amazed. Vole tipped his head back and gave Klaus a smug, half-lidded smirk.
"Doze employee learning und development programs hyu got iz really someting, hey?"
"Hyu iz a general now or someting?" Maxim teased. Vole wrinkled his nose.
"Ugh, dun effen joke."
Agatha watched Klaus blink several times, and felt sort of bad for him.
“You were saying something about your ability to read people?” Saturnus said innocently, earning himself a look from Klaus that would have killed a weaker soul. But then the Baron sighed and sat back in his chair.
“Apparently,” he said dryly, “my observations deserve less weight than I thought. I will be conducting this investigation against Aaronev Wilhelm Sturmvoraus, using his son's testimony that the kidnapping was fiction. Whether or not Prince Tarvek chose to use the situation to his own advantage is irrelevant."
Agatha felt herself bristling again. He just couldn't stop himself, could he?
"Thank you, Herr Baron," Tarvek said. He gave Agatha a small, relieved smile, and Agatha made herself relax. Even if it still left a bitter taste in her mouth, it was Tarvek's reputation being slandered, and she could…
Well. She would continue to dislike Wulfenbach for it, but she wouldn't start a war about it. So long as the Baron kept his jabs purely verbal.
"If I could ask, Herr Baron," Tarvek said, very carefully. The Baron raised an eyebrow. "My sister didn't have anything to do with this, either. I know she didn't know about any of it."
"And how can you be so certain?"
"Because she would have tried to use it to her advantage by now," Tarvek said without hesitation.
"Mm. Believable." This was said in the tone of a man who had been in the same room as Anevka Sturmvoraus at least once.
"I think she'd be happier if you sent her to Grandmamma in Paris. Anevka could use a little more…structure."
"Mistress Anevka is not welcome in Mechaniscburg?" the Baron asked, turning to Agatha.
"Mistress Anevka would not survive Mechanicsburg," Agatha said, dryly.
"Very well," the Baron said. "I will send word to Princess Terebithia."
Tarvek leaned in and muttered to Agatha, "She's going to hate it. Grandmamma won't let her get away with half of what Father does."
Agatha felt deeply, deeply pleased by this.
Slowly, like a tree being felled, Vole tipped over sideways and hit the ground, making the tea slosh over the edges of the teacups and into the saucers. Maxim yelped; he and Oggie jumped to their feet. Dimo sipped his stodgy, ice-cold tea to hide a grin.
"They never learn," Saturnus sighed. He swung the chair around and lowered the legs as far as they would go. Even then he had to bend in half to unbutton the first few buttons of Vole's shirt and pull it away from the shoulder. "Yep! Bled straight through the bandages."
He pulled himself upright again with a groan, hands gripping tightly to the arms of the chair. Agatha made a mental note to figure out a way to make it easier for him to get at things on the ground. She worried that it would be harder than the stairs, given that it would require getting Saturnus' legs out of his own way.
Saturnus snapped his fingers at the other Jägers.
"You three, get this idiot into the couch in Carson's old office and then go get Gkika. Mind the shoulder – although at this point it'd serve him right if the whole damn thing fell off."
The Jägers did not move. They looked at Agatha.
To Agatha's surprise, this pleased Saturnus immensely.
"If my Lady would allow?" he asked, teasingly formal. Agatha nodded, and the Jägers hurried to obey Saturnus’ order, although Agatha noticed Dimo hurried a little bit less than the others.
"And sit on him if he tries to get up again!" Agatha called after them.
When they were gone, they all looked to the Baron again. He rose to his feet, fingertips resting on the table.
"I will begin the investigation without delay. As the nearby communication towers are down, I will send word to the deployed Jäger forces via my personal channels."
Agatha rose too, and once more tilted her head the exact number of degrees appropriate for one ruler speaking to another.
"Thank you, Herr Baron. I understand that with the ringing of the Doom Bell, the prisoners in Castle Heterodyne are freed."
"That was the agreement, although I'm uncertain how…rehabilitated they are."
Agatha shrugged.
"The castle is more than capable of taking care of them if they get out of line," she said. As soon as the words were out, she winced internally. That felt like a very…Saturnus thing to say.
Oh well. She would crush anyone who was a threat to her town. Might as well be honest about it.
"I'm sure you can put them to good use," the Baron said. This time, he actually bowed, though not very deeply. "Well met, Lady Heterodyne. I wish you luck."
Something about the way he said it made her turn to the large bay windows. The council did not have the same view the castle did, but she could still see across the main square. Mechanicsburg was a mess – battered by the fighting, bruised from years of occupation, chaotic, crazy, and hers. She turned back to the Baron and smiled.
"I don't need luck," Agatha said. "I'm the Heterodyne."
UPDATED CHAPTER Blood Will Out Ch 37 - Meeting the Lady
So I couldn't make this fit as its own chapter, I made the decision to go back and add it to the start of an earlier chapter, much as that irritates me. I thought I was safe from this by finishing the fic beforehand but, well, here we are.
AO3 will also be updated.
(A new chapter will be posted on Friday - our last real chapter, as it turns out, and then the epilogue. I can't believe we're there already)
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Klaus put his hands flat on his desk and leaned his weight on them, letting his head hang as he fought to regain his composure. Gil was too old to cry when he was shouted at, but he usually flinched, which was always enough to make Klaus recall himself. This time, however, Gil had taken Klaus' bellowing with a jutting, rebellious chin, and it had taken several minutes before Klaus could get control himself, to swallow back the blinding fear masquerading as anger.
"At least tell me," he said, slowly, "that you understand the foolishness of your plan."
"It was half-baked and I didn't think it through," Gil said, which was not the same thing.
"It would have been foolish even if you had thought it through."
"Well, yes," Gil admitted, "but that's because I didn't realize what my actual goal was. I thought I wanted to stop Tarvek. What I actually wanted was to save him."
"Save him."
"Yes." Gil took a deep breath. "I think you were wrong about Tarvek. I know you're trying to protect me, and I know why you thought what you did, but he is my friend. He really was just trying to help me."
Klaus stared at him. Alarm bells had begun to go off in his mind, so loud he couldn't think of anything to say as Gil patiently explained that there had been no actual evidence that Tarvek had been untrustworthy; that when Tarvek had discovered the planted evidence that Gil's father was Petrus Teuful, he had told no one, specifically to prevent putting Gil's life in danger; that on what might be his deathbed, Tarvek had told him that he had really, truly thought of Gil as his best friend.
"Gilgamesh. I know that family. Not even impending death could compel them to be truthful—"
"The evidence for Tarvek being my friend are his words and his actions. The only evidence you have to the contrary is that Tarvek's family is awful. That's not enough!"
"It's enough for me."
"It's not enough for me," Gil shot back. "Not anymore. Once Agatha told me she believed Tarvek was on her side, I started to think—"
"Agatha?" Klaus repeated. The alarm bells turned into wailing klaxons.
"Yes," Gil said, ignorant of his father's rising horror. "I told her our – well, your – opinion on Tarvek, and she said she wouldn't stop trusting Tarvek because she had solid evidence of his wanting to be helpful but not—"
"The daughter of Lucrezia Mongfish told you to trust the son of Aaronev Sturmvoraus, and that changed your mind?"
"She hates her mother," Gilgamesh said.
"She says—"
"Herr Baron!" Gil exclaimed, which as always made Klaus' heart go tight. One day it would be safe for Gil to call him Father, and it was a small pinprick of agony every time he couldn't. "The Heterodyne Boys were both the sons of Saturnus Heterodyne, but you were friends with them. You trusted them!"
"They proved themselves trustworthy."
"And you gave them the chance to prove themselves."
Klaus glared at his son, who glared right back. The tension stretched, seconds ticking by without either party showing the slightest sign of giving way.
"You are allowing yourself to be manipulated."
"You are ignoring evidence that doesn't support your theory."
That...annoyed Klaus. Of course when Gil put it that way, Klaus' mind automatically looked at the situation as if it was a scientific study, considered the facts as evidence, and found that...well. He was lacking concrete evidence.
I don't care, Klaus thought firmly, but now that was not the logical response backed by objective truth. I don't have to be objective, was the followup thought. I'm a tyrant.
But that would not convince Gil – more than that, if Klaus insisted, it would strengthen Gil's resolve, perhaps even turn him against Klaus entirely. And when, not if, the day came that the true nature of the Mongfish girl and the Sturmvoraus boy revealed themselves, Gil might hide it from Klaus, not wanting to admit that his father was right.
A knock on the door saved Klaus from answering.
"Enter."
A messenger stuck her head in and saluted briefly.
"The Lady Heterodyne is ready to meet with you. She invites you to join her in Mechanicsburg at your earliest convenience."
It was not quite a summons, but it was also not deferential. Mechanicsburg was no longer a vassal of the Empire, whether or not the Empire liked it.
"Understood," Klaus said, "Tell her I will be down in half an hour."
The messenger saluted again and vanished, politely shutting the door behind her. Klaus turned back to Gil, who was attempting to look like he was waiting patiently.
"I will hear what they have to say," he said. The statement at best vaguely implied 'and will give it any kind of consideration', but from the look of relief on Gil's face, he was holding onto that hope with both hands.
Klaus turned to leave, but paused with his hand on the doorhandle.
"Gilgamesh," he said, turning back.
"Yes, Herr Baron?"
"You are confined to quarters for the remainder of the year."
"The year?" Gil yelped in horror.
"At least."
Lady Agatha Heterodyne was fifteen years old, a few inches shorter than Gilgamesh even standing drawn up at her full height. She had Lucrezia’s long, blonde hair, but the little cowlick at the back undermined the similarity – in fact, it appeared to be the only Mongfish trait that had not drowned in the sea of Heterodyne blood.
Lady Heterodyne was flanked on either side by her grandparents, both of whom looked unspeakably proud of her, which Klaus hoped was a good sign – at least as far as Teodora was concerned. On Teodora’s left was Tarvek Sturmvoraus, the catalyst to this debacle.
There were far too many Jäger guards on the doors, but as they were all outside the room, Klaus felt certain it was more for the Jägers’ sake than to serve as a threat or a show of power.
Klaus would say they had been waiting a long time for this…but 'waiting' implied hope.
Lady Heterodyne's expression was an awkward one – she was trying to look reserved but not unwelcoming, proud but not aloof, friendly but not vulnerable, and strong but not aggressive, and succeeded in managing none of them at all. But she met his eyes without flinching. She was nervous, yes, but not afraid and not the least bit uncertain.
It made her look so much like Bill that for a moment Klaus’ heart ached.
“Lady Agatha Heterodyne,” Klaus said, and added, “Lately known as Miss Agatha Sannikova.”
Teodora ignored the jab.
“Greetings, Herr Baron,” Agatha said, and tipped her head a very deliberate few centimeters – just enough to be a polite nod between equals, implying neither deference nor superiority. “I apologize for meeting you in the council’s chambers, and not the castle, but while it is safe to go in now, it’s not nearly clean enough to entertain in.”
“No offense taken,” Klaus said, returning her polite nod at the exact same number of centimeters.
He wondered who had coached her. Teodora Vodenicharova had once had the beginnings of a very promising political career, before it was derailed by…circumstances. General Goomblast knew court etiquette better than most of the Fifty Families. General Khrizhan studied people, particularly how to get them to see what they wanted to see. Sturmvoraus was young, but like all his family had been raised from birth to play the political game.
Whatever kind of ruler she wanted to be, the Lady Heterodyne would never want for advisors.
“I will admit,” Klaus said, “to being caught somewhat off-guard.”
“That was the goal,” Saturnus said smugly.
“Saturnus,” Teodora hissed, and looked meaningfully at Agatha. “Her moment.”
Saturnus actually looked abashed.
“Sorry, sorry.”
Klaus waited to see if the world would end or reality would otherwise tear itself to shreds, but it didn't even seem to notice that a Heterodyne had apologized.
Perhaps he had misheard.
“I guarantee,” Lady Heterodyne said, “that you aren’t nearly as surprised as I was. When we say no one was told, we mean no one. There were five people in the world who knew, when all this started. Two of them figured it out on their own, and I found out by accident.”
"And who brought you to Mechanicsburg?"
"Uncle Barry," Agatha said. "He used to visit when he could, but he always had to stay hidden so no one would recognize him. But, um." Her mouth wobbled, Teodora put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and the mouth grew strong again. "He hasn't been back in a long time."
Klaus wanted to ask why Barry hadn't come to him – why no one had come to him. He already had the facilities and resources for housing and educating Spark children with dangerous enemies; he had the giant floating fortress; he'd had the Jägers. Black fire, Klaus was probably more qualified than anyone else in Europa to protect a young Heterodyne.
And Barry had not trusted him.
Klaus did not ask.
“I am afraid you have an inauspicious start to your rule, Lady Heterodyne. Mechanicsburg and Sturmhalten have levelled serious charges against one another. One of you is in direct violation of the Pax Transylvania, which means I must take over the investigation personally.”
“The most pressing issue,” Klaus went on, “is that at this moment I do not possess an abundance of trust in anyone involved in this situation.”
“What are you talking about?” Lady Heterodyne asked, baffled. “Sturmhalten said we kidnapped Tarvek. Tarvek says we didn’t kidnap him. Mystery solved.”
The evidence for Tarvek being my friend are his words and his actions. The only evidence you have to the contrary is that Tarvek's family is awful. That's not enough!
“He says he wasn't kidnapped,” Klaus said. This time he met Tarvek’s eyes. The boy was pale, his hands balled into fists, but he met Klaus’ eyes as steadily as Lady Heterodyne had. “But did Aaronev know his son was not kidnapped?”
“He means he thinks it was my idea,” Tarvek said, his voice overloud. He had not yet perfected the art of concealing all thoughts and feelings, and Klaus was surprised to see the grim satisfaction of someone who had expected the worst possible outcome – and received it. “He thinks I made my father think I was being kidnapped, so he would attack Mechanicsburg and either be killed in the fighting or be arrested for violating the Pax Transylvania.”
“Of everyone involved, you have gained the most, Prince Sturmvoraus.”
He looked at Lady Heterodyne, and stopped talking.
Saturnus had attacked the original Castle Wulfenbach once, when Klaus was young. It had not gone well for him, Klaus’ parents being somewhat more aggressive in their defenses than Klaus’ grandfather had been, but the battle had lasted several hours.
Klaus, no more than ten, had been filled with the sort of horrified curiosity that draws people to stare at accidents. He had taken his spyglass, then a recent birthday present, to a tower room with a window overlooking the battlefield.
Klaus would remember for the rest of his life the moment he’d first seen Saturnus Heterodyne. It was the final push before Saturnus had retreated, when he had realized he was facing a force greater than himself but was not ready to back down. This was someone who would put all his might to bear regardless of the consequences, who would do whatever it took, whatever the cost, to win.
Agatha had her grandfather’s eyes.
“If you are not going to help, if you aren’t even going to listen to what we have to say before you make your decision, why are you here? Are you going to arrest Tarvek without any proof that he was involved at all?”
Klaus was angering a Heterodyne in her own lair. The ice was not just creaking underfoot, but between the cracks he could see the shadow of a great leviathan emerging from the depths at ramming speed.
“Be careful,” he saw Teodora whisper.
“He’s in the middle of Mechanicsburg,” Saturnus countered. “Alone! We could finish this before it even gets started.”
An angel and a devil on each shoulder, and the Lady of Mechanicsburg right in the middle.
“Do you have any proof that he wasn’t?” Klaus asked.
“Dot’s our cue!” someone cried, and a door burst open. Three Jägermonsters tumbled in, slightly the worse for wear but grinning broadly. Two of them had burlap sacks slung over their shoulders.
“Oggie, Dimo, Maxim, you’re here! You’re okay!” Lady Heterodyne cried.
“Und ve broughts hyu proof!” said the Jäger with a horn, dumping his sack out onto the floor. Notebooks, folders, loose papers, and rolled-up blueprints spilled out.
“Sorry ve’z so late,” said the purple Jäger. “Vuz hard gettink back makink sure all dis din get messed up, und den ve couldn't get to de tunnels to get into town.” Suddenly his smile slid away. “But uh. Hy tink hyu iz goink to vant to head over to Sturmhalten pretty demn qvick.”
Klaus' eye spotted something on one of the loose pieces of paper. He bent down and picked it up.
It was a blueprint for a hive engine.
“Und maybe burn everyting in der tunnels under kestle, vhile hyu’s at it.”
Klaus looked again at Tarvek, who was pale and trembling – and there was a real, desperate pleading in his eyes.
"...und den dere vuz Hugo, hoo, he vuz a real vild vun – a little too good vit de ladies if hyu know vut I mean. He din' really like dot Hy invited all his kids into de family, but Hy told him it vouldn't be too fair if Hy din' accept kids from de wrong side of de blanket, vit me und his great-grandmama und all, but--"
"Ognian." Dimo's voice was deadpan. "If hyu say vun more vord about hyu kids, Hy vill kill hyu."
Ognian scowled and stuck his tongue out at Dimo's back, but fell silent. Tarvek, who had gone somewhat glassy-eyed fifteen minutes into the extended family history, blinked several times to bring himself back out of his daze. For the second time in twenty-four hours, he was underneath Sturmhalten; but not, this time, in the carved and stone-paved tunnels he had led Agatha and Vole through. Instead, he had directed the Jägermonsters down through the natural tunnels - twisting caverns carved by eons of running water, millimeter by millimeter. It was a much slower route, and in several places the path narrowed so much they struggled to squeeze through, but it was necessary. Vrin already knew that Tarvek was able to navigate the regular tunnels, and almost certainly would have someone standing guard looking for him.
Tarvek waved a hand for the Jägermonsters to pause, and drew out the map and compass. Maxim lifted the lantern and nudged the shutter open a little further, to give Tarvek more light.
"Okay," Tarvek whispered. "This next bit here, it's a natural bridge over a cavern. We have to go carefully - the map doesn't say how deep it is, or if there's a way out from the bottom if we fall and don't die." He was unable to stop himself from adding "Which we should try to avoid, if possible."
The Jägermonsters nodded and, more alert this time, moved forward, once more keeping in front of and behind Tarvek. He wondered, again, if it was to keep him safe or to keep him from running. Possibly both.
Suddenly Tarvek stopped. Ognian nearly tripped over him as Tarvek grabbed Maxim's cape to pull him back.
"Wait!" he hissed. "Listen!"
They listened, ears straining, until they caught the sound again - voices up ahead.
"Demn," Dimo whispered.
"Hyu said no vun used dese tunnels!" Maxim said reprovingly.
"I didn't think they would!" Tarvek exclaimed in a whisper. "They're so inconvenient!"
He wanted to bang his head against the wall. Yet again he had misjudged the situation and the extent of the Knights of Jove's machinations. The Jägermonsters glanced at each other. They each had their bundles of evidence tied to their backs; they now adjusted them to ensure they were safely out of the way. Only then did they move forward.
As they got closer, they began to hear other sounds: metallic clangs and grinding gears. An engine began to rumble. The voices grew louder, but all the sounds muddled together and echoed through the tunnels, making them impossible to make out. Tarvek's stomach began to sink when a light became visible at the far end of the tunnel.
The sides of the tunnel fell away abruptly, leaving the as-promised natural stone bridge that arced over a massive cavern. It was clear that once the cavern had been a dead end, with no natural exits or entrances save those over the bridge, and the bottom peppered in stalagmites ready to spear anyone who lost their footing.
No longer.
Now there were wide-mouthed, man-made tunnels leading in and out. The stalagmites had been smashed, leaving only slightly raised stumps of stone behind. The cavern was lit by electric lights bolted into the walls of the cave, illuminating the hundred or so engineers and soldiers who scurried this way and that over dozens of siege engines. He could see collapsable cannon towers, galvanic catapults, and lightning throwers, not to mention whole crates of ammunition, carts of hand-held weapons, and a small platoon of soldier clanks waiting to be activated.
Tarvek made a few hand gestures and the Jägers nodded. All four of them lay flat on the ground and began to crawl across the stone bridge. They had to move with agonizing care, frequently stopping to brush loose dirt and pebbles away from the edge, lest their passage send telltale trickles down below and raise the alarm.
Halfway across, they heard a shout from below and froze. Tarvek's heart was pounding so hard he couldn't breathe properly. But the shout was followed by a "You idiot! You've got it in backwards! It's them we're trying to kill, not our own men!"
Tarvek let out a silent sigh of relief, and they continued on. From below rose the sounds of whining servos as the soldier clanks came online, the growl of engines being tested, the bellowed orders of the lead engineer.
Though it had not taken much physical exertion, when they reached the far side of the bridge and into the safety of the cavern, even the Jägers needed a minute to get their wind back.
"Vish ve had de pack," Oggie said, wistfully. "Ve could jump down dere und give dem a real good scare."
"Ominox vould haff loved dis," Dimo said, with the same fond longing. "He loved de jump scares. Right, Maxim?"
Maxim was not listening. His face had turned a shade of lavender that would have been quite pleasing, if not for the expression that came with it. Slowly, he raised a hand and pointed back the way they'd come, down into the cavern below. There, up against the wall, glowing a sickly, shifting green, was an active hive engine.
Ognian grabbed Tarvek around the shoulders, hoisted him off the ground, and strode several steps further into the tunnel. Putting him down, Ognian pulled back Tarvek's hair just as he bent over and threw up as quietly as he could.
Every possibility was worse than the last, but even the best possibility was a nightmare.
A hand was rubbing his back, and a voice was murmuring in a low, soothing tone.
"Iz okay. Hyu'z okay. Vill be all done soon, just hyu breathe nice und slow, not too deep, hokay?"
Tarvek tried to follow the advice, and tried to keep as quiet as possible as another wave of nausea overtook him. All those wasted lives, all that fear, that had been bad enough. But this? To take the Other's worst weapon and use it?
"Ognian, ve gots to go ," Maxim hissed.
"Give him a minute," Ognian hissed back.
"Ve dun have a minute!"
"I'm okay," Tarvek rasped, straightening up. He spat, wishing he had something to wash the taste out of his mouth. As if reading his mind, Ognian held out a small canteen of water, from which Tarvek gratefully drank. When he handed it back, Ognian gave him a look that was in no way judgemental for Tarvek's weakness.
"Hyu can keep valking?"
He nodded.
"When this is over," he said, not to reassure the Jägers but because he wanted to make a promise out of it, "I'm going to kill my father."
"Hokay, but hyu vill have to move qvick cause dere is gonna be a big long line," Maxim said. "Now come on."
"No," Tarvek whispered. "No, not while they have the hive engine."
"Pfft, dey von't use it," Maxim said dismissively. "Dey could vasp deir own guys!"
"I'm certain the Other would have ways of immunizing loyal forces against the wasps. Or maybe Father doesn't care - it's not like he could be wasped. It doesn't matter. I'm not taking the risk. We need to destroy them."
"How hyu gonna do dot?"
Tarvek gnawed his lip. The hive engine sat alone, in a space about ten meters in diameter that contained no other weapons, engines, or clanks. It had been kept free of anything that could give anyone any sort of cover to sneak up to it without being seen. A fully accredited smoke knight could almost certainly do it - but while Tarvek was good, he wasn't that good, at least not yet.
However, that was a lot of floor space to leave unused, and so the engineers had put it where it would be most out of the way - up against the wall, half under the stone bridge.
"If we could bring the bridge down on that side… If I could make it look like the stone gave way on its own… Explosives that don't give off fire, something that could sound like cracking stone..." His mind began to whirl, eyes darting back and forth across the memory of the cavern below, calculating what materials had been available and how he could possibly get to them without being seen.
His train of thought derailed abruptly.
"No, that wouldn't work. To ensure it came down where we needed it, we'd have to blow up the bridge from the other side, which would trap us. We'd have to find a new way out."
The Jägers glanced at each other. Abruptly they turned away and huddled together, whispering. Tarvek pretended to go back to thinking about the problem at hand. But he had very good hearing, and the Jägers weren't good at arguing quietly. They were discussing Agatha - more exactly, what Agatha's priorities might be.
"She asked for him first," said Dimo. "Den de evidence."
"Ya, but she vould rather have both ," Maxim said.
"She din' know about de hive engine ven she asked us to go back," Ognian pointed out. "If it vuz vun of de old masters, if dey knew ve left dot ting alone to maybe go up against Mechanicsburg, dey vould kill us. Und de Boys vould haff been disappointed at us!"
Interesting, Tarvek thought, that those two things were said with the same level of concern. More interesting was the turn of phrase.
If it was one of the old masters.... If Agatha was one of the old masters...her opinion and reaction being compared to the Heterodynes', put on the same level of importance as the Heterodynes'... Very, very interesting.
The Jägers turned back to him.
"Hokay," Ognian said. "Hy vill go vit hyu. Maxim und Dimo vill stay behind und bring de bridge down."
"Ve vill give hyu a head start," Dimo said.
"But how will you break it? You need explosives or—" He cut off as the Jägers grinned at him.
"Ho, dun hyu vorry about dot," Maxim said cheerfully. "Jägers is real good at breaking tings."
"How will you get back through the tunnels without me?"
"Easy," Dimo said. "Ve valks backvards, so ve make sure it matches vut ve saw going in."
Tarvek opened his mouth.
Tarvek closed his mouth.
"Alright," Tarvek said.
Without so much as a goodbye to each other, the Jägers parted: Dimo and Maxim back across the bridge, Ognian pushing Tarvek not-ungently further down the tunnel.
They walked in silence for ten minutes exactly, at which point a great crack echoed down the tunnel, the sound of crashing rocks, screaming metal, shouts of panic and fear. The ground beneath their feet shook - and so did the walls. And the ceiling. Small rocks broke loose, and Tarvek felt as much as heard the grinding of stone on stone. Ognian lunged and shoved Tarvek so hard he went flying several meters down the tunnel, landing hard just in time to watch the ceiling cave in behind him.
The shaking subsided. Dust and pebbles clattered down around him, breaking a silence so loud it almost hurt his ears. He was in pitch darkness, the lantern either gone out or crushed under the rubble.
Tarvek allowed himself only a few moments to get his breath back before pulling himself together. Reaching into his pocket, he fumbled for his smoke knight kit in his pocket, opening it and feeling blindly for the waterproof matches. He struck one, almost flinching at the phosphorous hiss as it caught light.
Tarvek held it up to shed more light, and stared blankly at the massive rock that now cut off the tunnel, packed in on all sides by rubble. There came a metallic scraping sound and the end of Ognian's axe handle shoved through some of the debris, then retreated, leaving a small hole.
"Psst!" he heard the Jäger hiss. "Hyu alive?"
"Yes," he replied, whispering as loudly as he dared. The match went out; he let it and did not light another. Instead he felt his way back towards the rock. There was no light coming from the other side of the tunnel, but he could hear Ognian's breathing.
"Got all hyu legs and arms?"
"A few scratches, but I'm alright. You?"
"Lost der bag under der rocks," he grumbled, "but nottink on me dot Hy von't heal from."
Tarvek heard the Jäger fumbling along the rocks, perhaps feeling out the extent of the damage.
"Demn. Vill take a lot of vork to dig hyu out by myself."
"Don't bother," Tarvek replied. "Go back and find the others. Get the evidence to Mechanicsburg. I'll make my own way from here. I have matches and a map."
"Hyu sure hyu can get dere by hyuself?" Ognian sounded genuinely worried. It made Tarvek uncomfortable in a strange way.
"Yes," he said, mentally adding I don't exactly have a choice.
"Hokay," Ognian said reluctantly. "Be careful."
"Wait!" Tarvek whispered, catching himself so off-guard he didn't say anything else until Ognian said, "Vut?"
"I...you were very...kind to me. Why?"
"Hy dunno," Ognian said, clearly surprised by the question. "Hy guess iz a habit, after so many liddle keeds of my own."
"I'm not little," Tarvek protested, indignant. "I'm sixteen."
A chuckle from the Jäger.
"Keedo, ven hyu iz as old as Hy iz, efferybody under fifty iz a keed. Hyu seems like a good vun, even if hyu is a Sturmvoraus. Get going, und be careful, hokay? Mizz Agatha vants hyu in vun piece."
"You be careful too," he found himself saying.
"See?" Ognian said, audibly pleased. "Hyu's a good vun. Mizz Agatha could do lots vorse."
Tarvek felt himself blush, and was glad it was too dark to see. Ognian's footsteps retreated, and Tarvek lit another match. Quickly he memorized the shape of the tunnel and how far down he could see, before the match went out. When he reached the edge of what he had seen, he would light another match. He'd have to hope that would be enough.
Taking a deep breath, Tarvek made his careful way down the tunnel, one step at a time.
I don't want to say "hiatus" which always has the threat of never coming back to it, but I've gotten the urge to add some stuff, so sit tight, it's a-comin'. Just give me a few weeks.
Blood Will Out Ch 38 - What Happened in Sturmhalten
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One, two, three heads popped up from behind the wall surrounding Sturmhalten. The Jägers regarded the silent streets with no small concern.
"Dun like de look of dot," Oggie muttered. "If dey'z in such a big demn hurry to catch her, vere iz efferybody?"
They slipped up and over the edge of the wall and down the battlement steps and made their very wary way through a narrow side street. They were not unused to walking through dark and silent towns, but usually they had the pack at their backs and the streets were not in such pristine condition.
Now they were all too aware that while the streets were empty, the houses were full. A town full of civilians could be a problem, even for three Jägers.
"Hokay," Dimo said. "Ve needs proof und ve needs to get de Sturmvoraus keed. My bet's ve'z gon find dem both in der kestle– Vut iz hyu doink?"
Ognian had left the sidestreet and was now clambering onto a fountain.
"Dey fixed it from de last time ve vuz here!" he called back in a loud whisper. "Hy vant to see if my initials iz still dere!"
Dimo slapped a hand over his face.
The statue was unusually sentimental for a place so close to the Heterodyne Valley: a man and a woman entwined in a dance, hands linked together, stone expressions soft with adoration. Couples throughout the ages had scratched their initials along the edge of the fountain's basin. Ognian pulled himself up with one hand on each statue’s shoulder and peered between them. His face split into a wide, fond grin. Whoever had repaired the fountain had done their best to fill it in, but he'd used one of the master's special tools. You could still easily make out the R+O in the stone of the woman's left breast.
His wife had been gone long before the fountain was even built, but Oggie knew she would have laughed herself sick.
"Ognian, " Dimo hissed. Ognian looked up to tell him to keep his hat on, when he saw the soldiers rounding the street corner. In a flash, he was down on the ground and huddling in the shadows with the others.
"Vuz it dere?" Maxim whispered. Ognian grinned again.
"Ya."
"Aww, dot's nice."
Dimo elbowed them both, hard, as three soldiers strode by, shoulder to shoulder, eyes fixed ahead. The Jägers waited until the soldiers were far down the street, but not yet out of sight. Dimo recognized the walk of men who believed the immediate danger was gone, and were only pretending to look diligent until the brass realized it too.
"Vut hyu tink?" Maxim whispered, almost too low to be heard. "Beat dem up und take deir uniforms?"
Ognian snickered and tweaked Maxim's overlong nose.
"Hyu been Jägerkin too long for dot, kiddo."
Maxim glowered and slapped his hand away.
"Hy'z not dot much younger den hyu!"
"Hyu'z still der baby of de bunch–"
Someone groaned behind them. There was a brief, confused moment that ended with the three Jägers on the roof. They looked not unlike a trio of startled cats, especially the way Ognian's hair had fluffed up.
When they heard the groan again and no one immediately attacked, they followed the sound, creeping along the rooftops. Curiously, though the noises themselves were not very loud, they managed to carry quite a ways, and it was several blocks before they located the small figure curled up on the ground in an alleyway. It twitched in a way that suggested its pain was genuine, but they knew someone faking unconsciousness when they saw it.
“Hyu tink dot’s him?” Maxim asked in a whisper barely more than a breath.
Dimo squinted. He had the good eyes, capable of seeing in all but utter lightlessness. There were downsides – most importantly, at that moment, was that the darker it was, the less color he saw. There was enough light left, from the moon and the distant streetlamps, that all was not completely black and white, but only just.
Storm Lord spawn, you’ll know him when you see him, Vole had said, and he had been right. That blazing red hair stood out like a beacon in the all-but-colorless world.
They moved to jump down, but once more drew back at the sound of approaching feet. This time, the soldiers looked less like they were pretending to take the situation seriously, and closer to panic.
“Master Tarvek!” one of them cried.
“Get him up! Get him to the castle, quick!”
Not even bothering to try and rouse their young master, they half-dragged, half-carried Tarvek up the road, unaware of their silent, rooftop shadows.
“I do not believe him,” said Lady Vrin.
“Look at him! Look what they did to him!” Aaronev was pacing frantically, gnawing his lip and wringing his hands. Tarvek made himself look as pathetic as possible, which was not hard, with the bruised face and cracked glasses. “No, no, Tarvek is not at fault here.”
“Not at fault? We had the Holy Child in our hands, and he showed her how to get away!”
“What was I supposed to do?” Tarvek demanded, putting a childish whine in his voice. “Let them kill me?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Aaronev said. “No, he didn’t know. We can’t blame him for not knowing how vital this girl was, how much…how much was at stake.”
Tarvek caught the glance his father sent his way during the brief hesitation, and had a sneaking suspicion his father had been about to say how much more her life was worth than his.
He wished he could be more surprised.
“Then what is going on?” Tarvek demanded. “What’s so special about some peasant girl from Mechanicsburg?”
“She is not some peasant!” Vrin snarled. “She is the Holy Child! The daughter of the Goddess!”
Tarvek stared at her for a moment, then looked at his father.
"Lucrezia Mongfish," his father said, "was a very important woman." He hesitated, gnawing his lip, clearly debating with himself. "Yes…yes, I think you are old enough to understand. Come with me."
The moment he saw it, Tarvek knew. The banks of machines, with their cables that crawled like creeping fungus over the chapel walls. The chair. The helmet.
The leather straps.
This was how they'd killed those girls.
"This is the summoning engine," Aaronev said. "It holds the personality and wisdom of Lucrezia. That girl is her daughter, designed before she was even born to function as a replacement body. The engine will implant a copy of Lucrezia over the girl's mind, and she will be back as if she had never left."
Tarvek couldn't take his eyes off the chair. There were scratches on the ends of the arms where dozens – hundreds? – of girls had desperately clawed for freedom in the last moments of their lives. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to cry.
He wanted to slide the knife out of the hidden sheath in his sleeve and drive it into his father's chest.
"She isn't a real person, Tarvek," Aaronev went on, his tone disgustingly reassuring. "She's a vessel – just an empty shell."
Tarvek wondered if the lie was for his benefit, or if his father had truly convinced himself of that. Was that how he was able to throw away life after life? But then, even if he had deluded himself, he would still have to know every girl who wasn't Agatha was a real person, and that hadn't seemed to slow him down in the least.
And he hadn't even mentioned them to Tarvek. No, his father knew exactly what he was doing.
"But why?"
"Because we owe her everything. Lucrezia was the greatest Spark who ever lived, and she put that to use building the Knights of Jove into a power worthy – capable – of securing the Lightning Throne."
Tarvek listened in a numb, fascinated horror as his father explained how Lucrezia had taken a bloodline that had gone weak and fallow, and remade it. She had filled the line with sons so strong and powerful, even the thinnest of relations to the original Storm King could make a viable candidate. And as he spoke, Aaronev's eyes filled with a feverish glow, a fervent and desperate adoration. He was clearly in love with Lucrezia – or obsessed with her.
Or both.
"How do you know if Agatha is Lucrezia's daughter? She said she's not a Spark. Surely Lucrezia would have made sure whatever body she put herself in had the Spark."
It technically wasn't a lie. Agatha had said she wasn't a Spark. Tarvek had his doubts. Oh, Agatha had believed it, that was clear, but Tarvek had heard it in her voice. The softest thrum of harmonics, the flicker of light ready to burst into the fullness of the spark. She had been beautiful.
"But she will be," Aaronev said, an eager light growing in his eyes. "She had the voice, Lucrezia's voice. You see, the people of this town–"
"Silence." Vrin's voice was razor sharp. To Tarvek's astonishment, his father obeyed the order with a sheepish expression on his face. "I will not trust him with the Goddess' secrets. Not until he has proven himself truly worthy."
"Ah. Yes, of course. Forgive me." Aaronev turned worried eyes to Tarvek. "Do you understand the importance of this work? Thanks to Lucrezia, we have the power and resources to take the Lightning Throne. We can overthrow Wulfenbach and give Europa the king she deserves."
The realization came to Tarvek in a moment of perfect clarity: it had to be him. A female Heterodyne, whether or not she had the mind of Lucrezia Mongfish, was too good an opportunity to pass up. The Knights of Jove would set their plans in motion, candidates would begin vying for the throne… Within the next decade, there would be a Storm King again.
And it had to be Tarvek.
If the Knights of Jove were willing to go this far, what else would they or had they done? How complicit were the other candidates in these horrors? What kind of atrocities would someone like that commit with the kind of power the Storm King could wield? What new ones would he invent to keep that throne?
No. Tarvek would be the Storm King. He would wipe the Knights of Jove off the face of the earth, and he would keep Europa safe.
"I understand," he said. "I'm sorry, Father. Had I known…"
Relief filled Aaronev's face, and he put a hand on Tarvek's shoulder. It was meant to be comforting. It made Tarvek's skin crawl.
"I knew you would," he said, gently, and shot a triumphant look at Vrin. Vrin's eyes met Tarvek's, and her lip curled. She did not believe him, he could tell, and she very much wanted to do something about it. Tarvek had spent a lot of time and effort making sure everyone thought him not worth the effort of killing.
Now he needed to make himself too useful to die.
"Tell me what I can do to fix it."
Tarvek had ceased to crave his father's approval a long time ago, once he was old enough to understand the kind of man Aaronev was, but it had never been unwelcome – until now.
"You are a valuable ally, as always," Aaronev said. "We can make great use of you."
One of the Geisterdamen raced into the room and grabbed Vrin's arm. She babbled something in Geisterspeak, her tone frantic. Though Tarvek had been making an effort to learn the language in the last two years, it was slow going, and she was talking too quickly.
"Smegga du bok," Vrin snarled. "The squad of soldiers along the main road was found slaughtered – all of them." She began to snap orders at the Geisterdame, but Aaronev raised a hand.
"Mechanicsburgers have the mindset of rats," Aaronev said. "They feel safe nowhere but within their nest, for all that their defences are in ruins, and they dig tunnels everywhere. Once she reaches the mountains she is as good as lost."
"Then we will go into Mechanicsburg and drag her out," Vrin insisted.
"They will be watching for you," Aaronev said. "We need a distraction." He snapped his fingers. "The Lord Heterodyne has a ward, doesn't he? A girl."
Tarvek went cold all over, and fought to keep his face straight.
"That's not Agatha," Tarvek said, as casually as he could. "She said her grandfather is related to one of the council members—"
"No, no, of course not. Saturnus' ward is an imbecile, everyone knows that. But he cares for her deeply. He will doubtless want her elevated to the ruling class, but without the Heterodyne blood, the only way she can do that is by marriage. His own standing is next to nothing, now. With no fortune or intelligence, she will have no true prospects." He smirked. "Unless Lord Saturnus sends one of his Jägermonsters to go and get one for her."
His eyes landed on Tarvek, whose stomach lurched.
"But Captain Vole isn't a Jäger," Tarvek pointed out. "That's well known."
Aaronev sighed.
"I do wonder about you sometimes, Tarvek. Obviously, we say that the Jägermonster who came here was claiming to be Captain Vole, but we will 'discover' that he is not. It was all a ruse, using some girl from Mechanicsburg as bait to get inside the castle for the express purpose of kidnapping you ."
"Believable," Tarvek said, his palms sweating, "until Captain Vole tells the Baron he was here."
"It does not need to hold up to deep scrutiny, only to be believable enough to distract the Baron. It is very in character for Saturnus. I will use it as an excuse to march on Mechanicsburg, demanding justice. In the confusion, Lady Vrin will send agents into the town to get the girl. By the time she is missed, she will be back in Sturmhalten and Lady Lucrezia will have returned. She will confirm our version of events. Yes, yes, this will work. We will get Lucrezia back without anyone suspecting us at all."
"I have heard better plans," Lady Vrin said, "but I have also heard worse. I shall ready the White Elite. But be warned, Aaronev: I do not care about your politics. Should your plan fail, I will take whatever action is needed. The Holy Child is the priority – not your power."
"I have this under control," Aaronev snapped. "I will muster our forces and send word to the other Knights of Jove. They will send what aid they can, although we cannot wait long."
"I can help," Tarvek said, quickly. "She trusts me. They made me help them but I pretended I would have done it anyway. I can sneak into Mechanicsburg and convince her to—"
"No," Aaronev said. "I must be the picture of a protective father. Allowing you into a war zone will hardly fit. You must stay here, under guard." He hesitated. "Anevka must believe the fiction. She will also be confined to her rooms."
Anevka would certainly find a way to use that truth as leverage against her father. It would make her far too dangerous. And, Tarvek knew, Aaronev was worried that if he left Anevka unsupervised in his absence, he'd return to find himself usurped.
"Both will be guarded by my soldiers," Lady Vrin said. "Your father may trust you, but I do not. However, I recognize that you will also be useful in future – so you will be allowed to live, but I will not risk your interference."
She spoke to the Geisterdame beside her, who left. Moments later, four Geisterdamen entered. Tarvek did not need to understand all of the words Vrin used to know that she was ordering them to kill him if he tried to escape.
"Don't worry, Tarvek," his father said, in a distracted voice, not even watching as his son was led away. "I am certain the Lady Lucrezia will find you most…useful."
Tarvek had one hundred and twenty-seven plans for escaping Sturmhalten. Fifty-three of them could be enacted without prior preparation. Thirty-nine allowed for or were designed for Tarvek being under guard. Twenty of them were based on Tarvek being imprisoned in the dungeons.
None of them accounted for Tarvek being unable to leave his room.
Tarvek sat down on the end of his bed and slumped over, burying his hands in his hair.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he groaned.
His father's plan was not perfect, but it didn't matter. Aaronev was right – it only needed to distract everyone long enough to get Agatha back to Sturmhalten. All any of them cared about was getting Lucrezia back, and the rest would be dealt with later. Even if the Baron razed Sturmhalten to the ground, even if Aaronev was arrested and executed, it wouldn't matter.
It would be too late for Agatha.
Maybe Mechanicsburg would be able to resist Sturmhalten's attack. Maybe Tarvek could find a way to scale the very smooth sides of Castle Sturmhalten without falling to his death. Maybe he could damage the summoning engine before…
He couldn't stop thinking about the chair. Couldn't stop his imagination playing out what had happened to those girls he had seen in the tunnels. He knew their faces, he knew what their fear looked like. It was such a stupid, awful, pointless waste of life.
But Agatha wouldn't die. Agatha would go into the chair, would leave her own claw marks over the ones made by those who came before her, but there would be no end for her. Tarvek had seen pictures of Lucrezia Mongfish. Imagining that woman using Agatha's face to make that smile, Agatha's eyes to admire herself in the mirror, while Agatha herself was dead in every way that mattered.
A bath and a change of clothes, he thought. No one did their best thinking when disheveled and dirty.
It helped some, but not as much as he would have liked. Maybe if he had been able to take his time, to soak in the tub and let his mind drift, but even waiting for the tub to fill had taxed his patience. He practically vibrated with nervous energy, helpless to find anything constructive to do with it.
Tarvek forced himself to go through his usual routine, start to finish, determined to find some comfort in the familiar. If he focused on nothing but getting his hair to look just right, it would clear away all the fear long enough for his brain to set itself to work properly. Or at least, make it stop running in circles.
Wrapping a towel around his waist, he went back into his room and over to his desk, digging through the drawers until he found his previous pair of glasses. Fortunately, he had gotten the new pair because the fashion, not his prescription, had changed.
Tarvek slipped them on and wrinkled his nose at his reflection. They were larger than his previous pair, and made his eyes seem huge. It made him look too much like a child. Well, maybe it was a good thing to appear less of a threat right now.
Agatha had been so…so wonderful. Tarvek had met intelligent girls his age before, even ones who could easily keep up with him, but Agatha had no affectations and no agendas. She meant what she said and she said what she meant. When he talked, she listened only to what he was saying, no part of her scanning his word choice and body language for cracks in his armor or useful data to use against him later.
Agatha hadn’t tried to get or stay on Anevka’s good side – she’d just left. Walked away from Anevka as if her status meant nothing, because Agatha didn’t care how powerful an ally or dangerous an enemy Anevka could be. She judged people based on how they acted towards her, not what they could do for her or who they were.
She had spent all day with Tarvek because she liked his company. When was the last time Tarvek could really be sure of that? When was the last time Tarvek had had to earn the respect and good opinion of someone without having to consider if his name would be a help or hindrance?
When had his name ever, in his life, not mattered?
And she had trusted him. He had asked her to trust him, and she had. Even when he hadn’t been fully honest with her, she trusted that he’d intended to help, and had had no hesitation in putting her life in his hands.
Agatha had wanted him to go with her. Saying no had been the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life.
He needed to keep her safe. He would keep her safe. At the cost of his own life, he would do it.
Heart swelling with determination, he marched into his dressing room, which in Tarvek's hands had turned into a walk-in closet. Behind him, there was a triumphant crow of " Got hyu!" and he was swallowed up in darkness.
Not the darkness of unconsciousness, but the prickly, stuffy darkness of the inside of a burlap sack smelling strongly of potatoes. He did not thrash around, but held very still, heart thundering in his chest.
“Hokay!” he heard a Jӓgermonster say in a cheerful but quiet voice, “Dot’s vun down! Now ve just gots to get der evidence.”
“Hey, if ve’s qvick, maybe ve can catch dem up before dey reaches Mechanicsburg!” said another.
“Vhich do hyu tink she vants more?” asked a third, this one close enough that Tarvek was sure it was the one holding him. “He dun veigh much, so if ve tink she vants him more den der evidence, ve could split up. Two ov us can stay here to look, und vun ov us can take him to Mizz Agatha.”
“What!” Tarvek exclaimed. Now he began to thrash. He had no expectations of really being able to fight his way free, but maybe he could land a punch somewhere painful. “You found her and you left her? Do you have any idea what kind of danger she’s in? I know Jӓgermonsters aren’t known for their intelligence, but I thought at least you’d have enough sense not to walk away from—!”
The sack was very abruptly dropped, and Tarvek had just enough time to twist so he landed on his back and not his head, although it still knocked the wind out of him. The mouth of the sack opened, and Tarvek found himself looking up into three very, very unamused faces. He shut his mouth with a snap. Everyone knew how seriously Jӓgermonsters took their duty. They likely would not appreciate – or tolerate – a lecture from someone whose family name was all but synonymous with the term ‘internal power struggle’.
“Although I, uh. I realize you of course have her best interests at heart, obviously. I’m sure there is some outside context I’m missing.”
This mollified them.
“Ve iz Dimo, Maxim, und Ognian,” the green Jӓger said, nodding to the others in turn. “Mizz Agatha asked us to come here und get evidence of vut der Prince is up to, und to bring hyu back to Mechanicsburg vhere hyu vil be safe.”
Tarvek flailed until he could sit up and pop his head and shoulders out of the sack, though he kept it clutched around himself for a modicum of decency.
“She sent you away?” He noticed the little flinch, the tensing of muscles that hit the Jӓgermonsters at that, but was too horrified to recognize what it meant. “Is she crazy? She had three Jӓgermonsters to escort her to Mechanicsburg and she sent you after me?”
“Yup!” said Ognian, cheerfully. “Vunce a Heterodyne decides hyu belongs to dem, dey—” He cut off with a yelp as Maxim slapped him hard across the back of the head.
“Hyu und hyu big mouth!” he hissed.
“Oh please,” Tarvek said. “I’m not an idiot. I figured it out the minute Captain Vole showed up.”
He fumbled to get his towel out from under himself and wrapped it around his waist again so he could crawl out of the sack. Tarvek knew he should probably feel more offended by the belong to the Heterodyne comment, but…It meant Agatha was willing to risk her own safety for him, just as Tarvek was willing to risk his for her.
She really did care about him.
“We need to move fast,” Tarvek said, briskly. “My father—”
“Is gettink his troops togedder to march on Mechanicsburg, ya, ve heard.”
“You, he—How?”
“Ve vuz schneaky,” Maxim said, as if that was an actual answer for how three Jӓgermonsters could infiltrate the ancestral home of one of the most paranoid and secretive families in Europa and get close enough to a guarded room with no shadowy corners to overhear an entire secret conversation without being noticed.
…which meant they had also heard Tarvek pledge to help his father.
Dimo grinned, even though Tarvek had not spoken.
“Heh. Relax, keedo. Ve’z not dot shtupid. No vay hyu could say to hyu poppa, no, Hy von’t let hyu do dot to her und make it out alive. Mizz Agatha said get hyu out, so ve get hyu out.”
“Und dun vorry too much about Mizz Agatha,” the purple Jӓger said. “Betveen de nice crossbow lady und Vole, she vill be okay.”
Tarvek's brow furrowed.
"Crossbow…? No, nevermind. We don't have time." He selected a set of clothes that would be suitable for travelling in and began to get dressed. Without being asked, the Jägers politely turned away. "Do you know where my father is?"
"Outside vit de guard captain."
"Probably going to send his messages to the other Knights of Jove."
"De Geister lady vent down into der tunnels, und hyu sister is in her rooms, trowink de best fake trantrum Hy've effer seen from anybody more den eight years old."
Tarvek, starting to button his vest, paused and looked at Ognian. "Do you…know a lot about children throwing temper tantrums?"
"Sure. Ven kids iz liddle, deir feelings is too big for dem. De older hyu get, de harder it is to remember vut dot feels like, so iz harder to fake." Ognian spoke with the casual confidence of a true expert. "She iz good, but Hy'z seen enough fakes to tell der difference."
"…Do Jägers have childre—"
Dimo clamped a hand over Ognian's mouth.
"Dun hyu get him started," he ordered Tarvek sternly. "Ve dun haff time."
Ognian shoved Dimo's hand away and gave him an affronted glare.
"Hy knows dot," he said. But he could not stop himself from announcing proudly to Tarvek, "Hy gots descendents."
"...Interesting." Tarvek shook himself and finished dressing. Glancing in the mirror, he fixed the few strands of hair that had come loose.
"De Lady Lucrezia, she vuz real big on keepink notes," Dimo said. "Alvays had boxes of dem locked up in her lab. If she vuz helpink de Knights of Jove here, dere vill be sometink."
"Vere's hyu poppa's lab?" Maxim asked. Tarvek shook his head absentmindedly as he mulled over which boots to wear.
"No, the workshop is the first place anyone would look. Besides, she's been gone a long time – gone or dead."
"Ve should be so lucky," Maxim muttered.
"So her notes will be old. They won't have used them recently. Father wants them kept secret but he wouldn't throw them out. And he's obsessed with her – he'd want them close to him. We'll go to his study."
Tarvek had, one very boring summer, decoded every one of his father's ciphers that he could find. It hadn't been difficult – humans were creatures of habit, and even a cipher that operated on a different methodology would display similar patterns. The Jagers hunted for secret compartments or suspicious-looking traps while Tarvek methodically made his way through every scrap of paper he could find.
He carefully set aside anything that mentioned Lucrezia even in passing, but there wasn't much. Most of what he found was old letters to or from Lucrezia. They contained very little by way of damning evidence, but a lot of them were, to use a scientific term, super gross. He collected them up anyway.
"Found someting!" Ognian said. "Hy tink dis book gots a lever."
Tarvek set an old materials receipt aside and began to rise. "Okay, let me take a look before you–"
Chunk.
The walls began to slide down, revealing...more bookshelves.
"Oh," Ognian said, disappointed. Tarvek snatched up a book and opened it. It was a new cipher, more complex, but not unreadable to Tarvek. It was like reading any of the Romance languages when you were familiar with Latin – the words had the wrong edges, but enough was the same that Tarvek could make a haphazard guess. He could crack it in a few days, he was sure – but he didn't have a few days.
"Lucrezia and the Geisterdamen," he said. "She did something to them to make them stronger and have stronger children, and she...I think it says she can do something for the Valois descendants, too. Create…ensure…I think she says she can ensure they have boys. Maybe?"
If she could ensure a male child, she could also ensure a female child. Heterodynes, historically, did not have many female offspring.
Hive engine.
Tarvek froze.
While he had been thinking, his eyes had continued to scan over the pages, a portion of his mind scanning for words he recognized. There, in the middle of a page, was a word he was sure would decode to hive engine.
He tried to force the words to look like anything else, but couldn't. And the more he looked at it, the more words around it he could see. Revenants. Abnormality. Lucrezia. The Other. Compulsion. Obedience. Lucrezia. Harmonics. The Other. Lucrezia. Wasps. Lucrezia. Lucrezia. Lucrezia.
"It talks about the slaver wasps. And the engines. And Lucrezia."
The Jägers' expressions were completely unreadable, and it was more frightening than any explosive rage could have been.
"In a 'helpink us figure out how to shtop dem' kind of vay, or a 'helpink us figure out how to make dem vorse kind of vay'?" Dimo asked.
Tarvek blinked. It said a lot that the possibility of Lucrezia and his father working against the Other hadn't even occurred to him.
"I...I don't know. I can't tell."
Ognian scoffed. "Hy know vhich vun Hy believe."
Tarvek glanced over the walls of notebooks. "There's too much here for it to all be relevant, but I don't have time to crack the cipher and decode everything. We have to get these to Mechanicsburg before my father, but I have no idea how we're going to carry them all."
"Ho dot's no problem," Maxim said, and held up the burlap sack.
"...why did you keep that?" Tarvek asked weakly.
"Just in case," Maxim said, with a winning smile. Dimo and Ognian also produced their own bags. "Ve figured, hyu know, if ve got separated und vun of us found hyu forst…"
Tarvek opened his mouth, and closed it. The important thing was, they would be able to get everything to Mechanicsburg.
The Jägers began to stuff the notebooks into the sacks while Tarvek pored over the one in his hand, trying to decode and read at the same time. An uneasy feeling built in his stomach. A new, even more terrible, possibility had begun to take shape.
He didn't know if he should say it to them, especially when he wasn't totally sure. Especially not to Jägermonsters. Not when he knew what that would mean to them.
It was impossible not to think that a boy would not have made a suitable host for Lucrezia's summoning. And Tarvek knew very well what happened to those who were not useful.
Blood Will Out Ch 37 - Meeting the Lady of Mechanicsburg
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Lady Agatha Heterodyne was fifteen years old, a few inches shorter than Gilgamesh even standing drawn up at her full height. She had Lucrezia’s long, blonde hair, but the little cowlick at the back undermined the similarity – in fact, it appeared to be the only Mongfish trait that had not drowned in the sea of Heterodyne blood.
Lady Heterodyne was flanked on either side by her grandparents, both of whom looked unspeakably proud of her, which Klaus hoped was a good sign – at least as far as Teodora was concerned. On Teodora’s left was Tarvek Sturmvoraus, the catalyst to this debacle.
There were far too many Jäger guards on the doors, but as they were all outside the room, Klaus felt certain it was more for the Jägers’ sake than to serve as a threat or a show of power.
Klaus would say they had been waiting a long time for this…but 'waiting' implied hope.
Lady Heterodyne's expression was an awkward one – she was trying to look reserved but not unwelcoming, proud but not aloof, friendly but not vulnerable, and strong but not aggressive, and succeeded in managing none of them at all. But she met his eyes without flinching. She was nervous, yes, but not afraid and not the least bit uncertain.
It made her look so much like Bill that for a moment Klaus’ heart ached.
“Lady Agatha Heterodyne,” Klaus said, and added, “Lately known as Miss Agatha Sannikova.”
Teodora ignored the jab.
“Greetings, Herr Baron,” Agatha said, and tipped her head a very deliberate few centimeters – just enough to be a polite nod between equals, implying neither deference nor superiority. “I apologize for meeting you in the council’s chambers, and not the castle, but while it is safe to go in now, it’s not nearly clean enough to entertain in.”
“No offense taken,” Klaus said, returning her polite nod at the exact same number of centimeters.
He wondered who had coached her. Teodora Vodenicharova had once had the beginnings of a very promising political career, before it was derailed by…circumstances. General Goomblast knew court etiquette better than most of the Fifty Families. General Khrizhan studied people, particularly how to get them to see what they wanted to see. Sturmvoraus was young, but like all his family had been raised from birth to play the political game.
Whatever kind of ruler she wanted to be, the Lady Heterodyne would never want for advisors.
“I will admit,” Klaus said, “to being caught somewhat off-guard.”
“That was the goal,” Saturnus said smugly.
“Saturnus,” Teodora hissed, and looked meaningfully at Agatha. “Her moment.”
Saturnus actually looked abashed.
“Sorry, sorry.”
Klaus waited to see if the world would end or reality would otherwise tear itself to shreds, but it didn't even seem to notice that a Heterodyne had apologized.
Perhaps he had misheard.
“I guarantee,” Lady Heterodyne said, “that you aren’t nearly as surprised as I was. When we say no one was told, we mean no one. There were five people in the world who knew, when all this started. Two of them figured it out on their own, and I found out by accident.”
"And who brought you to Mechanicsburg?"
"Uncle Barry," Agatha said. "He used to visit when he could, but he always had to stay hidden so no one would recognize him. But, um." Her mouth wobbled, Teodora put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and the mouth grew strong again. "He hasn't been back in a long time."
Klaus wanted to ask why Barry hadn't come to him – why no one had come to him. He already had the facilities and resources for housing and educating Spark children with dangerous enemies; he had the giant floating fortress; he'd had the Jägers. Black fire, Klaus was probably more qualified than anyone else in Europa to protect a young Heterodyne.
And Barry had not trusted him.
Klaus did not ask.
“I am afraid you have an inauspicious start to your rule, Lady Heterodyne. Mechanicsburg and Sturmhalten have levelled serious charges against one another. One of you is in direct violation of the Pax Transylvania, which means I must take over the investigation personally.”
And, Klaus would admit only to himself, his son had been in a castle with Lucrezia Mongfish’s daughter for a few days and had come out not just alarmingly starry-eyed over her, but convinced of Tarvek Sturmvoraus’ innocence.
I think you were wrong about Tarvek, Gil had said. I know you’re trying to protect me, and I know why you thought what you did, but he is my friend. He really was just trying to help me.
It was deeply concerning.
“The most pressing issue,” Klaus went on, “is that at this moment I do not possess an abundance of trust in anyone involved in this situation.”
“What are you talking about?” Lady Heterodyne asked, baffled. “Sturmhalten said we kidnapped Tarvek. Tarvek says we didn’t kidnap him. Mystery solved.”
“He says he wasn't kidnapped,” Klaus said. This time he met Tarvek’s eyes. The boy was pale, his hands balled into fists, but he met Klaus’ eyes as steadily as Lady Heterodyne had. “But did Aaronev know his son was not kidnapped?”
“He means he thinks it was my idea,” Tarvek said, his voice overloud. He had not yet perfected the art of concealing all thoughts and feelings, and Klaus was surprised to see the grim satisfaction of someone who had expected the worst possible outcome – and received it. “He thinks I made my father think I was being kidnapped, so he would attack Mechanicsburg and either be killed in the fighting or be arrested for violating the Pax Transylvania.”
“Of everyone involved, you have gained the most, Prince Sturmvoraus.”
He looked at Lady Heterodyne, and stopped talking.
Saturnus had attacked the original Castle Wulfenbach once, when Klaus was young. It had not gone well for him, Klaus’ parents being somewhat more aggressive in their defenses than Klaus’ grandfather had been, but the battle had lasted several hours.
Klaus, no more than ten, had been filled with the sort of horrified curiosity that draws people to stare at accidents. He had taken his spyglass, then a recent birthday present, to a tower room with a window overlooking the battlefield.
Klaus would remember for the rest of his life the moment he’d first seen Saturnus Heterodyne. It was the final push before Saturnus had retreated, when he had realized he was facing a force greater than himself but was not ready to back down. This was someone who would put all his might to bear regardless of the consequences, who would do whatever it took, whatever the cost, to win.
Agatha had her grandfather’s eyes.
“If you are not going to help, if you aren’t even going to listen to what we have to say before you make your decision, why are you here? Are you going to arrest Tarvek without any proof that he was involved at all?”
Klaus was angering a Heterodyne in her own lair. The ice was not just creaking underfoot, but between the cracks he could see the shadow of a great leviathan emerging from the depths at ramming speed.
“Be careful,” he saw Teodora whisper.
“He’s in the middle of Mechanicsburg,” Saturnus countered. “Alone! We could finish this before it even gets started.”
An angel and a devil on each shoulder, and the Lady of Mechanicsburg right in the middle.
“Do you have any proof that he wasn’t?” Klaus asked.
“Dot’s our cue!” someone cried, and a door burst open. Three Jägermonsters tumbled in, slightly the worse for wear but grinning broadly. Two of them had burlap sacks slung over their shoulders.
“Oggie, Dimo, Maxim, you’re here! You’re okay!” Lady Heterodyne cried.
“Und ve broughts hyu proof!” said the Jäger with a horn, dumping his sack out onto the floor. Notebooks, folders, loose papers, and rolled-up blueprints spilled out.
“Sorry ve’z so late,” said the purple Jäger. “Vuz hard gettink back makink sure all dis din get messed up, und den ve couldn't get to de tunnels to get into town.” Suddenly his smile slid away. “But uh. Hy tink hyu iz goink to vant to head over to Sturmhalten pretty demn qvick.”
Klaus' eye spotted something on one of the loose pieces of paper. He bent down and picked it up.
It was a blueprint for a hive engine.
“Und maybe burn everyting in der tunnels under kestle, vhile hyu’s at it.”
Klaus looked again at Tarvek, who was pale and trembling – and there was a real, desperate pleading in his eyes.
Blood Will Out Ch 36: The Reassignment of Madam Von Pinn
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"Uh, uh, uh," Gil said.
Agatha noted that, beside her, Tarvek had gone even more motionless than when they'd been attacked by the steam cat. He appeared to have stopped breathing. Gil, too, had not moved a muscle, although it was far too late for him. Von Pinn looked more terrifying than she had when she'd been yelling at Teodora.
"Master Gilgamesh!"
"I was looking for Tarvek! And I found him!" Gil gestured to Tarvek. "Ta-daaa," he said, weakly.
"Gil got here last night," Agatha said. "And, and he was so tired he stayed the night."
Von Pinn's eyes narrowed.
"Really," she said.
"Yes," Gil said.
"Then to whom was I speaking last evening at dinner?"
Gil froze.
"I…I, uh…"
Von Pinn's arms flexed and the shackles snapped. Slowly, she rose until she seemed to tower over Gil, despite being only a few inches taller.
"I'm fine!" Gil exclaimed. "Tarvek's the one that got poisoned!"
Tarvek had a brief moment to give Gil a look of outraged betrayal before Von Pinn's head snapped around to level that laser-like fury on her new target.
"It wasn't the castle that did it! My father sent Smoke Knights after me! And I was going in with the heir to the town; Gil 's the one who went charging in by himself!"
“I was going to go back the second this was fixed!" Gil insisted. "No one was even supposed to know I was gone! Please don’t tell– Don't tell the Baron.”
Von Pinn did not relax, but shifted into a slightly different kind of tense.
“I will not tell the Baron. You are no longer my charge.”
Gil flinched. He seemed to shrink in on himself, his eyes wide and almost childishly pained.
“But…but I was going to go back,” he said weakly.
“It has nothing to do with you,” Von Pinn said, in a voice somehow stern and gentle at the same time. “There is a Heterodyne now. I have orders to fulfill.”
Von Pinn was very fixedly not looking at Gil, who looked like the world was being torn out from under him. Agatha remembered her conversation with Gil their first night in the castle, and the one she’d had with him and Tarvek, after Tarvek was no longer dying and they needed the kind of trust only truth could bring.
Even if the Baron kept Gil at arm’s length out of necessity, Gil was just as lonely as if he had no father at all. Von Pinn had been responsible for the protection of the children on Castle Wulfenbach; it would make her about the closest thing to a mother Gil had. He’d wanted to be important only so people would care about him. So someone would want him. Agatha had Teodora and Saturnus and an entire town full of people who cared about her. She couldn’t be responsible for Gil losing one of the few connections he had.
"If you were in such a rush to keep me safe, why didn't you come down here as soon as the Doom Bell rang?" Agatha asked.
Von Pinn was startled by the question. Her eyes flicked around the room for a moment before resettling on Agatha.
"I…Castle Wulfenbach was entering a potential combat zone. I had orders to protect the children. The Baron did not have the chance to release me from that order until this morning."
"And an order from the Baron overrides an order from the Storm King?" Tarvek asked. Von Pinn said nothing. She had no expression on her face at all.
“Do you want to stay and keep me safe?” Agatha asked.
“I wish to fulfill my duty to my king," Von Pinn said instantly.
"That's not what I asked," Agatha said softly.
Von Pinn's jaw worked back and forth. "No," she said at last, quietly. "I have…better things to do with my time."
"What if you got a different order? From, say, a different Storm King?"
Everyone turned to look at Tarvek, who gazed back with a wide-eyed innocence so genuine, Agatha realized she would never be able to tell when he was lying, even if she knew him for the rest of their lives.
"There is no Storm King," Von Pinn said.
"But there will be, someday. There are...pieces moving. Plans. I have a big family, and lots of them want to be on the Lightning Throne. Some of us have better claims than others." He started to blush again and glanced at Agatha. "You're...probably going to be getting a lot of marriage proposals from the ones with weaker ties.”
Agatha turned bright red.
"Over my dead body," Saturnus growled. Teodora's face suggested that she might be willing to allow Saturnus to launch a few minor incursions against specific members of the Valois bloodline, should the need arise.
“On paper, I have one of the stronger claims to the throne, maybe even the strongest. I just need the political strength to back it up. I might need a few years, but like I said, I have plans."
"It takes more than a strong claim to be the Storm King," Von Pinn said. "You are not my king simply because you intend to be."
"What if it's a really, really good bet?" Agatha asked. "Like, say, if he had the best claim on paper, and the support of the Heterodyne? Not! Not like marriage, just, you know. Recognizing him officially.”
"And the Baron, too," Gil said.
"The Baron hates me."
"But if he had to pick a Storm King, he'd hate you being Storm King the least, probably. I 'd back you, if I was the Baron," he added.
Von Pinn’s lips twitched, and Agatha knew that Von Pinn understood if meant when.
"And what would my new orders be, from this Storm King?"
“Well…first I would tell you that you can be sure that Agatha isn’t a threat, and you shouldn’t hurt her or anything.”
"Hurt her?" Teodora said, her hand inching towards the kettle again. "You said you were here to keep her safe."
"There are a few different ways someone could interpret 'keep the Heterodyne safe'," Tarvek said. "One of them is 'protect the Heterodyne', and one of them is 'make the Heterodyne be safe for other people to be around'. I'm just being conscientious."
Von Pinn's mouth twitched again.
"I will not say the interpretation has not occurred to me, over the centuries," she admitted. "But times have changed, and I have seen too much of what teenagers are like in this day and age to expect one to be a legitimate threat to Europa, Heterodyne or no."
Saturnus, looking offended, opened his mouth.
“She’s not an active threat to anyone who doesn’t threaten Mechanicsburg or its people,” Tarvek corrected quickly, which mollified Saturnus…enough. “Anyway, my second order would be to protect the children on Castle Wulfenbach."
A very strange look crossed the construct’s face, and Agatha thought that Von P–Otilia's love for her Storm King might not be so very different from Mechanicsburg’s love for the Heterodynes.
"Does that work?" Tarvek asked.
"Yes, it does," Otilia said, "your majesty."
"Then that's settled," Tarvek said, pleased. “We’ll repair the clank, put you back where you belong, and you can go back to Castle Wulfenbach.”
"That ," Teodora said to Saturnus, in a voice that Agatha knew meant this was the continuation of a previously on-hold argument, "was politics."
"It was boring as hell is what it was," Saturnus said.
“However,” Otilia said. “If that is my new order, it means Master Gilgamesh is once more in my charge, and my concern.”
She turned a look like a death ray on Gil, who quailed.
“How much trouble am I in?” he asked weakly.
“All. Of. It.” Her hand shot out and grabbed Gil by the collar. “Come, Master Gilgamesh. We shall return to Castle Wulfenbach, where you may explain yourself to the Baron."
Gil went even paler.
“Wait!” Agatha cried. “You can’t tell the Baron because…because, um—”
“We need Gil’s help with fixing your body!” Tarvek said quickly. Otilia’s eyes narrowed.
“How damaged is my true form?”
“Uhh…Not unfixably so?” Tarvek said.
All three teenagers gave her winning smiles. Otilia’s eyes flicked to each of their faces, a deep suspicion creasing her face.
“Very well,” she said at last. “I will speak on your behalf to the Baron, and recommend that you are permitted to stay long enough to assist – but,” she said, when Gilgamesh let out a great sigh of relief, “to ensure that you are safe while you are in the lair of the Heterodyne, you will remain in my custody whenever you are not on Castle Wulfenbach – including now. ”
Gil groaned, but did not argue.
“Know, too, that Master DuMedd and Miss O’Hara will face the consequences for aiding you.”
“DuMedd?” Teodora said, and her eyes brightened. “Oh! That would be Serpentina’s boy! Lucrezia’s nephew – your cousin, Agatha.”
Agatha gave her a wary look, but Gil put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Otilia immediately pulled him back a few steps, out of reach. Gil ignored this.
“I’ve known Theo for years. He’s a good friend. I barely believed him when he told me who his mother was. And I know he’d love to meet you – he had a rough time adjusting when his parents disappeared.”
“Maybe we should invite him for a visit?” Agatha said. She liked the idea of having more family who weren’t morally corrupt, heinous murderers – present company excluded, as always.
“You may seek to visit him ,” Otilia said dryly. “He shall be confined to the castle for the foreseeable future. As will you, Master Gilgamesh.”
“But—but you said—!”
“I said I will accompany you when you are off the ship. I did not say how often such an event would occur. Come. The Baron must be told.”
“Wait!” Agatha said again. She hurried over and flung her arms around Gil in a tight hug.
“Thank you,” she said to him. “I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“Yeah, you could,” Gil said, grinning, cheeks slightly pink. “Just would have taken a little longer.”
Once more, Otilia began to drag her charge towards the exit. Gil gave Tarvek a sideways grin as he was hauled past.
“Worth it,” he said. Tarvek punched him on the shoulder.
“Idiot,” he grumbled, but when Gil was out of sight, he smiled.
“Shouldn’t I be meeting with the Baron, too?” Agatha asked. She was not looking forward to it. She would have much preferred to put it off for a few days, until she’d gotten settled in and used to being Lady of Mechanicsburg.
“As soon as possible, yes,” Teodora said. “But I don’t want to rush you. We can tell him to come back tomorrow, if that’s what you need.”
“No,” Agatha said with a sigh. “Better to just get this over with. Then I can focus on Mechanicsburg without having to worry about whether I’m about to start a war with the Empire.”
“A wise decision,” Teodora said. Saturnus reached out and tapped Agatha's elbow.
“If you’re not too tired and we’re not at war after you meet with the Baron, there are still a few things the Heterodyne has to do to prevent reality from tearing itself apart."
"What?" Agatha exclaimed. Saturnus shrugged.
"I don't know if they actually do, but I'd just as soon not find out the hard way. There are ceremonies to attend, then you have to meet the generals formally, and the heads of the guild halls – not to mention the backlog of paperwork.”
"Paperwork? " Agatha cried in horror. Teodora patted her shoulder, kindly.
"You rule a city-state, dear. There is paperwork."
Agatha rounded on her grandfather. "You never told me there was paperwork!"
"Because it's boring! I was telling you stories! Why would I tell you a story about the time I had to spend four hours reading guild charters?”
“You were the scourge of Europa! Feared by your own people! You expect me to believe the Heterodynes allowed themselves to be buried in administrative red tape?”
“Nobody ever said being a Heterodyne was fun and games all the time."
"You did! Repeatedly!"
"Oh. Well. It's not."
Agatha’s shoulders slumped.
“But what about science?” she whined.
“I’m sure we can find some time after school this week.”
“No school,” Agatha said promptly. “As Heterodyne, I declare no school for the rest of the week.”
Teodora put her hands on her hips and gave Agatha an unimpressed look.
“Oh, come now, Teodora, you have to let her abuse her power at least a little.”
Agatha gave Teodora the biggest, saddest eyes she possibly could. Teodora sighed and threw her hands up.
“Alright, alright. Heaven knows you could use the break.”
“Um,” Tarvek said quietly. “Not to interrupt, but…what about me?”
“You stay here,” Agatha said firmly. “Whatever else happens, you have me.”
She went red.
“I mean. Mechanicsburg. As a safe place to be. Um. Anyway we should get going, I think we should go, let’s go.”
Blood Will Out Ch 35 - The First Day of the Rest of Your Life
<Prev | AO3
Agatha opened her eyes, laying in her own bed in her own room, and truly, honestly thought it had all been a dream. A dream wildly realistic in texture and sensation but utterly fantastical in content. Her, a Heterodyne! Her, a Spark! Fixing the castle! Defeating armies! Ringing the Doom Bell!
“Ridiculous,” she mumbled, and sat up with a yawn. Her hair was smushed up on one side, which meant she’d waited too long between washings. She felt sticky and gross. Her hand itched and she scratched at it absently.
She tried to scratch at it, but couldn’t, because there was a bandage wrapped around her palm. Agatha stared at it, heart pounding. Very slowly, she looked to the window. From here she could only see the top of the hedge and the houses across the street. She crossed the room, threw open the window, and stuck her head outside.
The sun was only just beginning to rise over the mountains, the golden wash of sunlight spreading over the far side of the valley, lighting up craters in the street and half-burned houses, and gleaming off the rooftops of Castle Heterodyne - whole and intact. Workmen swarmed over buildings, towers, and walls, as busy as ants on a half-eaten candied snail.
“It was real,” she whispered. Then, louder, “It was real!”
Agatha fairly flew out of her room and into the bathroom to take the best bath of her life. She had to empty the tub and refill it twice – the first time because an oil slick formed on the top as soon as she got in, the second time because the water had turned brown before she was halfway done. She brushed her teeth twice as long as necessary, scrubbed every nook and cranny of her fingernails, and combed her hair until her scalp ached.
Feeling cleaner than she’d ever been in her life, Agatha raced back into her bedroom to get dressed. She dithered, picking up and tossing aside every piece of clothing she owned. None of them seemed appropriate for the Dread Lady of Mechanicsburg. On the one hand, Agatha didn’t really want to be the Dread Lady of Mechanicsburg; on the other, she didn’t want to look like regular Agatha Sannikova.
She gave up, threw on a light blue dress she knew she looked good in, and raced off again, making it halfway down the stairs before she froze in horror at the sight of her grandmother, slightly disheveled, standing over an unconscious woman and holding the heavy iron tea kettle by the handle with both hands.
“Hello, dear,” Teodora said, slightly out of breath. She brushed her hair back out of her face. “Did you sleep well?”
“Done!” Saturnus called, coming out of his room. He was holding a set of shackles that had lights blinking on and off around the cuffs. “We just have to make sure whatever we chain her to is also indestructible. I’ve made that mistake befo—hey!” he cried, breaking into a grin. “There she is, the Lady of Mechanicsburg!”
“Who is that?” Agatha demanded.
“Her name is Von Pinn,” Teodora said. “She was your brother’s nursemaid.”
“Why did you hit her over the head with a kettle?”
“Well,” Saturnus said, “the last time we saw her, she’d gone berserk and was killing everyone who came near her. Just now, she showed up at our door asking, in a very emphatic and murderous way, to see the Heterodyne.”
“I told her you were resting, and perhaps she should...wait until you were ready, and she was…disinclined to listen. So I...insisted.”
“It’s very ominous when you use a lot of ellipses like that,” Agatha said.
“We’ll chain her to the oven,” Teodora said. “It’s heavy, and it’s bolted to the wall.”
“And,” Saturnus said, “if she won’t cooperate, we’ll just light a fire and—”
“Grandfather,” Agatha said, at the same time and in the same scolding tone, as Teodora said, “Saturnus.”
“Nobody ever lets me have fun anymore,” he complained.
“Agatha, do come and give me a hand,” Teodora said. Agatha hurried down the stairs and helped Teodora drag the woman’s body into the kitchen and chain her to the stove. In the process, Agatha saw the woman had claws for nails and Jäger-sharp teeth; she was either wearing a red monocle, or had a piece of red glass fixed to her eye socket.
Keeping a careful distance, Teodora put together a breakfast of cheese, bread, and fruit, which Agatha devoured.
“Where are Gil and Tarvek?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full. They’re both in the guest room, still asleep. They only lasted slightly longer than you did.”
“What about Vole?”
“I’ve put him away somewhere safe to sleep it off and grow himself some more blood,” Saturnus said. “Even a Jäger needs a rest after all that.”
“I can't believe he managed to pop all those stitches in one fight."
"It wasn't all Vrin's doing, actually," Saturnus said, stealing a slice of apple from Agatha’s plate. “It wasn't bad for your first try, but they weren't quite tight enough. It was like a slow leak in an airship – everything keeps working, so you don't notice anything's wrong until you're losing altitude. And,” he said, wryly, “when he did start to feel it, he wouldn’t admit it. Rhinohiding – those boys are terrible for it.”
“I didn't do the stitches," Agatha said. “Mr. Higgs said he’d done it before, but I—”
“Higgs did the stitches?”
“I didn’t know how,” Agatha said. “Is that…bad?”
“No,” Saturnus said hurriedly. “No, good to recognize when you can’t do something and let someone else help. It is…interesting, though.” He drummed his fingers on the table.
"You think Higgs did it on purpose?" Agatha asked, horrified.
"He's a sneaky one, and he's known the generals all their lives. If anybody knew how to pull their strings, it'd be him. Saving the Heterodyne and declaring your loyalty is a good start, but doing it half-dead does add a certain emphasis."
“Speaking of the generals,” Teodora said to Saturnus as she set a cup of milk before him. “You can only hide in here for so long. Sooner or later, you will have to talk to them.”
Saturnus wrinkled his nose at the milk.
“I am not hiding,” he protested, setting the glass aside. “I was waiting for Agatha to get up, and now we’re dealing with this one.”
“What do you need to talk to the generals about?” Agatha asked.
“You,” Teodora answered, picking up the glass of milk and setting it back in front of Saturnus, very pointedly.
Agatha’s shoulders sagged. “Oh. I guess I didn’t make a very good first impression, did I?”
To her shock, both Teodora and Saturnus burst out laughing.
“I don’t think you could have made a better impression,” Teodora said, amused.
“Every Jäger in earshot had stars in their eyes,” Saturnus assured her.
“But…but I practically threatened to kill General Zog!”
“You’re the Heterodyne, dear, it’s what they expect you to do.”
“Oh.” Agatha rolled a grape between her fingers. “But what if the Jägers are unhappy I don’t want to go raiding, and stuff?”
"Fortunately for you," Saturnus said wryly, "the bar has been significantly lowered by both your father and myself – he rejected them, and I handled the Wulfenbach situation with my usual tact and diplomacy. All you have to do is like them and not be mad that they went to work for someone else, and they won't care what you do or don't do."
“…are you mad that the Jägers went to work for someone else?” she asked, surprised.
“The boys didn’t have much of a choice,” Saturnus said, not meeting her eyes.
“But you are mad at the generals.”
“It’s a complicated situation,” Saturnus grumbled. “They’ve got it into their heads that I didn’t tell them about you because I was angry with them, or I did it to spite them, or something.”
“Your grandfather is going to have a conversation about feelings and interpersonal relationships in which he has not acted his best,” Teodora said to Agatha.
“He can do that?”
“Yes, alright, you’re both very witty, thank you—”
“Release me!”
Von Pinn’s scream was immediate, with no warning of imminent consciousness. Agatha yelped; Teodora shot to her feet; Saturnus wheezed in an alarming way, his hand spasming and conveniently knocking into the glass of milk.
“Do not shout,” Teodora said sharply, catching the glass before it could spill and shooting an unimpressed look at Saturnus, who tried to hide his embarrassment with a scowl.
“Do not presume to give orders to me,” Von Pinn hissed, although Agatha noticed she did, in fact, lower her volume. “You have no right to bind me!”
“You were behaving irrationally,” Teodora said. “I am not risking a threat to my granddaughter.”
“Yet you trusted me with your grandson,” Von Pinn said.
“I never trusted you with him,” Teodora said in a voice sharp with anger and grief. “I never approved of you. I have always been uncomfortable with you. You are dangerous.”
“I never harmed my charge,” Von Pinn snarled.
“You didn’t save him, either!”
Von Pinn actually flinched back, recoiling as if struck. Agatha and Saturnus shared a look of alarm. Teodora loomed, her glare turned up to a level of ferocity Agatha had never seen before. The kettle had reappeared in her hand and she pointed it at Von Pinn like a knife.
“You show up, half-raving, insisting that you see the Heterodyne – not Agatha, not William’s daughter, the Heterodyne. You tried to force your way past me when I told you to wait, you are incredibly powerful and incredibly dangerous, I had no way of knowing how rational you were, you refused to offer any explanation! You do not get to sit there and act like I overreacted.”
Von Pinn was quiet for a moment.
“I am no threat to the girl,” she said at last. “I could not be, even if I wanted to – the Lady Lucrezia saw to that. I have waited two hundred years to serve my true purpose. Now at last I may do so, and I…” She looked uncomfortable. “I may have been overzealous in my haste.”
Teodora set the kettle down on the counter with a decisive thud.
“Thank you,” she said, calmly. And then, “What do you mean two hundred years?”
“My king ordered me to keep the Heterodyne safe. So I am here, to keep her safe.”
“Well, thank you for the offer,” Teodora said. “But we are not in need of your services.”
“That is not for you to decide.”
“It absolutely is.”
“It’s not.”
Teodora and Saturnus looked at Agatha in surprise. Agatha squirmed.
"You two are still my grandparents” she said, “and you do get to tell me what to do about some stuff, but I’m the Heterodyne. There's things that are my responsibility now, not yours. And…and I value your advice, but I would like to know you’ll respect my decisions.”
To her surprise, Teodora and Saturnus gave her the same sad smile.
“Look at you,” Teoodra said. “All grown up.”
Agatha didn’t know what to say to that, so she turned back to Von Pinn.
“You said your king gave you an order. What king?”
Von Pinn opened her mouth, but no noise came out. Her jaw worked a few times, and then snapped shut.
“I cannot say,” she said, gritting the words out through clenched teeth.
"Can't as in don't want to, don't know anything, or actually physically are incapable of saying something?"
"Cannot as in cannot,” Von Pinn said, now more wry.
"Can you do it backwards?"
"...what?"
"Can you say what didn't happen?"
"It is not a logic puzzle, child, it is a compulsion. I am unable to reveal information."
“Nice try, though,” Saturnus said, grinning. “Works better on clanks.”
“Well…I can tell you that we found the body of the Muse Otilia in Lucrezia’s lab, underground. The castle said Lucrezia had taken Otilia’s consciousness out of the clank and into a different body. Was that you?”
Von Pinn said nothing, but her eyes had gone very wide.
“I'm sorry, we had a Muse in our basement?" Saturnus exclaimed. "Since when?"
"I cannot say."
"How about this: would you prefer to be in a clank body?" Agatha asked.
"Yes."
"Would you like to be in a specific clank body?"
"Yes."
"And if we moved you, would you be able to tell us what happened?"
"Probably," Saturnus interjected. "Things like that are wired into the brain. You can't attach restrictions to an ephemeral consciousness."
Agatha looked to her grandfather.
"Would you be able to reverse the process?"
"I'll be honest," he said, "malleability of consciousness has never been an interest of mine. Fortunately, it is much easier to undo things than it is to do them." He grinned. "And it would drive that woman up the wall to know I’m pawing around in her notes and undoing all her hard work."
"And I'm sure Tarvek would be happy to help me repair an actual Muse—"
From upstairs there was a crash, a yelp, racing footsteps, and the sound of someone half falling down the stairs right before Tarvek skidded into the doorway. His hair was askew, he wasn't wearing his glasses, and he was – Agatha began to blush – only in his underwear.
"Yes!" he exclaimed. "What are we talking about? What?" He squinted. "Madame von Pinn?"
"I did not raise you to run around in your underthings, young man," Von Pinn said tartly.
Tarvek looked down and gasped, face flushing the same hue as his hair, and darted out of sight and back up the stairs.
Saturnus tugged a lock of Agatha's hair playfully.
"Nice color you got there."
"Grandfatherrrrr," she groaned, almost as red as Tarvek had been.
“I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised he was listening in,” Teodora said.
"No," Von Pinn said dryly, "it is just as likely that the words pulled him from his dreaming."
Tarvek reappeared, dressed and groomed, still slightly pink around the cheeks.
"Good morning," he said politely, clearly hoping everyone would agree to pretend his initial entrance had not occurred. “Why is Madame Von Pinn chained to the stove?”
“Our conversation grew somewhat heated,” Teodora said. “I thought it best to give everyone a chance to calm down.”
“I think Von Pinn is actually Otilia,” Agatha said, which was about as good as jangling keys in front of a baby for getting Tarvek’s attention.
“What? That’s— But...Oh. Oh, that means—” Tarvek’s eyes were wide and shining. “I met a real Muse. I know a real Muse, you were a Muse the whole time and I didn't even know! I saw you every day!”
“What’s going on?” Gil yawned, shuffling into the room. He’d gotten dressed before coming down, but was barefoot and his shirt was untied at the top. “What's the big—”
Gil froze mid-step. He realized who he was looking at at the exact moment Von Pinn realized who she was looking at. Von Pinn's face twisted in outrage, the red glass monocle finally falling from her face to reveal a red iris in a pool of black."Gilgamesh Holzfäller, what are you doing in this house?"
Klaus left Castle Wulfenbach at the traditional two league distance, because there were still Torchmen flying in formation around the perimeter of the town, and went on foot. After much argument with Boris, Klaus agreed to a compromise: Klaus would go alone, taking the road to the Bone Gate, and in return for Boris not sending a squad to follow on his heels, he would take his greatsword with him.
The moment Klaus set foot over the two league line, a mechanical demon crash-landed beside him. Klaus stared down at the mangled collection of metal limbs, but the thing was not offline yet. With great difficulty, it jerked itself around so the head was pointed in his direction. It began to speak, muffled and scratchy, in a recorded voice.
“Thank you for shopping in Mechanicsb—Herr Baron!” the clank interrupted itself, the voice now clear and unmistakable. “Wonderful to see you! We appreciate your coming, but as you can see, we have the situation under control.”
“So I see,” Klaus said. “And you are sounding very...coherent.”
“The Heterodyne has made amazing progress on my repairs! I am almost fully function—” The lights in the machine’s eyes flickered and went out.
Klaus waited for fifteen seconds, but when the machine remained lifeless, he continued down the road. Three minutes later, another mechanical demon, this one wielding a blood-spattered, arrow-shaped sign that said Free beer!, floated gently down to hover over him.
“Oh do excuse me. A great many of my devices have been deactivated or damaged in the years I have been gone, for some reason.”
“The Doom Bell rang,” Klaus prompted, ignoring this.
“Quite so! The Heterodyne has been declared!”
“Saturnus does realize what he’s done, yes? There are no heirs to come after him. The entire town is going to be right back where it started in a few decades at the latest.”
“I’m sure Master Saturnus would be delighted to discuss it with you. He awaits you in the main square.”
Klaus took two steps and stopped.
“Master Saturnus?”
“Whoops, look at that, lost control of this one too, oh dear, there it goes—” The clank took off at top speed and smashed itself head first into a nearby tree.
Klaus walked faster.
There were no further interruptions from either the castle or the town’s defences. There was, to Klaus’ surprise, still some fighting going on, although the town’s walls were deserted, and the remaining enemy forces were either clanks or ragged, terrified foot soldiers.
As Klaus watched, one of these soldiers shakily raised his rifle, aiming for a bird with a blood-soaked, serrated beak that was swooping towards him. Before he could fire, a cage of bone snapped shut around him like a bear trap – and that was it.
Really, that was it. The bird veered off and flew away. The bone cage did not grow spikes, or shrink, or drag the soldier beneath the earth. Just as Klaus was trying to remember if there had ever been a Heterodyne with enough patience to find death by exposure entertaining, there was a thoomp, and a large umbrella popped out of the top of the cage. The man within cringed back, throwing his arms over his head.
The umbrella adjusted itself so the sun was no longer shining in the man’s eyes.
Klaus stopped walking. He looked around, peering to see past smoke and shattered machinery. He could see several more bone cages, all with inhabitants, all with strange alterations to ensure they would be reasonably comfortable. He even saw one had a small wall made of scapulas to keep the fire of a burning clank from spreading.
Klaus saw three men in the uniform of the Refuge of Storms running as fast as they could away from the town...and not, in any way, being pursued.
Klaus began to run.
He didn’t stop until he was at the gate, and even then, slowed only to a quick walk.
The entire town was in the streets. Everyone Klaus saw was in the throes of celebration, Jägers and monsters and humans alike. Some were making vague efforts to clean up the mess, but for the most part it was simply something for their hands to do. As Klaus made his way through the crowd, however, he did see a few young men and women curled up on the ground. All were whimpering some variation of ‘we’re dead we’re so dead she was the Heterodyne the whole time we’re so dead’.
Klaus could only assume this was a bad reaction to the Doom Bell’s effects.
Everyone noted his passing. A few drunken wags were bold enough to give some jeering toasts about not needing him anymore, but they were always quickly stifled.
Word of his arrival spread before him like fire before the wind, and when he reached Bill and Barry Square, Teodora and Saturnus were waiting for him, standing side by side at the foot of the statue of their sons.
Klaus noted the chair Saturnus was sitting in, the eight spider’s legs and the controls on each arm. It was not as refined as he would have expected from a spark of Saturnus’ caliber and experience, but perhaps that was the result of hands that no longer worked as smoothly as they once had. Regardless, it had clearly functioned well enough to allow Saturnus to navigate Castle Heterodyne.
“Good afternoon, Klaus,” Teodora said warmly. After all this time and everything that had happened, she always welcomed him as her sons' friend, rather than Baron Wulfenbach. Perhaps it was because he had been the first in the outside world to be willing to risk friendship with the dread Heterodynes who kept greeting everyone politely and offering to buy rounds of beer.
“Lady Teodora,” he said, with a polite nod. He looked to Saturnus. If the man got any more smug, he’d burst. “Do you think this is wise, Saturnus?”
“Do I think what is wise?”
Interesting. Not so much as a twitch at the lack of honorific.
“Ringing the Doom Bell.”
“I didn’t ring it,” Saturnus said, grinning broadly.
“Having the castle ring it for you, then, if you want to be pedantic,” Klaus said, trying to keep his voice dry instead of irritable, and not quite managing it.
“When it’s annoying you? Always.”
“You realize there are major consequences to this.”
“Of course!”
“I was under the impression you had chosen not to reclaim the title because there was no heir.”
“You were correct.”
“Has that changed?”
“No, no, you’re still correct.”
There was a ripple of laughter from the crowd around them. Klaus glanced at Teodora, who gave him a look that said, very succinctly, that while she was sympathetic, Klaus was on his own on this one.
“Has an heir been found?”
“Huh, I should hope not!” Saturnus exclaimed. Klaus narrowed his eyes.
“Then perhaps you can tell me who the new Heterodyne is, Master Saturnus.”
“Oh, go on and guess,” Saturnus crowed, not even remotely annoyed at having been caught out so quickly. Klaus glanced at Teodora again…and stopped.
She was smiling, ever so slightly.
“The girl,” Klaus said.
“Agatha is my granddaughter,” Teodora confirmed.
“You,” Klaus said, in a very icy tone, “wrote a letter asking me to help you in keeping people from suspecting your new ward of being a Heterodyne child. A very emotional letter.”
If you remain suspicious and if you must have those suspicions satisfied, I beg you, Klaus, to do it as discreetly as you can. God has gifted me her, and I have lost so much.
“Yes,” Teodora said. “I lied, and I used your perception of me as a weak old woman to my advantage.” Her smile stretched a little wider. “I’m not a saint, Klaus.”
“Then I would like to speak to the Lady Agatha Heterodyne.”
“I’m afraid she’s asleep, poor thing,” Teodora said, this time sounding genuinely apologetic. “She’s been running around the castle for two days straight getting it fixed in the middle of a siege, and there was all that trouble in Sturmhalten before that. Perhaps you would like to join us for tea?”
“I would like answers, Lady Vodenicharova,” Klaus said coldly.
“Ooh, he last named you, he is mad.”
Teodora, not looking down, thwacked her husband on the arm in a way that was almost…playful.
“I’m afraid everyone who could give you a proper answer is asleep, unconscious, or dead.”
“Dead?”
“Aaronev’s head is currently in cold storage; Sun can thaw him out if you’d like,” Saturnus said, and began to count off on his fingers. “Your questor had a bad reaction to one of the screamer cannons; Dr Sun says she should get her hearing back in another day or so, but she’s been out of commission pretty much since the fighting started. Aaronev is dead, as mentioned; worth repeating, worth killing again if you want. The leader of the Geisterdamen is dead. Captain Vole is sleeping off near-death from blood loss. Tarvek Sturmvoraus is alive but asleep; he was with Agatha in the Castle.”
He paused and rubbed his chin.
“You know what, von Blitzengaard is still alive. He took off when the fog merchants showed up, the big baby, so you’d have to head over to the Refuge of Storms.”
“I’ve got a lovely raspberry tea I think you’ll enjoy,” Teodora said. “Or you can go back to Castle Wulfenbach, and we will send word when Agatha wakes up.”
Klaus looked around at the chaos and destruction that had been wrought upon Mechanicsburg.
“Perhaps I could stay and lend a hand,” Klaus said mildly.
The sound of the Doom Bell cannot be described, only its effect: the bone shaking, blood freezing, mind breaking wave of sound that coated the tongue in a coppery tang and sent brains scrambling for emergency shutdown. It was a sound that made all who heard it feel as they had on the worst days of their lives, all at once, amplified a thousand-fold.
Except to the Heterodynes, who felt the vibrations like a warm embrace and the song like a thousand voices calling them home.
Agatha’s first emotion, as the people of Mechanicsburg slowly got to their knees – or fell over and threw up – was relief that they believed her. Then she was relieved that she only felt relief, and not wicked glee at the thought of those who once mocked her now cowering before her. The thought of tormenting those who had tormented her did occur but she recoiled from it immediately, instinctively.
She hadn’t even wanted to say the ‘tremble before me’ line; she’d just been afraid the castle wouldn’t ring the bell if she didn’t.
Thank you, Grandmother, she thought fervently, for making sure I didn’t immediately go mad with power.
The Jägers – who did not know her, who had never seen her have a crying breakdown over a complex algebra problem, and thus had no reservations or preconceived notions about her, who knew only this, her moment of triumph – began to cheer.
Imagine being surrounded by several hundred people who think everything you do is the greatest thing anyone’s ever done, Grandfather had said.
He had been right – it did feel nice.
They came swarming over the walls and through the gates, laughing with delight at the very sight of her.
“Generals!” she called. Three – no, four very large Jägers pushed their way through the crowd. She recognized them from her grandfather's descriptions: Goomblast, Khrizhan, Zog, and Gkika. They all looked up at her, expressions unreadable. “I couldn’t see from the castle. What is the status of my army?”
A ripple passed through the Jägers; the generals glanced at each other. Agatha wondered if she had said something wrong or something right.
“Dere iz injuries,” called Goomblast. “But no deaths. Der kestle ken deal vit der remainink forces.”
“Excellent. Thank you all for coming so quickly. Things would have gone much worse without you.” She hesitated, wondering if it was a Heterodyne thing to say – and realized that if she said it, it was a Heterodyne thing to say. “I look forward to meeting all of you.” Agatha smiled brightly. “Welcome home.”
The Jägers cheered again, and this time, the townspeople began to join in. The crowd dissolved, shopkeepers disappearing into their stores and coming out with food or drink; older generations welcoming home old friends and introducing their wide-eyed children; a surprising amount of kissing.
“Agatha!”
Agatha lit up at the sight of Teodora and Saturnus. Without being asked, the castle created a sharply curving set of stairs that brought her down to the ground where she could throw herself into the arms of her grandparents. They both hugged her fiercely.
“I did it,” Agatha said breathlessly. “And I—I hope it’s okay, but I think I can do this, I want to do this, and I’ve got you and the castle and—”
Teodora put a hand on Agatha’s cheek. She had tears in her eyes, but her smile was brighter than Agatha had ever seen it. Saturnus, too, had eyes that were overbright, holding her hand tightly and grinning with a genuine happiness that contained almost no evil at all.
“You did beautifully,” Teodora said.
“We’re so proud of you,” Saturnus said.
“You’re grounded,” they said.
“ What!”
“What in the world were you thinking, running into the castle like that?” Teodora scolded. “You put yourself and Tarvek in mortal danger!”
“You took the castle out of commission in the middle of a battle!” Saturnus continued sharply. “You hamstrung our already hamstrung defenses for almost a full day!”
“You can’t ground me, I’m the Heterodyne!”
“Oho, just you watch us, young lady,” Saturnus said.
“You are allowed out for school and your responsibilities as leader, but that is it. No library, no market trips, nothing.”
“For how long?” Agatha demanded, aghast.
“ Until we say so ,” they chorused.
“Agatha!”
Gil and Tarvek came tearing down the road, waving wildly. Agatha pulled away from her grandparents and met her friends halfway, the three of them colliding in a massive hug that nearly sent them toppling to the ground.
“You were amazing,” Gil said, starry-eyed.
“I told you you could pull it off,” Tarvek said. “ Perfect abandoned lab chic.”
“The cape did look great,” Agatha admitted. She glanced around. “Where’s…?”
“Back in the cellars where we first came in,” Tarvek said. “The prisoners got it connected to the main intelligence, so we can go in safely.”
“Grandfather,” Agatha called over her shoulder. “We need your help with, uh...one of our friends . He was injured by one of the castle’s defences. ”
Saturnus grew concerned.
“How bad?”
“He was conscious when we left him, but it can’t wait,” Tarvek said.
A shadow fell over Saturnus. Very slowly, he looked up to see all four Jägergenerals glaring down at him.
“Master Saturnus,” Gkika said icily. “Ve vould like a vord.”
“Time to face the music,” Teodora muttered.
“In a minute,” Saturnus said.
“ Now vould be good,” Goomblast said in the same icy tone.
“I have to take care of this first.”
“Send de doctor to take care off it, if it iz so bad,” Zog snapped. “Ve—”
“My lady!” the castle cried. “Good news! We have located Prince Sturmvoraus! He has been dealt with most soundly!”
“What’s the bad news?” Saturnus demanded immediately. “You never say it like that unless there’s bad news.”
“Captain Vole is currently bleeding to death in the nice sitting room and my lady has yet to press-gang a suitable cleaning staff. Once the blood dries, it’ll be simply impossible to get it out of the upholstery.”
A cold prickling washed over Agatha, her breath growing tight in her lungs.
“Okay, okay, um, we, we need—surgical supplies and—and—what was it, what—what did you tell me about, for the Jägers, the—”
“Battledraught?”
“That! Yes! Do we have any of that? I need it, right now, someone bring it into the castle.”
Zog snorted.
“Ve’z not gon vaste it on dot vun—”
“I gave an order.”
A door opened within Agatha’s mind, and it led to something beyond the madness place. This was where the Heterodynes had thrived, the place that housed the wicked deeds the waking mind must justify, and from it emerged something new and dark and sharp and dangerous.
Agatha grabbed it, this wild thing that demanded obedience and craved power, that saw the world as a toy to break and fix as she pleased. It fought, thrashing in her grip, screaming for blood, for retribution against the sin of defying her whim. Her ancestors had let it run free; her father had locked it away; Agatha lashed it to the anvil, hammered down with all her will again and again, not beating it back but shaping it, iron in the forge, not a weapon, not a shield, but a tool .
A tool that would sit in the workshop of her mind. She would leave it nestled tidily alongside the ones her grandparents had given her: compromise, patience, intelligence, a well-placed punch, a wide range of bullheaded defiance in shades of good and not so good. It would be a tool that she would use when it was appropriate, but one she would use, and keep, and care for because it was her, and would always be her.
And it would obey , this darkness of her blood, strength of her name, because she was the Heterodyne, and she said so.
“You do not choose who lives or dies in this town. I do. Bring me the battledraught.”
She did not wait for any answer, but turned on her heel, cape flapping behind her, and strode up the road towards the castle, her grandfather behind her.
The nice sitting room was nice. The chairs and couches looked well-stuffed and soft; the carpets were thick and plush. There was a fireplace in the back, the perfect distance from the seats to keep you warm without overheating those closest. A small fire burned there now, making the room comfortably warm.
It was hard not to think about how it was a good place to curl up and die.
Vole wasn’t curled up, exactly, but sprawled over a couch that was so large he fit with room to spare. Only by very careful examination could one differentiate between the bandage and the remains of Vole’s jacket, as they had both been white and were now equally dyed in crimson wet. It wasn’t just the shoulder anymore – he had several stab wounds, deep and fresh, across his torso, many very close to important organs.
His hat, somehow still spotless, was set carefully on the corner of the coffee table, within easy reach but out of danger of being stepped or bled on.
“I’ve seen worse,” Saturnus said.
“That’s not funny,” Agatha whispered.
“I’m not kidding,” he said. “I once stitched up a Jäger who’d been cut in half and he was walking around like nothing had happened barely two weeks later. He’s just being dramatic, aren’t you, Vole?” Saturnus raised his voice slightly.
“Ken’t a guy effen die in peace,” Vole rasped, not opening his eyes.
“You’re not dying .”
“Got me in...in der back. Hit sometink important, Hy tink.”
Agatha grabbed the end of the coffee table and pivoted it around to make room for her and Saturnus, though she was careful to keep the corner with Vole’s hat close enough for Vole to grab, if his arm was still working.
Saturnus put his hands on Vole’s side and rolled him up slightly. The entire back of Vole’s jacket was soaked through, and no matter how skilled the cleaners Agatha pressga– hired, there was no undoing the damage to the fabric.
“Ooh. Yep. We better get a move on.”
Agatha helped her grandfather peel Vole out of his coat and shirt. The smell of blood was almost overwhelming, and she felt her stomach roll at the mangled mess of Vole’s shoulder.
“Black fire , how did you pop this many stitches at once?”
“Not my fault,” Vole grumbled. “Shtupid Geister lady hit me dere a couple times.”
Saturnus tutted.
“Let’s get some pressure on these so he doesn’t bleed out while we work." Staunching the wounds did not require fine motor skills, and Saturnus' hands moved with a quick efficiency that Agatha envied. "Alright, Vole, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“Hy remembered dot de Geister lady said dot it vuz a good ting she found de kid forst, becawz his poppa might heff let him live.” His voice was rough and distant. “Hy vuz tinking about it, und Hy realized mebbe dot means he is in here , lookink for de lady. Only a few places left der kestle can’t see, und if he gets out, ve might not be able to find him.”
He cut off with a groan as Saturnus rolled him onto his side.
"Judging by the location, I think he managed to nick your liver."
"How do we fix that?" Agatha asked, horrible visions of performing invasive surgery on a concious subject flashing before her eyes.
"We don't. When it comes to Jägers, if it doesn't kill them immediately, they can probably bounce back. Since it's no longer actively gushing blood, it's probably sealed itself back up again already. That means all we have to do is close the gap. Come here, m’lady, I need your hands."
Agatha knelt beside him and took the needle and thread he passed her.
“Careful now. In here and out there – just like that, well done. Pull tight but not too tight, like this, and then back in again. Attagirl.”
“I don’t think I’m very good at this,” Agatha said, her voice shaking, though she kept her hands as steady as she could. The stitches were uneven and the knots untidy.
“No one is on their first try. Don't worry about it – it doesn't have to be pretty, it just has to work.” He sighed and muttered to himself. “I knew I should have taught you this earlier.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked.
“Because it’s gross and I don’t like it.”
She burst out laughing, but he put a gentle hand over her mouth.
“Surgery first, then hysterics. Hey!” He put a hand on Vole’s head and ruffled his hair, hard, until Vole’s eyes opened again. “Stay awake. Then what happened?”
Vole grunted.
“Found him. Killed him. Had der kestle drop him in der freezer.”
"And you let him stab you this many times?"
Vole grumbled.
“He vuz faster den he looked. Und Hy vuz tired.”
“Alright, on your back. Let’s get at the rest of them.”
Vole fell back. His eyes began to close again.
“Hy’z tired,” he whispered.
“Up!” Saturnus patted his cheek roughly. Vole forced his eyes open. Even this close, Agatha couldn't differentiate between pupil and iris, or even tell if there was one, but somehow she could tell when his eyes focused on something over her shoulder. Vole's mouth twitched in a humorless smile.
“Dun vaste hyu energy,” he said. “Hy’z gun be dead in ten minutes anyvay.”
Agatha looked behind her. The generals had arrived, looming in the doorway. Higgs was there, too, dwarfed by his younger comrades. Gkika was holding a green stone bottle. She crossed the room and knelt beside Agatha. When she twisted the cork out, the air filled with a licorice scent so thick Agatha could taste it.
When she held it towards Vole, however, the Jäger leaned away from her, lip curling.
Between them, they got Vole upright enough to drink deeply from the bottle – not the whole thing, but a few large swallows. When he lay back again, he was still ash-pale, but he looked slightly more alert, and his breathing was more even.
Gkika recorked the bottle and picked up another needle and thread from the medical kit. Without a word, she got to work on Vole’s shoulder.
“Vy not let der kestle deal vit de prince?” Khrizhan asked, abruptly. “If he vuz in here.”
“Because der kestle ken’t see ,” Vole groused. “All doze Smoke Knights vuz in here, und it din’ find dem until it looked.”
“Unfortunately true,” the castle admitted. “I can just about manage to be here and down in the town at the same time, but I am having difficulty spreading my consciousness uniformly across my boundaries.”
“Maybe de prince kills his kid und leaves, or maybe he tries to grab der lady. Dun know if ve found all der Geisterdamen. Maybe he vaits a few days til ve relax. Hy’z not gon vait to find out.” Vole glared at Khrizhan, sullenly. “Vut hyu vant from me? Hy kept my Heterodynes safe. Both of dem.”
“Hyu’z not a Jäger.”
“Hyu can kick me out of der pack,” Vole said, eyes sliding shut again. “But Hy have my oath. Hyu can’t take dot from me.”
The world grew far away and strange. Some part of Agatha could hear Saturnus talking, and that part followed his instructions, but the rest of her watched, confused, as stitches seemed to march themselves across Vole’s skin.
And then gentle hands were wiping blood off of her hands with a warm, damp rag.
“There you go. He’s all set. Just needs to rest. So do you.”
Something heavy wrapped around her shoulders, so heavy it dragged her down into a deep and dreamless sleep.
“Black fire,” Saturnus muttered under his breath as he and Teodora headed up the road towards the house. “ Take a nap, you’d think I was some sort of invalid. Things are just getting good! I’m going to miss the best of it!”
“Saturnus.”
“I’m not saying no,” Saturnus grumped, in the tone of a man who knows he has thoroughly lost an argument. “I’m — ”
Teodora’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, halting him in place. Her eyes were wide and fixed on a manhole cover in the center of the road. Saturnus did not need to ask why.
The manhole cover was rattling like a lid on an overfull pot, a fine grey mist spilling out from the edges in soft, roiling waves. Faster and faster until it was spinning in place, until all at once - the pressure broke.
The cover burst up into the air, and a column of the grey mist erupted in such a rush, the suction snapped up fallen leaves and flower petals and dragged at hair and clothing. When the column was six meters long, it stopped growing, the last of it breaking free from the darkness below. It continued to rise until the top of the column was at eight meters. As if hitting an invisible wall, it came apart, a rope unravelling, thick strands curving back towards the ground.
And then the strands began to fall apart into individual clouds, each a meter and a half in length, formless but for the two small circles of yellow light deep within, silent but for the low, ceaseless murmuring of unintelligible voices. They sped down, down towards Mechanicsburg. Seconds before impact, they veered off. They glided centimeters above rooftops and roads, swerving around obstacles, always returning to their original trajectory – towards von Blitzengaard’s army.
“The fog merchants,” Saturnus marvelled. “I haven’t seen them in decades, they can only be released by the…” His breath caught in his throat. “By the Heterodyne.”
Slowly, they turned to look up at the great bell tower, where Octavo had begun to stir.
“She’s going to do it,” Saturnus said, and genuine panic began to fill his voice. “Does she even know— What if she’s not ready? What if this isn’t enough? What if the people don’t accept her? You can’t unring the Doom Bell!”
“She’s ready,” Teodora said. Her eyes shone with an excitement she had not felt in a long, long time. “And she’s going to be amazing.”
Klaus stood at the window of the bridge of Castle Wulfenbach, watching Mechanicsburg slowly drift into view as the great airship made its ponderous way across the Heterodyne Valley. No matter which accusation was correct, this was going to get very complicated very quickly.
“Mechanicsburg in view, Herr Baron! Military activity confirmed! Sturmhalten army is showing signs of severe losses! Mechanicsburg is…um…doing pretty okay, actually.”
“Whoa!” someone yelped. “Was that a land shark?”
Klaus stared down at the scene before him. There was a lot of movement from down below, but most of it seemed to be the Sturmhalten army fighting for survival or escape. There were a few ragged banners that suggested the Refuge of Storms had been involved at some point, but they were all that could be seen above the low-lying cloud of fog that had settled over the area.
“Many of these defenses should not be operational,” he said.
“Perhaps they repaired them?”
“No. I know those weapons. They were directly under the castle’s control, which means the only way…” He stared out at the town that was growing rapidly closer.
“Slow our approach,” he said, abruptly. An uneasy certainty filled his stomach. Klaus reached into his pocket and drew out an old spyglass. It had been one of the few things he'd managed to recover from the original Castle Wulfenbach, and over the years he had modified it into something powerful enough to suit a man who ruled from the skies.
So powerful that Klaus could see the flakes of corrosion that fluttered to the ground as the great statue began to peel itself from the bell it had been leaning against. It rolled its shoulders, flexed its hands, and bent down to pick up something that had been left at its feet.
“All hands!” Klaus roared. “Brace yourselves—!”
Some of the Jägers had been on the wrong side of the army when the castle came to life and unable to safely retreat. Figuring that being on top of the wall was not the same as behind it, technically, they had sat themselves on the edge of the parapet, legs dangling over the edge, enjoying the show. Many of the townspeople had joined, and they made a merry group drinking in the chaos and cheering when their favorite machine or monster made an appearance.
“ People of Mechanicsburg!”
The voice echoed across the town and bounced off the nearby hills, reaching the ears of everyone in Mechanicsburg. Everyone looked around.
“Vot iz...vere iz dot comink from?” one of the Jägers asked. Another one twisted around and pointed.
“Dere! Up by der kestle!”
The paving stones of the castle’s road had pulled free of the ground and formed a long staircase, still unfolding, down which a figure was descending. They were still too far away for their face to be made out, but for many present, it did not need to be.
“No,” someone gasped. “Oh, she can’t do that—!”
“The nerve—!”
“Who does she think she is?”
“The castle is mine!”
“Where is Lord Saturnus? Someone stop her!”
“Vut’s goink on?” a Jäger asked the woman beside him. “Who is dot?”
“Agatha Sannikova,” the woman informed him, almost vibrating with outrage. “Lady Teodora’s ward! The insolence—! ”
“Not her granddaughter?”
“Definitely not! The girl’s an idiot! She’s just some outsider the lady took pity on! Everyone knows that!”
The Jäger looked back up. The staircase had widened out into a platform from which Agatha Sannikova stared down at Mechanicsburg. She wore a sturdy leather bodice over a flowing-sleeved white shirt stained in engine grease and blood. Around her waist was a black skirt, patched together in thick white lines of thread, reminiscent of a construct built of many pieces. An unhemmed black cape flapped dramatically in the wind. The Jäger took in the blazing eyes, the proud stance, the expression that said I am exactly where I am meant to be, whether you like it or not, and it is going to be your problem.
“...does she knows dot?”
“I am your Heterodyne!” Agatha spread her arms wide. “Tremble before me!”
