Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One second. That was all it took for everything to go disastrously wrong.

Ardsley had been worried for weeks that something like this would happen. It was small consolation that Master Gil hadn’t taken to drink in his grief over Miss Clay—er, Lady Heterodyne. But his insistence on working for hours on end at reviving Punch and Judy, interrupted only to fight killer clanks Grantz brought in from the Wastelands and to eat and sleep when Zoing and Ardsley forced him to do so, was little better. The only reason Ardsley hadn’t resorted to drugging Gil was the extreme danger posed by the clanks. Gil couldn’t afford to be at anything less than his best if he hoped to survive his new hobby.

Maybe Ardsley should have interfered sooner. But maybe that would only have made matters worse. He didn’t know.

As it was, Grantz’s latest delivery had arrived late in the day about six weeks after Lady Heterodyne’s departure. Gil had been wearing down, but he’d insisted on fighting the thing before calling it a night. Zoing had stayed to monitor Punch and Judy, and Ardsley had gone with Gil and stood by to time the fight and make tea afterward. Nothing out of the ordinary happened as Gil activated the clank and waited while it warmed up enough to fight.

And then there was a noise from outside. Ardsley wasn’t sure what it was or where it had come from. It didn’t even properly register. But whatever it was, it broke Gil’s concentration.

He turned his head. And the clank grabbed him in its razor-sharp claws and threw him into a post. Gil yelped and fell to the floor in an untidy heap.

Ardsley barely had time to shove the stopwatch into his pocket before the clank began advancing on Gil to finish the job. The clank’s armor had been designed to withstand artillery fire; there was no way Ardsley’s service pistol would be any use against it. Having no alternative, he leapt on top of the clank, wrenched the cover open by sheer force of adrenaline, and ripped out two handfuls of wires. The clank froze, and he had just time to jump clear of it before it exploded.

As the smoke cleared, Ardsley saw to his horror that Gil hadn’t moved.

“GIL!” he cried, throwing debris out of his way to get to his old school chum.

“Gaaaaaah,” Gil replied.

Ardsley finally got a path cleared and fell to his knees at Gil’s side. “How bad is it?” he asked as he pressed a handkerchief to one visible gash.

“Bad,” Gil choked out, tears leaking from his eyes despite a visible effort to suppress them. “Back—Wooster, I c-... can’t feel my legs.”

Zoing announced his arrival at that moment with a loud gasp of “HEEEEEEP!”

Ardsley looked up to spot the construct standing frozen in the doorway. “Zoing, go and get help. His back’s broken. We’ve got to take him to Mechanicsburg.”

“Bink,” Zoing agreed and scurried out.

“No,” Gil breathed. “No, Wooster, don’t—Sun will... he’ll tell Father....”

“I should think your father’s displeasure would be far greater if I didn’t,” Ardsley snapped. “Besides that, you’re my friend, you clod. You can’t expect me to leave you like this.”

Gil didn’t audibly whimper, but again, it took a visible effort.

A sharp intake of breath from the doorway heralded Zoing’s return with an astonished airman with a gold ring in his left ear and his blond hair plaited back in a short pigtail. “What happened?” asked the airman.

“Zingaboom,” said Zoing.

“Accident,” Ardsley clarified slightly. “We need medical transport to the Great Hospital.”

“No,” Gil insisted through clenched teeth. “Can’t leave... Punch... Punch and Judy....”

That startled the airman even more, and he dropped to his knees beside Ardsley. “What’s this about Punch and Judy?”

“C-c-can’t leave ’em—”

“He’s reanimating them,” Ardsley explained quietly. “The baron mustn’t know.”

The airman took a deep breath, then nodded once. “We’ll bring ’em with, then.”

Gil frowned at him. “C-can’t—”

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but I do have experience with spark work. I’ll find a way.” The airman paused. “Like to know who I’m ferryin’, though, if I might ask.”

“This is Gilgamesh Wulfenbach,” Ardsley answered, still keeping his voice low. “And he doesn’t want his father to know about his injuries, either.”

The airman nodded slowly. “Understood, sir.”

“I’m his valet, Ardsley Wooster, and you’ve met Zoing. And you are?”

“Airman Third Class Axel Higgs, sir. I’m not rated as a pilot, but if it comes to stealin’ a medical ship, I can fly it.”

Ardsley nodded once. “Good man. Thank you, Higgs. Zoing, go with him, give him all the help he needs.”

Higgs nodded back and left with Zoing at his heels.

“Guess Her... Undying Majesty’ll... be pretty pleased,” Gil gritted out bitterly.

Ardsley felt a headache coming on. “Gil, do us both a favor and shut up.”

“Father’s got... no more heirs... you c’n just... go ahead... kill me now....”

“I am not going to kill you, idiot. And you are not going to die of your injuries, not while I’ve anything to say about it.”

“Nah, g’head... kill the empire... I got... nothin’ left to live for....”

“For the love of Mike, shut up, Gil!”

Gil sighed, closed his eyes, and relaxed slightly, and a tear escaped before he whispered, “’M sorry, Ardsley.”

“I am not letting you die,” Ardsley repeated. “And that’s final.”

“’Kay.”

“So perhaps you can find some other way to let me know you’re still conscious? Reciting pi, say?”

Gil had gotten to about the twenty-fifth decimal of pi when Higgs returned with two medics and a back board, only to leave again following Zoing. The medics got self-pressurizing bandages and small healing engines onto Gil’s open wounds in short order, disregarding his protests, and Ardsley backed away to leave them room to start a blood transfusion and execute the fiddly task of getting Gil onto the back board. Now that Gil wasn’t in danger of bleeding out, they could afford to take time and care, and they did so. At last, however, Gil was safely strapped to the back board and Ardsley was holding the bag of blood and the bag of morphine solution attached to the intravenous port in Gil’s arm, and the medics carried Gil to the nearest hangar bay with a medical ship.

By the time they arrived, so had Zoing and Higgs... who had somehow managed to transfer Punch and Judy to the ship, life support system and all. Ardsley was too relieved to ask questions.

Once the medical ship had left Castle Wulfenbach and Gil had finally succumbed to morphine-induced sleep, Higgs lifted Zoing onto the bed to hold Gil’s hand and pulled Ardsley aside. “What the devil was Master Wulfenbach doing? That clank looked like one from the Wastelands, at least from what I could see of the remains.”

Ardsley sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “He’s... oh, I don’t know. I think he’s trying to avenge Miss Agatha—Lady Heterodyne. At least he was. With a broken back....” He shook his head.

Higgs blinked twice, then lowered his voice even further. “Listen. He’s right that Dr. Sun will report this to the baron. But there’s someplace else in Mechanicsburg we can take him to get help, maybe even better help than at the hospital. Unloading Punch and Judy should create enough of a hullabaloo—let’s you and I take Master Wulfenbach’s stretcher and disappear in the confusion.”

“To take him where?”

“’Fraid you’ll have to trust me there, sir. But I’ve my orders to keep him alive.”

Ardsley’s eyed narrowed. “Orders from whom?”

Higgs’ reply was barely audible: “Someone what knows Miss Agatha’s not dead.”

Only long practice kept Ardsley from reacting outwardly to that statement and all its implications.

Higgs must have seen something in Ardsley’s eyes, though, because he nodded once. “Do we have a deal, sir?”

Ardsley nodded back. “Yes, Mr. Higgs, I believe we do.”

“Light,” Agatha ordered, and the watchcase clank on her shoulder clicked on its light and held on as she crawled under the table in the prop wagon to see what damage Moxana, the beautiful mute clank she’d just met, had asked her to repair. She had just spotted the RvR maker’s mark when:

Ding! Moxana suddenly interrupted, startling Agatha enough that she nearly bumped her head before backing out hurriedly.

“What?” Agatha asked her. “What is it?”

Moxana held up The Device, then placed The Clock over it.

“You... want me to wait to work on you? Why?”

Moxana swept the cards off the table as Master Payne stated, “She looked up just now, as if she heard something.”

Krosp frowned. “I didn’t.”

Moxana shot him a narrow-eyed look and flipped the green baize table surface to reveal a chessboard. But she didn’t set up a standard chess game. Instead she started with two rooks in opposite corners, a grey one at a8 and a cracked white one at h1. Around the grey rook she placed the grey king, a grey knight—and the white queen.

Agatha inhaled sharply as Moxana put a finger on the rook and looked at her. “Castle Wulfenbach.”

Moxana nodded once, then moved the white queen away toward the center of the board. The grey knight followed, only to stop when she laid a black queen in its path.

“Olga,” Agatha interpreted.

Moxana covered the knight with her hand. When she revealed it again, it was a much darker grey.

Agatha’s breath caught, but she nodded. “Go on.”

Moxana moved the knight and the black queen back to the same row as the grey rook and king while shifting the white queen two rows toward the white rook. The black queen she laid between the grey king and rook. But the knight she stood further down the row and surrounded with black pawns. The knight then took each of the pawns in turn... until one pawn came inside his path and knocked him over, breaking the knight in two.

Agatha gasped. “Gil!”

Moxana gingerly lifted the broken knight to rest beside the white rook. Then she looked Agatha in the eye, shook her head, and put the knight in Agatha’s hand. She closed Agatha’s hand over the piece once, then opened it to reveal that the knight was once more whole, though with the join still clearly visible. She then repeated the motion... only this time, the repaired piece that appeared in Agatha’s hand was the white king.

“So... I... need to go to Mechanicsburg to help heal Gil.”

Moxana nodded once.

“And you think I should go now.”

Moxana nodded again.

“And if I don’t?”

Moxana closed Agatha’s hand again and opened it to reveal the broken knight. Then she closed Agatha’s hand once more... and squeezed. Agatha felt the pop as the chess piece shattered.

“No!” Agatha cried. “Gil!”

Moxana pulled out The Lovers from her tarot deck, showed it to Agatha, and tapped her fist with it. Agatha opened her hand again to find the repaired white king. Moxana placed the white queen and rook beside it, closed Agatha’s hand, and again tapped it with The Lovers. When Agatha opened her hand this time, the king and queen were the same, but the rook was now whole.

Agatha struggled to breathe past the tears that were trying to choke her. “We’re... we’re going to Mechanicsburg anyway—”

Moxana put The Clock on top of the pieces in Agatha’s hand. When she took it away again, all three were broken.

“We don’t have time.” Agatha stifled a sob. “If... we....”

Moxana took Agatha’s other hand and placed in it an emerald queen, an amethyst knight, a tiger-eye knight, and an olivine knight. Almost as an afterthought, she added a white pawn.

“Hey!” Krosp objected.

Moxana ignored him and brought Agatha’s hands together, covering them with her own. When she let go, the white king, queen, and rook were whole once more.

Agatha drew a very ragged breath and set down all of the chess pieces, then put her hands around Moxana’s folded ones. “Send word to me when you get to Mechanicsburg. I ought to have taken the castle by then. I’ll repair you then if I can.”

Moxana chimed softly and pulled her hands away as the table surface shifted to reveal a hidden compartment, in which rested a book that she lifted out. Said book was bound in red leather and bore a gilt RvR in the center of the front cover.

Agatha gasped loudly. “Is that—”

“Van Rijn’s notebook,” Master Payne confirmed as Moxana placed the book gently in Agatha’s hands.

Tears started streaming down Agatha’s face as she hugged the book to her chest. “Thank you, Moxana. I’ll take the greatest care of it.”

Moxana placed her hands on Agatha’s cheeks as if to say, I know you will. Then she pulled away and held up The Clock again.

Agatha sniffled and nodded. “Understood. Thank you.”

Moxana folded her hands, bowed her head, and closed her eyes as if shutting down.

“Come, then,” Master Payne said quietly. “We’d best send you on your way as soon as possible.”

Still sniffling, Agatha left the prop wagon and let Master Payne usher her back to the Baba Yaga.

By the time she’d ordered the majority of her little clanks to stay with the circus and Krosp had helped her finish packing, Agatha had mostly gotten her tears under control. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but she did care for Gil—more than she’d ever cared for Lars, though Lars was nice enough as a colleague—and if she understood Moxana correctly, Gil had gotten himself hurt because of her. Because he thought she was dead. He could die because he thought she was dead. She hadn’t known... she’d never wanted it to come to this.

She still wasn’t sure she should trust him, and she really wasn’t sure she should marry him, Moxana’s message notwithstanding. They barely knew each other. All the same, she couldn’t let him die.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap at the door. “Are you ready... Lady Heterodyne?” Master Payne asked quietly.

Agatha drew a deep, bracing breath. “Yes, sir,” she replied, shrugged on her pack, and shouldered her death ray.

Master Payne opened the door but stood to one side to let her out. “We found two horses for your party. That’s all we could spare, but the Jägers assure me they can keep pace just fine.”

Agatha nodded. “Very generous of you. Thank you, Master Payne. And... thank you for everything else, too.”

His large hands closed over her upper arms and squeezed gently. “Take care of yourself, Agatha.”

“I will. See you in Mechanicsburg?”

“We can hope.” He squeezed her arms again and let her go. “I haven’t told the others what’s happening, only that you’re leaving because of an emergency.”

She nodded again. “I guess I’d better say goodbye, then.”

Taking her leave of the rest of the circus was harder than Agatha thought. Countess Marie gave her a warm hug and let her cry on her shoulder for a moment, and Pix promised to model her future portrayals of Lucrezia on Agatha’s as much as possible. Most everyone else at least shook her hand and thanked her for her contributions to the show. Balthazar hugged her leg and promised never to forget her, and Trish pried him off with an apologetic smile. But finally, slowly, she reached the edge of the camp, where the Jägers were waiting in the deepening twilight with the horses and Zeetha.

And Lars.

The green Jäger looked at Agatha, then glanced at Lars, then nodded in the general direction of the prop wagon. Agatha could make a pretty good guess as to what that meant, since it looked like Moxana was one of the Storm King’s Muses. From what Dr. Beetle had said, most sparks would jump at the chance to examine a Muse, and examine would generally end up meaning break. Master Payne hadn’t sounded certain of the circus’ chances of getting through Sturmhalten unscathed, which probably meant he was worried about losing Moxana—more so now that the Jägers and Zeetha would be leaving with Agatha and Krosp. And besides, how fair would it be to Lars to bring him along if... if he was... interested in Agatha and she was going back to Gil?

Agatha took a deep breath and looked Lars in the eye. “No, Lars. I can’t let you come.”

He frowned. “Agatha—”

“No. I’ll have the Jägers and Zeetha and Krosp. I’ll be perfectly safe with them. You need to stay with the circus to protect Moxana when you go through Sturmhalten.”

“But... but....”

“I told you,” Zeetha interrupted. “Besides, the show can’t lose Bill and Lucrezia both at once. You really want Abner playing your part?”

That got a chuckle out of Lars. “No, I suppose not. But Agatha—”

“I’ll be careful,” Agatha promised.

Lars sighed heavily, and his shoulders slumped. “All right. I’ll... see you in Mechanicsburg.” Then he kissed her cheek and went back to the fire in the center of the camp.

“Ve better go, Miztress,” said the green Jäger.

Agatha swallowed hard and nodded. The purple Jäger helped her onto one horse while Zeetha swung into the saddle of the other, and the blond Jäger set Krosp carefully on top of the bedroll behind Agatha’s saddle. They didn’t have a lantern, but that was probably best for now, and she’d heard that Jägers could see in the dark perfectly well.

“Diz vay,” the purple Jäger said then and started off into the forest.

Agatha and Zeetha followed at a walk. The blond Jäger fell back to walk behind them, and the green Jäger stationed himself at Agatha’s side.

“Zo, Miztress, ve hefn’t hed a chence to tok,” he said as they passed the edge of the clearing. “Hy iz Dimo. Dot’s Maxim,” he added, pointing to the purple Jäger, “und dot’s Oggie,” meaning the one in the rear.

“Nice to meet you,” Agatha said. “But forgive me—why aren’t you with the baron?”

“Ve vos detached. Zome uv us volunteered to keep lookink for hyu poppa und hyu onkel or deir heir. Dot vay de rest could go vit de baron, help him und keep his protection, und ve could say ve hef not abandoned de Heterodynes.”

“Surprised you’re admitting that in front of me,” Zeetha remarked, one eyebrow raised.

Dimo returned the raised eyebrow. “Vill hyu betray her?”

“No. She’s my zumil. I’m here to help her.”

Dimo smiled. “Denn iz no problem, iz dere?”

Zeetha smiled back. “Not if Oggie stops sneaking up behind me.”

“Hey!” Oggie objected. “Dese iz prime goot sneekin-op moves!”

“HO-kay,” Maxim interrupted. “Ve iz far enuf from de zirkus. Ve pick up de pace now.”

And by ‘pick up the pace,’ he evidently meant gallop. The party ran flat out through the dark for a good ten miles before Maxim called a halt for the night, at which point the horses were winded and Agatha’s head was spinning. Dimo helped her down, and Zeetha and Oggie made camp while Maxim saw to the horses. Krosp caught a couple of mimmoths for himself as Agatha started supper.

“How long do you expect it to take us to get to Mechanicsburg?” she asked Dimo as he cautiously started a small fire.

“Heh, vell,” he replied, “dot depends. If ve go over de mountains, mebbe two veeks. But ve know dese mountains. Und ve iz not vit de circus now. Ve ken tek shortcuts—under de mountains.”

“Vit de horses, might be a bit tricky,” Maxim said, joining them. “Bot if hyu iz tinkink ov dot vun tonnel....”

“Yah, dot gets uz past Sturmhalten in mebbe two days.”

“Shoo, ve ken tek de horses through dot vun. Iz mebbe two more days from dere. Und denn....”

“Denn,” Oggie chimed in, “ve goes through de Sneaky Gate und takes her to Mamma Gkika’s. Hif Mamma dun know vere to go, she knows de pipple to esk.”

Agatha frowned. “What’s Mamma Gkika’s?”

“It’s a bar,” Zeetha answered.

“Iz more den dot,” Dimo said. “Mamma iz von of uz, a general—und also a medic.”

Zeetha raised both eyebrows this time. “Lars said the Jägers won’t let anyone but a Heterodyne work on them when they’re injured.”

Dimo nodded. “Iz true.”

Agatha gulped. “You mean... there might be Jägers at this bar who need my help?”

Maxim reached across Dimo and patted Agatha’s arm. “Iz no hurry, Miztress. Some of us haff been vaiting a long time. Ve ken vait anodder veek or two. Hyu tek care ov hyu boyfriend first, und denn fix de kestle.”

“I... I’m sure I can fix the castle, but... I don’t have any hands-on medical training.” Agatha bit her lip. “Does... would you let Gil work on you, or at least help me, if he were my husband?”

Everybody else looked startled at that, and Krosp leaned forward. “I thought you didn’t want to marry him.”

Agatha ducked her head and poked at the fire. “I’m not sure. But I am sure I’m going to need the help. There’s only so much I can do on my own. And he did... well, he didn’t exactly ask me, but he did want to run off and get married after we dealt with the hive engine. And now he’s hurt because of me. I mean, I know I hardly know him, but it’s not like I have many options, and....”

“Ve eat first, hey?” Oggie suggested. “Und hyu sleep on it a few days. Hyu dun hef to decide right now. Hy vos married vunce, long time ago; iz not zumtink to do in a hurry.”

Agatha blinked at him. “You were?”

“Ho yah, Hy gotz descendants!”

“Und von’t shot op about dem,” Dimo grumbled.

Maxim snickered.

“Oh, but I’d like to hear,” Agatha said. “I’m afraid I don’t know very much about Jägers.”

So as they ate, Oggie regaled them with stories of his married life and of his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and one great-great-grandson that he knew of—this last being Philbert Oleo, a slightly disreputable and not very talented storyteller of whom Oggie fondly disapproved. Having read a couple of his books that were in Gil’s library, Agatha couldn’t disagree. Then after the meal, Zeetha insisted that Agatha get some sleep right away so as to be rested for training in the morning. Agatha was too tired to argue, so she laid out her bedroll while Zeetha and the Jägers divided the watch.

She may have imagined Krosp curling up possessively on her chest just as she drifted off, but she didn’t think so.

“Drinkateee,” Zoing insisted.

Gil didn’t even open his eyes. “No.”

A cup pushed against his lips. “Drinkateee.”

Gil sighed and tried to turn away. “Zoing, how many ti—”

Zoing planted one foot on either side of Gil’s head, immobilizing it, and poured the tea into Gil’s mouth in mid-word. Gil couldn’t summon the energy to do anything but swallow. Once the tea was all down his throat, Zoing made a small noise of triumph and backed off—judging from the sound, to stand on the nightstand instead.

“Just let me die,” Gil groaned. He’d lost count of how many times he’d said that the last few days since waking up... wherever here was, this place that smelled of beer and blood and Jägerkin. Everything below his waist was still numb and lifeless. “There’s no point in going on. Everyone’s gone. Father hates me. Agatha’s dead. And now I can’t even work. I’ve got nothing left to live for.”

Zoing made a distressed noise but didn’t try to force any more tea into him.

“—ever so glad you’re here,” Gil suddenly heard Wooster saying urgently outside the door. “He’s in a bad way, refusing treatment—”

The door opened, and someone rushed to his bedside, smelling of horse and sweat and... it... it couldn’t be....

Hardly daring to hope, Gil opened his eyes... and gasped at who was sitting down on the edge of his bed. “Agatha?!”

“Yes,” Agatha replied, bursting into tears. “Oh, Gil, I’m so sorry; I came as soon as I heard.”

“Agatha, you’re... you’re....” He reached up to touch her arm, her hair, her tear-damp cheek. “You’re alive.”

She covered his hand with her own and nodded. “I’m sorry I had to trick you like that. I never meant to hurt you.”

“You’re... you’re real, you’re not dead, you....” He pulled her glasses off and handed them to Zoing before caressing her face again with both hands. “You’re alive.”

She nodded and smiled with a laugh that was mostly a sob. And he pulled her down and kissed her like his life depended on it.

At some point he vaguely registered his necklace breaking. He didn’t care. She was here, she was real, she was kissing him back. Nothing else mattered. She was alive, and he could live again.

Eventually, they had to come up for air, and she practically collapsed against his chest and nestled her head under his chin. “Gil,” she sighed, resting her left hand on his right shoulder, and he felt the gas connector back on her ring finger, where it belonged.

“Oh, Agatha, Agatha,” he returned, not able to be coherent in the slightest. His arms were around her, his left hand tangled in her hair and his right thumb hooked through her belt loop. And no matter what anyone who’d known him in Paris might have thought, he was perfectly happy for things not to go any further right now.

She was alive.

—And he was still paralyzed.

He sighed. “Agatha, there’s something I have to tell you. Why I’m here.”

“Mamma Gkika told me,” she said, rubbing his shoulder a little. “Wooster said you’ve been refusing treatment.”

He buried his nose in her hair. “I’m sorry. Stupid of me.”

“Mamma said she immobilized your back, though, and she’s... there’s a formula. It’s brewed for Jägers, but she thinks it might work on you. It’s called battledraught. Most of your external wounds have already healed, but there were more internal injuries than just the spinal one. It... should get you back on your feet in a matter of hours.”

He smiled. “All right, I’ll stop being an idiot and take the stuff. Better that than asking you to marry half a man,” he added, moving his shoulder slightly to indicate that he’d felt the gas connector.

“Gil, I... about that. Once we get you well, we need to repair the castle so it can recognize me. But when that’s done... I can’t give up being the Heterodyne to become a Wulfenbach.”

He frowned. “Does that mean you don’t want to marry me?”

“No, I do. It’s just....” She huffed. “I’m not sure there’s a way to say this that’s not awkward.”

“Well, say it awkwardly, then.”

“There are lots of things I need your help with. But the only way I can let you help...” Her hand tightened around his shoulder as she took a deep breath and finished, “is if you’re a Heterodyne.”

His breath hitched, and his arms tightened around her.

“Is... will that be....”

“Agatha,” he interrupted, “I used to dream of being a Heterodyne.”

“What?” she gasped, pulling back to look him in the eye.

He nodded. “When I was a kid... I don’t know what might have happened, but I had no idea who my family was. Father hid me for a long time and told me my name was Gil Holzfäller, but he wouldn’t tell me anything about myself. And... well, you know what the school was like.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, I do.”

“Finally I convinced a friend of mine to help me break into the records vault to find out what the baron was hiding. We found some stupid story about my being the son of a spark who’d been killed by his own creation, and I was so upset I ran off... straight into a Jäger, who took me to Father, who told me the truth.”

“Oh.”

“Then they caught my friend, and I had to tell Father he’d been spying. He was expelled.”

“Oh, Gil.”

He drew a ragged breath. “For a couple of years after that, I still thought life would have been simpler if I’d turned out to be a Heterodyne.”

“I can see why. So... you don’t mind being... well. My consort?”

“Heh,” he huffed with a smile and caressed her cheek. “I’d do anything for you. Even if it means giving up the empire. I never really wanted it anyway.”

She kissed him before sitting up. “Well, then, I suppose we’d better start by getting you back on your feet.”

“Where did you learn to kiss like that, by the way?”

She blushed a little. “Well, the circus was a Heterodyne show, and... I ended up playing my mother.”

“—Ah.”

“I... kind of think he might have been more serious about it than I was.”

“Kind of?!” interrupted an amused female voice from the doorway, and Gil turned his head to see a girl about his age with long green hair and a pair of swords lounging against the doorframe. “Zumil, you have no idea the effect you had on Lars, do you?”

“Well, it hardly matters now,” Agatha shot back.

The green-haired girl raised an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Oh, you’re impossible, Zeetha.”

“Zumil,” Gil repeated, searching his memory for where he’d heard that name before. “As in ko-... kolee-dok-zumil?”

Zeetha stared at him and straightened.

“That is the phrase, right?”

“Yes,” Zeetha replied, coming toward the bed as Zoing handed Agatha her glasses. “How did you know it?”

Gil blinked. “My father once said he and my mother were kolee-dok-zumil. But it... I think it was a slip of the tongue. I asked him about it, and he wouldn’t explain. He wouldn’t even translate.”

“Ashtara preserve us,” she breathed, wide-eyed. “Gil, has your father said anything to you—anything at all—about Skifander?”

Gil shook his head. “Not that I recall. Why?”

“That’s where Zeetha’s from,” Agatha explained. “Sorry, this is Zeetha, Daughter of Chump. Zeetha, Gilgamesh Wulfenbach.”

Zeetha nodded slowly. “It’s nice to finally meet you... brother.”

“Brother?!” Gil and Agatha chorused.

Zeetha nodded again and came around the bed to sit on Gil’s other side. “One of the reasons I came to Europa was to look for Chump. He disappeared with my twin brother when we were only a month old. And yes, he was my mother’s zumil. She taught him everything—all the ancient warrior disciplines we hardly ever teach to outsiders.”

Gil frowned. “There were... things Father taught me that were never taught to the other students, things like... tricks for staying awake for days at a time—”

“Yes. That would be one of them.”

Gil studied her face for a moment. “Zeetha... where is Skifander?”

Zeetha sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know. I came down with a terrible fever on the way here, and I’ve been trying to find my way back for three years. Agatha was the first person I’d met who’d ever heard of Skifander.”

Gil blew the air out of his cheeks. “I’m sure Father will know.”

“Yes. And I look forward to getting to ask him.”

Just then Wooster walked in and stopped short just inside the doorway. “Oh, really, Master Gil,” he chided.

Gil laughed for the first time in months. It felt like freedom.

Chapter Text

“Master Payne,” Tarvek said backstage, “I owe you an apology. Well, a couple of apologies, really.”

Master Payne raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

“First, for my father’s behavior tonight. I, um... Lucrezia Mongfish was a dear friend of his, and he’s been... mourning her heavily of late. I suspect that’s why he ordered your performance, to catch a glimpse of her again. And from what he said....”

“It’s not her,” Father sighed, watching as the voice print identifiers failed to register a match. “It’s not her. I was... I was so sure this would be the one....”

Tarvek put a hand on Father’s arm. “Father, can’t you just—”

But Father pulled away and left the box in tears.

“... your Madame Pix did a remarkable job of capturing her likeness. Too good a job, perhaps; he didn’t say much before he left. All I know is that he was deeply disappointed to remember that she wasn’t Lucrezia herself.”

Master Payne sighed and nodded. “I suppose in a way that’s high praise for Pix.”

“I agree. It was an enjoyable performance; I’m sorry he missed so much of it.”

“And your other apology?”

“First—” Tarvek pulled a coin purse out of his pocket and handed it to Master Payne. “I tried to send you that after your last performance here, but you’d already left town.”

Master Payne frowned. “Whatever for?”

Tarvek took a deep breath. “I’m not proud of this, sir, but... when you were last here, my sister had just suffered a terrible lab accident. I wished to make her a new body—a puppet, if you will, through which she could continue to interact with the world. But I needed a template to follow, and so... I’m afraid I’m the one who ordered Tinka taken from you.”

Master Payne’s frown became a scowl. “And you think this is sufficient repayment rather than returning what you stole?”

But she’s mine! Tarvek wanted to retort, but he couldn’t reveal that secret yet. “Would that I could return her,” he said instead, which was mostly true. “I did her no harm myself. Unfortunately, my father found her, and... well. I haven’t been able to repair her fully, though not for lack of trying.”

Master Payne sighed. “Have you thought of taking her to Tarsus Beetle?”

“Briefly. But even if Father would allow Tinka to leave the castle now... Dr. Beetle’s dead.”

“What?!”

Tarvek nodded. “Two months ago, or thereabout. Baron Wulfenbach took Beetleburg, and somehow in the process, the baron’s son killed Dr. Beetle. That’s really all I know.”

An unreadable expression flashed across Master Payne’s face before he swore quietly. “Well. Thank you, Prince Tarvek. And... my condolences to your father.”

Tarvek nodded. “Thank you.”

He was just turning to go when one of the circus members, a fellow with curly dark hair and a goatee, ran up to Master Payne. “Sir, it’s Augie. He’s disappeared.”

Tarvek turned back with a frown. “When was he last seen?”

“Wanda hasn’t seen him since intermission.”

Tarvek’s frown deepened. He’d left the box during intermission to stretch his legs and do damage control if anyone in the audience had seen Father’s precipitous exit. That meant no one had been in the box... which housed a key component in Anevka’s latest project... the one he’d refused to help her with.

“Gentlemen,” he said gravely, “I give you my word of honor this will go no further, but an honest answer will help me locate your colleague. This Augie... is he a spark?”

The other men looked at each other, and then Master Payne sighed. “A minor one, yes, Your Highness.”

“Then I think my sister may have taken him. Come; my carriage is waiting. If we hurry, we should still be in time to save him.”

He didn’t have to tell them twice, nor did he have to order the carriage driver to hurry more than once. They arrived at the palace in short order and raced inside to the lab wing, where an unfamiliar woman’s voice was coming from Anevka’s lab. And yet certain tones of that voice were... strikingly similar to the voice Madame Pix had used as Lucrezia.

Tarvek sprinted toward the lab door and reached it just in time to hear to his horror, “And now, little spark, let me hear you beg for your life.”

“ANEVKA!” he thundered. “STOP!”

Anevka, holding a scalpel over a cowering fair-haired man on his knees, straightened and turned to him. “Ah, there you are, Tarvek.”

Tarvek ignored the gasps from Master Payne and his companion. “Let him go, Anevka.”

“Oh, really. Can’t I have a little fun once in a while?”

“You had no right to abduct this man.”

“But you wouldn’t help me retune my voice.”

“I told you it’s not necessary. Let him go.” When she continued to do nothing but look at him, he added, “Or I’ll tell Father what you’re planning.”

She huffed and put the scalpel back on the bench. “Oh, very well. You are dismissed,” she added to the man who was probably Augie.

“Please forgive my sister,” Tarvek said as the man stood. “As you can see, she still needs work.”

“Er, thank you, Your Highness,” the man said awkwardly and hurried out to where Master Payne was waiting.

Master Payne and Tarvek nodded to each other, and the circus men left. He had a feeling they’d leave town as quickly as possible.

Anevka huffed again once they were out of earshot. “Honestly, Tarvek.”

“Honestly, Anevka,” he mocked. “You don’t even sound like my sister anymore.”

“You know why I need this voice. We can’t count on the Geisterdamen to support us.”

“But we should be able to count on the people. We shouldn’t need—”

“I am ensuring the outcome!” she snapped, sounding very much like Pix indeed. But the harmonics were different somehow, richer and more powerful, in ways that made him understand why Pix hadn’t matched the voice print. “And as it’s already done, perhaps you will condescend to make any further adjustments that might be needed.”

He couldn’t shut her down yet. Father was too close to the edge as it was. And he couldn’t risk her kidnapping another wandering spark to do her bidding. “Fine,” he snarled. “But we’re not doing it tonight. I’m tired and might make a mistake.”

“All right. But not a word to Father, or else.”

“You still need me, for maintenance if for nothing else. No other spark has the skill for such things. Remember that, Anevka.” And he spun on his heel and left.

As soon as the three performers were out of immediate sight of the door, Payne cast an invisibility charm and grabbed Augie’s and Abner’s shoulders. “Stay close and listen,” he hissed in their ears. “I’m going to look for—”

A door further down the hall opened, and Tinka hesitated at the threshold as if she were trying to get her balance. Looking around, she whispered, “Ma-Ma-Ma—”

Payne ran to her, hustled her back into the lab, and shut the door, then cast a muffling charm before revealing himself. “I’m here, Tinka.”

“I-I-I have missed you, Ma-Master Payne,” she said. “How-How-How is my si-sister?”

“She misses you terribly, as do we all. But other than that, she’s all right. And you?”

“I-I require maintenance.”

“Come with me, then. We’re going to see Lady Heterodyne in Mechanicsburg. She’s a strong spark, and Moxana’s given her your creator’s notes. She should—”

“No-no, I mustn’t le-leave my prince. He-he-he is the one we were ma-made for.”

His eyes widened, but then he frowned. “Tinka... you were made for the Storm King.”

“Yes, His Hi-Highness is of the Va-Valois line—my prince, not his fa-fa-father. But it’s—but it’s—you mustn’t—it’s a se-secret.”

He sighed. “Tell me the truth, Tinka. Which of them broke you?”

“His fa-father,” she replied promptly. “My prince has-has tried to re-re-repair me.”

“All right, then. I don’t like it, but I’ll respect your choice, provided you say nothing to Prince Tarvek about Moxana or about Mechanicsburg.”

“The la-lady... she-she-she is good?”

“She’s Bill Heterodyne’s daughter. I didn’t know it until she left us, but it makes sense; she’s like him in the best ways. And Moxana trusts her.” He paused. “She’s not Euphrosynia.”

She nodded jerkily. “Then I-I will keep silent.”

He put his hands on her shoulders gently. “I wish I could help you, dear friend.”

“Te-tell Moxana, and tell the la-lady. Maybe she can—she can—later, maybe—”

He cut her off with a nod. “I understand, and I will.”

She smiled. “Good-goodbye, Master Payne. See-see you soon, maybe.”

“We can hope.” He kissed her once on each cheek and left the lab.

Abner tugged on his sleeve as soon as he came out and breathed, “We need to get out of here now. Geisterdamen.”

“Right. Follow me.” Payne led the others to the nearest exit and dropped the invisibility charm before they emerged in the courtyard, where the steam carriage was waiting to return them to the theater. None of them said anything until the circus was out of town.

Once they’d reached a clearing and made camp for the night, however, Augie came trembling to Payne first. “Agatha’s going to kill me.”

“I doubt it,” Payne replied as Abner joined them. “It’s hardly your fault the princess insisted that you give her Agatha’s voice.”

“She won’t be happy about why, though,” Abner stated. “Somehow it can control the Geisterdamen.” He paused and lowered his voice. “She’s Lucrezia’s daughter, isn’t she?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Payne answered. “And this goes no further. But yes, I believe so.”

“And Pix is a good mimic, but she’s not Agatha. That’s what upset Prince Aaronev.”

Augie blinked. “But—but why would she call herself Agatha Clay?”

Payne sighed. “We’ll have to ask her in Mechanicsburg—after we report what you’ve heard to the baron’s people.”

“And warn Agatha about Aaronev,” Abner added. “Right. C’mon, Augie, you could use a drink.”

“This has been the worst week of my life,” Augie moaned as Abner led him away.

Marie leaned out the nearest window of the wagon to drop a kiss on Payne’s head. “Did you intend for me to hear that?”

“I’d have told you about it later if you hadn’t, dear,” he answered. “Augie could probably use one of your tonics.”

“Payne—”

He turned around and reached up to take her hand. “We’ll warn her, Marie,” he vowed quietly. “And we won’t let the baron harm her. She’s our Heterodyne.”

“All right.” She leaned down again and kissed him.

Tarvek did a good deal of brooding the next day, trying to figure out how to pull Father out of his depression and keep Anevka from going too far in her attempts to control the Geisterdamen. He did help her refine her new voice based on the voice print readings from the theater box, but he took his time so as to give the circus a chance to get well out of town lest she try to abduct another assistant. But neither he nor Tinka could shake the sense that something was about to go badly wrong.

After dark, however, Artacz knocked on the door of Tarvek’s lab. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Highness,” he said, “but an urgent message just arrived from Prof. Tiktoffen. I’d give it to your father, but he’s in conference with your sister and left orders not to be disturbed.”

Frowning, Tarvek took the message and dismissed Artacz with his thanks. Then he read the message—and had to sit down before he read it again. There was a real Heterodyne girl, the one Father had been searching for... and she was already in Castle Heterodyne.

Even though this development spelled disaster for all the Order’s plans, it might—might—be just the thing to improve Father’s mood. Tarvek steeled himself for recriminations and went to Father’s study.

He was still in the hall when he heard the shot.

“OPEN THE DOOR!” he ordered Anevka’s bearers who were waiting outside. When they only blinked at him, he kicked down the door himself... and took in Father slumped over his desk, pistol in hand; Anevka standing over him triumphantly; and the spark wasp engine Father had tried to hide from him abandoned on the desk... open.

“Anevka,” Tarvek said, Spark command harmonics practically echoing despite his quiet tone, “order your bearers to leave us.”

“All of you, leave,” Anevka called, and retreating footsteps resounded in the hall.

“How dare you!” he snarled. “How dare you kill my father like this?”

“Tch. It was an experiment, you silly boy.”

“You wasted the only prototype of the new wasp—for this?”

“Tarvek, you know he was suicidal because of his failure to find the Holy Child. All I did was give him a nudge to do what he already wanted to do, what he couldn’t find the courage to do. And this way there won’t be so many questions when the baron’s man arrives. It’s certainly an improvement over arranging a lab accident, wouldn’t you say?”

“It wasn’t time yet, and you know it. And the Holy Child’s been found.”

The clank’s eyes flashed. “And what would he have done if he knew? He’d have brought her here to put in that filthy chair, which would have killed her—or worse, actually succeeded in bringing back the Mistress.” She started toward him. “Of course, if you’re that upset over it, perhaps I’ll tell the baron’s man that you’re the one who killed him.”

“Anevka. FREEZE.”

The clank froze. “What—what—”

“You’re not my sister. You haven’t been for some time. I wasn’t sure of that until now. And now?” He walked around behind it. “I’m shutting you down.”

“I’m... not your sister?”

“No. My sister is dead. I suspect she died long ago... and you never even noticed.”

“But... then... what am I?”

“A very good first try. Goodbye, Anevka.” He took a deep breath and flipped the switches, shutting down the clank—and with it the life support tank that held the real Anevka’s remains. Then, after taking a moment to collect himself, he summoned servants to clean up the study and went to his own study to compose a message to Baron Wulfenbach. Once that was done and sent off with the appropriate emissary, he went to the dungeon to release Lady Vrin and her seconds, Eotain and Shurdlu, whom Anevka had ordered imprisoned.

“Master Tarvek,” Vrin said as the Geisterdamen left their cell. “I am surprised you come in person.”

“Prince Tarvek, Lady Vrin,” Tarvek replied, nettled. “My father is dead. The baron will be sending a questor within the week. You understand that he must not find any indication of my father’s work with the Mistress.”

“Of course. Therefore—”

“Therefore, the Geisterdamen have exactly twenty-four hours to vacate this city before I seal the tunnels leading into the Deepdown. Leave the chapel and the chair as they are; I shall see to them. We’ve had the baron’s people here before, and my father ensured that we would always have a way to hide the chapel.”

Vrin’s eyes narrowed. “And if you should locate the Holy Child and the Mistress returns?”

“I’ll bring her to the Jotun brothers.”

Vrin glared at him a moment longer. “Very well.” Then she turned to Eotain and Shurdlu and gave them orders in their own language, and the three of them left.

It took every ounce of patience Tarvek had to wait the day he’d promised for the Geisters to depart, though they sealed the tunnels to the surface themselves. But after they were gone, he hacked the infernal chair to pieces and dissolved the pieces in a vat of acid.

No one was going to suffer Anevka’s fate again. No one. Especially not the Heterodyne girl.

Whether and how he could win her heart was a problem for another day.

Klaus checked the dials one last time to ensure that his new construct was ready to decant. He’d suffered some twinges of conscience over putting a substitute brain in the body of Bill’s daughter to use for his own purposes, but he couldn’t have lived with himself if he’d left her dead, either. And at this point, it was far too late to turn back. Satisfied that everything was in order, he straightened... and froze as he looked, really looked, at the young woman in the tank for the first time.

Black hair floated out of the way of her face... a face that shared neither Bill’s nor Lucrezia’s features. This wasn’t Agatha Heterodyne!

“LACKYA!” he bellowed, and the door opened. “Fetch my son!”

“Begging your pardon, Herr Baron,” came the Lackya’s quavering response, “but... Master Gilgamesh is unavailable.”

Klaus turned to scowl at the servant, which was cringing and wringing its hands. “What do you mean, he’s unavailable?”

“He gave the strictest orders—”

“Does his authority exceed mine? SPEAK!”

“He’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“The Great Hospital—there was a lab accident—”

Klaus cut him off with a snarl. “Then get me Dupree. MOVE!”

The Lackya moved, leaving Klaus to stare at the tank in infuriated disbelief.

“You called, Your Exalted Crankiness?” Dupree asked as she flounced into the lab a few moments later.

He turned to her and pointed at the tank. “Who the blazes is that?!”

She looked and shrugged. “Search me. Never seen her before.”

“That is the girl you brought back!”

“What are you—wait, you mean from the circus? Gil’s girlfriend? That doesn’t look anything like her.”

“No, she doesn’t, because that isn’t the Heterodyne girl.”

Dupree blinked. “But... she was wearing Gil’s ring. I was sure!”

“Fool! Did it never occur to you that the body could have been doctored?”

“Well, no. I mean, why—”

“Never mind why. The Heterodyne girl is still alive, and I want her back here!”

“But it’s been months. She could be anywhere.”

Before Klaus could respond, he heard Boris approaching the door and sighed. “Yes, Boris?”

“The emissary from Sturmhalten, Herr Baron,” Boris announced.

“Show him in.”

“Forgive the intrusion, Herr Baron,” the emissary stated as Klaus turned to the door. “I bring most grave news.” He bowed and handed Klaus a letter. “Prince Aaronev is dead—at his own hand.”

Frowning, Klaus opened the letter and read in handwriting that hadn’t so much changed as matured since he’d last seen it over a decade ago:

Most honored Herr Baron,

It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that my sister Anevka has found a way to take advantage of my father’s long depression and induced him to commit suicide. I have already executed her for this treachery.

As a token of my intent to remain your loyal vassal, allow me to impart to you some intelligence that reached me just moments before my father’s death. A young woman calling herself Agatha Heterodyne has appeared in Mechanicsburg and has entered Castle Heterodyne, which has accepted her claim but is still too broken to acknowledge her publicly. Several of her companions have also entered the castle in the guise of prisoners and are helping her attempt repairs. Known to be among her party is Gil Holzfäller—

Klaus’ mind ground to a halt and refused to process more of the remainder than Tarvek Sturmvoraus’ signature. Tiktoffen hadn’t reported anything out of the ordinary in his latest dispatch, but Gil might have ordered him not to. But if this girl was indeed The Other’s daughter—or worse, The Other herself....

“Boris,” he said, “see that this gentleman is made comfortable, and send me the Lackya that was here a moment ago.”

“Very good, Herr Baron,” Boris answered briskly and ushered the emissary out.

Dupree put a hand on his arm as he tried again to read the letter. “Klaus? What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Klaus replied, getting stuck again on Gil’s pseudonym and looking up. “There’s too much that doesn’t add up.”

The Lackya, looking scared spitless, hesitated in the doorway. “You called, Herr Baron?”

“Where did you say my son is?”

“He... was taken to the Great Hospital, at Herr Wooster’s insistence. He was severely injured by a clank.”

“Tsk,” said Dupree. “Shoulda known one of those toys Grantz was bringing him would get the better of him.”

Klaus scowled at her. “Toys?”

“Spider clanks from the Wastelands. Hell if I know why. I mean, the one that—well, that we thought killed the Heterodyne girl was already destroyed.”

Klaus crumpled the letter without thinking and turned back to the trembling Lackya. “When was this?”

“A-a week ago, Herr Baron.”

“And the constructs he was saving?”

“I... I’m not certain, Herr Baron, but I think he may have arranged for them to be taken with him.”

“And NO ONE TOLD ME?!”

The Lackya fell to its knees. “He gave the strictest orders, Herr Baron!”

“CONFOUND THAT BOY!” Klaus hauled in a deep breath and made an effort to rein in his anger. “Right, order a medical team to take care of this experiment and have Boris meet me on the way to Bay 20. I’m going to Mechanicsburg.”

“Yes, Herr Baron!” the Lackya replied and hurried away.

“Going alone?” Dupree asked as she followed Klaus out of the lab.

“For the moment,” he replied, still unsure how far to trust her, given the lack of opportunity to date for the Vespiary Squad to test her. “I still need to assess the situation and find my son. If Gil is in the hospital, it makes no sense for me to arrive at the head of troops just to visit him. But I can’t depend on anyone to tell me the truth unless I go in person.”

“So... you want me to stand by?”

“Precisely. I’ll signal by radio if I need you.”

She huffed. “Klaus, you know I hate waiting.”

“As do I. But we know too little to know if there’s even a threat.” He didn’t want to suspect Bill’s daughter of anything, and he wasn’t going to accuse her falsely. But she was Lucrezia’s daughter, too, and there was Mr. Rovainen’s testimony to contend with, his utter certainty that she was The Other. Klaus simply couldn’t be sure what to believe.

“All right. I’ll head on to my ship.” She paused. “Be careful, Klaus.”

He managed to smile. “I will.”

So it was that after giving Boris instructions as to which units to have on standby and what to say if the Jägers turned up to inform him they were leaving, Klaus boarded the fastest airship in the fleet and sped off to Mechanicsburg. He tried not to worry, to tell himself that Sturmvoraus was only trying to cause trouble for Gil by claiming he was in Castle Heterodyne... but it didn’t exactly work.

Sun met the ship in front of the hospital. “Ah, Klaus,” he said. “You’re early. Punch and Judy won’t be ready for the final decanting until next week.”

Klaus blinked. “So they are here.”

“Yes. I gather Gilgamesh had given orders for them to be transferred as soon as possible.”

“—You gather? Haven’t you seen him?”

Sun shrugged and shook his head. “Should I have?”

“I had word he was injured, badly so. But then, I had to pry even that much out of the Lackya.”

“Well, he hasn’t been admitted here, and you know I’d have told you at once if he were, even if he tried to order me not to.” Sun smiled wryly. “He’s as terrible a patient as his father.”

Klaus huffed. “Very amusing.”

“I can see you’re worried. Why don’t you come in and have a look at Punch and Judy while I make some discreet inquiries? Gilgamesh has done a remarkable job with them; it was touch and go to keep them stable earlier in the week, but he’d done all the hard work with the repairs already.”

Klaus took a deep breath and nodded. He was proud of Gil for saving his old friends, which was one of the main reasons he hadn’t let on that he’d known all about them. The other was his belief that working on that project was as healthy an outlet for Gil’s grief over the Heterodyne girl as any. But now... now he didn’t know what to believe.

“All right, then. This way.”

“Wait, Sun, first... have you heard any rumors about a Heterodyne heir entering the castle?”

Sun scoffed and started inside. “Klaus, there are always rumors. Granted, I’ve been rather busy this week, but I haven’t heard any new ones. If there is, though, I suspect the castle’s already dealt with him.”

“This one’s a girl.”

Sun stopped. “That’s new.”

Klaus finally followed him. “She’s Bill and Lucrezia’s daughter.”

“You’ve met her?”

“I had her on Castle Wulfenbach for a time, though I didn’t know then who she was. Punch and Judy had raised her and turned up to help her escape; that’s how they were killed.”

“What?!”

“That wasn’t my doing! It was Von Pinn! You know how she was after... after Klaus Barry’s death. They got between her and Agatha, and she just... tore them to shreds.”

Sun hissed and fell into step beside Klaus. “But what about... Agatha, you said her name was? Where is she?”

“I don’t know. I was told she’d been killed in the Wastelands, but I’ve just discovered that that isn’t true. I’ve also heard she’s here—with Gil.”

“I’ll ask around. But if Gilgamesh is in Mechanicsburg, he never entered my hospital; I’ll swear to it.”

Klaus sighed heavily. “Thank you, Sun.”

Sun escorted him to the lab where Punch and Judy were being treated and let him check their monitors for himself. They were indeed in the final stages of healing but wouldn’t be ready to decant for several days yet. Then Sun went off to start his inquiries while his granddaughter showed Klaus to a waiting room, where Klaus paced as he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

“Herr Baron?”

Klaus spun to see a fresh-faced young guard standing in the doorway saluting him. “Report,” he ordered, returning the salute.

“Thursday night, Herr Baron, the town... shut down for several hours. The clocks, drawbridges, street lights, all stopped suddenly and restarted just as suddenly.”

“I see. And before then? Have you seen the prisoner manifest for the last week?”

The guard handed Klaus a clipboard. “There was a shipment of new prisoners on Wednesday.”

Klaus skimmed the names: Lars Apfelbaum, Moonsock (noted as a construct), Pix, and yes, Gil Holzfäller. “Red fire,” he breathed. “What about tourists? An Englishman, in particular, tall and dark with side whiskers.”

The guard shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything about him, Herr Baron.”

“Or a construct, a blue arthropod dressed in orange, stands maybe two feet high.”

The guard shook his head again.

Klaus sighed. “Anything else?”

“Not yet, Herr Ba-”

“Herr Baron!” interrupted a member of the Black Squad, appearing beside the other guard. “Something’s happening in the castle—some sort of huge fight we can hear clear outside!”

Klaus didn’t wait for more information. He charged out of the hospital, appropriating a clank gun along the way, and barged into the castle. “Castle, where is Gil?” he demanded as he ran through the front gate.

“Hello to you, too, Klaus,” the castle replied dryly. “So he is your son. The mistress said so, but—”

“Where is he?!”

“Tch, touchy. Well, as they do appear to be in a spot of trouble I can’t help them with at the moment—”

“They meaning—”

“The mistress and your twins.”

“WHAT?!”

“Oh, here, it’ll be easier to just show you.”

With that, the castle dropped the floor underneath Klaus and sent him down a chute to land mostly on his feet just a meter or two from the sound of gunfire. “CASTLE!” roared a voice far too like Lucrezia’s for comfort. “SQUASH HIM!”

“Forgive me, Mistress, but I cannot,” the castle replied. “But I have brought someone who can.”

Klaus rounded the corner to see Tiktoffen holding a gun on Agatha, Gil, and a green-haired girl with Skifandrian swords. He smelled blood, but the three of them didn’t appear to be injured, which was as far as he could let his focus go at the moment.

Tiktoffen turned and blanched. “Herr Baron!” he cried, aiming his gun at Gil’s heart. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

Klaus snarled and fired, as did Tiktoffen, but Gil had taken the warning and ducked. Tiktoffen’s shot missed. Klaus’ didn’t.

When no other prisoners came running to attack—and a glance around showed several corpses but no other live humans—Klaus took a deep breath, let it out again, and looked at Agatha. “Now—”

“Sorry, Herr Baron, but there isn’t time,” she interrupted. “Castle? Keep him safe until we get back.”

“Certainly, Mistress,” the castle replied, and two stone fists reared up from the floor and grabbed Klaus’ legs before he could run, startling him into dropping the gun.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Klaus demanded.

“Don’t worry, Father,” Gil replied, looking remarkably cheerful, as the three of them rushed off. “It should only take another couple of hours.”

“What—but—”

The Skifandrian girl kissed his cheek as she passed. “Mother says hello.”

And then they were gone.

“He’s right, you know,” said the castle, opening the floor in precise locations to dispose of the slain. “There’s only one repair site remaining. The mistress still needs to renew my energy supply, but that can wait. And I believe the Doom Bell is nearly ready as well.”

“You could at least bring me a chair,” Klaus snapped.

“I could, yes.”

He sighed heavily and resigned himself to an uncomfortable wait. To add insult to injury, a mimmoth emerged from a hole in the wall, caught sight of Klaus, trumpeted in dismay, and fled.

“Did you really call yourself Chump when you were in Skifander?” asked the castle with an air of making small talk.

“Castle,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, “shut. up.”

After a pause, the castle said, “You needn’t worry, you know. Your daughter’s giving the mistress warrior training, and they’ve all saved each other’s lives a dozen times or more.”

“Really.”

“Things... got a bit heated with some of the prisoners. Dr. Merlot, especially. I think your son was still under the influence of battledraught—”

“What?! Where would he—”

“Oh, Mamma Gkika’s, of course. I can tell you that now because... ah. There. The final repair is complete. One moment....” The castle launched into some terrible Heterodyne symphonic piece punctuated by screams until, presumably, Agatha and her party reached the front gate for her grand introduction to Mechanicsburg.

And then the Doom Bell rang.

“As I was saying,” the castle resumed once Klaus had mostly come around afterward, “now that the mistress has been properly acknowledged and the Jägers are returning—”

Klaus shook his head to try to clear it better. “What? No, they’re... they’re....”

“Honestly, Klaus, you ought to know them better than that by now. In any case, young Gilgamesh really was in quite a state when his friends brought him to Gkika—broken back, broken heart. I don’t know how word got to the mistress, but it did, by some miracle. Miss Zeetha was with her.”

“You were eavesdropping?”

“Well, not precisely. My awareness was still rather limited at the time. I learned much more once they spoke to me in the crypts, and again after they actually entered my halls. Oh, and that reminds me... what have you done with Von Pinn?”

“Why do you ask?” Klaus growled.

“She might like to know that her original body’s been vacated and is ready for her to return.”

“She... what?!”

“Of course, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. She’s really Otilia, Muse of Protection. As an experiment, Lucrezia transferred her mind into Von Pinn and a copy of me into Otilia. That’s how they were able to restore my consciousness, in fact, because that version of me was able to lead them to Lucrezia’s secret lab—”

“Her secret—”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure the mistress will be glad to show it to you when she returns; in fact, she said as much on the way down. And do stop interrupting!”

Klaus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps you’d better start over, then, and explain from the beginning. How did you speak to Gil and Agatha in the crypts?”

“Ah, well, that part is a Heterodyne secret, I’m afraid. But I can begin after the mistress proved her claim. You know, I suppose, that she’s Master Bill’s daughter.”

“Yes, but it’s...” Good? He wasn’t sure that was the right word yet. “Nice to have the word of an expert.”

“Well, by that point, your children and their companions had convinced young von Zinzer—who really is an excellent minion—to guide them to the area to which the mistress would be returning....”

Klaus stifled the urge to ask questions as the castle rambled on about the somewhat terrifying scrapes the children had gotten into over the course of their repair work. He did ascertain that Agatha had asked Wooster to run errands for Gkika and that Gil had insisted on Zoing also staying at Gkika’s until the castle was repaired. The castle also admitted that the construct that had come in with Gil was a cat—probably Vapnoople’s—and that Merlot and all the other prisoners likely to make trouble for Agatha were already dead. And from the sound of things, Zeetha had actually saved Gil’s life more than once, which was... something of a relief. But Klaus was about to lose his patience for the castle’s storytelling style when suddenly the Doom Bell rang again.

“What was that for?!” Klaus gasped when he could speak.

“Hmm? Oh, that,” the castle replied. “Double celebration today, don’t you know. The mistress has returned, and she’s taken a consort.”

He felt like Punch had just hit him in the solar plexus. “She’s... what?”

“Oh, yes, Father Yglyn announced it just now. They’re married.”

“They’re... no. No, if... if she’s... she’s....”

“Klaus,” the castle replied, much more seriously. “Do you honestly think I don’t know the difference between Lucrezia and her daughter?”

He ran a trembling hand over his mouth. “You’re sure, then, that Lucrezia....”

“Was The Other. Yes. And there are ways in which Mistress Agatha is like her—in the voice, especially. But she is Master Bill’s child in all the ways that matter... and some of the more annoying ones,” it added grumpily.

He couldn’t help laughing. “You mean the best ones.”

“By your definition, perhaps. She hardly lets me hurt anyone.”

He felt dizzy with relief. Castle Heterodyne was hardly the best character witness, of course, but it had known Lucrezia and been betrayed by her. Perhaps... perhaps he wouldn’t need to send for Dupree after all.

“Ah, Master Gil thinks you might need a lie-down. Come on, then.” The castle suddenly released its grip on Klaus’ legs—and dropped him through the floor and onto a rather dusty bed.

“Thank you so much,” he grumbled once he stopped coughing but lay down anyway.

Chapter Text

About an hour had passed in Klaus’ reckoning, during which he’d dozed off and on despite himself, when he suddenly heard scuttling footsteps in the hall followed by more purposeful ones. When the scuttling stopped, he raised his head slightly and was somehow unsurprised to see blue antennae and the top of a fuzzy orange hat appearing over the edge of the mattress.

“Ah, Zoing, there you are,” he said.

Zoing clambered the rest of the way onto the mattress and then ran over to hug Klaus’ neck, or at least as much of it as he could reach. “Hidad. Teee!”

There was a rumbling chuckle from the doorway, and Klaus turned his head just as Gkika, her skin matching her hair for a change, walked in with a tray. “Miz Agatha dun vant hyu to miss lonch.”

Come to think of it, Klaus wasn’t sure he’d had breakfast, either. He sat up, dislodging Zoing, and scooted back against the headboard. “Am I a prisoner?”

Gkika set the tray on his lap. “Dot depends on hyu, I tink. Vat hyu vant from our Heterodyne?”

He sighed. “At the moment, mostly answers. And I think I’m more likely to get them from you, at least where Gil’s concerned. Gkika... what happened?”

She turned deep blue and sat down on the edge of the bed. “He iz vun chopped-op keed venn Higgs und Vooster bring him in.”

“Zingaboom,” Zoing added gravely.

“Und Hy iz goot, bot dere iz some vounds efen Hy ken’t heal. Vit a broken beck und vitout Miz Agatha... vas very bad. He vouldn’t eat, vouldn’t drink... chust lie dere sayink, ‘Let me die.’”

Zoing made a distressed noise and wrung his claws.

Klaus’ gut twisted. “Didn’t you give him something?”

Gkika shook her head. “Not denn. De patient hef to vant to live. Vas only vun vay dot vould heppen. Und it deed.” She turned a very feminine shade of pink and smiled. “My boyz bring heem Miz Agatha.”

“Hegettagorl!” Zoing crowed and whistled for emphasis.

“And no one told me.” Klaus set the tray aside, feeling sick. “He ordered people not to tell me. He could have died, and I would never have known.” He should have seen the signs, understood how deeply losing Agatha had hurt Gil... but no, he’d been too wrapped up in trying to bring her back with the wrong brain. A fool’s errand, as it had turned out. It would have been even more so if it had cost him the one thing that had been driving him for the last twenty years: the life of his son.

Klaus Wulfenbach, lord of Europa, prize chump, and Father of the Year.

“Klaus.” Gkika turned red and wrapped a hand around his wrist. “He vasn’t tinkink. He dun vant hyu to be angry vit heem for beink an eediot.”

He looked down at his hands. “At least he comes by it honestly.”

She let go of his wrist and smacked the back of his head.

“OW!”

“Dun hyu start! Hyu eat op—dey gun be beck preety soon.”

“All right, all right, I’ll eat something.”

Zoing shoved the teacup into his hands. “Teee!”

Klaus chuckled in spite of himself. “And drink the tea. Thank you, Zoing.”

Zoing made a satisfied noise, but neither he nor Gkika left the bed while Klaus ate.

Just as he finished, the castle said, “Ah, Klaus. The mistress requests your presence in the green drawing room.”

Klaus sighed. “Right. Thank you, Castle. Er—”

“Oh, leave the tray. I’ll have a minion come to collect it.”

“Very well, then. But I don’t think they like being called minions,” he added as Gkika stood to let him up.

“Since when?” the castle asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

Gkika laughed, and Klaus rolled his eyes and got up.

He thought long and hard as she escorted him through the halls about what he ought to say when he got there. A mostly calm, rational speech had worked itself out by the time they arrived. But the moment he walked into the room and saw Gil and Agatha sitting side by side trying not to giggle at each other and Zeetha not hiding a smirk at all, never mind the three very pleased Jägers at the back of the room and the exasperated cat construct, all of that flew out the window.

What came out instead was, “LACKWIT! How can I trust you to run the empire when I can’t even trust you to keep yourself in one piece?”

Gil stood, eyes flashing. “I don’t think you need to worry about that any longer. I, Gilgamesh Heterodyne, hereby renounce all claim and title to the Wulfenbach Empire.”

For the second time that day, Klaus felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “No... no, son, that’s not what I—”

Gil’s expression softened. “I know, Father. I’m not doing this to spite you, believe me. But you’ve got all Europa from which to choose a successor. Agatha needs me—and I need her,” he added, taking Agatha’s hand. “I’m not going to stop being your son. But there’s too much at stake for me to remain your heir.”

Gkika steered Klaus into a chair as he floundered for a response. “But... Gilgamesh, I... I did this for you!”

Gil shook his head as he sat down. “That you did it to keep me safe, I believe. And Zeetha’s explained a lot about why you’re so paranoid about my safety.”

“I wasn’t sent here to kill him,” Zeetha noted. “And even if I had been, Agatha is my zumil. I could never hurt her that way.”

“But you denied me my family, drove off my friends, and never once asked me what I wanted,” Gil continued. “No, I don’t want the Peace to fall apart and Europa to go back to the Long War, but that doesn’t mean I want to be the one in charge.”

“Do you think I wanted to be in charge?” Klaus retorted. “I built the empire because I was the only one who could!”

“You did it because you were the only one who would!”

Agatha cleared her throat. “This might be a moot point, Herr Baron, if you live long enough for one of our children to inherit from you.”

Klaus blinked at her.

“Un-unless it doesn’t work that way?”

“No. No, we... could make such arrangements. I just... had halfway hoped to retire before then.”

“Oh. Well. Uh....”

“We could name Boris regent if we had to,” Gil deadpanned.

Klaus burst out laughing in spite of himself. “Boris would hate you. But I suppose it’s a better option than some.”

“Like Sturmvoraus.”

“Yes.” Klaus sobered. “Yes, and that may be one advantage to your having married so quickly. Aaronev’s killed himself—and according to Tarvek, Anevka drove him to it.”

Gil frowned. “Oh, really. That’s interesting.”

“Um,” said Agatha. “Who’s....”

“Neighbors. The House of Sturmvoraus is the ruling family of Sturmhalten. Tarvek will have been crowned prince by now.”

“I don’t object to that,” said Klaus. “And since his information that you two were here turned out to be accurate, he may be slightly more trustworthy than his father. But I would have objected to his trying to marry Agatha.”

“Uh, thank you?” Agatha ventured. “But... why would he....”

“Aside from the fact that virtually every spark in Europa would want to marry you to gain control of Mechanicsburg? Aaronev was... unusually devoted to your mother. He may even have been working with her after she became The Other.”

The Jägers shot each other worried looks.

Agatha’s startled green eyes flew wide as she gripped Gil’s hand more tightly. “But... but what does that have to do with me?”

“We’ve just discovered a new type of revenant—otherwise normal people, but infected with slaver wasps and thus forced to obey The Other’s commands. At last count, there were over 170 on Castle Wulfenbach. One of them was Mr. Rovainen.”

“Should I know that name?”

“He was with the crew that came to take care of Othar, that day you got so mad at me for knocking him out,” Gil explained. “Little man, kind of looks like a mummy....”

“Oh, him.” Agatha’s lip curled. “He made a pass at me.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow. “Did he indeed? And what did you say to him?”

“I asked him if he had something he should be doing, and... and I told him to go do it.”

“You’re sure that’s all?”

“Quite sure, Herr Baron.”

“It’s true,” said the cat, finally coming over to the humans and climbing into a vacant chair. “I’d been keeping an eye on Agatha through the ducts. She used her command voice—”

“Well, I was really mad!”

“—but that was, in fact, all she said. The exact words, even.”

Klaus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He must have had prior orders, then, either from Lucrezia or from the Geisterdamen.”

“Why?” Agatha asked. “What did—”

“He activated the hive engine. And he swore you ordered him to do it.”

“VOT?!” the Jägers exploded and all started talking over each other.

“Dot’s krezy—”

“Miz Agatha vouldn’t—”

“She’d neffer—”

Klaus held up a hand. “I’m beginning to believe that now. But the revenants are controlled by voice—particularly by Lucrezia’s voice. And Agatha, your voice is... very much like your mother’s. Especially the command voice.”

Agatha gulped audibly.

“Iz goot hyu married Master Gil,” Gkika growled and turned the color of flame to match her furiously protective expression. “Dis vay no vun gun mek hyu control der bogs for dem.”

“Agatha,” Zeetha breathed, horrified. “We almost—”

“Don’t,” Agatha interrupted, sounding close to tears (and not at all like Lucrezia, for some reason). “I don’t even want to think it.”

“What?” Klaus demanded.

“We... tried to cross the mountains through Passholdt,” Zeetha admitted. “But it was overrun with monsters—some new kind of revenant, maybe. I don’t know. We actually had to stop Agatha from going in to try to save any townspeople that might have been left.”

“There weren’t any,” the cat insisted.

“We didn’t know that,” Agatha objected, one tear escaping down her cheek.

“Vos not vise,” said the purple Jäger. “But iz vot hyu poppa vould hef done.”

Klaus frowned. “This is the first I’m hearing of it.”

“That... may not be a coincidence,” said Gil, taking Agatha’s glasses and pulling her closer so she could rest her head on his shoulder. “The next open pass that leads to Mechanicsburg is Balan’s Gap. And there aren’t any towns between Sturmhalten and Passholdt.”

The green Jäger nodded and stepped forward. “Dot Prinz Aaronev, he stole vun fancy magic doll from de circus three years ago. Master Payne vas vorried he steal de odder vun. Ve didn’t tink... he might try to steal Miz Agatha.”

Agatha buried her face in Gil’s shoulder and started crying in earnest.

“Shhh,” Gil said, wrapping both arms around her tightly. “It’s all right, Liebchen. You’re safe here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She clung to him. “Gil....”

“Shhh. It’s okay. I promise.”

Klaus cleared his throat. “I do feel significantly better about this marriage than I did fifteen minutes ago. And I’m going to get to the bottom of this business with the revenants. Until I’m certain Agatha is safe, Mechanicsburg will remain under the protection of the empire.”

“Iz not hyu decision,” Gkika objected.

“Miz Agatha ken’t decide ennyting right now,” countered the green Jäger. “Hy tink it ken vait a few days.”

Klaus nodded and stood. “Fair enough. Agatha, Gil, I’m... I’m sorry to have spoiled your wedding day.”

Agatha hiccupped and turned her head to look up at him past Gil’s chin. “It’s... it’s okay. We needed to know. Thank you, Herr Baron.”

“I’ll... plan to stay in town for a few days, if that’s all right, at least until Punch and Judy are decanted. And I’ll send Dupree to deal with Passholdt.”

Agatha nodded.

“How are Punch and Judy?” Gil asked. “Have you been to see them?”

“I have,” Klaus replied. “I went to the hospital first, looking for you. They’re stable, healing well. Sun was very favorably impressed, and so am I.”

Gil smiled, looking both pleased and embarrassed.

Agatha sniffled and smiled proudly. “He’s amazing,” she stated, then raised her head enough to give Gil a peck on the jaw, which made him blush and grin sheepishly.

Klaus chuckled. “I believe that’s my cue to leave.” He paused. “Take care of my son, Lady Heterodyne.”

“I intend to,” Agatha replied.

“Oh, thanks very much,” Gil grumbled, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes.

Klaus chuckled again and turned to leave, but just as he got to the door, one last question occurred to him, and he turned back. “Oh, Gil... what are your plans for Wooster?”

Gil cleared his throat. “Well, unless you want him yourself, Father, I thought I’d have him stay on as my valet here.”

Klaus nodded. “Good thinking.” That would get the British spy off Castle Wulfenbach, and Gil would already know the identity of the spy in Mechanicsburg. Albia was sure to send someone else to spy on Klaus, but that could be dealt with when the time came.

“Well, he did save my life, even when I didn’t want him to.” Gil looked at Agatha, still nestled against his shoulder. “I think I owe him for that.”

Klaus nodded slowly, remembering belatedly that Wooster really was more than just a spy. “Yes. Yes, so do I.” And on that note, he left.

He did pause once more, however, just inside the front door. “Castle? No one is to interrupt my son’s wedding night—including you.”

“You,” replied the castle, opening the door, “are no fun at all.”

Lars had been to Mechanicsburg before. He knew all about the skulls and grinning gargoyles at the gate, the skeletal reaper above the portcullises designed to look like a monster’s gaping maw. It had never unsettled him in years past.

But then, in years past, he’d never been knocked off his horse by... whatever the hell that sound had been earlier. He’d withstood the first blast tolerably well, but the second, not even an hour later, had sent him sprawling, and he hadn’t even realized it until he woke up on the ground. If that was a bell that tolled for him, this trip was about to go very, very badly.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” an older man on a bench outside the gate called as Lars and Augie rode up.

Lars took a moment to place him as they stopped. “Ah, Herr Heliotrope, isn’t it? Good afternoon to you, sir.”

Shrewd blue eyes assessed Lars’ face. “Let me see—ah, yes, Master Payne’s Circus of Adventure. It’s been a while.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’d heard you might be arriving soon, but not when. Fortuitous timing, I must say. Our Lady Heterodyne has just returned to us and been married today. A good Heterodyne show will be just the thing to round out the celebrations.”

Augie shot Lars a worried look.

“Ah,” said Lars. “So... Miss Clay and Princess Zeetha arrived safely, then?”

Herr Heliotrope chuckled. “Indeed they did, young man, but they can tell you all about that themselves. Well, I believe you already know where to go. The cathedral square may be a bit crowded, but someone will be there to direct you where best to set up. And I’ll see that word gets to Lady Heterodyne that you’re here.”

Lars nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“We should probably do Turbines of Atlantis,” said Augie as they rode into town. “That one isn’t likely to offend anyone.”

Lars rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess that was the Doom Bell we heard earlier. What a bizarre way to celebrate a wedding.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure it does spell doom for anyone who wants to try to control the Heterodynes. Wonder who she married, though.”

Lars looked up at the castle as they passed through the gate and back into the sunlight. It didn’t look noticeably different; the damage from The Other’s attack was still quite visible. Yet if he squinted, he could just make out two people up on the roof of the highest tower, doing something with the spires. As the riders got closer, the people on the roof turned to each other and kissed—and Lars caught a flash of long strawberry blonde hair on the shorter figure.

He gasped. “Is... is that....”

“Hey,” Augie interrupted. “Eyes on the road.”

Lars blinked and realized he was about to miss the turn. “Right. Sorry.” It could be a coincidence, he told himself as he resolutely kept his eyes on where they were going. Lucrezia was a blonde, they say; her daughter might be, too. Plus, it’s way too far from here to that tower for me to see anything clearly. It could have been a trick of the light. It could have been... it could have been... dammit, Lars, you’ll see her soon enough—you can ask her then. You’ve got a job to do right now, so get to it!

Upon their arrival at the cathedral square, a briskly efficient young lady in white directed Lars and Augie to the north side of the space, past rows of tables that were apparently being set up for a banquet. As they passed the cathedral itself, however, a joyful shout brought them up short, and Zeetha came running down the steps, followed by a blond man who looked like a sailor.

“We were hoping you guys would get here today!” she called.

“Zeetha!” Lars called back. “Where’s Agatha?”

“Busy, but she’ll be here soon. Lars, Augie, this is my boyfriend, Axel Higgs.”

Higgs raised an eyebrow as Lars dismounted. “So you’re Lars. Glad to meet you, sir. ’Fraid I had to borrow your name for a bit to be able to help Her Ladyship.”

“Well, that’s all right,” Lars replied, shaking the fellow’s hand. “Any friend of Zeetha and Agatha’s is a friend of mine.”

Augie made a choked noise and dismounted himself.

Zeetha frowned. “Augie? What’s wrong? You look awful.”

“Er, well,” Augie began but hesitated.

“The Doom Bell gave us both a pretty bad turn,” Lars confessed. “But really, Augie hasn’t been himself since Sturmhalten.”

Both Zeetha and Higgs looked like thunder. “So something did happen in Sturmhalten,” said Zeetha. “Is Moxana—”

“She’s fine. Nobody came for her. But Augie... well, he hasn’t said much to me, but....”

“Right,” said Higgs and turned to Augie. “You look like you could use a drink, sir.”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Augie confessed.

Zeetha nodded. “Good thinking. Send someone to get Father while you’re at it; I’m sure he’ll want to hear this himself. We’ll get the horses to the livery stable.”

Higgs nodded back and ushered Augie back toward the tables.

“Father,” Lars repeated as Zeetha took the reins of Augie’s horse and started leading the way to the nearest livery stable. “You mean you found Chump?”

She chuckled. “Lars, you are in for a ton of shocks today. Yes, I found my father and my twin brother. They’re here in town.”

Brother? “Why is that shocking?”

“That part isn’t so much. Surprising, yes, but wait ’til you meet them.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Depends on your point of view.” She looked at him more seriously. “Lars, what happened in Sturmhalten?”

He sighed. “Command performance of Socket Wench of Prague—and then the prince ran out about five lines into Pix’s first scene. It looked like he was crying.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Crying. At Socket Wench. The raunchiest comedy in the Heterodyne Boys repertoire.”

“Well, Pix was doing a bang-up impression of Agatha playing Lucrezia. I don’t....”

She cut him off with a snarl. “That figures.”

“What? Agatha said—”

“I know, I know. The problem’s not with Pix. But thank the gods we weren’t there.”

“Zeetha. What do you know? What’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you much right now. But you remember that day you and Agatha were out walking and the Geisterdamen showed up?”

He shivered. “How can I forget? We’d been doing a scene from West Pole.”

“They thought they heard Lucrezia.”

He blinked. “I... I don’t follow you.”

“That’s all right. Just... there’s a chance Aaronev might have tried to kidnap Agatha if we’d been there. We still don’t know all the details of why.”

“Well, the princess kidnapped Augie briefly because he’s a spark, so....”

“What?!”

“That’s all I know. Honest.”

She growled something that was probably a curse in her native language, but the conversation was halted by their arrival at the livery stable. Once the horses were delivered, she made a deliberate effort to change the subject and started filling him in on some of their adventures with the Jägers, taking hidden pathways through the mountains to get to Mechanicsburg. (Krosp had apparently discovered that he liked bat, which had prompted Maxim and Oggie to reminisce at length about the Red Heterodyne and his bat sandwiches during the campaign against the Unseen Empire.) So by the time they got back to the square, Lars had almost forgotten to ask any more about what Zeetha knew about Sturmhalten and why Agatha would have been in danger there. He’d even mostly forgotten the lingering sense of dread, though not necessarily of danger, he’d had since the second ringing of the Doom Bell.

They’d just sorted out where to put the concession stand when he heard, “Lars! Zeetha!” and turned—and his mouth went dry.

Agatha was walking up, smiling... and holding hands with the madboy from the airship, who was grinning. He wasn’t in fancy clothes this time, just a plain shirt and trousers and a couple of waistcoats that would be practical for adventuring. But his hair was the same. And Agatha was holding his hand.

“You got here just in time,” she said to Lars. “I’m looking forward to getting to see the show for a change. Which play are you doing?”

Zeetha, taking pity on him, answered, “He’s been talking about The Turbines of Atlantis.”

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” replied the madboy. “And plenty safe, given the audience.”

“Oh, where are my manners?” Agatha groaned. “Lars, this is my husband, Gil. Gil, this is Lars.”

Husband?

Husband?!

“Ah, so you’re the man I have to thank for giving my wife kissing lessons,” said Gil and offered his hand. His tone was pleasant enough, but when Lars shook hands with him, there was a distinct warning glint in his eyes that made Lars feel like he’d eaten too much green cheese.

“Agatha,” he choked out, “I... I thought you said....”

“I did,” Agatha replied with less regret than steel in her eyes. “I was wrong.”

“She saved my life,” Gil added, taking her hand again. “We’re just lucky Father Yglyn was willing to marry us today, as soon as her accession was official.”

Accession—

“You’re the Heterodyne?!” he gasped.

“Glad you could join us, Lars,” Krosp deadpanned, which was the first time Lars actually registered that he was on the other side of Agatha.

Zeetha snickered.

Lars rounded on her. “You knew?!”

“Only since we left with the Jägers,” Zeetha laughed. “I did warn you there were shocks ahead, didn’t I?”

A mischievous look crossed Agatha’s face. “Did you tell him you’re my sister-in-law now?”

“Not yet. But then, you didn’t say that Gil’s your consort.”

“C-consort?” Lars stammered.

“Oh, yeah. Renounced his inheritance and everything.”

Forget green cheese. Lars was starting to feel like he’d had one of Taki’s experimental meat pies that had the wrong kind of mushrooms in it.

“Heh,” said G—Lord Heterodyne. “Better go ahead and drop the last bombshell so he can recover in time for the show.”

“Well, I had mentioned that Chump is here,” Zeetha admitted. “So Lars? He’s right over there.” And she pointed to the table where Augie was sitting and talking...

... with the baron.

“Whoa-ho, easy there, Lars,” Lord Heterodyne said, steering Lars to a chair that Krosp was pushing toward them. “Take a few deep breaths. No one’s going to kill you.”

“I—I—er....” Sitting down hard, Lars took a deep breath and held it briefly, and his head did spin a little slower. A second helped even more. “I, uh. Th-thank you... Lord Heterodyne.”

Lord Heterodyne looked startled, then smiled. “You’re the first person to call me that. Congratulations.” And he slapped Lars on the back slightly harder than strictly necessary.

But Agatha was still looking at Augie and the baron. “Why is Augie—”

“News from Sturmhalten,” Zeetha said gravely. “Dimo was right.”

Agatha hissed. “Krosp, do you mind keeping an eye on Lars and helping the circus set up when they get here? We should probably go give Augie some support and find out what happened.”

“As long as I don’t have to shovel anything,” Krosp replied, “fine.”

Lord Heterodyne gave him a strange look. “Shovel?”

“Prof. Moonsock had him working as a stable hand,” Zeetha explained.

Lord Heterodyne snorted. “Hardly a dignified position for the emperor of all cats.”

“Thank you!” Krosp cried. “Finally, someone understands!”

Agatha came over and put a gentle hand on Lars’ shoulder. “Lars, I am sorry to let you down this way, and to drop all this on you and run.”

Lars ran a hand over his mouth. “No, no, it’s....” He swallowed hard and forced himself to meet her eyes and say, “I’m happy for you.”

She smiled, and they left him alone with Krosp. He held himself together until they were out of earshot, then buried his face in his hands with a groan and slumped forward, catching his elbows on his knees.

“So now you know,” Krosp said, not unkindly.

“A Heterodyne,” Lars moaned. “That’s what Zeetha was trying to tell me, why the Geisters thought Agatha sounded like Lucrezia.”

“Yep.”

“That’s why the Jägers followed her from Zumzum.”

“Right again.”

“And that’s why she wouldn’t let me come with you.”

“In her defense, she hadn’t made up her mind to marry him until we got here. When she said he wasn’t her boyfriend... well, she was in pretty deep denial about what she felt, but she did have reason not to trust him.”

Lars dropped his hands. “Even so... an ordinary guy like me... I never really had any chance at all, did I?”

“You might have one day. But something tells me ‘one day’ would never have come after Sturmhalten.”

Lars sighed heavily, then registered that last and looked at Krosp. “Why? What did they want with Agatha?”

“We’re not certain,” Krosp warned, though his ears were back. “But nothing good in any case. She wouldn’t be here married to Gil today, that’s for sure.”

Lars took a deep breath and sat up straight. “I want to help her. Even—I mean—”

“Lars. She’s in the most secure fortress in Europa, and she’s married to the baron’s son. What do you think you can do for her?”

“I don’t know. I just....”

“Hey.” Krosp put a paw on Lars’ knee. “It’s a good instinct. Just don’t let it get you in trouble.”

Lars swallowed hard and nodded. “Thanks, Krosp.”

And then the circus arrived, so Lars put the chair back and started directing the setup while Agatha called Abner and Master Payne over to talk with the baron. Lars tried not to pay much attention to what was going on there, though he did glance over once and see Abner shaking hands with Lord Heterodyne. Then Zeetha waved Pix over, and Lars resolutely looked away.

Abner and Pix came back a few minutes later, arm in arm and looking shaken but relieved. “So, Lars,” Abner said. “You up for Turbines of Atlantis?”

“Kind of have to be, don’t I?” Lars replied with a rueful chuckle. “At least it’s not one with Lucrezia in it.”

Pix shook her head. “I still can’t believe Agatha’s Bill and Lucrezia’s daughter.”

Lars hadn’t quite made that connection yet and groaned as he felt himself blush. “Thanks for the reminder that I’ve been kissing my character’s child.”

Abner smiled wryly. “What are the odds, right?”

“That just... gah.” Somehow it made the loss easier to bear, though. “But enough about my being an idiot—are you two okay?”

Pix chuckled. “Lord Heterodyne wanted to apologize for threatening to shoot me, so I had to apologize for lying to him.”

Abner nodded. “And then the baron wanted to know about Olga.”

Lars blinked. “What? Why?”

“He brought her back—with someone else’s brain.”

“Okay, that’s... kind of creepy.”

“Tell me about it. At least we got to tell him about Sturmhalten, though, and give him more information about Passholdt.”

André wandered over at that point. “So what show are we doing?”

“Turbines of Atlantis,” Lars said. And by some miracle, the words didn’t stick in his throat when he added, “It’s Agatha’s wedding day.”

That got around well before Master Payne returned, and soon the entire circus was thrown into a frenzy of preparation for the best show they’d staged in years. Even with the banquet being put on by and for the Mechanicsburgers, there were enough tourists in town that the concession stand did brisk business, and the turnout for the show was superb. Zeetha even agreed to come back for a final encore performance of her swordsmanship act. All the same, whenever he was onstage, Lars had to force himself not to look back toward the back of the crowd, where the baron was, knowing that the Heterodynes would most likely be sitting with him.

He made it through to the curtain call, by which point the baron had disappeared. But away on the far side of the square, under a streetlight, he caught sight of the Heterodynes standing arm in arm and talking excitedly with an Indian man and an Irishwoman. Then Lord Heterodyne said something to Agatha... and Agatha kissed him.

Lars’ stomach felt like it was filled with concrete.

“HOY! Meester Larz!”

The cheerful shout jolted Lars out of his shock, and he looked down to see the three Jägers grinning up at him from just past the stage. “Oh. Er. Hello.”

“De kitty sez hyu iz heffink a bad day,” said the purple one. “So ve thot ve tek hyu out for a drink!”

“Oh, uh, thanks. I, um....”

“Go on, Lars,” Master Payne said. “We’ll be staying a few days.”

Lars nodded. “All right, then.” He still felt a little skittish around the Jägers, but since these three clearly knew why he was having a bad day and were on good enough terms with Krosp, they probably weren’t out to poison him or anything for having dared to kiss their Heterodyne. So he jumped down from the stage to join them.

“Dot’s it!” The green one slapped him on the back. “Ve go hef sum fun, yah? Iz time to celebrate!”

“Honestly, I don’t—”

“Miz Agatha is safe, und hyu doll friend is safe. Dot hyu ken celebrate, right?”

Lars thought about the dangers they’d evidently avoided in Sturmhalten. “Yes, I suppose that is worth celebrating.”

“Goot man!” said the blond one as they herded him away. “Hyu come vit uz—ve introduce hyu to de pack!”

“The... the pack?”

And before he could really brace himself, Lars was surrounded by friendly fanged grins and boisterous compliments on his portrayal of ‘Master Bill.’ He was so overwhelmed that he lost track of where he was until the group slowed down in front of a door.

The door to the most infamous tavern in Transylvania.

And the owner was holding it open with her shoulder, a massive stein in each hand, and grinning at him.

“Vell, dollink?” asked Mamma Gkika. “Hyu comink in?”

Lars swallowed hard and then decided he had nothing left to lose. He squared his shoulders and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

The Jägers around him roared in approval and swept him inside, where a very shapely barmaid dressed as a Jäger brought him something very stout to drink. He didn’t ask any questions, just drank whatever she put in front of him. And he drank until he wasn’t afraid of her fake fangs anymore—and then some.

He hadn’t forgotten about Agatha by the time the barmaid pulled him away to a private room. And he knew he’d probably regret accepting the Jägers’ invitation come morning. But maybe, if this was all it took to ease his pain, however temporarily... he didn’t deserve Agatha after all.

Chapter Text

Monday morning found Tarvek at his desk, sighing heavily as he read Violetta’s dispatch for the third time:

Lady Heterodyne’s really nice. I haven’t had much chance to talk to her, but I was close to her when the Doom Bell rang the second time, and she actually complimented me on my ability not to pass out. (Well, someone had to keep Bürgermeister Zuken from cracking his head open, not that it wouldn’t have been an improvement!) But the bad news is that she married the baron’s son the moment Dr. Yglyn finished the accession ceremony. And he’s always with her, and it seems like she’s always guarded either by Jägers or by this crazy swordswoman she met at a circus, and the baron’s in town, so I can’t just poison him, even if you ordered me to.

That’s it, then, Tarvek thought yet again, putting the letter down. He’d known the Order’s plan to install a fake Heterodyne heir was done for as soon as he’d heard from Tiktoffen that the real one was in Castle Heterodyne. But he’d thought he’d have time to go through with the other half of the plan, saving her heroically from an attack on the city, courting her, and eventually marrying her. Now... no, he couldn’t risk assassinating the baron’s son. Even if it worked, either the baron would find out and come down on him like a ton of bricks, or Lady Heterodyne would find out and refuse to marry him. Or both.

How had the baron managed to outflank them this way? Had he gotten hold of the Order’s plans? If so, how much did he know?

And what in the name of Newton was Gil Holzfäller’s role in all this? Tiktoffen had said he’d seemed... possessive of Lady Heterodyne. So how had she ended up marrying the baron’s son? What was Tarvek missing here?

Artacz cleared his throat from the doorway. “Please forgive the intrusion, Your Highness. The baron’s man is here.”

Tarvek took a deep breath and let it out again. “Thank you, Artacz.” He stood, stretched his back, and went to the window—and looked up as looming shadows heralded trouble. “Oh, no,” he breathed and whirled back to Artacz. “I thought you said the baron’s man was here!”

Artacz gulped. “He... he is, Your Highness.”

Then the quarantine ships must have arrived in the time it had taken Artacz to reach the study. “Right,” Tarvek said, pulling on his coat. “Lead me to him.”

Artacz quickly led the way to the main reception hall and then left as Tarvek entered. The young man waiting there was dressed in a well-made suit under a long black greatcoat trimmed with blue, similar in style to the coats the baron always wore, and he had a swagger stick topped with a long glass bulb resting on his shoulder... but that mop of brown hair was unmistakable, and when he turned, there was the too-familiar face that went with it.

“Sturmvoraus,” he said.

“Gilgamesh Holzfäller,” Tarvek snarled.

“That’s Lord Heterodyne to you,” Holzfäller shot back, lowering the swagger stick as if it were a rifle. “And I am interrupting my honeymoon to deal with this mess, so I’d appreciate it if you don’t waste my time.”

Tarvek opened his mouth to retort, but then he caught sight of the Heterodyne sigil at Holzfäller’s neck and groaned as the pieces came together. “Of course. That’s what you’ve been hiding all this time. You’re the baron’s son!”

Holz—Wulf—Heterodyne smirked. “And if you had designs on Agatha, forget it. She chose me.”

Tarvek’s lip curled. “I can’t say I think much of her taste, unless she doesn’t know what you got up to in Paris.”

“I had my reasons for Paris. But nothing like that happened between Agatha and me. She saved my life.” Heterodyne’s eyes flashed dangerously. “And I want to know what your father wanted with her.”

“My father’s plans no longer matter. They died with him. I never had any intention of going along with them.”

“Does it have anything to do with the fact that Anevka retuned her voice to match that of Lucrezia Mongfish?”

Tarvek blinked. “How did you—oh. The circus.”

“Yes, they were most helpful. Overheard a lot more than you thought they did, too—enough to know there are Geisterdamen in this city.”

Tarvek sighed heavily. There was no point in hiding it now. “Not anymore. I sent them away after my father’s death.”

“Where to?”

“Just away. They probably went to one of my father’s friends; a number of his friends were working with him and with the Geisters on a project I wanted nothing to do with.”

“A project involving Lucrezia’s voice.”

“But I couldn’t tell the Geisters I wouldn’t continue my father’s work. Lady Vrin, the high priestess, already didn’t like me. If she thought I was against them, she’d have killed me. So I... I lied, said I’d send word to one of the others if I finished my father’s assignment. And then after they were gone, I... destroyed the equipment.”

“Destroyed in what sense?”

“Completely.”

“Could you reassemble it?”

Tarvek shook his head. “No. Not even Lucrezia herself could.” He took a deep breath. “I dissolved it in acid.”

Heterodyne gave a low whistle. “Thorough. Pretty extreme, just to hide it from us.”

“That’s not why I did it!” Tarvek snapped. “That damn machine killed my sister! And if Father had caught your Agatha, he’d have used it on her, too!”

Heterodyne frowned. “To kill her?”

“No, to—” Well, Tarvek had spilled this much; he might as well come clean about the rest. “The plan was for Lucrezia’s mind to possess her daughter’s body. But no one could find your wife, so Father tried using the chair on other female sparks. Including Anevka. It killed them all. The only reason Anevka lingered as long as she did was that Father recalled me from Paris, and I was able to build her a new body.”

Heterodyne raised his chin and put his swagger stick back on his shoulder. “How long has Anevka actually been dead?”

Tarvek sighed and started pacing. “I don’t know. The clank didn’t even notice. But lately she—it—had been... cruel, ruthless, even by our standards. We’d been making plans... you see, Father’s obsession with finding Agatha and his depression over his continued failure had gotten markedly worse, and Sturmhalten was suffering for it. Anevka and I had been planning a way to stop him once and for all. But then Anevka decided she needed to be able to control the Geisters so they wouldn’t oppose us, and she wanted me to retune her voice using the voice identification equipment in the theater.”

“That explains the request for The Socket Wench of Prague,” Heterodyne murmured.

“I didn’t like the idea, and I said so. She still needed me for maintenance, so she had no real way to threaten me effectively. So instead... she grabbed that poor fellow from the circus and made him do it. And she would have vivisected him if I hadn’t intervened.”

Heterodyne hummed thoughtfully. “Post-vital personality drift.”

Tarvek blinked and stopped pacing. “Pardon?”

“Saw it a couple of times in Paris. You remember the Hurwood brothers?”

“Vaguely. Something about rabbits?”

“Heh, yeah, but that’s not why the Master had me shut them down. Their big scheme was selling life extensions—clanks with a blank data core onto which the client’s personality could be copied. Mme. Desmana got one of the early models as a debt settlement so she won’t have to bequeath the shop to anyone when she finally goes.”

“Huh.”

“The process worked perfectly. The problem was that after a while, the clank started going bad—first despising humans, then attacking them. So I shut down the business, and Ardsley Wooster and I took out most of the clanks. I left Mme. Desmana’s because Colette promised to keep an eye on her when the time comes. Sounds like something similar happened with Anevka.”

Tarvek nodded. “That would explain a lot, yes.” The thought that Paris would be an even better power base than Mechanicsburg for establishing his claim to the Lightning Throne briefly crossed his mind, but he’d have to figure out how to get there later. “I’ve only shut her—it down, if your father needs to examine it.”

“He might. He might want to question it about how it killed your father.”

There was a knock on the doorframe, and both men turned to see someone wearing a gas mask, goggles, a cape... and a warrior wasp carapace as a cap. This individual also had something fuzzy and orange in his hand. “Beg to report, Lord Heterodyne,” he said. “It’s worse than we thought.”

Heterodyne frowned. “How many?”

“The whole town’s been wasped.”

“WHAT?!”

“The classic revenant is an unfortunate statistical extreme,” Tarvek admitted quietly.

Heterodyne rounded on him. “YOU KNEW?!”

“The state of this town is not my fault!” Tarvek returned. “Father and his friends did all that! And after what Anevka did to Father, I’ve been trying to come up with a way to stop it!”

There was an electrical hum as the end of Heterodyne’s swagger stick lit up, and he pointed it at Tarvek. “What did she do to him?”

Tarvek raised his hands but didn’t otherwise move. “A spark named Gottmurg Snarlantz had developed a new strain of wasp, capable of infecting sparks. Father’s friends recovered the prototype and his notes after Passholdt fell.”

“And you didn’t report anything about Passholdt.”

“I did! It was in the third paragraph of my letter to your father!”

Heterodyne lowered the swagger stick, and its light went out. “If that’s so, you should have put that information before the part about Agatha and me. My father never read any further. That was his first clue that I’d left Castle Wulfenbach.”

“Well, excuse me for not knowing that. I’m not a clairvoyant.”

“You didn’t report the new wasp, though.”

Tarvek dropped his hands. “No, because it was dead and I burned the notes. There was no point.”

“Why not?”

“It hadn’t been tested. I have no idea how Anevka learned of it; Father had tried to hide it from me, but he didn’t know I already had the combination to his secret safe. But somehow she got hold of it—and used it on Father. And then, with her retuned voice, she ordered him to shoot himself. So he did.”

Heterodyne turned to the individual in the doorway. “Does this square with what you know of the wasps?”

“It does, milord,” came the reply. “The wasp overrides even the most basic instincts toward self-preservation.”

“I’d known that in theory,” Tarvek confessed. “I’d never believed it could cause the revenant to commit suicide. I... hadn’t wanted to believe it could be used for harm.”

Heterodyne’s lip curled. “Because mind control is always for the victim’s best.”

“Well, I know better now! And I’m telling you about it now!”

“You burned the notes, you said, but are you sure no one else has a copy?”

“I—” Tarvek paused and sighed. “No. I’m not. Lord Selnikov brought them in, but the Jotun brothers had gone with him. They might have made a copy.”

Heterodyne sighed in turn. “I’m going to have to take you in, you know.”

“All right. I’ll come quietly.” That was certainly a better option than trying to fight his way out, especially since Gil—Heterodyne seemed to have some sort of electric rifle built into his swagger stick. Tarvek might even be able to find a way to undermine the empire from within once he was in the baron’s custody.

Heterodyne turned back to the door. “Sweep the palace. Bring in anything you find that looks suspicious. Look especially for two humanoid clanks—”

“Hi-Hi-Highness?” Tinka interrupted, coming in from another direction. “You-you-you-you are in trouble?”

“Sweet lightning,” Heterodyne breathed. “Master Payne was right.”

Tarvek blew the air out of his cheeks. “Yes, I am in trouble, Tinka, but nothing for you to worry about.”

But Tinka was already walking unsteadily toward Heterodyne. “You-you have seen Ma-Ma-Master Payne?”

Heterodyne nodded. “Indeed I have, Madame Tinka. I’m Lady Heterodyne’s consort.”

“Oh! She-she is not like Euphrosyn-syn-synia, then.”

“No, not at all.” Heterodyne turned back to his underling. “Make that one humanoid clank, then, similar to this one.”

“Yes, milord,” the underling replied and left.

Tarvek cleared his throat. “Tinka, I have to go with Lord Heterodyne for a while.”

“Oh,” Tinka replied. “Then I-I-I will come with you.”

“Er, well....”

“Actually, it might be a good idea,” Heterodyne interrupted. “I don’t know what Father will want to do with you, but we may need Tinka’s help. You remember Von Pinn?”

“How could I forget Von Pinn?”

“Turns out, Lucrezia transferred her mind into the construct body. She was originally Otilia.”

Tinka gasped. “My si-sister! How—where—how—”

“No idea, but now that we’ve found the clank, we’re planning to restore her.”

Tarvek blinked. “‘We’ meaning....”

“Agatha and I.”

Tarvek’s eyes widened. “No. Don’t let Agatha anywhere near Otilia.”

Heterodyne frowned. “Why not? It’s her clank, her castle. Just because you can’t fix Tinka—”

“For Ohm’s sake, listen to me! When you transfer Otilia out of Von Pinn, you’ll remove any restrictions Lucrezia might have placed on her regarding Agatha as Lucrezia’s child. So she’ll fall back on the orders she received about the Heterodyne girl. From what Tinka tells me, Valois ordered Otilia to guard the Heterodyne girl; Van Rijn’s order was to keep her safe for others to be around. And when Euphrosynia disappeared, Otilia disappeared with her. Valois’ diary says he suspected Otilia might have tried to take revenge on Euphrosynia for her treachery.”

“Agatha’s not Euphrosynia.”

“But the orders didn’t say ‘Euphrosynia.’ They both said ‘the Heterodyne girl.’ Plus, Von Pinn hates Lucrezia, so can you imagine what she’d do to Lucrezia’s daughter?”

“What do you care? You don’t even know Agatha.”

“I care about Von Pinn! She’s the only caretaker who ever showed me any kindness! I don’t want her placed in a situation where she might be killed in self-defense.”

“So what do you think you can do about it?”

Tarvek swallowed hard. “I can... once she’s restored, I can countermand both orders.”

Heterodyne raised an eyebrow. “Oh? On what authority?”

“I’m the Storm King.” When Heterodyne raised his other eyebrow, Tarvek clarified, “A direct descendant on my mother’s side. Tinka’s already accepted my claim.”

Tinka dropped a wobbly curtsey. “I-I-I will speak to my si-sister, help her un-understand.”

Heterodyne sighed. “You’ll have to make your case to my father. But I’ll pass the warning on to Agatha.”

Tarvek grimaced. “I suppose that’s the most I can ask of you, since you’re clearly not willing to trust me.”

“Not like I have much reason to trust you these days. Let’s go.”

Tarvek nodded and started to follow Heterodyne to the door, as did Tinka. But then he caught movement out the corner of his eye and gasped. “Gil, look out!”

The warning wasn’t entirely needed. Tarvek hadn’t even gotten the whole sentence out when Gil—Heterodyne! spun and fired his swagger stick at the Smoke Knight who was leaping at him. A jolt of bright blue lightning sprang from the bulb, and the Smoke Knight fried in mid-air.

Tarvek’s ears were still ringing when Heterodyne sighed in relief. “And not even Tinka was harmed. Excellent. I’d been worried about effect spread; I hadn’t exactly had time to notice in Castle Heterodyne.”

Tarvek suddenly choked on the smell of ozone and charred flesh and coughed, but that was enough to break him out of his shock. He drew himself up to his full height and raised his voice. “Smoke Knights! I am surrendering unconditionally. You are not to harm or interfere with Lord Heterodyne or his men—on pain of death.”

“DOWN!” Heterodyne ordered, and Tarvek dropped just as a blow dart whistled over his head and glanced off Tinka, who gasped. The Smoke Knight who’d fired it met his end as swiftly as did his fellow.

“FOOLS!” Tarvek roared as he stood up again. “I gave you a direct order. STAND DOWN!” Then he turned to Tinka. “Are you all right?”

“I-I was not further da-damaged, Hi-Highness,” Tinka replied. “And you?”

“Oh, peachy. Let’s get out of here before any more of these idiots decide to commit suicide.”

“There’s been far too much of that lately,” Heterodyne said darkly. “Come on.”

Tarvek pulled Tinka’s arm across his shoulders and took most of her weight so that she could keep up, and Heterodyne hurried them outside to his waiting airship. “That little toy what you used to kill Dr. Beetle?” Tarvek asked, nodding at the swagger stick, as they went.

Heterodyne snorted. “No. He threw a bomb at me. I managed to hit it back to him before it went off. This I threw together before we went into Castle Heterodyne—I’d made a prototype a few weeks ago, but since I was injured, I had to leave Castle Wulfenbach without it.”

“Injured?”

“Lab accident. I’m fine now.”

Tarvek’s eyes went wide, but he let the matter rest until they were safely on board and he could ease Tinka into a seat before grabbing Gil by the lapels, startling him. “I know you, remember? You may be a degenerate libertine, but you don’t have lab accidents. You tried to kill yourself, didn’t you?”

“Not as such,” Gil snarled, slapping Tarvek’s hands away. “I thought Agatha was dead, and I was conducting some stupidly dangerous experiments as a result. One got the better of me. I did want to die, yes, but I wasn’t in any shape to do anything about it. And then Agatha came back.”

Tarvek blinked rapidly, processing all that. “Why did you think—”

“Because my father scared her away. Somehow she fell in with Master Payne’s circus just before it was attacked by a spider clank. One of the other women was killed, so they doctored the body to make Dupree and me think it was Agatha.”

“Du—Bangladesh Dupree?!”

Gil nodded. “She works for my father. There was never anything between us.”

Tarvek reeled slightly as the airship lifted off. “You... you were trying to make me think ill of you. All that time in Paris. Those nightclub tarts and pirate doxies—you never did anything with them, either, did you?”

Gil looked mulish and didn’t answer, which was confirmation enough.

“And... that time we got caught in the records vault... that’s when the baron told you that you were his son. And he warned you about me—about my family.”

“It’s all true, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but... it was just supposed to be fun! How was I to know how it would look to the baron?”

Gil huffed and looked away.

“Dammit, Gil, we used to be friends!” Tarvek blurted out desperately before he could stop himself.

“I know. That’s why you’re still alive.” And with that, Gil stalked out of the cabin, leaving Tarvek feeling strangely hollowed out.

Master Gil had given Ardsley a few extra days off before resuming his valet duties, which had given him time to nip off to report to his superiors (who were very glad not to have to introduce a new agent into the situation) and still left him plenty of leisure to explore Mechanicsburg more thoroughly than he’d been able to manage while working with Higgs and Gen. Gkika to keep Gil alive and then with Vanamonde von Mekkhan to prepare Mechanicsburg for Miss Agatha’s accession. He’d spent much of the morning already wandering through the marketplace, and now he felt like taking a closer look at the cathedral.

The place had an unusual layout, which Ardsley supposed was to be expected given that the area had remained stubbornly pagan until Bill Heterodyne’s accession. The nave didn’t run the full length of the building; the altar was closer to the crossing than usual by about a third, and behind it stood a passage leading to other rooms that were presumably not chapels. Ardsley had just about made up his mind to follow that passage to see what he could see when a tall, dark-haired fellow staggered out of it, looking decidedly green. He caught sight of Ardsley and stumbled toward him, giving Ardsley a chance to recognize him as the actor who’d played Bill Heterodyne the night before. This must be the Lars of whom Miss Agatha had spoken.

“Englander,” Lars said urgently. “You... you work for Lord Heterodyne, yes?” The words were somewhat slurred, and as he closed the distance, Ardsley could smell alcohol on his breath. Either still drunk or hung over, or quite possibly both.

“Indeed I do,” Ardsley replied cautiously.

Lars grabbed him by the shoulder and started pulling him back toward the passage. “C’mere. Gotta see this. Gotta warn Agatha.”

“Warn her of what?”

“Foun’ somethin’. ’S dangerous. She needs to know.”

“What did you find?”

“Iunno. ’M not a spark. Jus’... jus’ play one. C’mon.”

“I’m not a spark either, sir.”

“Yeah, but you... you... look pretty smart. ’N you work for Lord—hic!—Lord Heterodyne.”

“Look here, are you quite all right?”

“No’really. I was... lookin’ for the c’nfeshnal. I went... went to Mamma Gkika’s las’ night with the Jägers. Was a baaad idea.”

Drunk and hung over, then. Poor fellow. “I see,” was all Ardsley said.

“I got kinda lost,” Lars continued but was interrupted by another hiccup and a belch. He was swaying dangerously, but his grip on Ardsley’s shoulder was firm, and he was intent on reaching his destination. “Bu’ then I... I saw this glow. Up there, see?”

Ardsley did see. One of the doors up ahead was open, and a greenish glow was spilling from it into the hall. “Right,” he said, putting an arm around Lars’ waist to help steady him, and picked up the pace.

“Halt,” rasped one of the Crypt Keeper mummies further down the hall, past the open door. “You cannot enter.”

“Lady Heterodyne’s life may be in danger if we don’t,” Ardsley growled. “Stand aside!”

That Keeper stopped short in alarm, and another that was inside the doorway stood aside to let Lars and Ardsley pass.

“There,” Lars breathed as they found the source of the glow and released each other. “What’d I tell ya?”

Ardsley nodded slowly. He wasn’t the world’s best judge of spark work—that would be the baron’s purview—but given the shape of the structure and the controls surrounding it, he suspected it was probably some kind of portal. The opening itself was dark, but the system was quite clearly active. “You,” he said, turning to the nearer Keeper. “Why is this portal active?”

“I don’t know,” wheezed the Keeper. “I wass looking for the abbesss.”

“It is a portal, is it not?”

“Yess.”

“Where does it lead?”

“No idea. Don’t think it goess only one place, though—too many dialss.”

“Right. Lars, you’d best stay here on guard, I think, though I’ll send someone to relieve you as quick as I can. I’m going to warn Miss Agatha.”

Lars hiccupped but nodded grimly.

With that, Ardsley ran out, memorizing the route so he could give directions. He grabbed the first five Jägers he passed and sent them ahead, three to relieve Lars, one to see Lars back to the circus, and one to alert the baron. But by then, the castle had overheard enough. It activated two of the nearest Torchmen, who grabbed a pole between them and hovered in front of Ardsley.

“Grab hold, Mr. Wooster,” the castle ordered. “I’ll take you to the mistress at once.”

Swallowing his fears, Ardsley grabbed hold of the pole and refused to look down as the Torchmen shot skyward. But just about the time he felt the heat from their fire was becoming unbearable, they lowered him gently onto a balcony of the castle before returning to their stations. He had to steady himself against the railing as he recovered, but at least he was upright.

“Ah, very well done, sir,” the castle said approvingly. “You’ll do.”

“Thanks for the lift,” he gasped, not daring to ask, Do for what?!

The balcony door opened, and Miss Agatha ran out, death ray in hand. “Mr. Wooster! The castle said you had urgent news. What’s happening?”

Ardsley took a deep breath and let it out again. “Lars has just discovered a portal in the cathedral, milady. Recently used, from the looks of it. If I had to guess, I’d say the abbess has gone somewhere—but I’ve no idea where.”

“A portal.” Miss Agatha frowned. “Not unidirectional?”

“I shouldn’t lay odds on it, milady.”

“Right. Who have you told?” When Ardsley informed her, she nodded. “Good. We’d better get down there. Maybe we can shut it down before Gil gets back.”

Jägers and Wulfenbach troops were standing by in the cathedral square when Ardsley and Miss Agatha returned, and Princess Zeetha and Higgs met them on the steps and fell in beside them. “Lars told us,” Princess Zeetha said before Miss Agatha could ask what they were doing there. “Father’s already inside.”

“Where’s Krosp?” Miss Agatha asked.

Higgs snorted. “Off with a tabby, last I saw, milady.”

Miss Agatha shook her head. “He would. Lead on, Mr. Wooster.”

“I’m really curious about this thing,” said Princess Zeetha as Ardsley pulled ahead of the group slightly. “Yes, it’s a weak point that needs to be addressed, but it could also have its uses.”

“So you think we should seal it rather than destroy it?”

“Possibly. Let’s look at it first.”

The baron was talking with a Keeper when the four of them burst into the portal room. “Ah, Wooster, well done,” he said. “Zeetha? What do you make of this thing?”

Princess Zeetha hummed as she looked over the equipment. “Reminds me of Queen Luheia’s Mirror.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“It’s said the mirror was the magic gate that brought our ancestresses to Skifander,” Princess Zeetha explained to Ardsley and Miss Agatha. “Maybe—when the time comes—I can use this to get home again.”

“The controls do appear to be adjustable,” the baron added. “But unless you were planning to leave in the short term....”

Princess Zeetha raised an eyebrow. “Agatha’s still a novice. I can’t leave.”

“Then we need to devise a way to ensure that the portal can’t be used as a point of infiltration.”

“Some sort of shield, perhaps?” Miss Agatha ventured. “A strong metal, say, that could withstand impacts, placed close enough to the event horizon that nothing coming through can get around it....”

“Rather hard luck on the arriving party if it’s a friend,” Ardsley noted.

“Yes, but if that were happening regularly, the device wouldn’t be hidden away like this, would it? It’d be out in one of the squares, where the tourists are.”

“We have not sseen thiss portal ussed, Misstresss,” said the Keeper. “One of uss iss normally sstationed here—unlesss the abbesss ssendss uss away.”

Miss Agatha frowned. “And where is the abbess now?”

“No one seems to know,” replied the baron. “A squad of Jägers is searching the building now.”

“I don’t like this. There’s no good reason for her to be using this portal. She shouldn’t be leaving town except on church business anyway, and unless it were an emergency, nothing would prevent her from leaving by regular means of transportation.”

Ardsley had to stifle a proud smile. The abbess wasn’t one of the people on whom he’d been briefed, but he’d come to the same conclusion about her himself. Miss Agatha’s powers of deduction weren’t as weak as he’d feared, and neither was her ability to judge character.

“The real question,” she continued, regarding the portal through narrowed eyes, “is what bad reason she has for using it. If she’s smart, she won’t keep any incriminating papers that would give us any clues.”

Oh, well done indeed, milady, Ardsley thought warmly, still holding back a smile. I shall have to take the same care myself, but as I am fond of you and Master Gil, I shan’t mind the inconvenience.

For his part, the baron had begun smiling—a small smile, of the sort he got when testing Master Gil, but a pleased one nonetheless. “Go on.”

Agatha went on, “She could have left last night; there was enough commotion outside with all the festivities that no one would have noticed. Of course, for all we know, she did—but I would have thought she’d take care to be back by now, so her absence wouldn’t be noticed.”

“Well spotted. And judging from the settings and the fact that the system’s still warm, it’s been used within the last few hours.”

“Since Gil left for Sturmhalten?”

The baron’s smile grew. “More than likely.”

“So she’s probably gone to someone who was working with Prince Aaronev, which means we definitely need to seal the portal somehow, and the sooner, the better.”

The baron raised an eyebrow. “Before she returns?”

“I don’t want anyone in my city who’d be a party to... to that!”

“Oh, no, of course. But she would be more valuable alive, as a prisoner to interrogate, than dead.”

Miss Agatha blinked. “Oh. Yes. There is that.”

Princess Zeetha squeezed her shoulder. “You’re not wrong, zumil. We do need to seal the door quickly. Just not until after—”

The discussion quickly became moot, however, as the portal began to activate. The baron jumped out of the way and called for guards, and every armed person present readied his or her weapon. So when the abbess jumped through and the portal shut down behind her, she found herself very thoroughly surrounded.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.

“I could ask the same of you, Reverend Mother,” Agatha returned.

“Pah! You think I intend to answer to some chit of a girl foisted off on my city by this two-bit usurper?”

“Wrong pronoun,” Agatha snarled, charging her death ray. “This city is mine.”

The abbess snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself, child. You may have fooled a broken castle and a desperate people, but you are no true Heterodyne.” She drew her sword—and Princess Zeetha hacked it in half before Ardsley could even blink.

“HOLD!” interrupted two male voices, one of them Master Gil’s. The other took Ardsley a moment longer to place, as he hadn’t heard it since Paris.

“If you harm Lady Heterodyne,” Prince Tarvek went on, “I will have you flayed.”

“Now, hold on,” said Master Gil, trying not to sound amused but failing, to Ardsley’s ear. “My wife, my cathedral, and my problem. You’re still a prisoner, remember?”

“All right, then, he’ll have you flayed.”

“That’s more like it.”

“You, too, think too highly of yourself, princeling,” spat the abbess. “If you think you’re irreplaceable, you’re mistaken.”

“Oh, I know what the family thinks of me,” Prince Tarvek jabbed as Master Gil escorted him further into the room. “But your only function is to command the Bloodstone Paladins, which haven’t been used in two hundred years. You’re neither a spark nor a mechanic. You can’t get them running on your own. And with the castle repaired, they’re not needed for defense. I may be replaceable, but you?” His lip curled. “You’re expendable.”

In Ardsley’s peripheral vision, Miss Agatha turned a switch on her death ray.

“Your grandfather knew you were too soft,” the abbess snarled. “But mark my words, the Storm King will return, and you and these impostors will—”

BZZAP!

As the abbess crumpled to the floor, all eyes turned incredulously to Miss Agatha.

“I set it to Stun,” Miss Agatha promised and pointed to the switch to prove that it was indeed on its lowest setting.

Master Gil knelt to check the abbess’ pulse. “Yeah, she’s alive. Jägers, get her out of here. Where do you want her, Father?” he asked as he stood up again and got out of the way of the Jägers.

“Send her to Castle Wulfenbach,” replied the baron. “She’ll be less likely to escape from there, and I do wish to question her further.”

The Jägers looked at Miss Agatha, who nodded, and nodded back. “Hokay, Herr Baron,” said one of them, and they hurried out with their burden.

Prince Tarvek, meanwhile, was examining the portal controls. “These are the coordinates for the Refuge of Storms,” he reported. “So she’s been working with my cousin Martellus von Blitzengaard. That’s good news and bad news. The good news is that he’s too much of a blowhard to come in this way. Whatever attack he orchestrates, he’ll be planning to come in through the front gate. The bad news is that he may not accept Agatha’s claim or her marriage as legitimate. His faction of the Knights of Jove has always opposed Lucrezia, but that doesn’t mean he won’t kidnap Agatha for his own purposes. And if he gets close enough to try it, he’ll more than likely plan to go out this way.”

Miss Agatha looked at Ardsley in bewilderment.

“This is Prince Tarvek, milady,” Ardsley explained.

Prince Tarvek turned, as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Oh. Forgive me, Lady Heterodyne.” He bowed, and Ardsley couldn’t help noticing that he stayed where he was, a respectful distance from Miss Agatha.

The baron looked at him narrowly. “You’re being unusually cooperative, Tarvek.”

Prince Tarvek huffed and squared his shoulders. “Yes, well, I see no reason not to be under the circumstances. I did declare my intent to remain your loyal vassal, after all, and I do wish to clear myself of any suspicion of complicity in my father’s crimes, such as the murder of numerous female sparks, including my sister, in an attempt to create a neural clone of Lucrezia Mongfish.”

Miss Agatha drew a slow, deep breath, then nodded once and turned to Master Gil. “I’m glad you’re back, Gil,” she said briskly with undertones of Spark. “I’ve got an idea for how we can block the portal to prevent anyone from getting in, but if there’s a risk of someone kidnapping me....”

“We need a lock that you can’t open alone,” Master Gil agreed, his own Spark kindling. “Let’s go find some paper.”

She crossed to him and took his arm. “A voice print is right out.”

“Oh, definitely.” He fell into step beside her. “Blood is too slow.”

“And messy, painful, and fallible, if they manage to steal a sample of your blood.”

“Ha, true. What does that leave?”

“What does that leave? Hm. Fingerprint, retinal scan... hm... hmmm....” The sound of her heterodyning faded away as they disappeared down the hall.

Prince Tarvek sighed wistfully after them.

“Touch her and die,” Princess Zeetha growled.

Prince Tarvek cast her a baleful look. “And who, pray tell, are you?”

“Zeetha, Daughter of Chump.”

The baron rolled his eyes.

“One of Gil’s doxies?” Prince Tarvek sneered.

“Nope.” Princess Zeetha leaned against Higgs’ shoulder as if it were a mantelpiece and grinned. “I’m his sister.”

Prince Tarvek went beetroot, and Ardsley excused himself quickly and got as far out of earshot as he could before laughing.

Chapter Text

By the time final repairs outside Castle Heterodyne were complete and Gil and Agatha had had far too much fun recharging its energy supply by playing with the lightning stick on the roof in the rain, someone had started a rumor that Klaus was in the hospital, not at the hospital (where Sun had granted him a temporary office not far from Punch and Judy’s lab). Thus, the end of the week found Mechanicsburg besieged, which the attackers—most of the “duckiest qvacks” in Europa, as Gkika said—thought was opportune because the empire’s forces were busy following up on Tarvek’s information about Lucrezia’s loyalists among the Knights of Jove. The castle thoroughly enjoyed proving the lunatics wrong.

Von Blitzengaard did show up in the middle of the mess, undaunted by everything the castle was throwing at the other besiegers. Agatha told the castle to let Gil take care of it. And Gil did so—with extreme prejudice. Klaus had never been so proud of his son, or so amused by the twist of a battle: the man from the Lightning Court, claiming the Lightning Throne, being killed by lightning called down by a Heterodyne.

Klaus restricted Tarvek’s involvement to strategy and analysis, and apart from a couple of shouting matches with Gil, Tarvek behaved himself and actually proved quite helpful. Young Lars, meanwhile, volunteered to help guard the portal room, since the roads were unsafe for the circus. He acquitted himself admirably by keeping calm and vigilant while some enemy, presumably the Geisterdamen, did attempt to invade that way; but the shield Agatha and Gil had designed held firm, and before Klaus could offer Lars a commission, he fell apart with a major panic attack and had to be calmed down with a pie to the face. Klaus decided neither to ask questions nor to prevent the circus from leaving with all its colorful characters intact.

Well, all but one. Tinka had convinced Moxana to stay, since Tarvek was there and Otilia would soon join them. Master Payne had allowed it only because he believed Moxana needed Tinka more than she needed the circus and because he trusted her to Agatha’s care.

Oddly enough, Klaus felt the same about Tarvek. On the one hand, while he knew the young prince to be dangerous, he also knew that Tarvek had lost everything and would more than likely be too absorbed in his work with the Muses to get up to much else in the near term. On the other hand, all Mechanicsburg was giddy with the boisterous love of its new mistress and master, and somehow Klaus could think of no more fitting punishment for Tarvek than having to witness that love firsthand and know it could never have been his. (Klaus should have seen that himself, the first time he saw Gil and Agatha standing together in Beetle’s lab. Even the castle hadn’t seriously tried to convince Agatha to attempt polyandry; it did make the suggestion, but Klaus thought the phrasing sounded more like a formality, to satisfy its own internal illogic that she would be bearing an heir.)

So when the siege was broken and the circus was underway at last, Klaus met with the children in the castle and announced his decision: “A year’s probation, Lady Heterodyne, at the end of which Mechanicsburg shall be free to leave the empire provided I am satisfied with your governance. And for Prince Tarvek, a year’s house arrest in Castle Heterodyne, at the end of which... we may consider negotiations for your installation as the Storm King.”

“We’ll need that in writing, Herr Baron,” Gil said on behalf of both of them, partly because Tarvek was, for once, stunned speechless.

Klaus knew Gil was speaking to him formally as Lord Heterodyne, but not hearing the sentence end in Father still stung. He hadn’t lost his son, not completely, but there was a distance between them now that he hadn’t recognized until the Doom Bell had rung that second time. When had he stopped thinking of Gil as the downy-headed infant he’d stolen away from Skifander and started regarding him only as the spark vassal who would one day inherit his empire?

Too long ago. Far too long ago. Long enough ago that his precious boy had jumped at the chance to become a Heterodyne instead. And now here was his daughter, as well, whom he hardly knew and who’d already lost her heart to a figure he’d only seen out the corner of his eye in the castle half a lifetime ago, when Bill and Barry had still been sure they could keep the peace without their ancestral army and Lucrezia hadn’t yet wormed her way into their lives. As kolee and sister-in-law to the Heterodyne, Zeetha had become half a Heterodyne herself. And soon—heaven alone knew how soon—he’d have grandchildren here.

Wulfenbach might be gone, but Mechanicsburg had been his second home once. He needed to make it his home again, quickly... before it was too late.

He raised his chin to keep his composure. “I’ll have Boris draw up terms before I return to speak to Punch and Judy next week. But I expect Prince Tarvek to remain in your custody in the meantime.”

Agatha glanced at Tarvek before asking, “Do you have any objection to his working on the Muses during his confinement, Herr Baron?”

“None at all. In fact, I may begin negotiations to find the rest for him to work on. Idle hands, you know, especially spark hands....”

Tarvek cleared his throat. “I hardly dare impose on your generosity further, Herr Baron, but might I ask one other concession?”

“You may ask,” Klaus replied dryly, “but the answer may be no.”

“There is a Smoke Knight here in town, my cousin Violetta. She’s currently assigned to assist Bürgermeister Zuken. Might I have her as my servant during my confinement? She would be an added safeguard against assassins, and that would keep her in the castle and thus as much in Lady Heterodyne’s custody as I shall be.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow. “What guarantee do I have that you won’t use her aid to escape?”

“And leave the Muses?!” Tarvek answered before he could think about it.

Gil ran a hand over his face, but Klaus still caught the corners of his mouth twitching with suppressed laughter.

“We could make a monitor,” Agatha conjectured, “controlled by the castle—not one that would kill you if you tried to escape, but one that summoned the Jägers and then tied your shoes together or something.”

“That might not stop Violetta,” Tarvek deadpanned. “Something that summoned Tryggvassen might.”

Gil gave up and laughed out loud.

“In all seriousness, though,” Tarvek continued, “I don’t want to escape. And not just because of the Muses. That in itself is a reason, certainly. But you know what my family’s like, Herr Baron. I’m far safer here than I’d be anywhere else in Europa.”

And the same would apply to his cousin, Klaus realized, as long as she was tied to the castle by her service to him. “Very well, I’ll allow it. And I suppose you ought also to be giving some thought to a bride, since Lady Heterodyne is unavailable.”

“Colette Voltaire,” Tarvek said at once. “We were never particularly close during my time in Paris, but it would be a useful match, and... well, I don’t think she hates me.”

“At least you’re a royal,” Gil quipped. “Half the undergrad sparks in Paris are always sighing after her and getting themselves in worse scrapes than we ever did as a result. That she hates. I think she took up with Wooster and me out of self-defense.”

“Took up with in what sense?” Tarvek asked before Klaus could. The Master of Paris had sent Klaus regular reports of what Gil had been up to, but most of them were dry fact, and he now suspected they hadn’t come close to the truth.

“As companions in adventure,” Wooster replied, bringing in a tea tray. “Everyone thought Master Gil was a rake and I was too poor even to consider courting the Master’s daughter, so there was no question of romance. But of course, we were working for her father at the time anyway. Speaking of Paris, Master Gil, the Kapellmeister wonders whether you’ve any more dance numbers the orchestra can prepare for the midsummer ball.”

“Ooh,” said Gil, considering, and took a biscuit as Wooster poured the tea. “No, I think I sent all the ones from Paris, and I haven’t had much chance for composing lately. Find out how many more he needs and when, though, and I’ll see what I can write. I certainly don’t lack for inspiration now,” he added, grinning wickedly at Agatha.

Agatha blushed and giggled. Tarvek rolled his eyes. And Klaus realized he’d never heard his son’s compositions.

“Midsummer ball,” he said mildly, accepting the teacup Wooster handed him. “I don’t suppose you’ve finalized the guest list yet?”

“Well, no,” Agatha admitted, “but I wasn’t planning to snub my own father-in-law.”

Klaus accepted the implicit rebuke with a smile, because it had sounded so much like Bill, and drank his tea.

A month later, as promised, Othar Tryggvassen, Gentleman Adventurer, caught up with Master Payne’s Circus of Adventure in a tiny town near the Black Sea. Or rather, he caught up with the circus’ advance man, Lars, who was sitting outside a tavern clutching his head.

“Here, now,” Othar boomed and clapped Lars on the shoulder, startling him. “You’re in too dark a mood for this fine summer day, my young friend.”

“Oh, it’s you, Herr Tryggvassen,” Lars sighed. “Sorry. What are you doing here?”

“Why, checking up on your Madame Olga.” Othar stopped when a wounded look crossed Lars’ face. “What is it?”

“You—oh. You mean Agatha.” Lars sighed again, more heavily. “Guess you haven’t been reading the newspapers.”

“Well... no, I’ve been... rather busy.” Othar had just escaped from prison in Bucharest, in fact, but the less said about that, the better. He sat down beside Lars. “What’s happened?”

“She’s... she’s in Mechanicsburg. Married. To the baron’s son.” Lars took a deep breath while Othar tried to fathom why a nice girl like Agatha would marry a wretch like Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. “But that’s not the problem. I mean, it’s part of the problem, but... there’s a girl here. Her father says... says I got her with child last time we were here. I barely remember her—that was almost two years ago. And I don’t... I don’t know what to do,” he moaned, clutching his head again. “I don’t want to leave Master Payne, but the show hasn’t been the same without Agatha. And yet... settling down, taking a job, having a family... or else... or else take them on the road with me, risk them in the Wastelands....”

“What would Bill Heterodyne do?”

Lars laughed bitterly. “Marry his worst enemy and get himself killed for it, apparently.”

Othar put his hand on the lad’s shoulder, more gently this time. “Well, then, what would Agatha want you to do?”

Lars took another deep breath and ran his hands down his face. “The right thing. Make an honest woman of her, and take care of my child.”

“There you are, then. Whether you settle here or stay with the circus, you know what the first step is. And there are other children with the circus, aren’t there?”

“Yeah, there’s one.” Lars suddenly huffed, and the corners of his mouth turned up a little. “And more coming. We may be switching the repertoire over the fall and winter—Pix thinks she’s pregnant. She and Abner got married two towns ago.”

A baby’s fussing suddenly interrupted the conversation, and both men looked up to see a dark-haired, pale-skinned girl coming toward them hesitantly with a child in her arms. “Lars?” she asked, grey eyes wide with fear and hope mingled.

Lars sat up straight, recognition in his eyes. “Yes.”

“I... I don’t mean to interrupt....”

“You’re not. This is Othar Tryggvassen. And... I... I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.”

“Agata. Agata Vadimovna Glena.”

Lars couldn’t quite stifle a gasp, and Othar understood why. Glena was Ukranian for clay.

“Is something wrong?” The girl’s Romanian was hesitant, and she probably didn’t speak German, but she’d learn in due time if Lars did take her with him.

Lars shook his head and stood. “No, no, it’s just... I recently lost someone named Agatha Clay. It’s quite a coincidence.”

“Oh, yes. I... am sorry for your loss.”

“And I’m sorry I left you in trouble. May I?”

She nodded and handed him the baby. “His name is Maksym.”

He smiled, and the child quieted in his arms. “I have a friend named Maxim, in Mechanicsburg; he works for the Lady Heterodyne. It’s a good name.”

“Mechanicsburg. That is far from here.”

“Yes, it is.” He paused to marvel at his son, then looked at her again. “Agata... how bad is it here?”

“Very bad,” she confessed quietly. “My father drinks.”

“Come away with me, then. For the summer, at least; now’s a good time to travel. You can get a taste of life on the road, and if you don’t like it, we can find a new place to settle, somewhere nobody knows us.”

She gasped, and the fear in her eyes gave way to hope. “You... you mean it? You will take us?”

“Of course. What kind of hero would I be if I didn’t rescue a damsel in distress?”

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, and Othar tactfully ducked into the tavern. He’d need to head to Mechanicsburg soon, he supposed, since he had promised to check on Agatha and see how she was faring with the normal life she wanted, and the fact that she’d married Wulfenbach was rather worrying. But inspiring others was a hero’s job, too, and at least with Lars, it seemed she’d succeeded beyond Othar’s wildest dreams for her.

Tarvek felt the scars on his face begin to fade the moment he pushed Othar through the time window into the past, putting him on the road to preventing the disasters of Lucrezia’s triumph. He closed his eyes and hoped against hope that the timeline shift caused by Othar’s refusal to retire would be enough, that he’d saved everyone whose life had been in his hands before when he hadn’t kept Agatha out of Father’s clutches.

But no... the change tore at him, restoring his face but gouging into his chest with an ache that burned like poison. What had gone wrong?

“Tarvek!” Gil and Agatha cried at the same time, and then they were next to him, pulling him away from the machinery, out of the room, and onto a bed.

He opened his eyes and almost wept at the sight of them, here and alive, kneeling on either side of him. But it was all wrong—Gil’s face was haggard, his eyes shadowed, and he was wearing the breastplate of a Geisterdame. And there was something hard in Agatha’s eyes, holding off something else behind them, and she wore a trilobite brooch with wings at her collar. Then Tarvek looked closer and saw that it wasn’t a brooch at all... it was welded to some kind of golden choker.

“You idiot,” Gil snarled, but there were tears building. “You’re still on bed rest. The damage from that stuff von Blitzengaard stuck you with—oh, red fire, why wouldn’t you stay behind on Castle Wulfenbach?”

“Gil,” Agatha chided, sounding close to tears herself. “You know it isn’t safe anymore, not with... not with the Queen of the Dawn....”

Tarvek’s head was spinning with two sets of memories, trying to make sense of what had happened and what hadn’t. “No,” he wheezed. “No, I... I almost had it....”

“You are not trying again,” Gil ordered. “It’s not worth your life.”

“It’s... all my fault; I... didn’t change enough, Agatha, I... I’m sorry....”

“Shh,” Agatha interrupted. “Just tell us. Maybe we can make it work this time. What did you change?”

“I... sent Othar back so... so he wouldn’t retire....” Tarvek’s voice didn’t sound like it hadn’t been used in over thirty years, and he was starting to forget that other timeline. Had he really been alone so very long?

Gil shook his head. “Delirious.”

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Agatha shot back. “Othar didn’t retire, so apparently that worked; he’s just got residual memories of the previous timeline.”

“But if all that did was get us here....”

“Something has to change before I get to Sturmhalten. If Lucrezia never returns, none of this will happen.”

“Trouble is, Father would already be on the lookout for time windows if we change things after we meet, but... I... Agatha, I can’t change things any earlier than that. Never knowing you... I can’t.”

“Might not have to,” Tarvek gasped. “Keep it small.”

“Just big enough to throw something through,” said someone—von Zinzer (and who—where had he come from?). “Like a... a note or....”

Gil straightened, eyes blazing. “No, not a note. A note won’t be believed. We need to change things in such a way that no one even knows they’re changing. But yes, a small window, open for a short time—the blink of an eye, the... the turn of a head....” He jerked to his feet and ran out, pulling von Zinzer after him.

Tarvek frowned at Agatha in confusion. “What... what....”

“Shh,” she said again, eyes gentling. “We have to trust him. Just rest now; you really have overdone it badly. You may not remember, but Tweedle got you with a Nullabist knife.”

“Whu—when?”

“In the cathedral, just before the baron stopped time in Mechanicsburg. That’s the only reason Gil managed to save you.”

Tarvek didn’t remember that, from either timeline. “Oh.”

“It’s okay.” She kissed his forehead. “We’re going to make it okay.”

He closed his eyes again, wanting to believe it was true. And then he heard the shot.

Tarvek nearly fell off his stool as he jerked awake, his chest aching where he’d been slumped against the lab desk. He looked around wildly, disoriented, until he woke up enough to remember that he was in Castle Heterodyne. The bang he’d heard was apparently the wrench that had fallen from his hand onto the floor, hitting the trilobite ankle monitor on his boot on the way down. And evidently, he’d fallen asleep reading Van Rijn’s notes on the Muses.

“You all right?” Violetta asked.

“Yes, I think so.” Tarvek took a deep breath and blew it out again. “What a terrible dream.”

He heard a rustle from the bench behind him and turned just as Tinka got up to put a hand on his shoulder. “You should rest, High-ness,” she said, barely a hitch in her voice now. “Or else you will... need maintenance soon.”

“Not sure I can sleep again after that,” he admitted. “Not for a while, anyway.”

“Let’s go to the kitchen, then,” Violetta suggested. “Gen. Goomblast brought gingerbread earlier, and I made sure Wooster saved you a piece.”

“Sounds as good as anything. Thanks. We’ll be back later, Tinka.”

Tinka chimed a little, like laughter. “Until later, Highness.”

As Violetta led the way out of the lab, Tarvek rubbed at the phantom ache in his chest.

The blink of an eye, Gil’s voice echoed in his mind. The turn of a head.

And he wondered.