CHAPTER 8

The period of political unrest that subsequently became known as The First Shudder officially began when Baron Klaus Wulfenbach was injured by the Lady Heterodyne at the Battle of Balan’s Gap. Up until this point, the Empire of the Pax Transylvania had seemed unstoppable and, indeed, inevitable.

Analysis indicates a great deal of Wulfenbach’s initial success was due to the absolute chaos that reigned in the areas he conquered. The power of traditional royalty, as exemplified by the Fifty Families, was on the wane. Ascendant sparks, long kept as servants to royals, were realizing they could sit in the Big Chair themselves. Of course most sparks found it hard to understand that the ability to create carnivorous butterflies did not in fact prepare them for the complexities of good governance. Once they were in charge, things usually deteriorated quickly. The empire, on the other hand, was very well-run indeed, if only because the Baron tended to sweep up sparks and other disruptive elements and find ways to keep them productively occupied, preferably somewhere well-removed from the center of governance. After the first decade, several kingdoms and independent principalities actually petitioned to be absorbed by the empire.

Of course, even in the face of what everyone else considers a universal advancement, there are always those who have something to lose. Aside from the aforementioned Fifty Families, there were sparks, trade guilds, and other religious and fraternal organizations that believed they had been unjustly reduced in power and influence under Wulfenbach rule.

Many of these coalesced in the effort to overthrow the empire and reestablish the Storm King who, being a more traditional monarch, would theoretically be more willing to recognize the inherent superiority of established authorities.

The original cabal had a fairly well-thought-out long-term plan that analysts today still insist had a very good chance of success. Unfortunately for the plotters, and one could make a good argument for the rest of Europa as well, a series of metaphorical hammer blows shattered this plan into fragments.

Among these were the revelation that the Baron had a son, Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, who looked to be as strong a spark as his sire. Secondly was the appearance of an actual Heterodyne heir who, just to throw a further monkey wrench into well-laid plans, was female. The third was the discovery that the Other, the terrible and mysterious spark who had been the scourge of Europa a generation ago, had managed to infect a significant portion of the population with mind control wasps. Infected individuals were now simply waiting, often without their own knowledge, to be activated as the Other’s slaves and soldiers.

When news spread the Baron was seriously injured, the temptation to act quickly proved simply too great. Carefully laid plans were hastily abandoned and easily several dozen factions attempted to be the first to seize the moment. The coalition was shattered.

It was at this point, when the firm hand of the empire was needed most, that the word spread that Baron Klaus Wulfenbach was not injured—but dead.

—An excerpt from Professor Gaspard Van Loon’s A History of the Pax Transylvania: Europa’s Golden Age (Amsterdam Free Press)

Atop the Tower of the Doom Bell, Baron Krassimir Oublenmach realized his tongue was touching the stones of the roof. They tasted like the snail vinaigrette at his favorite restaurant in Krakow, which he found rather amusing. Then he realized he might possibly be insane. He took some comfort from this and attempted to sit up. He failed miserably and wept at the unfairness of it all.

This small movement brought him to the Castle’s attention.

“Heh heh heh,” it chuckled. The sound awakened survival instincts Oublenmach had long ago assumed were unnecessary and taken to their primordial bed. Oublenmach swiveled an eye upwards and saw the bell-striker slumped against the bell itself, the great hammer propped up against his knee. “You are still alive, little adventurer?” the Castle boomed. A gigantic finger gently poked him in the side. He twitched. “Extraordinary.”

To Oublenmach’s astonishment, the great figure then leaned over and rearranged him so that he was lying a bit more comfortably. The striker then continued conversationally, “You wanted the treasure of the Heterodynes, yes?” Oublenmach didn’t bother to deny it. He was a man who would work twice as hard on a project if it meant avoiding the terrible sameness of “honest labor,” and he had found hints of something wonderful behind the hyperbole usually associated with the mythic treasure.

“Well, I don’t know if you care anymore, but it’s here.” This statement acted as a tonic on the supine man. His eyes widened as a massive shape clawed its way up and hung effortlessly from the edge of the tower.

It took a few seconds for Oublenmach to understand what exactly he was seeing, but when he did, the breath caught in his throat. It was a dragon. Not your elegant, gracile dragon who dined exclusively on chivalric knights honey-baked in their own armor, no. This was a cobby, coarse, workaday dragon with a hide that could stop a cannonball. Round, green-tinted brass meters were implanted along its length. As it heaved itself to a slightly more comfortable resting place, Oublenmach saw the impossibly small, outstretched wings and the great iron door strapped like an improbable corset across its chest. A porthole in the door’s center gave off a yellow glow, hinting at the alchemical energies roiling within.

The great head swung about and glanced at Oublenmach with sleepy eyes. Then the beast gave a great snort of dismissal. It addressed the bell-striker in a voice like boulders grinding together: “You woke me up for this?”

Oublenmach thought this a bit unfair. The bell-striker’s hand gestured placatingly.

“A Heterodyne has returned to us,” the Castle said.

With a grunt, the dragon hauled himself the rest of the way onto the tower. One of the reasons for his clumsiness became evident when he laboriously swung a huge, mildewed canvas sack over the parapet, setting it down hard with a metallic clink that immediately caught Oublenmach’s attention. He then rested both clawed hands under his wings and leaned back, producing a series of meaty crackles. He sighed with satisfaction and looked around. Below, a large part of the town was burning or at least smoking. The dragon blinked and looked interested. “Hey, I think we’re being attacked.”

There was a significant pause before the Castle replied: “You’re not really a ‘morning person’ are you Franz?”

The dragon had begun to breathe faster and a cloud of steam purled from his jaws. “Hold on,” he muttered. “Hold on. This means I get to do this the fun way!” He waddled across the tower to look over the other side and almost stepped on Oublenmach. He peered down at the man. “So what is this?” He glanced over at Octavo. “You got me breakfast?” He considered Oublenmach critically. “I’d prefer a croissant . . . ”

“Oh, I’m afraid not,” the Castle interjected. “Technically, this person has aided us.”

Franz swiveled a skeptical eye back down at Oublenmach. “Technically, huh?” He sighed. “Fine.” The dragon then dug into the great sack, swung his hand out, and opened it, releasing a great handful of gold coins that rained down onto the startled man’s head. “LONG LIVE THE NEW HETERODYNE,” he bellowed. “REJOICE, YOU.”

Franz looked up. “That was unsatisfying,” he said. He looked down on the beleaguered town. “What about your job, Castle? Doesn’t look like you’re doing much from up here.”

“I am not,” the Castle said bitterly, one put-upon employee to another. “I am repaired, but my power is nearly depleted. I am doing what I can. The rest of the Heterodyne’s servants are awakening and returning.”

“Will that be enough?”

“That depends on the Heterodyne. Everything depends on her now.”

Franz’s eye ridges rose. “A ‘her’ is it? That’s different.”

“You’re not going to get overly traditional about this, are you?

The Dragon wistfully licked his pebbly lips and sighed as he looked out over the town. “Can’t see as the traditional Heterodynes have been terribly effective lately. A change sounds good to me.” He sniffed. “Not that the rest of us are chopped liver.”

“You might as well be,” the Castle sniped back. “As long as you just stand around here jawing!”

“Okay, I’m going, I’m going!”

Unnoticed by the two, a wondrous thing had occurred. Whether it was the dragon’s voice roaring scant meters from his head or the heap of gold millimeters from his nose, Oublenmach’s broken mind had shuddered back into productive operation once again. His hand reached out and grasped a pile of coins, while his mind spun back up to speed. Gold. The dragon. The Great Guardian. All of the legends were true. He gave a feeble chuckle that came out as more of a wheeze, but all things considered, it was still impressive. I can do this, he realized. There really is a treasure. Now all I have to do is make it mine, and I’ll have won!⁹⁷

Down on the meaner-than-usual streets of Mechanicsburg, the presumptive ruler thereof was trotting along at a fair pace when she noticed the man beside her was having a rough time keeping up with her. She stopped and Van gratefully stumbled up alongside her, gasping mightily. I’m not even breathing hard, Agatha realized. Thank you, Zeetha. From behind came the giant tiger clank that was now Otilia. Krosp rode on top, looking about with great interest.

Clamped delicately in its jaws was the scruff of Violetta’s tunic. The Smoke Knight had been hit particularly hard by the Doom Bell and had yet to revive. Agatha had thought about leaving her somewhere safe, but looking around she was forced to come to the conclusion that no such place existed within the town walls. “I think we’ve lost them,” she told Van.

“Good,” he panted. “I didn’t know they even made those electric wasps anymore.”

“They don’t. You can’t get the parts.”

Van looked interested. “Really? We should sell those.”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “I think the first thing I should do is get up to the city walls. See what we’re facing.”

Van sucked in a huge lungful of air and tried to look authoritative. “No way. I’m taking you to the cathedral, where it’s safe.”

“How am I supposed to get anything done from there?”

“You won’t. The Jägers and the other monsters will do the fighting. That’s what they were made for! You are the last Heterodyne. You have to be kept safe until the town is secure. You’ve done your part! You fixed the Castle. The Doom Bell rang. At this point, what else can you do?”

Agatha was startled by Van’s vehemence and stepped back, only to run into a wall. No, she looked around, not a wall. A statue. They were in Heterodyne Square, and she found herself staring up at the famous iron statue of the Heterodyne Boys. Her father, personified in metal, standing there so strong and so pleased with himself. Uncle Barry, recognizable to her, but oh so much younger and happier than she had ever seen him in life, confident and ready for anything. Both of them were giving their famous “thumbs up” signal, implying there was nothing they couldn’t handle. They were before her larger than life and, as far as the town was concerned, completely useless. Well, unless I could find a way to drop them onto an attacker, she thought.

Mechanicsburg has always needed a Heterodyne, Agatha noted to herself. And the Heterodyne it has right now when it needs one more than ever is me.

“Wrong question, Herr von Mekkhan,” Agatha said in a voice rich in the harmonics of the spark. Vanamonde stared at her as she went on. “I am the Heterodyne. My town is under attack. The question you should be answering is: What can’t I do?”

Agatha wouldn’t have been a spark if she couldn’t have continued in this vein for several more minutes, but she was knocked out of the moment by a burst of cheering overridden by a strong female voice. “Ho! Now dot’s de right attitude, sveethot!” Agatha whirled and saw crowds of Jägers pouring into the square from all different directions. Foremost was Mamma Gkika, clad in her shining golden armor and toting a gigantic battle axe over her shoulder. “Bot effen if hyu iz a strong spark, if neffer hurts to half a nize army to back hyu op!”

Before Agatha could move, she was swept up into a fierce hug that lifted her off the ground. “Zo hyu iz de new Heterodyne,” the giantess murmured as she gave her another squeeze. “Velcome home, sveetie!”

Agatha struggled to breathe and gasped out, “Who . . . are . . . you?”

“Ho!” Agatha found herself gently deposited on the ground, and the Jäger fired off a crisp salute. “Jäger General Gkika at hyu service, m’Lady!” She clapped her hands and continued, “And deez iz my boyz.” As one, several hundred slouching Jägers snapped to parade-ground attention while issuing a joyful roar that echoed all over the town. Gkika nodded and smiled proudly. “Hyour boyz, ektually.”

“Thank you,” Agatha said. She turned to the assembled monster soldiers. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She couldn’t really think of what else to say. Her throat tightened and the tears were threatening to return to her eyes. “I’m . . . sorry it took me so long to return.”

It was evidently the perfect thing to say. The group simultaneously dropped to one knee and with one voice shouted, “Dot’s hokay, ve kept busy!” This was apparently as much formality as they could manage. The shout dissolved into great peals of wild, delighted laughter.

Agatha turned back to General Gkika. “I didn’t know there were other generals.”

Gkika grinned. “Hyu just met dose three old ogres on Castle Wulfenbach, yez?” She gave Agatha a conspiratorial nudge. “Lucky for hyu dere iz more of us dan dot.” She stood up. “Ven dis iz all calmed down, hyu vill get to meet all ov us. But for now, my boys tell me dot dere iz more trouble on de vay, und hy haff not seen any decent trouble in ages! Dis iz gonna be fun!”

Agatha felt a touch of relief. Here was someone she could ask for advice and probably even get it. “Okay general, what should we do first?”

Gkika nodded. “De first ting ve gots to do iz collect all de invaders dot iz schtill messed op from de Doom Bell. Den ve start pooshink out the vuns dot ain’t messed op and mess dem op ourselves. Der townspipple should start shoring op de defenses, although . . . ” She looked troubled.

“What?”

“Ve iz unprepared, Mistress. No enemy has effer breached our valls like dis before. De Kestle is supposed to be in charge of de town defenses, but it iz obviously schtill damaged.” She looked at Agatha seriously. “Dis iz not goink to be easy.”

Agatha took a deep breath. “Well, let’s find out just how tough it’s going to be.”

Gkika nodded. “Hy gots just de place.”

Shortly thereafter, Agatha stood atop a precarious-looking tower that rose several stories higher than the buildings around it. The rooftop area was girt with odd observation devices as well as assorted levers Van assured her did nothing “. . . at the moment.”

Mamma spread her arms proudly. “De Heterodyne’s Observation Tower! Iz de perfect place to direct battles und speet on pipple!” Agatha looked around. It was perfect. The Jäger continued, “Und ven hyu iz not fighting, hyu ken bring hyu boyfriend op here. Diz plaze gets hit by lightning all de time. Iz verra romantink!”

The thought brought a flush to Agatha’s cheek. She covered it by looking through a massive telescope. The Awful Tower swam into view, lightning crackling along its length.⁹⁸ Agatha jerked back in surprise. A quick search found a dial that was currently set to PARIS. She nodded in appreciation and snapped it to LOCAL. The tower shuddered as gears began adjusting the viewer’s focal points. Agatha turned back to the Jäger. “You say there’s trouble coming. What kind?”

“Ve haff a bit ov breathing spaze,” Mamma admitted. “Bot ve gots vun beeg army coming up de pass from Sturmhalten. Lotsa nasty monsters,” she said with a touch of admiration. “De Baron looks like he’s throwing effery ting he’s got at us from all sides. Der armies ov de empire iz schtill in control ov de overall area, includink a fair amount ov de valley.⁹⁹ At de moment, dey seem to be preoccupied vit dealink vit odder attackers.” Gkika smiled. “Vitch iz mighty sportink ov dem, since most of dem are determined to take de town. Ostensibly to support de new Heterodyne.”

“Support me?” This was news to Agatha.

Gkika shook her head. “Dun hyu gets hyu hopes op, sveety. Dot’s just vot dey iz sayink. Most of dem sound like dey iz here for dot pink gurl. Dey iz not hyu friends. Und they gots factions und divisions und fightink among dey own rebellion.” Her lip curled in contempt. “Dese guys iz a mess.”

Agatha looked hopeful. “So that should make them easy to crush, right?”

Gkika shrugged. “In de old days, yah, hyu betcha. Right now? Vell, all our really goot veapons iz out ov commission and de Kestle iz schtill acting all broken-like. Back in hyu grandfodder’s time it vould haff already sent dese jokers packink, yah!”

“It’s not the Castle’s fault,” Agatha explained. “I repaired it, but it was operating on stored power. It can’t generate any more at the moment.”

“Technically no longer true, Mistress.” The Castle’s voice seemed to be emanating from a small grill set in a nearby wall. It sounded small and far away. “It was a close call, but I am pleased to report that your chief minion has restored my main generators.”

“Dot’s goot,” Gkika said.

“That’s wonderful,” Van declared.

“To a point. But I am still weak. It will take time to build up sufficient energy to do anything truly useful.”

Agatha looked wary. “How long?”

The Castle hesitated. “All nonessential systems are already shut down. With everything shunted to the charging of offensive weapons alone . . . I would say about three years.”

Agatha stared. “Three years.”

“At the present rate. Give or take a few weeks, yes. Less than ideal I’ll admit, but I still have systems—exterior systems—that need repair. Ah, but three years from now, watch out!” It paused. “Well, assuming you’re still alive, of course.”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “This is terrible.” Glumly she looked out over the town. “At least it’s not just us. Our enemies are also running around like headless constructs. That’s unbelievably lucky.” She turned to Van and General Gkika. “But, I have to say, I’m not impressed. To let all of the town’s major defenses fall into such disrepair—just because you were under the empire’s protection—”

“Dot vos not our fault,” Gkika objected. “De Baron disarmed all de really goot schtuff.”

“Why? If you were part of the empire—?”

“To keep the rest of the empire happy,” Van interrupted. “Wulfenbach may have been friends with Masters Bill and Barry, but historically the House of Wulfenbach and the House of Heterodyne were adversaries. The old Castle Wulfenbach was part of the system of picket fortresses the Storm King established to keep the Heterodynes contained.¹⁰⁰ The Baron’s conquest of Mechanicsburg served several purposes. Having the town under his control was great for the Baron’s image. Everyone assumed he had full access to the Heterodyne’s secrets.

“He didn’t, of course. He tried to learn as much as he could, but this town has a lot of secrets. He made a great show of dismantling and decommissioning some of the masters’ more horrific devices.” Van sighed. “But so many of the townspeople believed the masters would someday return, they would just quietly repair what the Baron had destroyed. Then the Baron would send people in to disarm things again and then our people would sneak back and fix things so that they only looked broken. Then the Baron’s people would come back and break things again in new and more subtle ways . . . ” Van spread his hands. “It went on for years.”

Keeping you all quite busy, Agatha thought to herself with a touch of admiration. Aloud, she asked, “Why didn’t he just haul it all away?”

“Oh, he did take some of it.” Van waved a hand towards a bronze statue of a huge, horse-headed pikeman. “But frankly, it would be hard to move everything and, in every other way, we were good subjects of the empire. We never gave them a reason to worry.” Van reached up and inserted a finger into the horseman’s nose. Its eyes began to glow and it shuddered into a defensive position, pike held forward. “As a result, we’ve managed to retain a number of things the empire overlooked.” He grinned. “Like the Torchmen. A lot of them crashed because we couldn’t maintain and test them properly, but they still gave the Baron a nasty surprise.”

Agatha regarded Van for a moment, then looked up at the clank beside him. Yes, she thought. The Baron will remember that Mechanicsburg is a place where he can’t expect the rules to apply. He’ll assume that everything is more dangerous than it appears to be. She felt a wave of exhaustion wash through her. She shook her head and examined the cane in her hands. “How quickly do you think we can get Gil’s lightning generators analyzed and replaced? You know, those things he had all along the town walls? I know most of them melted, but—”

Van waved a hand to cut her off. “Lady Heterodyne, please! We’ve had people working on duplicating them since we saw them in action! Those things are amazing!”¹⁰¹

A wave of pure happiness suffused Agatha’s being. I knew there was a reason I liked this town, she thought.

Gilgamesh marched, scowling, through the halls of Castle Wulfenbach. Atop his head was the magnificent hat that had been the gift of the Jägermonsters at Mamma Gkika’s. It was a glorious, handmade creation adorned with wings, spikes, a burner on top that could be set to spout a small burst of flame, and a banner around the band that declared the wearer to be “Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, Schmott Guy!” It was ridiculous in every way, and yet it was astonishingly effective at speeding him through what was supposed to be an iron-tight ring of security. Gil had landed his small air pinnacle at one of the outer loading docks—tense and fearful, not knowing what he would find now that the news of his father’s death had spread. The guards had been jumpy and unsure, suspicious even of him. They had slowly and meticulously begun with the proper procedures, until Gil, frustrated, had retrieved the stupid thing from the ship and hefted it onto his head. To his disgust, it was as if a magic switch had been thrown. Their eyes widened and they bowed obsequiously while waving him on. As he moved through the halls of Castle Wulfenbach, similar scenes took place again and again. Guards would initially challenge him, only to defer to the majesty of the hat that proclaimed him their leader. Gil grew more and more furious yet perversely curious: would this phenomenon actually take him all the way to the Command Center of Castle Wulfenbach? Only once did he encounter a no-nonsense captain who had refused to accept “that ridiculous hat” as proof of identity. Gil had knocked him out with a single well-placed blow and continued on, making a guilty mental note to promote the man when time allowed.

And now he strode into Castle Wulfenbach’s great hall, making straight for Boris, who seemed incapable of deciding whether to focus on Gil’s stormy face or the monstrous hat.

“Boris!”

“Ah—Yes? Master Gilgamesh?”

“Yes! That is in fact who I am. Who else could ever wear so majestic and commanding a hat?”

Boris stared. “Um. Surely no one, sir.”

“Good. So we’re all agreed I am, in fact, me?”

“What? Yes! Of course!”

“Good!” Gil turned on his heel and stepped towards the nearest soldier. “You!” He snatched off the great hat and bundled it into the startled man’s arms. “Take this, hide it in a safe place, and never speak of it again.”

The soldier opened his mouth, saw the look in Gil’s eye, and swallowed. “Yessir!” He barked before scuttling away.¹⁰²

As soon as the hat disappeared around the far corner, Gil allowed himself to relax. This lasted all of three seconds until Bangladesh DuPree charged into the room, eyes wide with excitement. “I heard there was a hat!” She called.

Gil fixed her with a sideways frown. “You’re delusional.” Then he turned fully to face her. His serious expression made her stop short. “Weren’t you supposed to be with my father?” He asked, “What happened?”

“He sent me out of the hospital!”

Gil stared at her. “And you went?”

“Well, yes! Because doing what he says is my job!”

“Oh, and you always follow orders.”

“Hey! I followed his orders! Even when I thought they were stupid! He says go do this stupid thing—I go do it! And when the attack came, I had to run all the way back to the hospital! But I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t find him! I couldn’t find him anywhere! And . . . and—” To Gil’s horror and amazement, tears started to appear in her eyes. “—and then the whole place came down and I couldn’t save him,” she sobbed. “And I really, really tried.”

Automatically Gil folded her into his arms and held tightly as her body shook. “I know,” he murmured. “And if you couldn’t do it, no one could.”

He felt fingers dig into his spine. “You have made me cry.” The muffled voice came faintly from somewhere near his dampened waistcoat. “For this I will kill you.”

“Yes, yes,” Gil murmured as he gently stroked her hair, “you do that.”

It was the silence that made him look up. Ranged around the two of them were all the powers of the empire, not just the leaders of its military forces or Klaus’s inner coterie of sparks, monsters, and adventurers. Ranged behind the great figure of Captain Patel¹⁰³ stood the crew bosses and chief technicians who spoke for the huge staff that ran Castle Wulfenbach. Also present were representatives of the vast trading houses that kept the empire supplied, as well as functionaries from the foreign services. With them, Gil noted with a rising wave of panic, were the ambassadors of the empire’s most important neighbors.

Gil looked back to Boris, who met his eyes and slowly bowed before him. The crowd behind solemnly followed his lead. Boris straightened and said the words that had haunted Gil’s nightmares for over a decade: “Everyone is waiting . . . Herr Baron.”

Gil felt Bangladesh freeze. He gently released her and saw that, although she was still wiping away tears, her eyes now held an expression of deep amusement. She was back to laughing at him. Good. He squared his shoulders, prepared to issue his first command . . . then hesitated. “No.” He shook his head. “This doesn’t feel right.”

Boris stepped forward and gave him a look that any parent would recognize as a variation of Not in Front of the Children, while surreptitiously indicating the assembled onlookers.

Gil lowered his voice. “Calling me Baron,” he chided. “Surely you have more faith in my father than that.” A thought struck him. “Unless . . . have you found his body?”

Boris waved a hand quickly. “No, sir, but I am acting on his direct orders.”

“What?”

Boris took a deep breath. “Your father gave me very clear instructions regarding the actions I am to take if there is ever any cause to believe him dead. I am to publicly recognize you as the new baron without delay. I believe his intention was to ensure an orderly transition and preserve the peace throughout Europa. Especially since there would undoubtedly be some sort of trouble going on if he were to be killed in the first place.”

Gil could feel the unassailable walls of his father’s logic slamming into place around his future. “I . . . see. Very well. But I will not be so quick to assume his title.”

Boris smiled. “That should be no trouble. Your father left orders that if this was your response, then I should use one of your other legitimate titles: Your Highness.”

Gasps echoed throughout the room.¹⁰⁴

Gil stared at Boris sourly. “I can’t even imagine what that is about. Just one more thing he never bothered telling me, I suppose.” He became aware of Bangladesh staring at him. “What?”

She shook her head in admiration. “I always wondered how Klaus planned to run off and leave you holding the bag.” She waved at the watching assemblage. “Very impressive.”

Gil allowed himself a flash of familial pride. Very impressive indeed.

Half an hour later, after he had spoken some words that both soothed and inspired, Gil found himself the center of a tight little squad striding along one of the great corridors towards the Map Room. “What is the current situation?”

“We are attempting to control a fifty-kilometer ring around the town, but this is under attack by, at last count, nine different forces,” Boris replied. “Several of these enemy forces have actually managed to enter the town. They are concentrated in a wedge to the south. The imperial forces within the town are scattered throughout. Communications were disrupted by the Doom Bell and we lost contact with many units.

“The remaining forces are now regrouping on the grounds of the Great Hospital. Many of them are now being used for relief efforts and to clear rubble. There is a very heavy guerrilla presence in the rest of the town. Although they are not attacking any of the troops working at the hospital, they are proving remarkably effective against the enemy forces.

“Reinforcements have been called for, but there have been numerous local rebellions and several outright mutinies have tied up a distressing amount of our armies. We believe these to be coordinated, by the way. Someone wants our forces in Mechanicsburg to be undermanned. The only people with that sort of intercontinental influence are the Fifty Families. We have sent units to search out the known power players, but they have gone to ground. Ironically, the Wulfenbach units we can expect to arrive first are the ones who were stationed the farthest away—on the borders or in the wastelands—but I do not expect the first of them to be here in less than ten hours.

“The most worrying of the outside problems is Sturmhalten. We’ve lost contact with our people there and we’ve reports of a horde of monsters emerging from the town’s sewers. Those are now approaching Mechanicsburg.” Boris sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Every other group they encounter is either killed—or joins them. Including every one we’ve sent.”

Gil nodded grimly. “The Other.”

Boris looked harried. “But . . . but how? Isn’t the Lady Heterodyne the Other? The Jägers told me—”

“No!” Gil paused. “Well, she’s one of them—a little—but only sometimes. Anyway, she’s not the one we have to worry about. At least not at the moment.”

“There’s more than one of them?”

Gil saw the look on Boris’s face. “We’re working on it, okay? I’ll explain more later.”

Boris turned to Bangladesh DuPree. “Am I the only person who’s worried about this?”

Bang shook her head. “I’m worried.”

Boris blinked. “You are?”

“Sure. I’m worried I won’t get a chance to shoot her.”

To Boris’s amazement, he suddenly understood why the Baron had allowed Bangladesh to continue to exist. He leaned in towards her. “If you must shoot her,” he said sotto voce, “don’t miss.”

Bang’s eyebrows rose in surprise and she gave him a delighted punch on the arm. “We’re connecting!” Boris felt sick.

Gil clapped his hands. “The first thing is to reestablish communications to all the troops. All attacks on Mechanicsburg are to cease immediately and they are all to proceed to the grounds of the Great Hospital.”

Boris looked uncomfortable. “That order has already gone out, sir.”

Gil looked surprised as they entered the map room. “Already? But, why—”

“Because I told them to!”

Gil stopped and stared. Tarvek was standing in the middle of the room, on top of the actual map table, a set of airship markers in his hand. “We’re now focused on defending the town and restoring the peace.”

“What are you doing here?” Gil demanded, once his surprise had passed.

“Running your empire,” Tarvek snapped. “And you left before me! What took you so long?”

Gil stared at him. “You’re supposed to be with Agatha!” He pointed accusingly at Tarvek and turned. “Boris, he’s supposed to be with Agatha. Why is he here?”

Boris threw his hands up. “Your father sent Othar Tryggvassen into the Castle to get you, but he brought this fellow back instead. We were hauling both of them off to the brig and Prince Sturmvarous glanced—glanced—at the operations table here as he was dragged past. From that alone he was able to deduce—and argue convincingly—that the 20^th Chemical had been subverted. If they’d gone another kilometer, they could have destroyed our entire supply line, as well as the ammunition haulers. Within an hour, most of our units would have been defenseless. It was his idea to contain them with the 43^rd Air and the Slow Movers.” Boris shrugged. “He’s been coordinating the military ever since.”

Gil regarded Tarvek sourly. “Who’s been assessing his decisions?”

“Myself, Kleegon, the Deep Thinkers, and the rest of the High Command.” Boris dropped his voice. “He’s actually made several moves that will have great long-term benefits for the empire.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really,” Tarvek interrupted. “You think I’m going to mess around with stupid plotting while Agatha’s in danger?”

Gil considered him seriously. “No, I think it would be really good plotting that would help us now, while setting things up to your advantage for later.”

Tarvek opened his mouth, hesitated, and then mentally switched gears. “Let’s concentrate on the now.”

Gil gave him a satisfied grin and extended a hand. “Fair enough. Show me what you’ve done.” They clasped hands and Tarvek pulled Gil up onto the table. For a while, they picked their way across the tiny model countryside discussing strategy. Gil paused when they came to a fleet of sleek airships. “I’m worried about this squadron of sky-sharks. They’re not flying in a standard Wulfenbach pattern.”

Tarvek nodded. “Well spotted. Their officers are loyal to the Knights of Jove. I was waiting to see if any other units joined their formation. A few have—” he indicated two ground units marked with red flags “—but I believe their expected allies have not arrived. They should be very much on edge. If you take out the lead ship, which contains the leaders of the Moglar Alliance, then the Sharks, as well as the Mecha-Schnauzers and the 5^th Wheel Guns, will desperately try to pretend they were never disloyal at all.”

Gil nodded. “Boris, I want that ship cocooned and dropped right now.” Gil looked at Tarvek quizzically. “But hang on, Sturmvarous, don’t the Knights of Jove answer to you?”

Tarvek sighed. “They answered to my father and to the heads of the Order. I was probably written off as soon as I was captured at Sturmhalten. I seriously doubt my coming down with something as exotic as Hogfarb’s Resplendent Immolation¹⁰⁵ was an accident.”

Gil patted him on the shoulder. “Oh well, tough luck about the whole Storm King thing, then.”

Tarvek twitched his shoulder away from Gil’s hand, and looked serious. “Wulfenbach, I have some rather . . . unpleasant cousins who would love to have me out of the line of succession. If one of them becomes the new Storm King, you’re going to really wish it had been me.”

Atop the walls of Mechanicsburg, Agatha was kneeling on the stones, rooting around inside the workings of one of Gil’s lightning accumulators. She sneezed, crawled backwards a bit, and settled herself on her haunches with a scowl. Violetta handed her a clean rag and she wiped her hands. “He insists on using copper,” Agatha groused. “No wonder these things melted.”

Violetta ignored this. She had always left anything involving the workings of machinery to Tarvek and now she did the same with Agatha. She preferred more interesting topics of conversation. “Did you notice he wrote your name on all the bolts?” She raised her eyebrows as she spoke.

Agatha flushed. “Obviously he has too much time on his hands—” Surreptitiously, she slipped an inscribed hex-bolt into one of her belt pouches. “—but I thought it was very sweet.”

General Gkika stepped up, grinning. “Goot news, Lady! De Bone Qvarter haz been cleared.”

Krosp appeared by her side, studying a map. “Yeah, those street cleaning machines you repurposed are really effective.” He shrugged, “It’s a pity they’re corroding the actual streets.”

“Picky, picky,” Agatha muttered. “What about the group that was giving us trouble in the North Windings?”

Lady Vitriox glanced at a column of smoke. “The Dark Light Guards? They continue to put up a strong resistance, but they are falling back to the east.”

Agatha glanced at Krosp’s map. “Perfect. With the Dyne to the south, they’ll funnel into the Greens—”

Van rubbed his hands. “Where they will have no cover at all!”

Krosp frowned. “You’re sure they can’t take the cathedral?”

Van smiled beatifically. “Oh, I really hope they try.”

Agatha gracefully rose to her feet. “How long do you think we have before the next wave of attackers arrives?”

Krosp and the Jäger glanced at each other. “Vell,” Gkika admitted, “most ov de Vulfenbach forces haff ektually broken off. Dey iz all congregating towards de Great Hospital. De vuns dot ain’t, hy tink it becawze dey haven’t gotten proper orders.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “You mean the fighting is over?”

“Not at all,” Lady Vitriox said primly. Her statement was punctuated by a burst of green lightning that erupted upwards from a northern tower, striking a gigantic bat that appeared to be made out of polished copper. It spiraled down and out of sight.

“There are a lot of different enemies attacking us,” Krosp said sourly. “I’m assuming that, at the moment, the imperial forces are more concerned with searching for the Baron.”

Suddenly, there came an immense, thunderous booming sound, and the ground itself shuddered. A wall of metal, taller than the ancient stone walls of Mechanicsburg by at least ten meters, had appeared outside of town. Above it, three airships shot into the sky, relieved of their burden. Agatha looked and saw a flotilla of similar ships, each towing a similar burden, and all approaching fast. Even as she processed what she was seeing, the next wall segment slammed to earth, followed by another, and another—each operation, with typical empire efficiency, taking place within seconds of the previous.

Krosp stared in fascination. “Dropwalls!”¹⁰⁶ He waved a paw. “I’ve seen blueprints.” He squinted and then scratched his head as he studied the ever-growing array. “But . . . they’re all facing the wrong way. They’re not containing us, they’re defending us.”

Gkika’s jaw sagged in surprise. Then it shut with a snap. “Ho. Hyu iz right.” She dashed off, calling over her shoulder, “Hy iz gun get some troops on dem!”

Krosp shook his head. “Weird. The empire doesn’t make mistakes like that . . . ”

Agatha’s heart gave a great thump. “It’s Gil! He got through!” She allowed herself a deep breath. “Well, that’s a huge load off my mind. With Gil buying us time, we’ll be able to get a lot more done on the town defenses . . . but I still I still want everyone working at top speed.”

Lady Vitriox looked approving. “My, my. You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

Agatha nodded. “I hope so. I won’t sit back and rely on the Wulfenbach forces to defend us. Not that long ago they were the ones attacking us. An hour from now, they could attack us again. This is my town. I’ll protect it.

“I . . . do trust Gil, but I don’t know how much I can trust the ruler of the Wulfenbach Empire. I want us strong enough that nobody can take us. They’ll have to negotiate with us.”

Van gnawed his lower lip. “That’s . . . very astute, my Lady.”

Krosp swatted at his knee. “Don’t sound so surprised, pal. She’s been learning from the best!”

Agatha sighed and pushed her glasses up onto her forehead. She rubbed her eyes. Van looked at her with concern. “Are you all right, Lady?”

Agatha looked up. “I guess. I just wonder how many other girls have to worry about whether or not it’s smart to really trust their . . . you know, the guys they—”

Lady Vitriox crossed her arms. “All of them,” she said flatly.

“But mine has an army!”

The old woman shook her head. “They all do, my Lady. It consists of other men.”

On the great map aboard Castle Wulfenbach, the last of the dropwall models was slotted into place. Tarvek looked over the field display and nodded in satisfaction. “That should keep your little empire tottering along for a few more months.” His voice became condescending: “Say, you’re really getting the hang of this!”

“Golly, do you really think so?”

“Well, no, but if flattering you will get me back to Agatha faster, then . . . ”

Gil gave him an evil grin. “Oh, I’ll get you there fast. Cannoneers!”

Boris was impressed. The two young men worked together very well, all the while sniping at each other viciously. They seemed to be having a good time. Boris found himself wondering how many actual friends Gil had managed to have in the course of his unusual upbringing. These thoughts were interrupted by a commotion on the other side of the map.

A guard clank held a scruffy-looking man by the collar. A pair of regular guards escorted them. “We caught him attempting to sneak aboard, hanging from the gondola of a supply ship,” one of them explained. He hooked a thumb towards Gil. “Says he’s a storyteller. Insists on seeing Master Gi . . . ” he corrected himself, “Uh—His Highness. Matter of life and death. Normally I’d just chuck him inna tank, but this whole operation’s been so screwy, I . . . Well, I thought I should bring him in.”

The men turned towards the guard clank and discovered it stoically holding an empty coat. They whirled in time to see the prisoner eagerly addressing Gil. “You! Young Wulfenbach! I must speak with you! It is of the utmost importance! It’s about a book!”

Gil, startled, raised his voice. “Boris? Get this—”

Suddenly Tarvek blinked in recognition. “Wait a minute . . . You? How did you get here?”

Gil looked at Tarvek. “You know this . . . ?”

Tarvek nodded furiously. “He should be rotting in a cell under Sturmhalten!¹⁰⁷ Because of his ridiculous antics,¹⁰⁸ the Deep Library is infested with giant smudge beetles,¹⁰⁹ which happened while he was collecting vile and scurrilous¹¹⁰ stories about my family!”

Gil regarded the man with interest. “Well, he sounds well informed, anyway.” He waved off the squad of clanks arrayed behind him. “What do you have to say?”

Your professor then explained he was seeking the book by Masat with the stories of the Storm King that had been revealed to exist by the Baron. When Gil looked bewildered, he launched into an impassioned recitation of the story the Baron had told him back in the hospital. This only deepened Gilgamesh’s confusion.

“I’ve never heard this moronic story in my life,” he said. “And you’re claiming that my father told it to you?”

“Yes! He said it’s in the book! The one in your library! The one by Masat! He said you’d let me see it!”

“There is no such book,” Gil said with finality. He pointed towards Your professor. “Get him off the Castle. That story makes no sense.”

As the man was unfairly dragged away in what many concur was the young Wulfenbach’s first act of tyranny, Prince Tarvek touched his shoulder. “It makes sense to me,” he said in a low voice.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, the plan was for a Lucrezia to get close enough to wasp the Baron. She . . . she must have managed it, but I can’t imagine how . . . ”

Gil was appalled. “My father? Impossible! Sparks can’t be wasped!”

Tarvek looked tired. “They’ve developed a new strain.”

“They? They, who?”

Tarvek was thinking. He answered distantly: “Some of Lucrezia’s followers within the Order. Mostly a spark named Gottmurg Snarlantz . . . ”

Gil stared at him. “And you knew about this!”

“Yes. But I didn’t know she had got to your father. We have to—”

Gil grabbed hold of Tarvek’s coat and shook him so hard his teeth rattled. “Black fire and slag,” he swore. “Just when I start to forget what you are, you reveal another level of corruption!”

“I’m telling you about it now,” Tarvek gasped. “Listen to me. We’ve got to get out of here. Back to Agatha. Right now!”

Gil stared at him coldly. “Why? So you can infect her with one of your—”

“NO!” The slap Tarvek delivered was sharp enough that Gil’s saw flashes of light.

He leaped forward and slammed Tarvek to the ground, shouting, “Hold your fire!” as shots whistled over their heads.

“Sir! Are you all right?” Guards were rushing towards them.

“I’m fine, Captain.” Gil responded. “Leave him alone.” He turned back to Tarvek, who was still on the ground. “You idiot!” he shouted. “Are you trying to commit suicide?”

Tarvek glared up at him. “You know I wouldn’t do that to her.” Gil paused. He did know that.

Tarvek kept talking: “Besides, Lucrezia has already got to Agatha. I’m the only one who knows enough—because I allowed myself to work with her—to actually have a chance of breaking her free!”

“All right! I know! Have you already forgotten how much trouble we went through to keep you alive?” He smacked the back of Tarvek’s head. His anger was fading, but the fool could have got himself killed. “How dare you risk yourself and her by acting so stupid!”

“Ow! Let me up!” Tarvek struggled to his feet and rubbed his head. We’ve got to get you out of here. Quickly!”

Gil snorted. “Don’t be absurd. I stay here. I want you to stick close to Agatha. You’re an opportunistic serpent up to your ears in treachery and intrigue, and I’m counting on you to spot and deal with any hidden threats. And yes, try to find a way to get rid of Lucrezia. I’ll use the empire to clear out the obvious attacks. I can’t join you until I’ve got things back under control.”

Tarvek looked like he wanted to throttle him. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you,” he said through clenched teeth. “I see a huge threat—to Agatha and to you—right now! You’re no use to either of us if you stay here and get wasped!”

Gil scowled. “I really don’t think—”

Tarvek interrupted. “I know, but try. Your father’s death was announced to the world without any warning. Think about it. Your empire isn’t run by fools, but no preparations were made to contain the damage that news like that would cause! It just got blurted out to everyone. I’d wondered about it, but . . . hearing that story just now? It’s obvious to me there are two intellects working at a level I’m just beginning to see. One is trying to warn you—that’s your father—the other is preparing to trap you!”

“Me? How—?”

“Think! You were safely ensconced within Castle Heterodyne. No one could touch you there, not without destroying the Castle and everyone in it. But once we heard your father was dead, out you came! I’ll bet a lot of people saw you emerge and I’m also betting you made a big deal about returning to Castle Wulfenbach.”

“Well, yes. The troops needed to see—”

Tarvek waved his hands. “No, no, I’m not saying you did anything wrong.” He grimaced. “I’m saying that someone was counting on you doing the right things. Coming here, assuming control.” He rubbed his forehead. “But I’m more and more convinced that if you stay here, you’ll be wasped. Or worse. The only thing that’s missing is—”

A Castle messenger sped in, waving a flimsy wildly above her head. “The Baron is alive!” Her excited shout filled the room, which spontaneously erupted in cheers. “He’s returned to Castle Wulfenbach! He’s on his way here!”

“Time to go,” Tarvek said as he dragged Gil out of the room.

“Wait!” Gil looked back. “If my father is really here—”

Tarvek nodded. “An excellent way to put it. You want to argue? Fine! But do it while we move!”

Gil made a snap decision and the two ran down the corridor and headed off into the depths of Castle Wulfenbach. “How do I know you’re not just guessing about my father?”

Tarvek nodded. “Weren’t you listening to that idiot’s story? It’s obvious that your father has used him to get a message to you! If he’s been wasped, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about it directly and shouldn’t even be able to hint at it in such a blatant manner.” He paused in admiration. “Your father is extraordinary, it’s like the usual rules don’t apply to him. As if Lucrezia doesn’t control his entire brain.” Tarvek shook his head. “But she can control his actions and, now that he’s here, it’ll be simple for him to lock you up.” He looked at Gil. “There are enough people who’ll think it’s reasonable, considering you went into the Castle in the first place.”

Gil conceded this. “If you’re right about this, then what can we do?”

Tarvek grinned. “We stay alive and out of her clutches. We’re both dangerous to her in our own way. I studied with her! She showed me all kinds of things! And I think I’ve developed a formula to keep a person safe from wasp infection.”

“Why haven’t you—?”

“I’ve been kind of busy lately!” Gil conceded the point. Tarvek continued. “As far as I know, there was only the one prototype of the spark wasp variety. It should take some time even for Lucrezia to make new ones, but we can’t be sure of anything when it comes to her. I’ll teach you my formula. If we get separated, you get to a lab and dose yourself as soon as you can.”

Before he could stop himself, Gil muttered, “How do I know it won’t just kill me or something?”

Tarvek stopped and faced him. “Okay, you know what? I never knew what I had done to make you hate me so much, but I’ve finally figured it out. That time we were caught sneaking into the records vault? I’m betting that’s when the Baron finally told you he was your father. He probably warned you against me as well—told you all about my family and what treacherous backstabbers we all are.”

“And that’s not true?”

“Of course it’s true! But you were—” Tarvek paused. “We both were looking for something exciting about your past. It was just for fun! How was I supposed to know how it would look to the Baron? He was giving me a lot more credit than I deserved, but it’s no wonder I got thrown off of Castle Wulfenbach.”

Gil, who had done his best at the time to get Tarvek sent away, looked embarrassed. Tarvek had another revelation. “And all that time in Paris! When you were wallowing in debauchery with your doxies, tarts, and pirates . . . You were trying to convince me you were nothing more than a disgusting, lecherous, drunken sot.” He paused and then punched Gil on the shoulder. “I want you to know I bought into that completely. Well done.”

Gil twitched his shoulder away. “Fine! I’ll . . . I’ll trust you . . . just shut up about it.” He started pacing in a different direction. “Assuming you’re correct, we’ve got to be careful and we don’t have a lot of time. We can’t just run to the nearest dirigible bay.”

“Why not?”

“My father is a brilliant strategist. He can outthink anybody. He’s at least always five steps ahead of his enemies . . . ”

“Except possibly Lucrezia.”

“Except possibly Lucrezia. So if he’s under her control—”

“Neither of them would be stupid enough to let it show.”

“Yes. They’ll be careful. Subtle.” Gil lowered his voice. “I’m saying we don’t know how long he’s already been aboard.”

Tarvek bit his lip. “At least seven key people were called away from the Operations Room while we were talking.”

Gil grimaced. “Not good. We have no ideas what private orders my father has already given. Even un-wasped, he’d probably have you shot.”

Tarvek shrugged. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“For what it’s worth. You’ve earned it.”

Tarvek winced as he rubbed the site of his recent gunshot wound. “Another thing the two of them will agree on.” He looked around. The corridors they were traversing aboard the great airship were becoming progressively quieter. These were places that were not as populated as others. “Tell me again why we’re not leaving?”

“We are leaving. But I’ll bet that every hanger bay has guards by now, waiting to grab you. Probably both of us, actually. No, we’re going, but now we’re escaping.”

“Escaping from what?”

Both men spun in shock to see Bangladesh traipsing down the corridor. “Geez,” she groused, “I step out to get coffee and when I get back, Boris said that the two of you’d just bolted outta there with no explanation,”

At this moment, Bangladesh stepped under one of the irregularly spaced lights. Tarvek recoiled in terror. “No!” he shouted, “not you!”

This greeting was so much an everyday experience that it took the captain several seconds to remember Tarvek at all. When she did, her eyes widened, and a thousand-watt smile lit up her face. “Oh my gosh,” she breathed in wonder. “Oh my gosh! I’d know that girlish scream anywhere! It’s Prince ‘How Dare You’!” She grabbed the petrified man by the shoulders and swiveled him around in delight. “It’s really you,” she marveled. “I thought you’d jumped to your death! Nicely done!”¹¹¹

Finally, Tarvek couldn’t take it anymore. “Wulfenbach, what is she doing here? Doesn’t your empire shoot pirates? Shoot her now! Right now!”

Bang laughed in delight as she pinched Tarvek’s cheeks. “Oh, I’ve missed you, me proud beauty, yah ha haar!”

Gil nodded sympathetically. “I know, I keep meaning to. I’m continually amazed my father hasn’t—” A sudden thought caused him to pause. When he spoke again, it was with a sudden seriousness. “DuPree, come with us.”

Before Tarvek could move, Bangladesh wove her arm through his. “Hey,” she dropped her voice suggestively, “do you still have those little scars I gave you?” She tugged at his shirt. “C’mon! Lemme see”

Tarvek did his best to ignore her. “Why is she coming with us?”

“Because I don’t want her to get wasped.”

Tarvek noted that Captain DuPree’s fooling about stopped instantly.

“Think about it,” Gil continued. “Can you imagine what she’d be like working for Lucrezia?”

Tarvek imagined it. “So shoot her!”

“Ha! You’re still so funny!”

“So where are we going?”

Gil glanced at Bangladesh and took a deep breath. “To my lab.” Tarvek frowned. “To my secret lab. With any luck, no one will find us there.”

“Dere hyu iz,” Vole said in a put-upon voice.

Gil stared up at the tall Jäger. “How did you find us?”

Vole rolled his eyes. “Hyu keeds tink hyu iz so schneaky. Dot’s cute, but hyu gots bigger problems, kiddo.” He grinned malevolently and leaned in. “Hyu poppa iz alive after all! Heez gots der security forces runnink all offer de place— lookink for hyu.” A thick, clawed finger thudded into Gil’s chest. “Hyu iz to be detained.” He glanced over towards Tarvek. “Prince Schtumvarouwz iz to be detained.” He cocked an eye at Bangladesh and added, “Und enneyvun who haz even talked to hyu is to be detained.”

The three glanced at each other and then back at the now-visibly amused Jäger. Gil nodded. “And are you here to ‘detain’ us?”

Vole’s amusement broke free into a large, smile. “Ho! No vay, boss! Hy vurks for hyu now, remember?” He gave Gil a mocking salute. “End hy em here to help hyu owt!”

Gil looked confused. Vole’s grin grew even larger. “Hyu iz goink against hyu poppa.” He shook his head appreciatively. “Dot’s gonna be some var! Messy, terrible civil war! De empire vill be in flames! De pipple vill be crushed between de two uf hyu und it vill unleash an ocean of blood!” He raised his hands skyward. “Dis vill be more carnage den hy could heff ever hoped for! The destruction . . . It vill be glorious!”

With a sickening crash that she alone heard, Bangladesh felt herself fall in love. While the captain was never known for her forethought and, indeed, openly mocked anyone who mentioned they had long-term life plans,¹¹² she had long ago dismissed any possibility of a romantic entanglement. Oh, she thought of herself and was occasionally acknowledged as a pirate queen, which meant that, eventually, once she had reclaimed her mother’s island kingdom, she would be expected to produce heirs, but she had never been one to demand romance when all she required was sex.

A significant amount of the pleasure she got from interacting with Gilgamesh over the last several months had been derived from mocking him for his infatuation with the Heterodyne girl. The realization that she was suddenly caught up in a similar situation, caused her to experience an emotion Klaus would have easily sacrificed several hundred square kilometers of the empire to see: uncertainty.

Several minutes later, she surfaced from her thoughts and realized that she, as well as the others, were now moving down an unfamiliar service corridor.

Behind her marched Vole, lost in visions of future carnage he continuously choreographed, murmuring in a lazy monotone that threatened to make her swoon with unsavory delight. Before her strode Gil and Tarvek. Tarvek tried to stop listening to the war-besotted Jäger, but kept hearing things that demanded to be cataloged and remembered for later. He quickened his steps and whispered to Gil, “Are you actually listening to any of this?”

Gil shook his head. “Not really. But if that fantasy is what’s keeping him from turning us in, then fine. He’s obviously enjoying himself.”

He walked several steps in silence. “But if you’re worried that he’s . . . he’s correct, then we could just surrender right now. If you’re right about all this, I’ll just get wasped. You’ll probably wind up dead, but at least Europa would avoid a civil war.”

“And Agatha?”

Gil sighed. “Yes, that’s where our little altruistic thought experiment breaks down, doesn’t it? Come on. It’s not far now.”

Tarvek looked worried. “What makes you think they won’t be waiting for you in your lab?”

Gil grinned. “Secret lab, remember? I was raised on Castle Wulfenbach, even while they were still constructing it. There were enough crews working at once that it was pretty easy to alter blueprints without anyone noticing and then switch them back before the inspections. As a result, I have a whole private section of the ship sealed off from the main compartments that no one knows about.”

Tarvek considered this. “That . . . That’s actually pretty cool.”

Gil gave a quick grin. “Isn’t it though?” He stopped in front of a section of corridor broken by a complicated hatchway. While Tarvek was examining it, Gil stepped to the blank wall opposite, turned a random-looking screw with an odd-looking screwdriver, and a panel down back the way they’d come swung open on silent hinges. A minute later, Gil raised a grate and peered in. Seeing nothing, he eased the grate to one side, then hoisted himself up.

“Okay,” he called down. “It’s all clear.” Which was when several kilograms of excitable arthropod slammed into his back, causing him to scream in shock. He gathered it up and gave it a hug. “Zoing! Good to see you!”

The little creature looked down at him from within its enveloping coat and hat. “Whirrrryu beee?” it buzzed.

“I told you I’d be busy. How are the patients?”

Zoing nodded proudly. “No dead.”

The group entered a large laboratory. Taking pride of place were a set of glass cylinders, filled with a cloudy liquid. Various gases bubbled upwards. Within the liquid could be seen a pair of figures.

Vole stared within one of them and then recoiled in astonishment. “Iz Meester Ponch!” He examined the other cylinder. “Und Mistress Judy! Hy thought dey vos dead!¹¹³ Vell howzabout dot.”

Gil straightened up from examining a bank of read-outs and nodded in satisfaction. “Final healing is progressing beautifully. Another day or two and they’ll be as good as new. Better, actually.”¹¹⁴ He patted Zoing on top of his hat and fed him a sugar cube from a small bowl on the table. “Good job.”

With the bizarre little construct delightedly crunching away beside him, Gil strode over to a large canvas-shrouded device. With a flourish, he whipped the sheet aside, revealing a gleaming insect-like machine, equipped with two separate sets of ribbed wings.

“What is this?” Tarvek was obviously intrigued.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Gil checked a meter on the side, pried off a cap that was sealing the end of a pipe, and began pouring something that smelled strongly of volatile petrochemicals into the machine. “It’s an experimental flying machine, but really, aren’t they all?”

Tarvek studied the cockpit, looking for any sign of supports. “Where’s the gasbag?”

“It doesn’t have one! I said it was experimental.”

Tarvek stared. “So it’s some kind of falling machine?”

Gil frowned, as if at a particularly embarrassing memory. “No. Well . . . not exactly. Are you familiar with the Bernoulli Equation?”¹¹⁵

Tarvek stared at him. “That’s about fluid dynamics, yes? The one that was discredited when that fool, Betancourt,¹¹⁶ tried to build a supersonic submersible in the Black Sea?” Gil winced. Tarvek continued. “This contraption won’t fly at all!”

“Science says it will!”

“Then science can fly it!”

“I assure you, even if it doesn’t fly exactly, it should reach the ground in one piece long before it explodes.” He frowned. “Well . . . I think so, anyway. I haven’t really tested it since I made those changes . . . ”

Impatiently, he shook his head and dragged Tarvek over to the cockpit. “Look. Here are the controls. They’re pretty simple. Can you run a four-gear landwalker?”¹¹⁷

Tarvek looked slightly guilty. “Um . . . Once at University, I had to use it to destroy one of my—”

Gil waved a hand, cutting him off. “Perfect! But on this, instead of ‘walking,’ think of it as ‘skating.’ ”

“But, I can’t—”

Gil swept his hand over a bank of controls marked SAFETY SYSTEMS. “You can ignore all of these—”

Tarvek’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute . . . ”

“Just keep an eye on fuel, altimeter, brakes, and the giant claw.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Suddenly he reared back, eyes wide in astonishment. “You can’t seriously— You are! For some pointless, no doubt pfennig-dreadful-induced delusion of noble sacrifice, you’re planning on staying here! Why?”

Gil looked off to the side. “I have no idea what—”

“Don’t you dare try to pull that on me! Seriously, what do you think you can accomplish here? Have you even considered how dangerous a spark of your caliber will be if you’re enslaved by the Other? It’s bad enough she’s got your father.”

“We don’t know that.”

“I know that! And I know that if she gets you, too, the rest of us might as well give up and just burn Europa to the ground ourselves!” Tarvek reached into his coat and pulled out a small notebook and waved it under Gil’s nose. “I haven’t even given you my formula yet, and I’m still not even one hundred percent sure it’ll work. But even if it does, you staying here would still be suicide, because if the Other tells your father to kill you, he will. And that’s the best case scenario! Plus,” he smacked the side of the flyer, “I do not believe this thing could hover, let alone fly!”

Gil rolled his eyes. “Of course it can’t hover.”

“Ah-HA!”

Gil sighed. “Lots of things fly without gasbags. You have absolutely no grasp of aeronautics, do you?”

They heard a crash and a grunt from behind them and whirled around to see Othar Tryggvassen leap up from where he had knocked Captain Vole to the ground. “Wulfenbach! We meet again! I have found you at last!” He glanced at Tarvek. “And your degenerate clone!”

“His what?” Tarvek sputtered. “How dare you!”

Gil nodded in satisfaction. “Thank goodness. I hate having to justify myself.” He then took a deep breath, snagged Tarvek’s sleeve, and ran. “Curses! Foiled again,” he shrieked.

Othar looked like a ten-year-old child being given a second Christmas. “What?”

“We must flee,” Gil continued as he hustled Tarvek along, “for it is none other than Othar Tryggvassen—Gentleman Adventurer—vanquisher of eeeeevil!”

“Hey now,” Othar huffed as he pursued them, “you make it sound absurd!”

Gil swung the two of them into the cockpit of the flyer. “We will make a daring escape in my amazing flying machine!”

Tarvek struggled like a cat spotting an impending bath. “Not the flying machine! Not the flying machine!”

“I think not, villain!” Othar swung up to the flyer just in time to have Tarvek flung directly into his path. The two men went down in a tangle of arms and legs while Gil swept his hands across the activation switches.

“I need to drag you back to your father,” Othar roared. “My sister—”

“You did something to his sister?” Tarvek tried to stand up. “What is the matter with you?”

Gil patted both men on the back. “Don’t worry! Tarvek is really good at machinery, and Othar here is a master of escape!” Suddenly, both Tarvek and Othar realized they were connected at the wrists by a pair of shackles. “So if you work together, I know you’ll be okay!”

The two men looked up in time to see Gil standing several meters away, a hanger door control in his hand. He gave a wave, hit the switch, and the floor opened up beneath them. Gil watched them go and shook his head. “I’ll be very curious to hear how they do,” he mused.

“Dot no goot schneak!” Vole stumbled up beside Gil and peered down, rubbing his head. “Goot job, boss. Vell let’s get goink. Eef we’z gunna schtart a civil var, ve’s gotz to get crackin’.”

“Gil studied him. “Yesss . . . About that . . . ” and with a sigh, he shoved Vole out into space.

A gasp from behind caused him to turn as he was closing the hatch. Bang stared at him in shock. “What did you do that for?”

“Oh, he should be fine,” Gil assured her. “They haven’t even gotten the engine started yet and, due to his aerodynamic profile, Vole is falling faster—”

Several years of experience caused Gil to instinctively dodge the knife that sliced through the air towards him and catch it with a snap of his wrist. He looked at Bangladesh with a puzzled look on his face. “Now what? Don’t tell me you’re mad that you didn’t get to push him.”

Another knife cut the air several centimeters from where his nose had been. “I liked that one!”

Gil stared at her. “You . . . like him? Vole? You like . . . ” Then it all came together in his head and he gave a whoop of laughter as Bangladesh’s face grew progressively redder. “Of course you do!” he gasped in glee. “He’s a bloodthirsty, treacherous killing machine! Oh, this is priceless!” He easily avoided her hatchet and pinched her cheek. “I promise I won’t tell anyone you have a booooyyyfriend.”

Exhibiting a level of control that a part of Gil’s mind filed away as “worrying,” Bang took a deep breath and carefully adjusted her cap. “Yeah, well you should talk, twerp. What about all the trouble you’re causing over this Heterodyne wench?”

Gil sobered up. “Point taken.” That said, he reached into a pocket and produced Tarvek’s notebook, which he had deftly lifted from the distracted prince’s pocket. “The first thing I need to do is look at this formula.” He nodded and strolled into the next room. “Zoing? Start clearing a space on chemical table three, and get me—”

DuPree’s hand dropped onto his shoulder. “Oh no you don’t. I’m still working for your father, apparently, and it sounds like he wants you brought in now.”

Gil snapped the book closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe it.”

“You’d better believe it. Now get moving.”

Gil shrugged off her hand. “Not you, Sturmvoraus’ notes. They’re encrypted.”

Bangladesh gave Gil a small shove in the center of his back. “Too bad, so sad,” she sang out. “Now get moving.”

Gil paused, faced her, and gently took her hand. “DuPree, please,” he said earnestly, “I need you to stay here with me.” Effortlessly, he swung the captain through the air and slammed her to the deck. “And let me work!” He received a quick boot in the face in response. Gil somersaulted backwards in time to avoid the second, fetching up next to a bench laden with dusty bottles. “Seriously, DuPree, this is very—” A particular bottle caught his eye. “Oh! Silver of Vixonite!¹¹⁸ I thought I was going to have to make more of this from scratch. That’s going to make this a lot easier!”

He twitched his hand to avoid Bang smashing the bottle with her fist, sending it into the air. “Careful, ” he admonished her. “This formula is difficult enough without you breaking stuff.”

“How do you know that? I thought you said you couldn’t read those notes.”

Gil caught the bottle as it dropped. “I said they were encrypted. I didn’t say I couldn’t read them.” He turned away and, as Bang attacked him, slammed his boot into her solar plexus, sending her crashing back into another bench. “Now, would you see if we have any distillation of Monahan’s Viniferous MusEelixir left?”

“I’ll distill you!” With a snarl, Bang grabbed a bottle and flung it at Gil’s head. Gil plucked it from the air, examined the label, and nodded in satisfaction. “Perfect! Thanks. And next to that should be a bottle of—” Another flask smacked into his waiting hand. “—Calaxia Oil! That’s right! You’re getting better at this. Remember that time you gave me concentrated Pellicax’s Twist instead of Saint Michael’s Toes and your whole ship blew up?”

He blinked and ducked as a lab bench sailed overhead and crashed into the wall behind him. “No, no, I’ve already got one of those.” He checked the book again and frowned as he fished in his work vest for a screwdriver. “Now this part sounds tricky . . . ” Absent-mindedly, he brought the screwdriver up in time to parry the knife Bang was attempting to drive into his eye. He sighed and looked at her. “Look, I’ll admit this kind of thing is occasionally fun, but this is not the time, okay?”

“Oh, it’s always the time for what I’m going to do to you!”

Gil sighed. “Zoing?”

A pair of steel claspers came swiftly down and seized Bangladesh’s shoulders and, holding her tightly, hoisted her into the air. Astonished, she craned her neck and saw the diminutive construct piloting a large metal mantis-looking clank which had been covered in graffiti rendered in a juvenile hand declaring sentiments such as “Arthropods rule!”

“Gotone,” Zoing chirped in glee. “Toldyuit begoood!”

Gil looked a bit embarrassed. “Yes, yes, you were right, I was wrong.”

Upon hearing this, Zoing did a peculiar little waggling dance of victory. “EEEEE!”

“Hey! Cheating!” Bang declared. “This is cheating. This . . . what is this thing?”

“Oh, I built it for Zoing a long time ago.”

Zoing leaned down. “Izfor pickingup gorlz!”

Bang’s jaw dropped. “It’s for what?”

Gil rubbed his neck. “Well, when I was a kid, we heard some of the older guys talking . . . but we were kind of . . . um . . . unclear on the finer points, and, well . . . ”

Zoing waved his claws in triumph. “Itworkz! Itworkz!”

Bang stared at the two of them, pity evident in her gaze. “That is just like you. Sooo pathetic.”

Gil squirmed in embarrassment. “Just strap her down somewhere, okay?”

“Somewhere” turned out to be a fully functional medical table, equipped with heavy-duty straps and controls that allowed it to be swiveled in any direction. A shackled Bang stared up at Gil in contempt. “Seriously pathetic.”

“I assure you this table is purely for medical purposes.”

“That’s what makes it pathetic.” She glanced over at the bench that Zoing was fastidiously tending. “What are you working on that’s so important, anyway?”

“Something that should protect us against slaver wasp infection.”

Bang’s interest sharpened. “But that guy whose notes you’re following. That was the Prince of Sturmhalten. You’re following his formula? Sturmhalten’s at the whole center of this thing. The royal family was neck deep in it.”

“I know,” Gil acknowledged, “That’s precisely why I think this has a chance of working. They’d want to protect themselves.”

Bang snorted. “They’re wasting their time aren’t they? Sparks can’t be infected. Something about their brain chemistry. That’s why the Other just kills them.”

Gil looked at her askance. It was always disturbing when Bangladesh displayed an understanding of anything more complicated than which was the sharp end of an object. “That was, in fact, the case,” he admitted. “Until it wasn’t. Apparently one of the Other’s pet sparks managed to develop a wasp that could infect sparks, and we think someone got close enough to use it on my father.” A sharp intake of breath showed Bang was still paying attention. “We don’t know how long they’ve had this technology, and I’m sure my father wasn’t supposed to be their first test, but everything got upset when Agatha was found.

“Tarvek believes this formula will immunize us against slaver wasps. I’m sure you can see how vital that would be, especially if my father is infected. One of the reasons I stayed was that this has to be tested, and we’re the best—” He turned towards the table, and stopped as he realized that, aside from Bangladesh’s coat, boots, and pants, it was vacant. He sighed. “DuPree, are you listening to anything I’m saying?”

She slammed into him from his lower left, one of the few directions he had not been prepared for. “Oh, I’m listening.” She punched the back of Gil’s head, causing his face to bounce against the steel deck. “You’ve become weirdly infatuated with this girl, who might be the Other full time, as opposed to only part time.” She ground her knees into the small of his back. “And you were locked away with her in Castle Heterodyne, along with Prince Squealy, who you’re now all chummy with when, for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve hated him. Which was understandable because, at the moment, he’s at the top of your father’s Most Wanted List, precisely because he knows all about slaver wasps, since his entire family was working with the Other and her scientists.

“Now you’re using one of his formulas to mix up a miracle cure for something that’s never even been a problem before now—and you expect me to drink it!” She rested her knees on his inert shoulders. “I think that about covers it.”

With a brutal snap, Gil’s heel slammed into the back of her head. “Yes,” he said. “And no.” Bang’s eyes rolled up into her head and she slumped forward. “Okay, enough of this,” Gil muttered as he crawled free. He levered himself to his feet and grabbed the flask of precipitate sitting on the bench. “I don’t care if you believe me or not, this is important. I need you to stay free.” So saying, he poured half of the bottle into her mouth. Bang came to with a start, coughing and spitting. Gil patted her on the back. “Sorry about that,” he said, not really sorry at all. “But I’m going to drink it as well—” Bang began to twitch. “—in a minute.”

He stared in fascinated horror as Bangladesh continued to twitch and shudder while her skin began to throw off small sparks of static electricity. “That’s pretty interesting,” he said.

Bang threw her head back and screamed. “I knew she’d got to you! I really should kill you!”

“No, no,” Gil said reassuringly. “I think this is supposed to happen.” Hurriedly, he picked up Tarvek’s notes and began to flip through the pages. “Here we go,” he muttered. “Table H: Temporary Side Effects . . . Oh! I see!” He looked up at Bangladesh’s crackling epidermis. “It’s changing your ionic balance. What an ingenious solution.”

“Head . . . feels like it’s going to explode.”

Gil patted her arm. “Don’t worry. That means it’s working. It should fade in a minute or so.”

“That’s very comforting,” Bang nodded jerkily. “Need to sit down,” she mumbled. Gil fetched a chair, which Bang gratefully took and then brought down on his head.

She then grabbed the flask. “I don’t know whether to pour the rest of this down your throat or down the sink.” She studied his dazed face. “Which would annoy you more?”