Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

“You want easy? Go live in a yurt,” the Castle said.

Agatha stared blankly at the nearest wall. Not having a physical face or body—at least, in the usual sense—made the Castle a very difficult person to read. “A what?”

“A yurt!” the Castle repeated “A type of portable shelter made of wool felt. Used by the Mongols!”

Well, at least it wasn’t speculating about her love life. “How… fascinating,” Agatha said.

“Yes! The Mongols!” The Castle was getting excited now. Bits of broken metal floated into the air in front and formed a rough tent-like shape. The Castle went on, “Those extraordinary fighters who swarmed out of the East, subduing all that lay before them! Your ancestors learned so much from them!”

“Really.” Agatha didn’t know what to say.

But the Castle did. “Yes! The tactics of battle! The use of superior technology! The art of ruthlessness!”

The makeshift model yurt clattered to the ground. An iron statue of a mounted warrior shot out of a pile of rubble and took its place—hanging in the air in front of Agatha’s nose. She took a quick jump backward. “Ah…” she said. “No kidding…”

The Castle was not finished. “Oh, to see such glorious carnage!” it enthused, its voice rising. “My greatest dream is to be remade as a yurt! To travel! To see the world as a series of battles! To eschew stairways and windows—”

Agatha couldn’t take any more of this nonsense. “What on Earth is the matter with you!” she screamed at the ceiling.

There was a brief silence. Then the Castle spoke again, in a more subdued tone. “I…I…forgive me, mistress.” It sounded confused. “I do not know.”

Elsewhere, at that very moment, Gil was arm deep in the Castle’s machinery. He pulled a small component out of the wall and held it up for Professor Tiktoffen’s approval. “Aha! And here’s another problem!”

They had already made substantial progress. Professor Tiktoffen had proven himself to be an extraordinarily strong Spark in his own right, who had apparently dedicated the last few years to an exhaustive analysis of the Castle’s systems—while Theo and Gil were old friends, and knew how to bring out the best in each other when they worked. Sleipnir was an exemplary mechanic in her own right and was used to working with Sparks. She had also proved invaluable in finding ways to keep Zola, Zeetha, and Zola’s tall men too busy to get in the way or succumb to despair. Even Krosp had proved useful, as his small size had allowed him to squeeze into spaces the others could not.

Still, they had been at work for several hours and, one by one, the others had retired to the other side of the room to get out of the way. Now, only Gil and Professor Tiktoffen crouched before the disassembled panels as the others slept.

“You were right, Professor, we have got everything else connected, but if you look here, you can see a bit of rubble has sheared through a cable! No wonder we couldn’t make it work!”

Tiktoffen looked and then slumped to the ground. “All of those mechanisms are interconnected.” He looked up at the bank of controls. “We’ll have to disassemble the entire wall!”

Gil tapped a dial face. “Maybe not.” He popped open one of his leather waistcoat’s many pockets and pulled out what appeared to be a large watch fitted with little brass arms and legs. “I picked up a little thing in Sturmhalten that might be useful. It’s something a…a friend made.” He thought it prudent not to mention that the friend who made it was, in fact, Agatha. He wound the stem on its top and with a springing noise, the little device jerked into movement. A shutter that should have concealed a watch-face clicked open, revealing a mechanical eye that swiveled up to stare at Gil’s face.

Gil smiled engagingly. “Hello. Do you remember me? I don’t know how much you can understand, but—”

Quick as a flash, the little clank leapt from Gil’s hand and jerked to a halt, swinging from the end of a watch chain. It flailed briefly as Gil hoisted it to eye level, then it simply hung limp, glaring.

After a moment, Gil spoke to Professor Tiktoffen. “This may take a minute, Professor. If you’d like to get something to eat?”

Tiktoffen looked at him blankly. “I’m not sure what we have,” he muttered, “but I confess that I am hungry enough that if I find a particularly soft socket wrench, I’ll take it.”

Once the man was out of earshot, Gil lowered his voice. “Do you want to help your mistress?”

The device looked everywhere but at Gil’s face, but Gil was patient. Eventually, it gave a mechanical click, glanced back at him, and jerked in an attempt at a nod which set it swinging.

Gil lowered it so that its diminutive feet touched a tabletop, but the chain was still attached to his waistcoat. He leaned down until his face was mere centimeters away. “Good. So do I. But if we’re to do that, you have to help me.”

The little clank considered this, then bounced forward and kicked Gil in the nose.