Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

As the Castle preened, Agatha pulled out a little pocket clank—the near twin of the one Gil had sent into the Castle walls—and began winding it. With a whir and a snap it clicked to attention.

“What is that?” the Castle asked with a touch of alarm.

“It’s a little clank,” Agatha explained. “I like to have assistants when I work, so I make them.”

The little device gave her a salute. Agatha brought it down to the broken fun-sized tiger clank. “Let’s see what we can do with this thing, okay?” she told it.

“I don’t like it,” the Castle boomed.

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. It’s just one little clank.”

The little clank examined the mechanism it had been offered and its gears squeaked with glee. There were lots of parts here.

A short while later, Gil let out a deep breath and settled back onto his heels. “And then all I have to do is hook this lead up to this connector!”

“¡Ingenioso!” Professor Diaz rubbed his jaw. “Superb.”

Gil waved a hand. “You’re too kind, Professor.”

Diaz snorted. “I assure you, young man, I have never been noted for my kindness.”

Zola came up behind them. “What are you two doing here?”

Diaz tapped the device before them. “Your pirata, señorita. He has reworked the device! How, I am not quite sure, but he has eliminated the need for all but a few of the stolen pieces.”

Gil shrugged. “Give me a machine shop and a few days and I’ll replace those, as well.”

Zola smiled with delight. “Another day is simply too long, and the men I sent should be back with the parts soon enough. But still,” Zola patted Gil on the cheek. “That was very sweet of you.” She took his arm and pulled him away from the device. “Now you should come, sit down, and get something to eat. I’ll bet you’ve forgotten again, haven’t you?”

A gurgling sound from his midsection confirmed this and Gil allowed himself to be led to a seat. Zola handed him a bottle of homebrewed beer and a sandwich made from some sort of crustacean that apparently could be eaten whole, much like a soft-shelled crab. It was savory and unexpectedly tasty. He had his suspicions as to its origins⁷² but realized he was so hungry that he did not particularly care.

Zola silently watched him eat, which was unusual behavior for her. When Gil took a final pull from the bottle and sighed in contentment, she leaned forward and wiped a spot of mustard off his nose.

“You know, Gil,” she said fondly, “I have to say, when I first saw you, I had some very mixed feelings.”

Gil blinked. “Zola, I told you, that money was a gift, not a loan.” A wistful smile flitted across Zola’s face. “No, I meant that usually, back in Paris, when you showed up it meant that something had gone wrong.” She shyly glanced at Gil, who was desperately trying to keep his face neutral. “And I was…I was going to need rescuing. Again.”

Gil looked guilty. “Oh, well, I…”

A new voice cut in: “Oh, something’s certainly gone wrong.”

There, in the doorway, stood Agatha. She was very pointedly ignoring Gil—instead glaring furiously at Zola. In one hand, she held something that looked like a repurposed soldering gun. In the other, she gripped the handle of an ornate lantern-sized battery cylinder—the kind one might find in a medium-sized clank. A short cable connected the two devices.

Agatha pointed the gun-like part of the device directly at the astonished people in the room but continued talking to Zola: “But whether or not you’re going to need rescuing? That’s up to you.”

“You!” Zola rose, baring her teeth in a fierce snarl. “Kill!” She screamed to her men. The order was drowned out by a hellish crash, as the stained glass window beside her shattered. Through it leaped a roaring nightmare built like a huge metal tiger.

As he leapt to push Zola out of its path, Gil saw that one of its huge glowing eyes had been smashed and in the socket rode one of Agatha’s little pocket-watch clanks. He found himself wondering if it was the one he had released into the Castle wall or another one entirely—and then one of the monster’s great forepaws caught him and slammed him to the ground. One of its padded toes was planted firmly over his mouth—and to his chagrin, he found that he couldn’t call out to Agatha. All he could manage were muffled, inarticulate noises.

The other paw had trapped Zola, who stared up at the creature’s teeth in horror. “…Nothing.” She whispered. “Kill nothing. Nothing at all.”

One of Zola’s minions apparently didn’t hear her. He pulled an odd little pistol from its holster and shouted: “NO! Take her down!” Agatha frowned and raised the weapon—blowing a hole in the wall above his head. Debris rained down upon him, knocking him to his knees. His weapon went skittering away as he ducked behind a bench. “Don’t just stand there,” he screamed at the Castle prisoners. “Don’t you know who that is?”