Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

Agatha knew she was shouting again but she was so angry, she didn’t care. And I’m the evil madgirl with the death ray and the freakish ancestors and the town full of minions and the horde of Jägers and the homicidal Castle full of sycophantic evil geniuses and fun-sized hunter-killer monster clanks and goodness knows what else—”

She stopped, panting. A thought had just struck her. A wonderful, terrible thought. She was that madgirl and she did have all those things.

“And you know what? I can work with that!”

Agatha turned to the prisoners, who were staring at her in awe. She stood tall and addressed them. “So listen up, all of you. I am armed, extremely annoyed, and the mistress of this Castle. You will follow my orders, and I will tell the Castle not to squash you. Everybody okay with that?”

One of the prisoners, a tall, corpse-pale man with a battered metal console implanted in the center of his bare chest, stepped up and nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, absolutely, my lady.”

Agatha blinked but remained poised. “Good. I expected a bit more of an argument.”

The man laughed merrily. “Normally? You’d be quite correct! Those with the Spark are constantly engaged in a dance of dominance! There is a delicate balance between crushing one’s enemies and being crushed. It takes an excessive amount of time and mental effort.”

He ran his gloved hand through his thick, snow-white hair and again grinned. “But you—you are a Heterodyne deep within your own lair. There is no question as to who is in charge here.” He took a deep breath. “Socially, it removes a great deal of pressure.”

Agatha stared at him. “Who are you?”

The man grinned and came to attention while clicking his heels together. “Herr Doktor Getwin Mittlemind. University of Vienna. MD, Psychology, PhD, Sociology, at your service.”

Agatha nodded. “I…see. You don’t meet many mad social scientists.”

Mittlemind snorted. “Of course not! All the funding goes towards building those flashy clanks and death rays! It’s so unfair!

“I told the Baron: ‘Give me a thousand orphans, a hedge maze, and enough cheese and I can give you the Empire of the Polar Lords within three years!’ But noooo…”

Agatha had had enough of this. The man was working himself up toward a full-blown Spark rant.

Agatha interrupted him. “You are not reassuring me.”

A short, solid young woman dressed in protective gear sidled up to Agatha. “Your pardon, my lady, but you probably can rely on most of us. Hexalina Snaug, at your service, my lady.”

Agatha looked at her. “Oh?

Snaug nodded. “Sure. If you are the Heterodyne and the Castle gets fixed…” She spread her hands. “Then the Baron won’t be using the Castle any more. We’ll be free to go. It’s even one of the conditions of our sentences.”

Agatha glanced over to Gilgamesh and raised an eyebrow inquiringly. “Really.”

Gil, still pinned under the tiger clank’s paw, made affirmative noises.

Agatha turned back to the prisoners and smiled happily. “Very well. Cross me, and die.”

The prisoners beamed. Mittlemind rubbed his hands together. “You won’t regret it, my lady!” He then pulled a battered notebook from his pocket and began flipping through pages. “Now, if I might make a suggestion? I couldn’t help but notice that with the addition of just a very few added walls, your town will make an excellent maze!”

Agatha shrugged. “Let’s get the Castle repaired and I will listen to any scheme—um—proposal that you want to submit.”

The others gasped. This was largesse on an unexpected scale.⁷³

Agatha couldn’t put it off any longer. “All right, I’m going to let them up. Take their weapons and get ready to hold onto Pinkie.”

When the clank finally lifted its paw, Gil raised himself on one arm and looked up at Agatha, an unreadable expression on his face. Agatha’s Spark rage had passed and now she felt slightly ill. It was so hard to see him again. She reminded herself that she still hardly knew him…yet…he had cared for her and she had let him think she was dead…and now, here he was—unexpectedly close with this scheming rival…She knelt next to him and the two stared at each other, silently.

When she spoke, her voice was even and calm. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t cry and let you rescue me, but it looks like I’ve got to be the big bad Heterodyne for a while. I’ve got a lot of people counting on me, starting with someone who’s really sick. That’s why I need you to come with me now, even though I’m really mad at you.” She bit her lip. That would have to do—she didn’t have time for any more explanations right now.

Gil nodded and with a single fluid movement was on his feet offering her his hand. She looked up at him and noticed—for the first time—the ring he wore on a thin metal chain around his neck. Her ring.

The ring he had given her on Castle Wulfenbach. The ring that she had left on poor Olga’s burned corpse. He’d kept it. He…

He spoke. “All right, then we’d better get going.”