Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

At that moment, Moloch von Zinzer walked in through a door carrying a sturdy pole with a trigger mechanism built onto one end. The other end sported a large mechanical hand. This he closed hard upon the shrieking arachnid with a sickening crunch.

“Ooh, nice.” A small woman dressed in shades of grey and purple had followed him and was admiring his work.

Von Zinzer shrugged as he retracted the mechanical hand-on-a-stick. He examined the green slime that now coated its palm and tossed it away. “Yeah, you don’t want to touch those things.”

“Poisonous?”

Von Zinzer shook his head. “Nah, just really, really icky.”

Zola had fainted, apparently from sheer disgust. Gil decided to leave her tied up for now. He turned back to her rescuer. “Von Zinzer! You’re the patient?” Gil beamed, relief flooding through him. He had known the mechanic briefly back on Castle Wulfenbach and was confident that the man was no rival. “Well, that’s—”

Von Zinzer blanched. “What? No! Am I changing color?” He examined his hands.

Gil drew back. “Changing—is that what this is about?”

“Well, yeah.” Von Zinzer and the purple girl nodded.

“Sweating? Fever? Delusional?”

“Yeah.”

Gil rubbed his jaw. “Vericus Panteliax’s Chromatic Death,” he pronounced. “Interesting.” “Chromatic Death?” the girl looked alarmed. “As in dead death?” Gil waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, it sounds worse than it is. Did the patient get anything weird into an open wound?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he was poisoned. Someone tried to kill him with a dart while he was in the Great Hospital. And then we knocked over a whole rack of stuff and he fell on the broken glass and then—”

Gil frowned. “Poisoned in the hospital? Sifu is going to love hearing that.” He thought for a second. “Chromatic Death seems a bit…”

“Flashy?”

“No, actually, it’s a bit of an imprecise choice for an assassin. It’s too easy to spot and cure, especially if you’re already in a hospital. Do you have any open wounds? Swallow anything? Hold still, you.” Gil took the girl’s hand and checked her fingernails, then pulled up her eyelid to get a close look at her eyes.

“No!” she said quickly. “And I’m Violetta, by the way, not ‘you.’”

“Violetta. Good.” He looked around the room. “This is a medical lab? Fine. See if you can find me…let’s see…a large syringe, some Ichor of Somnia, at least one hundred grams of Hesperidial Salts, some kind of disinfectant, oh, and a hammer.”

Von Zinzer jumped to attention. “Oh, yeah! On it!”

Gil turned back to Violetta. “And stick Zola here in a safe place for a while, okay? In another room, if possible.”

Tiktoffen stepped forward. “I think I can handle that, sir.” He lifted Zola, sticky web and all, and carried her out of the room.

Agatha put her hand on his arm and he turned.

“Okay, let’s look at this friend of yours,” he said to her.

Agatha held her other hand up to stop him. “No.”

Gil was surprised. “What? But you said—”

“First I’m going to have a look at you.” She steered him toward a nearby workbench. Violetta disappeared through the door she and von Zinzer had come through. She returned with a small, standard-issue Wulfenbach medical kit—probably something von Zinzer had been carrying, Gil thought—and a basin of water; then disappeared again, leaving Agatha and Gil alone together. Agatha turned her back to him while she washed her hands.

“Now, remove your shirt, please.” Her voice was brisk.

Gil cleared his throat. “Look, I’m sure I’m fine. Shouldn’t I be looking at this person who’s really sick?”

Agatha half-turned toward him. She was picking through the medical kit. “You just said he’s not as bad as we thought. Whereas you just got shot, threw a clank across the room, were severely disoriented, and are now insisting you’re fine. Don’t you think that’s a bit odd? If it was your patient…”

Gil considered this. “I’ll get my shirt off.” He turned away to hide his embarrassment and searched for something to say. “So…you’ve had medical training?”

Agatha glanced over her shoulder and quickly turned back to the workbench. “Took a lot of classes. Observed a lot of procedures. Did a lot of assisting in the university labs…” she said.

“But they never let you practice.”

“Nope.” Agatha tried not to sound bitter. She stole another glance at him over her shoulder; then turned fully around, her eyes lowered pointedly to his wounded shoulder. She was clearly avoiding his eyes.

When Gil had removed his shirt, he had felt the ring around his neck turn on its chain until it hung down his back and now he wondered if she had noticed it. He wondered if she recognized it, and what she felt if she did…

“Well, you’re pretty smart,” he said, finding it difficult to speak, “so…so you’ll probably be fine.”