Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

Strinbeck, who had never been much into the whole “fellowship” thing to begin with, pointedly detached himself from his overly familiar companion. “Of course I am,” he snapped. “It’s too soon. I don’t like being rushed.”

To his surprise, the older man took him seriously. In a rare flash of insight, Strinbeck realized that Oublenmach was as worried as he was—but better at hiding his misgivings. “You think Zola isn’t ready?”

Strinbeck waved a hand irritably. “No, no. She’s perfect.” The hand flicked towards the window. “I’m worried about the castle.”

Oublenmach regarded Castle Heterodyne with a frown. “Ah yes, the castle is the unpredictable element, is it not?” He faced Strinbeck and grinned that disquietingly evil grin of his. “But it always will be, sir. No matter how much we prepare. No, we had to move! All that lovely build-up in Balan’s Gap? Old Klaus wounded? Either one of them would have been temptation enough, but both together? Carpe diem!”

Strinbeck irritably snapped his telescope shut and wondered what fish had to do with anything. “But what about that giant Heterodyne girl over Sturmhalten? Even your people haven’t found her yet! Which is inexcusable! I mean, she was bloody enormous!”

Oublenmach began to laugh at the joke, and then his eyes glazed slightly as he realized that Strinbeck was quite serious. “One thing at a time, sir. One thing at a time. Once everything is in place, our girl will effectively be the new Heterodyne. Vox machinae, vox populi, eh?

“Then, when do we capture the other…aheh…no doubt enormous…girl, she’ll just be another pathetic Heterodyne impersonator, and if she does give us the slip as it were and get in, why then, Zola will simply see to it that she’s ‘killed by the castle.’ That is what it does best, is it not?”

“Let’s just hope the castle doesn’t squash our Zola first, eh?”

Oublenmach rolled his eyes. “Oh enough, sir! The dice are thrown and we’ve loaded them as best we could! Think positively, your Grace! The castle will fall to us! The Doom Bell will ring, and Europa will—”

Oublenmach’s voice was rising with excitement, but Strinbeck cut him off with a sigh. Oublenmach was so enthusiastic that Strinbeck cringed whenever he had to endure a prolonged conversation with him. Right now, Oublenmach was positively exhausting. “Yes, yes! A new era for everyone. Do spare me the glorious blueprint. I’m going to have a bit of a lie-down.”

Oublenmach dismissed him with a wave. This was the sort of casual impertinence that caused Strinbeck’s jaw to tighten in fury. Soon enough, you jumped up peasant, the duke promised himself for the thousandth time.

Once the duke had left, Oublenmach turned to the captain, who’d been standing woodenly behind them. “Captain Abelard, I assume your drop-reels are properly engaged.”

Abelard was used to getting questions from nervous passengers about the state of assorted equipment, but this was a surprise. The drop-reels were a rather unnerving method of exiting a low-flying ship. Not the sort of thing you’d expect a ground-hugger to even know about.

“Of course, sir.”

“Excellent. Show me.”

There was no polite way to refuse. Oublenmach was paying the bills and it was patently obvious that there was nothing otherwise occupying the captain’s time. Thus a short while later, he was treated to the sight of the small man examining one of the cunning little devices with a practiced eye.

“You look like you know a bit about drop-reels, sir.”

“Oh, indeed, indeed,” Oublenmach called out cheerfully. “Saved my life any number of times.”

As the captain digested this intriguing bit of information, he was caught by surprise as the little man slapped the cable release, causing the drum to begin unspooling.

“What the devil are you doing?”

Oublenmach had donned a pair of canvas airman’s gloves and swung the drop-reel around, slapping the gripping jaws closed with a snap. “I am giving in to foolish fancy, sir,” he said gaily. “Too much back-room plotting ruins a man’s digestion, it truly does, sir! When I pick a man’s pocket, I like to do it to his face, and I’ll not steal an Empire any differently!”

Before the captain could stop him, he swung out and hung from the control rods. “If poor Josef asks, I’ve gone for a drink! Au revoir!” And with a laugh, he twisted the grips and dropped out of sight.

The captain swore and peered downwards. He then grunted in surprise. Annoying fellow he might be, but Oublenmach handled the drop-reel like an expert. As the captain watched, he disengaged at exactly the right moment and touched down lightly even as the reel spool began yo-yoing back up the line. He then waved a perfect signal-corps “safe aground” sign before turning and sauntering off.