Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

“Perfect,” Van whispered, tears rolling down his face. A red-gold vision resolved itself in front of him. The Heterodyne. Of course it was she. Everything he was and that his family had been for generations recognized her as the thing that had been missing from his life and in that moment of realization he became forever and irrevocably hers.

The vision looked worried and languidly waved a hand before his face. “Does it taste okay?” She bit her lip. “Are you okay?”

Vanamonde’s mind tried to pull itself together. There was so much that needed doing, of course. Lists and schedules bloomed in the organized corridors of his mind. Everything would have to be reorganized. He began assembling a list of the various lists he would have to prioritize… But wait, the Heterodyne was still looking at him. How embarrassing. She’d been waiting for over an hour for him to answer.

“It’s perfect,” he assured her.

She nodded encouragingly.

Oh, how could he explain? He had to explain. He had to do whatever he could to make her life easier and more interesting. He took another hour or so to correctly formulate his response.

“The taste is a perfect blend of all the tastes and essences that make coffee what it is. A perfect blend—And yet I can discern each and every one, perfectly.”

He realized that he was still clutching the cup and saucer. And the coffee in it was still hot! After so many hours! Astonishing!

“Even the way the liquid adheres to the inside of the cup—indicative of the way it flows along the taste buds—is aesthetically perfect. It reveals the mathematical perfection of the cup itself!”

He realized that he was declaiming now. His voice ringing out with the force of the pure truth he spoke. “The delicate smoothness of the china, with its own inherent temperature, which mitigates the otherwise extreme heat of the coffee itself—It is a thing of tactile and functioning beauty! Perfect!”

Now he was on top of a table and everyone was staring up at him. Yes! They must listen! This was cosmic truth itself! “And this! This perfect saucer!”

Carson sidled up to Agatha. “Lady?” He looked worried.

Agatha glanced back at Van as he began licking the saucer, his eyes rolling back into his head at the sensation upon his tongue. She gave a weak smile. “I can fix that,” she assured him. She looked down at the still-full cup that she had eased from Van’s hand. “Probably.”

There was a crash, and one of the light fixtures exploded. The crowd shrieked and dropped to the floor.

Vanamonde allowed himself to drift downwards, like a perfect snowflake.

In the doorway, smoking pistol in hand, stood Captain Vole, along with a squad of what even Agatha could identify as bullyboys. “Hy seek de vun who claims to be der Heterodyne,” he roared.

Agatha smiled at the sight. A Jäger! She began to step forward only to feel Carson holding her back with an iron grip. “Don’t move,” he whispered urgently. “Keep quiet!”

The tall monster soldier strode into the room. His gaze swept the huddled townsfolk on the floor, then took in the assorted mounds of tools and equipment and lingered on the tall, hissing coffee machine in the center of the room. He nodded in satisfaction.

“Hy know dot she iz here,” he stated conversationally. “Step forvard now, gurl—” Smoothly he spun the gun in his hand and placed the barrel against a waitresses’ forehead. She froze. “Or,” Vole continued, “Hy vill begin shootink dese fools.” He waved to include the rest of the crowd. “Hy giff hyu to three.” He paused, and cocked the gun, “…Two…”

“Stop!” Agatha stepped free of Carson’s hand. “I am the Heterodyne!” She marched up to the startled Jäger and poked him in the chest. “How dare you burst in like this and threaten these people! Stop this at once!”

The effect of this dressing-down upon the tall Jäger was dramatic. His face paled and his eyes widened. He took a step back and studied the girl before him while he rubbed his jaw. “Hyu… Dot voice,” he breathed. “Dot schmell… Hy ken feel it…” he patted his chest in wonder. “Here. Ken hit be true? Hyu really iz—?”

Agatha smiled up at him. “Yes,” she assured him, “I am.”

The Jäger’s eyes went cold and his gun came up. “Vell den. Dot changes efferyting!”

Without really understanding why, Agatha instinctively hurled the cup of coffee into the Jäger’s face and dodged as the gun went off centimeters from her ear.

The monster soldier shrieked in rage as he shook the coffee out of his eyes. “Dem hyu!” Again the gun came up. “Now hy vill not just keel hyu—” he screamed, “Now hy vill keel efferyvun! Hy—” Vole paused, and a thick pink tongue ran across his upper lip. He looked surprised. “Dot iz verra gud coffee.”

The large drop-steel monkey wrench Agatha swung at him caught him squarely across the back of his head. Vole blinked. “Vit a nize kick!”