Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

The old man shook his head. They came to the bottom of the steps and looked up at an elaborate series of groined vaults, the tops of which were lost in the cool darkness.

“This,” Carson announced, his voice echoing, “is the true family crypt of the Heterodynes.” As their eyes adjusted, they could see bizarre and elaborate sepulchers and coffins of marble and granite, decorated with tarnished metal and dusty gems. Unearthly statues lined the walls and carved skeletons were everywhere. It took Agatha a moment to realize that unlike other cemeteries she had visited, all of the statues and carved faces were grinning in a most disquieting manner. Even in death, the Heterodynes took a perverse pride in the fact that people were happy to see them go.

As they moved down the central corridor, names came and went in the darkness. Names that Agatha recognized as the monsters of stories she had heard as a child. Stories that everyone had heard. She realized that she was torn between dread and a sort of twisted admiration. These were the monsters that had shaped the face and the history of Europa. Sometimes for the worse, and sometimes, though it had certainly not been their intent, for the better—if only because of the heroism that had arisen in order to confront them.

It was all summed up by the inscription over the tomb of Bludtharst Heterodyne, who had been responsible for the creation of the Storm King’s coalition: HE COULDN’T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT ME. True enough, Agatha thought, although she suspected the Storm King might have appreciated having an option.

Wooster fished a watch from his waistcoat pocket, gave the back a half-twist that revealed a softly glowing compass, and frowned at it. “I seem to have gotten a bit turned around in all those tunnels,” he admitted. “We started at the Cathedral,²⁴ but now we’re closer to the castle, yes?”

Carson nodded in approval. “Very good, Mister Wooster.”

Zeetha looked around and took a deep breath of the limestone-scented air. “Are all the Heterodynes here?”

Carson pulled an ivory pipe from his pocket and leaned against an ornate coffin. He plucked a clump of crumbly black moss from the stone surface, and tamped it into his pipe. “Well.” He thought about this as he pulled an elaborate silver lighter from another pocket and lit the pipe. “There are a few of them that are represented by only a few ashes or scraps of armor,” he conceded, “but aside from Master William and Master Barry, one way or another, the Heterodynes have always come home in the end.” He took a deep puff and released a savory cloud of faintly glowing green smoke. “A place has been reserved for them, for when they arrive.”

Agatha studied the man. “You’re convinced they will return,” she declared.

Carson hunched his shoulders and gave a faint smile. “In one form or another.” His teeth gleamed in the shadows.

Agatha stood tall. “And yet you say it’s impossible that I could be a Heterodyne. Even though…every…everything tells me that I am.”

The old man nodded amiably. “Oh, yes, I can see why. Punch and Judy, your effect upon the people of the town, not to mention Captain Vole’s reaction…” Another ruminative puff. “Still, whatever you are, you are not the heir everyone expects.”

“And why can’t I be?”

Carson looked at her and took the pipe from his mouth. He gestured towards her feet with the stem. “Because you’re standing on him.”

Agatha jumped and stared down. A tiny marble slab was set into the stone floor. The inscription was succinct:

KLAUS BARRY HETERODYNE

Beloved son of Lucrezia and William

With us but 407 days—

Forever in our hearts

Agatha had to move her foot to see the dates of birth and death.

Peering over her shoulder, Wooster’s breath caught. He looked up. “He died in the attack on Castle Heterodyne?”

Carson nodded.

Krosp’s tail twitched. “The name—”

He was cut short by Carson. “He was named Klaus at Master William’s insistence. It was done to honor his old friend who had vanished over two years previously.” The old man paused, “Two years and three months, to be technical about it.”

“Yes…” Ardsley said slowly, “I can see why you’d want to be clear about that.”

“I don’t,” said Agatha, “What am I missing?”

Carson looked at her and then looked away. Agatha blinked in puzzlement. The old man was embarrassed.

Zeetha merely chuckled infuriatingly.

Ardsley cleared his throat. “There were…rumors that before she married Bill Heterodyne, the Lady Lucrezia had…trouble deciding between him and Klaus Wulfenbach.”

“It was a well known fact around here,” Carson said tartly. “And the Lady Lucrezia was not one to be bound by…propriety or cultural mores, let us say. But luckily, for dynastic reasons, everyone was satisfied with the math.” He looked at Agatha expectantly.

The light dawned and Agatha flushed. “How did he die?”

“When the Other attacked Castle Heterodyne—”