Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

Krosp leapt atop a chimney and looked around. Troopers were shepherding the townspeople along, steering them away from the machines dotted along the wall and keeping them facing the action below.

“Wulfenbach soldiers are forcing the townspeople up onto the wall,” he reported.

“But most of the defenses aren’t working,” Diamant protested. “They can’t do anything useful.”

Suddenly Wooster had an epiphany. “They can observe.” Wooster turned back to the scene outside the walls. “Someone wants everyone in town to see this.” He swallowed. “And I believe I know who that ‘someone’ is.”

“Gil?” Agatha looked horrified. “But…but what is he thinking?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her mind flashed to the devices Gil had positioned around the wall. Certain structural elements suddenly suggested intriguing possibilities. Agatha’s eyes went wide. “Oh,” she said quietly.

Zeetha’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? What ‘Oh’? You know what he’s thinking?”

Agatha bit her lower lip. “He’s thinking he’s not the one in trouble.”

Aboard the walker, the duke laughed. “B’god, they do grow them stupid here, what?”

“Be quiet, you idiot,” Selnikov snarled. Something isn’t right. Raising his voice, he answered the tiny figure below. “I am Rudolf Selnikov—a Commander of the Knights of Jove! I hereby take command of the Empire of the usurper Wulfenbach in the name of the House of Valois!”

The tiny figure below put his hands on his hips. Selnikov felt the floor drop out from beneath him. He knew—knew—that the foot of the person below was slowly tapping. Why did he know that? Gamely he soldiered on. “Surrender the town, the Heterodyne girl, and the Baron! Cooperate, and no one will be harmed!” Well, he silently amended, no one anyone will care about.

The person below nodded once. Selnikov felt sweat start upon his brow, then realized why he was so rattled. This young jackanapes was acting exactly like that devil Klaus would! The impertinence—!

“I am Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. Son of Klaus!” The voice calling up to him sounded annoyed. “I will say this only once! Leave now, or you will die!”

Selnikov had been exposed to the strange ways of Sparks on an almost daily basis for most of his life, and had nevertheless managed to live to a rather respectable age. He turned to order a retreat. But before he could do it, the duke beside him gave a snort. “Stupid and as mad as a fruitbat, apparently.” He raised his voice. “A gold piece to the fellow who shoots this rascal!”

That was it. The muskets were popping and there would be no retreat. Only one possible way was left to get through this mess. “All guns!” Selnikov screamed. “All guns open fire! Quickly!”

“Use the artillery,” Selnikov roared. “Fire the coil gun!” Around him soldiers were raggedly firing their unfamiliar weapons.

“Damnation,” one swore as he tried to dig another ball out of the pouch at his belt, “I hit him! I know I did!”

Another cursed as he tried to aim. “The gyros are keeping us steady, but they’re not keeping us still!”

Below them, Gil raised his stick. “Time’s up.”

There was an almost imperceptible click—and then the sky opened. A bolt of lightning struck the lead machine, briefly wreathing it in a veil of blue-white discharge before various things inside it exploded, adding to the earsplitting sound of thunder.

The machine stood still for a moment, then twisted and slowly fell to the side with a booming crash.

Several thousand mouths fell open and almost twice that many eyes bugged from their sockets. The first sound, aside from the slow pinging of the metal as it cooled, was Agatha’s delighted scream of triumph as she stared entranced at the scene below.

Gil would have found this intensely gratifying, if he could have heard it, but at that moment he was wondering if he would ever hear anything ever again. With echoes of thunder ringing in his ears, he again raised his stick, its tip glowing brightly. He roared towards the remaining machines, “Anyone else?”

A moment of terrified silence ticked past and then shouts arose from the machine to the right of the smoking clank. “We surrender!”

A shower of weapons fell from the next machine over. “So do we!”

Still, there is one in every crowd. The third machine swung its mounted cannon about and let off a poorly aimed shot, which blew apart a patch of road several dozen meters to Gil’s left. Again he raised the glowing stick. Again there was a click, and again a bolt of lightning crashed down and blew the machine to molten fragments.

As the legs crashed outwards, Gil strode forward. “This is not a trick”, he shouted. “I did not get lucky! I am Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, and I am in control!”

High above the walls at the hospital window, Klaus watched the action outside the town, his face lit with an unholy glee that even DuPree found unnerving. “They’re surrendering. Good!”

“Good?” Sun looked pale. “That was amazing.”