Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

⁴⁸ The status of minions is a tricky thing. It is calibrated, by those whose job it is to do so, using a complicated algorithm involving aspects of loyalty, coercion, and flammability. Experts agree that by being the first to spontaneously aid the new Heterodyne, Herr von Zinzer cemented his place as Agatha’s Chief Minion. No one has ever had the heart to tell him this.

CHAPTER 6

For the jaded epicure, Romania’s Mechanicsburg is a delightful respite in an area otherwise awash in excess amounts of paprika-saturated pork products, as it is the home of the ever-delightful Mechanicsburg Giant Snail (Helix Quimperiana Mechanicsburg Gigantus).

Local legend claims that cultivation of these gastropods began almost two centuries ago during the Storm King’s prolonged siege of the town. Since then, they have been embraced as a delectable homegrown resource. Within the last twenty years, it has, through clever marketing, been introduced to the outside world and the cuisine of Europa has benefited.

Most of my readers will be familiar with the familiar Green Tri-horns, the spicy Red Pepper Snails, the buttery Golden Spiral, as well as the now traditional Prester John Day’s Eve favorite, the gloriously marbled Double-Shelled Feast.

But even the true gastronome might not be aware that these are but the snails that Mechanicsburg chooses to export. They may well be delicious, but, like the white wines of the Rhine Valley, the best are kept for the educated palates of the folk back home and never go farther than a hundred kilometers from their place of origin.

Thus, even the most ardent mollusk aficionado should prepare to be astonished at the scope and variety of snails available for consumption at the meanest Mechanicsburg inn or Escar-To-Go^® peddler’s cart.

We suggest that you start with some of the favorite local varietals, such as the Carpathian Mauve, the Cerulean Giant, the Orange Snap-Shell, the Variegated Spine-Tail, or (from February to April) the surprisingly minty Phosphorescent Devil.”

—Go To Your Food: Local Delicacies and Culinary Secrets for the Sophisticated Traveler by the Lady Flora Alomari/ Constantinople Press

Agatha dusted her hands together. “So, let’s get to this library, shall we?” She waved her hand towards the glittering stone confection that hung over the courtyard. “Back over the bridge?”

The Castle chuckled and the bridge collapsed back into individual bricks and tumbled lifelessly to the ground. “Oh, my, no.” The wall behind them crumbled to the ground, revealing a stairway that descended into the earth. “This way, Mistress.”

Guided by the ever-present red lights, Agatha and Moloch picked their way down the winding stairwell.

“My Lady?” the Castle asked after a while. “Do you have a… boyfriend?”

Agatha almost missed a step and it was only by grabbing the banister that she refrained from pitching forward into the darkness at the center of the stairwell. “A what?”

“A boyfriend,” the Castle repeated helpfully. “A sweetheart.”

Agatha made a strangled sound.

The Castle doggedly continued. “A swain. A beau. A lover. An intended consort. A fiancé. A stud.”

Agatha realized with horror that, unchecked, the Castle might very well continue listing possibilities, like an increasingly salacious thesaurus. “No!” she shouted.

“What?” Moloch was clearly shocked. “Are you serious? What happened to that thing with Gilgamesh Wulfenbach? You two have a fight or something?”

Agatha stared at him.

“O-HO!” the Castle boomed with obvious pleasure. “The young man who single-handedly stopped the invaders. A very good choice.”

“We do not have a…a thing!” Agatha retorted hotly.

“Really?” The Castle sounded skeptical. “In my opinion he was certainly trying to impress someone. Yessss…he’ll do nicely.”

“Do for what?” Agatha demanded. “And don’t you dare tell me. He sent a thug to try to kill me!” She paused. “Probably. Maybe.”

Moloch whistled. “Wow, you two did have a fight. Back on Castle Wulfenbach, he wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“Oh reeeeally?!” The Castle was intrigued.

Agatha whirled and shook a finger at Moloch and then up at the ceiling. “Silence! Not another word!” They walked on for a while and then, despising herself, she asked quietly: “So…what did he say?”

Moloch was spared by the Castle’s deep chuckle filling the stairwell. “Oh, this all takes me back. Four centuries ago, the Skull-Queen of Skral sent two hundred warrior homunculi to kill Dagon Heterodyne—just to pique his interest. I expect standards have slipped a bit since then.”

Agatha looked puzzled. “What does that have to do with anything?”