Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

Agatha smiled as she slowly opened one of the doors. “Isn’t it, though?” Beyond was a large open room, some sort of feast hall. In the dim light, they could see that there was a long open fireplace along one wall—and the rest were hung with musty tapestries. It was impossible to see what was actually depicted upon them, but from what Agatha could see, the artist had liked using a lot of red. Above was an impressive set of exposed ceiling beams. A row of tall windows, the glass long smashed out, allowed a breeze to blow through the room. The furniture had fallen into ruin due to rain rot and insects.

Agatha stepped through the door. Nothing moved. Moloch crept in behind her. She pointed to a set of doors located in a far corner. They moved quietly towards them. “Now we just have to find them,” she said in a low voice. “Castle? How close to those things are we?”

A huge golden claw erupted from the shadows and slammed the door through which they had entered. A deep mechanical growl rose behind them.

Moloch closed his eyes. “Pretty close,” he whispered. “Don’t move!”

Agatha’s eyes ached from strain as she tried to look behind her—but she froze in place. “Are you kidding me?”

A metallic sound, like a mechanism slowly walking, came from behind them. “They react to movement,” Moloch said urgently. “So we want to get out of its line of sight, and then run like mad for someplace it can’t get to.”

Another step. Very close now. Agatha could hear poorly maintained gears grinding as it took yet another step towards them. Agatha frantically swept her eyes across the room.

“I don’t think that’s really an option here. I don’t see anywhere we can hide.”

A gigantic metal paw crashed to the ground between them. It was lovingly engraved with swirls and arabesques and had once been polished to a high gleam, but now it was encrusted with oil, dust, and what was very probably old blood.

Agatha felt her heart pounding so hard that she was sure her skin must be vibrating…But nothing more happened.

We can’t keep this up forever, Agatha thought. We’ll get tired or get a cramp or an itch—just like the one that has magically bloomed on my knee. Great. She realized that her breathing had sped up. She tried to remember the breathing exercises that Zeetha had taught her but they shot out of her head when a metal muzzle—festooned with cruel looking spines—eased into her peripheral vision. She saw Moloch close his eyes and heard a faint whimper. The head began to swing her way—when a boot sailed out of the darkness, bounced off the top of the automaton’s head, and flew into a corner.

With a sound like a locomotive, the mechanical creature dived after it. As it passed between Agatha and Moloch, a woman’s voice from the blackness above called out: “Sit down! Cover your mouth with your hands, and don’t move!”

They did so, and could see the “steam cat” now. In Agatha’s opinion, it did look like an enormous cat, but easily the size of one of the draft horses that had pulled wagons in the circus. Armored and covered in spines, hooks, and sharp edges, it had a large mouthful of jagged metal teeth which snapped open and shut in a idle mechanical reflex as it quested about the room.

Finding nothing, it swung about, red-lit eyes gleaming, and after a moment slowly padded back towards them.

“You can talk,” the mysterious voice from above informed them. “Just don’t let it see your mouth moving.” The steam cat didn’t react to this voice, just continued to slowly advance. It came up to Moloch and the red eyes swept over him once…twice… and then with a clank, the thing turned away and moved off back towards the door they had come in by.

Agatha swallowed the lump in her throat. “It—” she realized that she would have to speak loudly from behind her hands. “It can’t hear us?”

No reaction from the device, which had begun a slow circuit of the room.

“Apparently,” said the helpful voice, “it can’t even see us unless we’re actually moving. What? Like a what?”

Agatha heard murmuring and realized that there was at least another person above them. They must be up on the rafters, she realized.

“Oh, thank you, yes, like a frog.” The voice was annoyed now. “Thank you for that piece of incredibly useless information. Now shut up and if you open your mouth again I will gut you like a trout!”

From behind her cupped hands, Agatha spoke up. “It’s not supposed to work like this! It’s another rogue system. It doesn’t work properly if it isn’t linked with the Castle.”

The voice from above sighed in obvious exasperation. “You Sparks can’t keep from running your mouths even when you have nothing useful to say. It doesn’t have to be working right. All it has to do is stay here not seeing us—yes, okay, like a giant metal frog with claws—until we fall over from thirst and exhaustion!”