Tarvek had looked surprised at her analysis, then pleased. “Close. It’s actually a super-saturated oil and brine solution of my own formulation.”
“You designed this?” She surveyed the system and looked at the Prince with a new respect.
Tarvek shrugged diffidently, while standing a little taller. “Oh, years ago.” He patted a pipe gently. “It has held up quite well though.”
“Your Highness is a Spark?”
The prince nodded. “A family trait we’ve managed to endure for the last five generations.” Warily he looked at Agatha. He saw that this news had not caused the usual reactions of visible fear, uneasiness or screaming. Indeed, and even more disconcerting, Agatha’s attention had shifted to the spinet that rested in the center of the room. How refreshing.
“What a beautiful instrument,” she exclaimed. It was slender and low. Its dark, varnished wood decorated with a splash of festive rosemåling. The top was open, and the mathematical perfection of the strings glinted silver in the light.
“Mademoiselle has a good eye. It’s a Christofori[44].” At this news, Agatha snatched her hand away.
Tarvek laughed. “It’s quite alright, this is certainly no museum.” He paused, “Do you play?”
Agatha nodded, and looked at the spinet with longing. To play such an instrument...
Tarvek came up behind her and murmured, “I would very much like to hear you play something. Perhaps after dinner.”
Agatha bit her lip. Tarvek really had a very nice voice. What Lars strove to create on stage, the Prince of Sturmhalten did naturally. The Countess had told her to try to get back as soon as possible, but surely, a little musical entertainment wouldn’t cause any problems...
“Please, brother—” A new voice crackled from the doorway. An odd, metallic voice. “Save the flirtation for dessert. It will go well with the rest of the cheese.”
The two of them turned. A small procession had entered the room. Leading the way was a grandly appointed lady, in a magnificent red brocade outfit. It was edged and looped by strings of gold beadwork that flashed in the light. Her retinue consisted of several maids, some of which were dressed in rather exotic outfits, no doubt gleaned from foreign traders that had passed through the city.
However the thing that drew the eye, was a foursome of liveried footmen, who carried upon their shoulders sort of palanquin that supported a large device. It was over a meter in diameter, and had been sculpted and adorned with flowers and assorted allegorical figures, which failed to hide the glowing dials and gauges covering the rest of its surface. On the back, a small engine chuffed quietly, powering a collection of filters and bellows, and sending out small puffs of blue smoke. Three thick leather pipes exited from the mouth of a carved serpent, and stretched down to connect to the back of the lady.
With a start, Agatha looked at her again and saw that she was not excessively made up, as she had first assumed, but was in fact, some of human-like clank, one that in construction, reminded Agatha of nothing so much as Moxana. The clank girl continued. “During dinner itself, I really must insist upon intelligent conversation.”
Agatha was so astonished at this apparition that her mind made the obvious connection and she spoke without thinking. “Tinka?”
Prince Tarvek gave a start at this and regarded her with amazement. “This, mademoiselle, is my sister, the princess Anevka Sturmvarous.” Agatha quickly repeated her curtsey. Tarvek continued. “And this, Anevka dear, is Mademoiselle Olga. Her circus—”
He paused, and then clapped his hand to his head and laughed. “Of course! Master Payne’s Circus of Adventure! I had forgotten their name! No wonder she knew about Tinka!”
Anevka’s eyes had been examining Agatha. Darting about and focusing with a series of quick, audible clicks. Now she glided forward. The men behind her stepped forward as she did, maintaining their exact distance, as if they were connected to her by an invisible yoke.
“Extraordinary.” Anekva’s voice, while odd, was fascinating. Her face, it appeared, had only a limited range of expression. Her actual voice emanated from a small, decorated grill nestled in a jeweled collar at her throat. “Then it is to your wonderful circus that I owe my life.”
Agatha blinked. “Do tell.”
Tarvek shrugged. “An—” he hesitated. “Experiment of my father’s went wrong. As a result, my sister was dying. Her body itself was failing. I won’t bore you with the details as they were quite horrifying, but the only thing that could save her was to remove her. Easy enough, of course, but the associated psychological trauma of no longer having no actual body was almost as deadly.”
Anevka fluttered her fan. “I had just redone my entire wardrobe. The irony was simply too much to bear.”
Tarvek ignored this. “Then a traveling show came along. And there, treated as just another sideshow novelty, was a Van Rijn! A real one! I’ve been studying them for years, and there was no mistake.”
He shook his head at the memory. “Well, I took it. I’m not proud of that, but time was running out.”
He straightened up and gestured at his sister. “And I did it. I was able to reverse engineer enough of Van Rijn’s designs that I could build Anevka a working body that was more sophisticated than a hand puppet. I sent payment to the circus, but by then they’d quite sensibly left town.”
Agatha stepped forward and examined Anevka’s head in wonder. A frown crossed her face.
“And your brain fits in there? I would think the necessary mechanisms alone—” Belatedly Agatha realized what she was saying and her hand flew to her mouth in embarrassment. “Forgive me, your Highness! I... I was just—”
Anevka burst out laughing and lightly bonked the top of Agatha’s head with her fan. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear girl! You can’t imagine how refreshing it is to have some honest curiosity. Most people do their damndest to pretend that everything is perfectly normal.”
She swiveled about and indicated the device the four retainers carried upon their shoulders. “That is where the corpus Anevka is located. My catafalque keeps me alive, and through these—” she indicated the leather hoses, “I am able to manipulate and control this clever little doll my brother built for me.”
Agatha regarded the device and the obviously delighted Anevka with awe. “Your brother has done you proud, your Highness. It’s a magnificent feat of medical engineering.” She realized that this might be a bit abstract as far as compliments go. “And you wear it so well.”
Anevka laughed. “He’s very clever, for a boy who kept buttoning his shoes together.”
Tarvek rolled his eyes. “I was four!”
“Four and a half.”
Tarvek turned to Agatha. “Ignore her. As you can see, she still needs work.” With his hand, he quite openly made the universal gesture that all mechanics made to declare “This is a dangerously crazy machine[45].”
Agatha tried to ignore this. “But what happened to Tinka?”
Tarvek immediately stopped smiling. “Ah. Once again my father enters the story.”
“Hi—hihi—ness—ness—”
They all turned, and coming from another doorway was a second clank woman. She was dressed in a simple robe. But unlike Anevka, this was obviously an automaton. She moved in a distressing, jerky motion, and even when she stood in one spot, she swayed slightly, as if she was perpetually off balance.
“Tinka!” Tarvek quickly moved to the clank’s side and helped steady her. “Tinka, why have you left the lab?”
The machine’s face swiveled towards him. Her enormous eyes blinked with a click. “I—I—I heard—servants said—Ma—Ma—Master Payne’s circus he—he—here?”
44
Bartolomeo Christofori di Francesco was an Italian creator of musical instruments. He is credited with inventing the piano. This invention did not experience great success however, until two years later, when he invented the piano bench.
45
This useful little hand gesture tends to be made as surreptitiously as possible, since even crude, home-brewed clanks tended to be big, fast, and possessed of an fine sense of self-preservation.