Tarvek nodded slowly. “Yes, it is.”
The clank shuddered. “Would you—would you—I—I—I can—would you like to see me dance?” She jerked away from Tarvek and spun about in a graceful twirl that ended with her slamming into the nearest wall. Tarvek leapt to her and caught her before she fell. She looked up at him. “I—I—I require maintenance. Please please please—” This continued until Tarvek gave her a short smack on her shoulder, at which she stopped in mid-word.
Anevka tilted her head to one side and gently tapped her folded fan against her jaw. “This is very unusual,” she confided to Agatha.
“What, her condition?”
Anevka shook her head. “Oh no, in that she is moving at all.”
Meanwhile Tarvek had waved over a pair of servants, to whom he passed the malfunctioning clank. “Take her back to my lab. Tinka, I’ll be there soon.”
The clank jerked in the servant’s arms. “The circus. I must—”
The servants led her away, still stuttering. Tarvek wearily ran a hand through his hair and turned back to Agatha and his sister. “As I was saying, my father couldn’t resist taking her apart. I’ve done the best I can reassembling her and that is the result.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “She can walk and she can talk. But there is something seriously wrong and I cannot figure it out. I—feel like I owe her. Without her—” He glanced at his sister, who patted his arm before turning away and leading her entourage out through the far door.
“I will repair her.” He glanced at Agatha, and with a small smile, again offered her his arm. “I suppose that sounds foolish. To feel obligated to a... a glorified clank.”
Agatha covered his hand with her own. “Not at all,” she assured him. “I think it’s rather noble. Besides, Master Payne believes they were—are, more than just clanks.”
Tarvek considered this. “Hm. I might want to talk to your Master Payne.” A small bell chimed from the other room. “Ah, dinner.”
With that, they went through the doorway into an elegantly appointed dining hall. Light was supplied by the ubiquitous electric lamps, which were hung in decorative clusters across the frescoed ceiling. The walls were lined with the castle’s now familiar liveried servants, who stood motionless, their hands at their sides. A long table was covered in a snow-white linen cloth and another electrical display merrily buzzed and crackled down the center. Only four place settings were in evidence, each of them bracketed by entirely too many utensils. Agatha examined one, and upon hefting it, guessed that it had been cast from solid electrum.
Anevka was ensconced on one side of the table. Most of her retinue had been dismissed, except for the four men who carried her device. They stood quietly behind her ornate, open backed chair.
Agatha and Tarvek were seated together. Next to Agatha, at the slightly raised head of the table, sat the master of Sturmhalten, Prince Aaronev IV.
He was obviously Tarvek’s sire, with the same blue eyes frankly assessing her from behind an odd set of glasses. These contained several inset lenses, which he used by disconcertingly moving his head about as he studied her. Aaronev and his daughter were in a discussion as Agatha and Tarvek entered.
Anevka was leaning forward, her voice quiet, but intense. “But why can’t you just analyze—”
Her father cut her off. “Enough daughter. This discussion is finished. Our guest is here.”
When they reached the end of the table, Agatha again curtsied. I’m getting good at this, she thought.
Tarvek stepped forward, and made a small formal bow. “Father, may I present Madame Olga, of Master Payne’s Circus of Adventure.”
The Prince waved Agatha forward. “Do be seated, my dear.”
Agatha settled into the chair that a servant held for her. A small swarm of them then descended upon the table, pouring wines and setting out various foodstuffs. Agatha’s wineglass was filled from an elegant green cut-glass carafe. The wine was a deep purple and smelled of spices and green fields. Agatha took a cautious sip.
Agatha had not really had much experience with wine before she left Beetleburg. Her parents had not favored it. Once she had joined the circus, she had been given an instructional course in wine, beer, ale, and cider as well as a wide variety of cordials and homebrewed spirits. Partially, the Countess had explained, because a young lady should be educated about these things, and be able to converse about them knowledgably. Partially, Pix had explained, because a young lady should be aware of the effects of these things upon her and be able to recognize when she was being plied. And partially, Zeetha had explained, because sometimes a warrior needed to get really drunk, and like all worthwhile things, it got easier with practice.
This had lead to some rather amusing nights and some rather awful mornings. On the whole, Agatha had decided that alcohol was something that she could take or leave, and for the most part, left. This particular beverage, however, seemed tasty and of a rather low potency.
A server placed a small bowl of what proved to be a deliciously savory red cabbage and bacon soup before her. The others were similarly served, which precipitated a discreet clattering of spoons.
Anevka ate nothing, but merely sat with folded hands and chatted with her father about a few items of castle management. After a few moments, the Prince cleared his throat and turned to Agatha. “We very much enjoyed your performance this evening.”
Agatha nodded. “Your Highness is most kind.”
Aaronev raised his own glass and looked at her over the rim. “We knew the lady you played, you know.” Agatha choked slightly on a spoonful of soup[46].
“Oh. I... I hope I haven’t given offense,” Agatha stammered. “It’s difficult to remember that we actually portray real people.” She thought for a moment. “Sort of.”
Aaronev laughed. “Nonsense, my dear. Truth be told, you captured her perfectly.”
This gave Agatha a bit of a pause, as she was still reconciling herself to the idea that Lucrezia Mongfish was her actual mother.
Aaronev continued casually. “In fact, it’s remarkable, really, but you sound just like her.”
Agatha smiled gamely and took another sip of wine. The taste was growing on her. “Why, thank you, your Highness.”
Aaronev slowly swirled the wine around in his glass. “Have you known many Sparks?”
Agatha waved her hand in dismissal. “Oh no!” She paused and then felt compelled to add, “Well, I did grow up in Beetleburg, so I saw Dr. Beetle, of course.”
The Prince nodded. “Oh, of course. Did you see him a lot?”
“Almost every day. I assisted in his lab for years.”
Aaronev’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Did you now?”
“Oh yes, I was there when he died.”
Tarvek broke in. “We heard about that. A great shame. We had heard that this mysterious son of the Baron’s killed him.”
Agatha nodded. “Yes, but to be fair, Dr. Beetle did throw a bomb at him.” She smiled. Gil would be happy she remembered that part. That made her happy, too.
Aaronev nodded as if this was a perfectly normal turn of events. “So you’ve seen the Baron and this son of his?”
“Oh yes, I saw the Baron a bit when I was abducted onto Castle Wulfenbach, and his son, Gilgamesh Wulfenbach wanted to marry me.” Tarvek choked on a spoonful of soup at this, and had a small coughing fit. A servant stepped up and thumped him on the back. Tarvek waved him away and grabbed his wineglass.
Anevka leaned forward. “Did he now? But here you are.”
46
In the Heterodyne plays, Lucrezia Mongfish was the ingénue, to be sure, but initially, she was always portrayed as a comically evil figure, who was vain, megalomaniacal, treacherous and an inveterate liar. She was always redeemed by the power of Bill Heterodyne’s love sometime in the third act, but until then, she was an audience favorite.