She shut down the device and then turned to a small cloth covered ceramic tray. A delicate flip of the fabric revealed an array of gleaming steel surgical instruments. Anevka ran her hand above them, and then selected a simple scalpel.
“And now, let’s hear you beg for your life.”
Agatha’s eyes bugged out. “What?”
Anevka twirled the scalpel around her fingers. “I’ve got my readings. Now I get to have a little fun.”
A squawk from behind Agatha revealed that someone else was here. Tarvek strode into sight, flinging down a set of tools and grabbing Anevka’s wrist. “Stop!” Agatha realized that she didn’t know whether to be more relieved at his intercession or scandalized at her state of undress before him. Another glimpse of the scalpel in Anevka’s hand helped prioritize things nicely.
Anevka rolled her eyes at Tarvek. “But why? We have all the readings that we need.”
“Don’t be a fool. We should test it first.”
Anevka considered this. With a deft flick of her wrist, she tossed the scalpel back into the tray with a clatter. “You’re right, of course,” she said regretfully. “It would be unforgivably stupid to kill her before we’re sure.”
Suddenly a commotion filled the air and several people burst into the room. A cluster of brawny castle servants were restraining a lone Geiesterdamen. She was wearing an elegantly cut robe that had been thrown over little else. Her white hair was disheveled and chopped short, and her pearly white eyes glared furiously. The four men holding her had obviously had a rough time of it, as all of them suffered from bruises, scratches, and torn clothing.
When she saw Tarvek and Anevka, the captive woman roared furiously, in what, Agatha realized in astonishment, was perfectly good Romanian[48].
“What is the meaning of this? Where is your father, the Prince?” She saw Agatha for the first time and paused. “What are you children playing at?”
Tarvek stepped forward. “Good evening, Lady Vrin. There are things you should be made aware of—”
Vrin lunged at him, almost throwing her captors off balance. “Release me, you insignificant worm!”
Anevka crossed her arms. “Oh, I really don’t want to listen to any more of this. Tarvek?”
Her brother stepped behind her and was making some adjustments to a control panel on her back. “I’ve made the adjustments to your voice box. Try it now.”
Anevka stepped forward. “Release her.” The servants stepped back. Vrin launched herself towards the mechanical girl, who again spoke. “Lady Vrin? Kneel!”
The voice that boomed out, artificially amplified, sounded remarkably like Agatha’s. The effect upon the Geisterdamen was electric. She froze, and then dropped to her knees. “Lady?” she whispered.
Instantly she grabbed her head and screamed. The servants again grabbed her arms. She glared up at Anevka. “You are not her,” she hissed in fury.
Anevka put her head to one side. “Tch. It appears you were right, brother. We are not there yet.”
Tarvek nodded slowly. He pulled a pad of paper from a coat pocket and began to scribble some notes. “Hmm. I suspect your speaker needs more bass. Maybe what I need to do is isolate the command harmonics, and then amplify them...”
Anevka patted him on the shoulder. “Yes, yes. You do that.” She turned back and with a few twists, released Agatha.
Stiffly she slowly climbed down from the bench. At a sign from Anevka, two more servants took hold of her wrists. Anevka continued. “Take these two troublesome girls and put them in the cell with the others.”
As they were being led away, Vrin rallied and called out, “You will pay for this! When your father and The Order—”
Anevka interrupted her. “My father is dead. And this pathetic girl?” She indicated Agatha. “She is your ‘holy lost child,’ for all the good it will do you.”
This information struck Vrin like a physical blow, and she stared at Agatha in astonishment as they were led away.
As they moved through the deserted corridors, Agatha shivered. She realized that she was still in her underwear and turned to the nearest servant. “I want some clothes.” All of the men chuckled at this.
“I’m sure you do,” the one she addressed replied. Agatha glared at him and spoke again. This time her voice was loud and insistent. “I’m cold and I want some clothes. Now!” All of the servants blinked. And without a word, the man she’d addressed turned and left. They kept walking, but several minutes later, as they came to a thick armored door, he returned at a trot, holding a bundle that Agatha recognized as her outfit. As the lead servant unlocked the door with a complicated looking key, he handed it over. Agatha took it, and then she and a thoughtful Lady Vrin were shoved through the door, which could be heard locking behind them.
Agatha had been a tremendous fan of the Heterodyne Boys novels. On a fairly regular basis, one or the other of the heroic duo had been tossed into cells by cackling villains. Thus, the room before her was oddly familiar. Bare stone walls, a small slit of a window, several bunks covered with mounded blankets, and a plain wooden table were before her.
Agatha looked at the outfit in her hands. “I didn’t expect them to actually get me my clothes,” she remarked. A frown crossed her features.
Her train of thought was interrupted by Vrin coming close and staring into her face. Agatha tried not to flinch. “The Anevka-clank claims that you are The Holy Child. Why?”
Agatha found it difficult to look into the odd eyes of the woman before her. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what all this Holy Child nonsense is about. I’m not even a child. I’m eighteen, thank you very much.”
Vrin blinked. “Eighteen...”
“Klazma? Klazma Vrin?” Both Vrin and Agatha turned in surprise. In the rear of the cell were several bunks, mounded with blankets. One of these mounds moved, and revealed two more Geisterdamen, sleepily rubbing their faintly glowing eyes. With quick movements, they slid from the bunk and began eagerly questioning the Lady Vrin in their own language.
Agatha was obviously the subject of a great deal of the discussion. Vrin’s declaration, “Na fig seg unat plin,” was greeted with exclamations of dubious surprise. Agatha tried to listen to the conversation as she set about stripping her dress of the ruffles and lace that inhibited her movements. She didn’t know what was going to happen, but she suspected she would want to be able to move fast.
As she slipped her glasses back on over her ears, one of the Geisterdamen, who had been looking at her intently suddenly started and declared, “Zoy!” along with a lot of other words, the only one of which that Agatha could understand was “actors!”
This started a brief argument between the two, which only ended when Vrin slammed her hand down on the table. She took a deep breath and turned towards Agatha. Agatha could tell that Vrin was unsure about how to deal with her.
Vrin studied her for a moment, and then spoke slowly. “The Geisterdamen have long sought a child who was stolen from us.”
Agatha shrugged apologetically. “I’ve never seen, or even heard of a Geisterdamen child.”
Vrin nodded. “This was a pink child. It was the offspring of the persons you would know of as Lucrezia Mongfish and the Bill Heterodyne.”
Agatha’s felt an odd sensation in her stomach and face went blank. “Really.”
Vrin’s eyes never wavered “A female child. She would indeed be eighteen years old.” Agatha bit her lip. Vrin continued slowly. “And it was said that she would have the Spark.”
48
Romanian was the official language of the Empire. However most educated people in the sciences, were conversant in Latin, Greek, and German, as well as English (the language of trade) and French (the language of diplomacy). Certain schools of mathematics are best discussed in Arabic, and Russian is always good for a laugh. At this time, thanks to her secretarial duties for the late Tyrant of Beetleburg, Agatha was conversant in all of them.