Agatha paused, but that seemed to be the end. “There’s a lot of that I don’t understand.”
Vrin stood up, and a sardonic smile briefly crossed her face. “Hardly surprising. Apparently here in The Shadow World, one’s Gods rarely show up on a daily basis.” She glanced at the surrounding cell. “I cannot say I blame them.”
Agatha thought. “But what does—did Prince Aaronev have to do with all this?”
Vrin hesitated, and then shrugged. “In this world, the Lady was known to the people as Lucrezia Mongfish.” She paused, but Agatha resisted the temptation to interrupt.
Vrin nodded approvingly. “She had many allies. Some secret, some not. Prince Aaronev was always amongst the foremost of these. He was one of the leaders of a cabal of Sparks and their followers. All of them he pledged to Our Lady’s service. As a reward, he was entrusted with her most sacred devices.” Vrin paused. “He was really killed because of you?”
Agatha nodded. “He had placed me in some sort of machine. Anevka didn’t want it activated.”
Vrin shook her head. “I must confess,” she admitted ruefully, “I had never fully... trusted him. Apparently I did him a great disservice. I know that some voices in his Order grumbled at serving Our Lady. They claimed that furthering her agenda was not a part of their original charter or some such. With Aaronev gone, I do not know whether the Order’s loyalty will fade as well. Some embrace The Lady, but...”
She sighed and leaned back. “But his children are our biggest threat now. Anevka anyway. Tarvek is annoying, but spineless.” She looked around the cell. “It would be simpler to stay in here forever.”
Agatha puffed a lock of hair out of her face. “You may get your wish.” She waved the lockpick. “Any of you want to have a go at this?”
Vrin shook her head. “None of us are artificers. I think you’d have better luck giving it to your little contraption.”
Agatha sat back and looked at her. “That’s not a bad idea!”
She squatted down before the little clank, which looked at her curiously. She held up the lock pick. “Here! Can you use this to get out of here?”
She handed the tool to the clank. The clank took the pick and examined it with interest. Then it dashed over to an iron drain grate in the stone floor. It jammed the end of the pick under the grate and with a twist, popped it off the floor. Then, with a sound that sounded suspiciously like “wheeee”—it dropped down into the darkness, taking the lock pick with it.
Everyone looked blankly at the hole, but nothing happened. Vrin looked at Agatha reproachfully. “I wasn’t being serious,” she said.
At that moment, there was a “chunk,” from the door, which swung open. Standing in the dim light stood Tinka.
She stepped forward. “Mi—mi—Miss Clay must come—come—come with me now. Y—y—you others stay—stay here, please.”
Agatha and Vrin looked at each other. “The guards,” Vrin said carefully. “Where are the guards?”
Tinka’s head jerked towards her. “They—they are sleeee—sleeping.” Her head snapped back to Agatha. “Miss Clay wi—wi—will come with me n—n—now.”
Vrin nodded reasonably. “Of course. Eotain. Shurdlu. Smanga tik tik.”
With a sudden burst of speed, the two Geisterdamen bracketed Tinka and grabbed her arms. The mechanical girl swiveled to look at each of them in turn. “Oh. You—you—you are very fast.”
“Zoda hoy,” Shurdlu affirmed.
There was a bright blue flash and the two spider riders dropped senseless to the floor. Tinka snapped forward and her palm smacked against Vrin’s forehead and delivered another electric shock before the woman had taken two steps. As she collapsed to the floor, Tinka turned to Agatha. A thin wisp of smoke came from her outfit. “Now they—ey—ey will sleep too.” She stepped closer to Agatha. “Miss Cl—Cl—Clay will co—come with me now.”
Agatha nodded. “All right. But first...” She deliberately took a minute to lay the stunned Geisterdamen into more comfortable positions before she accompanied the mechanical girl out of the cell. Tinka paused to twist the key in the cell door lock.
Agatha saw three uniformed men, who were obviously guards, slumped upon the floor. Tinka went to the far door, looked out, and then beckoned Agatha to follow.
Despite Tinka’s jerky movements, they moved silently through the surprisingly empty halls. Earlier, there had always been a servant going somewhere or doing something, but now, it seemed like they were the only living things moving through the castle. Agatha regarded the Muse with a slight feeling of dread.
Agatha felt a rush of relief when they stopped at an ornate door and Tinka knocked softly. The door opened to reveal Tarvek, who beamed upon seeing Agatha. Tinka tried to perform a curtsey, but banged her head into the doorframe. “Hi—high—Highness. I—I—I have brought her.”
They stepped into the room and Agatha gave a start as she saw—“Moxana!”
The automaton gracefully nodded towards her. Tarvek practically clapped his hands in glee. “Yes! Isn’t she marvelous?” He gestured to the other mechanical. “Tinka went out of the castle, found your circus, and brought her back here—all by herself! It’s extraordinary!”
Agatha looked at the malfunctioning clank with mixed feelings. “Tinka and Moxana were always close.”
Tarvek nodded. “Having Moxana here will make repairing Tinka ever so much easier. Especially—” and here one could see that there was a very real possibility that Tarvek would combust from sheer glee—“She even brought me some of Van Rijn’s notes!” And to Agatha’s shock, he produced the battered folio that Moxana had given her.
“That was in my wagon!” she protested.
Tarvek ignored her. “I’m going to find the other Muses. I’m going to rebuild them all!”
Agatha turned to Tinka. “But,” she asked. “Why? Why did you bring him Moxana? Master Payne said you were stolen. These people damaged you.”
The mechanical nodded. “T—th—that was unfortunat—t—te. But soon all will be—be—be well. Because while here I learned that Prince Tarvek isssszzz—erk! The one we—we—we were made for.”
Agatha turned to Tarvek. “Made for?” She shook her head. “If they were made for anyone, they were made for The Storm King.”
Tarvek paused, and then shrugged modestly. “Yes, well, I am The Storm King.”
On the face of it, this was rather analogous to someone admitting that he was the White Rabbit of the Equinox. Agatha decided to treat Prince Tarvek the way that she always treated Professor Rollipod back at the University[49].
“Do tell!” She cooed. “That’s very nice! Would you like some juice, your majesty?”
Tarvek looked at her with a tired annoyance. “Stop it. I don’t think I’m old Andronicus Valois. But I am his direct descendant, through my mother, which is why my last name isn’t Valois. The lineage has been guarded and preserved by the Sturmvarous family for ten generations, and if you keep looking at me like that, I’ll make you sit through a recitation of the entire genealogy.”
Agatha couldn’t stop looking at him, but she tried to do so differently. If true, this was astonishing news. There hadn’t been a Storm King for almost two centuries. Occasionally, one appeared in some of the more obscure Heterodyne Plays, but they weren’t popular, if only because too many people found the idea of a new Storm King to be too implausible.
Tarvek continued, eyeing her carefully. “It’s quite the family secret. You can imagine what would happen if it got out. But apparently these two—” he indicated Tinka and Moxana, “—Trust you, so I shall as well.”
49
Cleonicus Rollipod, Ph.D, Order of the Steel Pen, etc., was a brilliant botanist, who single-handedly developed the universally popular “Meat Wheat,” despite the fact that he was convinced that he was really a giant bumblebee (bombus megamaxillosus). Luckily he was one of those people who looked good in yellow and black.