Gil nodded in approval.
Behind him he could hear the shouts of the minions and mechanics setting up his newest creation. He had set them to installing it even before he had visited his father. A crackling hum and a burst of satisfied murmuring amongst the technicians let him know that the devices were beginning to be activated. Excellent.
He then turned to the spot from which there had been absolutely no sound at all.
“Captain Vole.”
The huge Jäger stood painfully at attention. The parade-ground perfection of his stance only emphasized the disheveled state of his outfit.27 “Sir,” he began, “I—”
Gil cut him off. “—Did not bring me Agatha Heterodyne. Yes, I noticed.”
“Sir. She attacked me, sir.”
Gil ran an eye over the Jäger’s outfit. “With a deadly coffeepot, apparently.” He locked eyes with the Jäger. “Now, why would she do that?”
Vole opened his mouth. “Because I tried to kill her, sir,” was a poor excuse on any number of levels, so he closed his mouth.
“I told you to bring her to me,” Gil reiterated, “and yet here you are, dirty, injured, and quite, quite alone. I’ve been told about you, Vole. I know what happened.”
The Jäger let out a breath and waited for death.
“You went stomping in there and tried to arrest her, didn’t you?”
Vole blinked. “I—vot?”
Gil nodded. “You underestimated her and she bested you! She’s a Heterodyne! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Vole realized that whatever intelligence the young Wulfenbach had received about him, it hadn’t been very good. “Yez,” he ventured. “Hit does mean someting to me. Next time Hy vill be ready for her.”
Gil turned away. “I doubt it. But it is no longer your concern.”
“No!” Vole stepped forward. This chance couldn’t be allowed to pass. “Hy vill get more troops and—”
“No.” Gil was frequently grateful to his father for teaching him the art of cutting people off before their tirade could gather steam. “I had wanted you to bring Agatha here so I could help protect her. But considering how easily she beat you—” Vole’s teeth ground together audibly—“I am forced to accept the idea that Agatha can take care of herself for a while. I’m not particularly happy leaving it at that, but apparently I have little choice.” Vole twitched. “Right now the fake Heterodyne is the problem.”
This idea was so surprising that Vole actually snorted. Gil cocked an eyebrow.
“Der kestle vill kill dot vun,” Vole explained. “Probably already has.”
Gil turned away and leaned his arms upon the battlements. “You think so? I don’t. This is too well planned, so it makes no sense to go to all this trouble just to have this girl killed when she crosses the threshold.
“No, she has to have something up her sleeve if she is to get the Castle to legitimize her.” Gil was quiet for a moment as he drummed his fingers upon the weathered stone. “Ideally she’d control the Castle, but our people have been trying to do that for years. It can be bargained with, but I think my father has done as much as possible in that direction…” He looked over at Vole. “I think it most likely that they’ll try to kill it.”
Vole frowned. “Kill der kestle?”
Gil waved a hand. “Well… shut it down. Make it safe.”
Vole’s lip curled with a perverted sense of hometown pride. “De pipple uf Mechaniksburg vould not ekcept dot as proof dot she iz a Heterodyne.”
Gil nodded. “Neither would my father.”
Vole paused and then admitted, “Not onless she danced nekkid through de ruins vile trying to shoot down the moon, turned all de tourists into feesh, and den built a very dangerous fountain out of sausages.”
Gil’s focus had derailed slightly at the image generated by “denced nekkid,” so it took him a long moment before he was able to concede the Jäger’s point and move the conversation forward.
“Let’s assume that the dissenters aren’t important. That the opinion of my father isn’t important.”
Vole looked skeptical. Gil soldiered on. “If the outside world believes that a new Heterodyne has taken control, then the schemers behind this fake Heterodyne girl might just pull this off.”
Vole frowned. “This iz pointless. Yez, vhat der rabble uf Mechanicsburg tinks vould count for nottink outside der town. But dismissink hyu poppa—”
Gil nodded. A slight movement near the horizon caught his attention. “An excellent point. The only way it could work is if he was busy somewhere else when it all went down.”
Vole considered this. “Right now he iz busy not dyink. Does dot count?”
Gil fished inside his coat and pulled out a complicated little monocular. He casually examined something in the distance. “I don’t think that was part of the original plan,” he admitted, “but now that it’s happened, they’ll be tempted by the opportunity. They’ll want to capture him—have him under lock and key. Or, if they’re smart, they’ll want him dead. That would probably suit everyone much better, I’m sure.”
Vole was ready to give up. “Hyu keep talkink like dese guys iz schmart. Dose clowns attacking hyu poppa iz as organized as a bag of fleas.”
A smile lit up Gil’s face. “Yes! ‘Clowns.’ That’s the perfect word, Captain. Foolish creatures who exist to cause a distraction while the real players prepare off-stage.”
Vole looked at him blankly. Gil sighed. Suddenly, the ground trembled with a sound like a distant explosion. “Never mind. Sound the alarm. The real players have arrived.”
In the little outpost, Ognian screwed the telescope tighter into his eye. “Hoy!” he called to the others, who were lounging like cats in the sun, “Someting iz heppenink!”
Jenka opened one eye and looked at him suspiciously. “Dis had better not be anodder gurl takink a bath.”
Maxim grinned and nudged Dimo in the ribs. “Hy dun tink ve gets dot lucky twice.”
Dimo grinned back. Good times.
Jenka snagged the telescope and examined the distant town. “Hyu iz right,” she said grudgingly. “Dere’s pipple appearink all alonk der walls. Dey’s pretty excited about someting.”
Maxim’s ears twitched. “Listen—iz dot der alarm gongs?”
Dimo shrugged. “Hyu gots der goot ears—but Hy ken see dot dey iz closink der gates!”
Ognian peered downwards. “Jenka? Vy iz Füst runnink avay?”
Jenka leaned over the rail in time to see her trained bear retreating over the hill. “He’s vat?” A look of surprise flashed in her eyes. “Get serious,” she screamed.28
Instantly all three of her companions snapped to attention but it was too late. A giant metal foot smashed the tower to bits around them, sending them flying through the air.
They crashed to the ground, bounced to their feet, and stared in amazement.
Five enormous spider-like clanks filled the plain. Each boasted five stout armored legs that rose and fell, sinking deep prints into the earth as they ponderously moved forward. Their hides were armor-plated. Each was topped by a colossal machine cannon. Arrays of exhaust pipes poured forth gouts of black smoke. A balcony of sorts girded each machine, and they could see squads of riflemen staring down at them in amazement.
Ognian was the first to react. “Hey!” he yelled. “Dey busted our tower!” He shook his fist at the machine as it majestically passed over them. “Who’s gun pay for dot?”
Aboard the lead war clank, His Grace the Third Duke of some kingdom that technically no longer existed,29 flashed his oversized teeth in a grin and adjusted his periscope. “Haw! We caught those fellows completely by surprise, General Selnikov.”
Behind him, His Lordship, late of Balan’s Gap, nodded. “Yes, that worked, at least.”