“He iz at Mamma Gkika’s, Herr Baron.”
Klaus rolled his eyes. “I have got to get that boy married,” he muttered. “But it could be worse. He’ll be distracted for the moment.” He leaned back down. “I have orders for you to deliver and I think it would be best if he doesn’t hear about them. However, I will want him safely removed from Mechanicsburg before things get under way.”
Vole saluted crisply. “Hy vill drag him avay from here, after Hy beat him senseless, sir.”
Klaus stared at Vole for several seconds. “That might work,” he admitted.
Back in Mamma Gkika’s, Gil shuffled through the papers before him, his mind sorting and calculating automatically. Vanamonde and Krosp watched him silently. Zeetha was happily gnawing away at what appeared to be a turkey leg almost the size of her arm.
The orders concerned a lot of the sort of thing one would expect in a town that was both hosting the Baron and expecting civic disturbances43: the movement of road crews, paymasters, fire fighters, extra troops, quartermasters, emergency communication systems—
Gil paused, and suddenly shuffled back several sheets. His gaze sharpened. He checked a few names—
When he looked at Van, his face was aghast. “He’s going to destroy Castle Heterodyne,” he whispered.
“How?” Krosp asked with professional interest. “The town is legendary for never being conquered.”
Van looked worried, “Yes, the old Heterodynes chose this spot for a reason.”
Gil slapped the papers down onto the table. “Sure, if the defenses were working, an army couldn’t even get up the pass.” He leaned in. “But the defenses aren’t working. My father is already in control of the town. He can walk the necessary machines right up to the castle walls if he wants to.”
He pulled a paper from the stack. “Road crews. It’s true, these days we mostly use the Rumbletoys as earthmovers. But their subsonic wave throwers could liquefy the rock the castle sits on!”
Another paper. “Firefighters? The Ninth Ætheric Vapor Squad usually fights fires in cities and forests, but kick their gas condensers up a notch or two and you could spray the castle with liquid Nitrogen and then crack it open with a hammer.”
Another. “Emergency Communications System. The Heliolux Airship Fleet. If we order it, their mirror and lens arrays could melt this entire town off the map.” He thought about selecting another but instead just tossed the entire pile in front of Vanamonde.
“I’m sure you get the idea. For almost twenty years my father has been collecting Sparks and their tools, repurposing them for peaceful uses within the Empire. But rest assured, he always remembers that they were initially built as war machines, and he knows how to use them.”
Everyone stared at the pile of paper. Van took a deep swallow of coffee. “This is…not perfect,” he muttered.
Zeetha swallowed. “He’s bringing all that just to get at Agatha?”
Gil sat back and snorted. “No, he’s bringing a hell of a lot more than that. According to the time signatures, this was the work of ten minutes. I assure you that for the Other, he’ll bring in everything in a hundred kilometer radius, if not more.”
Now everyone stared at him. Gil shrugged. “He believes he has cause.” He leaned forward and stared back at them. “And let’s be honest here, he does have cause.”
Van’s eyes narrowed. “So you think we should just let him—”
“You still don’t understand,” Gil interrupted. “It’s not a case of you letting him do anything. If all you’ve seen are the official reports about what happened at Balan’s Gap—” Van was flustered enough that he allowed himself to look guilty, confirming another of Gil’s suspicions. “—you don’t know a tenth of what’s happening there. If Agatha doesn’t surrender herself peacefully, the Empire is going to come in and cauterize this place.” Gil sat back and took a sip of coffee. “Frankly? The best thing you can do is evacuate the town.”
Vanamonde drew himself up. “We serve the House of Heterodyne. We will not desert her.”
Gil frowned. “The Heterodynes have been gone for years. You can’t tell me…” His eye was caught by Mamma striding out onto the stage. “What’s this?”
Van fished out a large silver pocket watch and looked startled. “Is it that late already?” He stood up. “It’s time for us to take this conversation somewhere more quiet.” All around them, servers were efficiently scooping up mugs and plates, some still full, dumping them into narrow three-wheeled carts and heading for a bank of swinging doors as quickly as they could.
Mamma waved her hands. “Hokay lads, leesen op! Efferboddy knowz dot dere’s beeg tings afoots, yah? Ve gunna hav to get beck to vork.”
There was a guffaw of laughter from the room. Mamma smiled. “Bot not yet. So iz time for heveryboddy to blow off sum schteam, hey?”
Gil realized that he was sitting alone. He stood up and spotted Vanamonde, Zeetha, and Krosp quickly weaving through the crowded room towards the doors. He wasn’t sure why, but something told him to take off after them. Around him, the Jägers at the tables were still and silent, leaning forward with a palpable air of anticipation.
On stage, Mamma made a show of fishing a glittering silver whistle out from her ample décolletage. She held up a clawed finger. “Vait for de vistle, now!”
If anything, Van increased his pace through the crowd. Gil noted that he was obviously worried about something.
Gil caught up to the three. “What’s going on?” he asked.
Mamma raised the whistle to her lips and blew a single clear, pure note.
Van flinched. “It’s the evening bar fight.”
Pandemonium erupted around them. Jägers howled and leapt about, swinging, clawing, and smacking Jägers that they had been laughing with just seconds ago (although, to be fair, they were still laughing).
Gil had been caught in several bar fights around the Empire and had to admit that this had to be the jolliest he’d ever been in. A Jäger tumbled back screaming with laughter, with another Jäger latched onto his ear with his teeth. Jollity aside, it was definitely time to go.
Suddenly a furry bundle of claws enveloped his head. After a second, he realized that it was a panicked Krosp, who, as cats are wont to do in times of danger, had scaled the tallest thing in sight. “Evening bar fight!” the cat yowled. “They do this every day?”
Van ducked beneath a thrown chair. “They’re Jägers! What did you expect?” He staggered as a tankard bounced off his head. Gil caught his arm and kept him from falling to the ground. Van nodded his thanks and pushed forward. “Just be glad it’s not Thursday,” he shouted back. “That’s poetry slam night.”
The inevitable finally happened and a Jäger was thrown towards them. Gil grabbed the creature in midair, swung him about, and let him slam into another churning pile of combatants.
Van went white and clutched at his arm. “Don’t do that again! At the moment, we’re still considered noncombatants!” Suddenly he paused and glanced around. “Where is Miss Zeetha?”
All it had taken was a single misstep and Zeetha had found herself separated from the others. Initially she had been all-too-willing to leap into the fracas but had quickly discovered that she was garnering undue attention as an exciting novelty.
“Woo!” yet another admiring monster yelled at the sight of her. “Fight mit me, varrior gurl!” A boot to the face knocked him into another melee, but Zeetha found herself getting pushed backwards towards a corner, which was bad news.