Lucrezia took retreated another step and discovered that she had backed herself up against a bank of machinery. Anevka shrugged. “The people love that sort of thing, you know. Why, I expect to see an opera based on the story within the year.”
She took a moment to examine the white uniform she wore. She turned towards her sibling. “You’re the one who knows about clothes. I think a large, dramatic splash of red will really set this off, don’t you? Be honest now.”
Tarvek looked at her over his spectacles. “A minute ago you were going to throw me to the Baron.”
Anevka tilted her head. “That was then, brother, this is now. Do try to keep up. Father always said that if providence provides a convenient, powerless scapegoat, it is a sin not to use it.”
Tarvek caught Lucrezia’s eye and shrugged. “Father was not what I’d call an exemplary roll model,” he confessed.
Lucrezia darted sideways and snagged a sword from the floor. She hefted it experimentally.
Anevka paused, and rolled her eyes. “Another sword? Oh but you and your priestesses really are relics, aren’t you?” She moved forward. “Well if that’s the best a poor old thing like you can do—”
With a snap of her arm, Lucrezia threw the sword. Anevka didn’t even have to dodge as it flew past her.
“That was truly pathetic,” she said.
Lucrezia smiled, and crossed her arms. “Technically, I think the word you want is tragic. It’ll make a fine opera. Probably the highlight of the third act.”
A tugging upon Anevka’s hoses made her turn in time to see the carrier who had been skewered by Lucrezia’s flung sword, begin to topple sideways, dropping the pole of her catafalque.
“NOOOOO!” she screamed as she lunged for the falling container. “Hold me!” She ordered the remaining retainers, who were already trying their hardest, “Hold me up!”
Anevka managed to stabilize the container and began to set it down just as Lucrezia, a new sword in hand, strode up behind her. “Stupid girl,” Lucrezia gloated, “I’m doing you a favor! Don’t you know that in all the best operas, the heroine dies?”
She swung the sword. Anevka felt a slight tug, but was still able to lash out with a backhanded swipe. It connected just enough to send a pulse of current into Lucrezia that threw her back into a pile of canisters, knocking her unconscious.
Anevka felt a small wave of dizziness, but she scrambled to her feet and grabbed the fallen sword. When she saw Lucrezia’s supine form, she laughed as she strode towards her.
“Still breathing, eh? It’s certainly time to fix that”
Just as she came within reach, Tarvek yelled from above; “Anevka! Voluntary disengage!”
With a shudder, Anevka found herself locked up in mid-stride, sword upraised. There was a panicky moment before her internal gyroscopes kept her from tipping over sideways.
“I can’t move!” Her voice grew more strident as she began to panic. “Tarvek, what’s happening? I can’t move!”
“I know.” From the corner of her eye, Anevka saw Tarvek twitch his wrist, and with a whine of servos, he was lowered to the ground. With a hiss, the cables and hoses attached to him fell away.
He took a moment to polish his spectacles. Anevka knew that this as a sign that he was faced with an unpleasant task.
“Well, I can’t say that any of this mess was part of my original plan,” he mused as he gingerly stepped through the supine Geisterdamen. “But it’s all working out so beautifully that I can’t complain.” He drew up to Anevka and looked past her. “One last thing before we get started; your attendants.”
The remaining three men froze. None of them were terribly smart, but even so, they realized that the body count for the last three days was getting excessive. Even for the Sturmvarous family.
Tarvek raised a hand to calm them, and they flinched. He sighed. “Anevka, order them to go to sleep.”
Anevka wanted to say many things, but found herself saying, “Attendants. All of you go to sleep now.”
With a sigh, the three men slumped to the floor and began to snore.
Tarvek leaned down and repositioned one of the men’s arms into a more comfortable position. “Well I’m glad that worked. Replacing all of them would have been inconvenient.”
“Tarvek!” Anevka screamed. “What have you done to me?” Tarvek straightened up with a sigh. “When I constructed your body, I made sure that it would respond to my direct commands.” He shrugged. “I never needed to utilize it, until now.”
“But why do you need it now? I was about to kill this usurper!”
“That you were,” he muttered as he began dragging the sleeping attendants off and leaning them against the closest wall.
“And what are you doing with my attendants? I need them!”
Tarvek straightened up. “Well, that’s just the thing.” He came up behind his sister. “You don’t, really.” He picked a limp hose up off the floor and showed it to the frozen girl. “Lucrezia cut your cables. She must have thought it would shut you down.” He dropped the hose. “I didn’t want your bearers thinking too much about the fact that it didn’t”
Anevka’s mind reeled. “My cables... But this body is just a puppet.”
Tarvek nudged another of the cables with his foot. “Of course, I could tell those idiots you were powered by elf magic and they’d believe it.”
“With my cables cut, I... I shouldn’t be able to...”
“Although, all I really have to do is get you to order them to forget all about it.”
“Tarvek!” Anevka sounded terrified. Unseen by her, he cringed and looked ill. “Tarvek, what’s happening to me?”
He almost put his hand on her shoulder, but stopped himself with an effort. He grit his teeth. “I’ll tell you.”
As he talked, he began unfastening various buttons and snaps, and removed Anevka’s fur coat. “After father put my sister Anevka through Lucrezia’s damn summoning engine, it was clear he had failed yet again, and that she was dying.”
His hands shook slightly as he removed her wig, and a note of remembered fury echoed through his voice. “Of course, then he was sorry. He almost went to pieces.”
Tarvek paused, took a deep breath, and went on dispassionately. “I needed him rational, so I built you.”
He removed her tunic, and folded it neatly. “Originally, this body was indeed simply a puppet run by my sister...” Tarvek paused, “But even from the beginning, you were something more than that.”
He looked over at the catafalque, with its quietly humming fans. “Nothing I did could save my sister. But you... learned from her, and as she faded, you did more and more on your own.” He sighed and his voice shook slightly as he stared at a single glowing red light on the container’s side. “In the end, you never even noticed when she died.”
Anevka’s voice was as plaintive as a lost child’s. “You’re trying to trick me,” she whispered. “I’m not dead.”
Tarvek came around and looked Anevka in the eyes. Tears rolled down his face. “I’m not lying,” he said gently. “I am... I was very fond of my sister...” He gulped and took a deep breath. “I want you to know, that my father was not the only one who was comforted by your presence.”
When Anevka spoke again, it was as if her voice was coming from a great distance. “I... I’m not... Anevka? Not your sister?”
Tarvek gently patted her cheek. “No.”
“Then...” Her voice was faint now. “What am I?”