Agatha’s eyes snapped open. They were clear now. “It helps me think.” She sagged. “But I can’t do it forever.”
At that moment, Agatha’s little pocket clank stepped forward and chimed twice. Agatha looked at it and an idea burst into her head. “Yes! That would do it!” She scooped up the little device and gently twisted the little stem at the top. “Oh, you’re wonderful!” The little clank reveled in the praise.
Agatha swayed, and Tarvek caught her. “My Lady?”
Agatha looked at him from the corner of her eye. “My Lady now, is it?”
Tarvek responded smoothly, “Well... yes, you are the Lady Heterodyne, right?”
There was something suspicious about this, but at the moment Agatha couldn’t summon enough spare mental energy to care. “Whatever.”
She selected a set of tools and flipped open the back of the little clank. Her knees started to shake. Tarvek moved closer and slipped his arms around her. “Here,” he murmured. “Lean on me.”
Agatha nodded her thanks and resumed tinkering with the clank. Tarvek looked over her shoulder and marveled at the way her hands moved. He blinked. “What is it exactly that you’re doing?”
Agatha was silent for so long that he was afraid that she wasn’t going to answer him. But finally, she whispered, “I don’t trust you.”
Tarvek considered this. He also considered the warm body he felt within the circle of his arms and realized, suddenly, that he wanted her trust, wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. He sighed. “Can’t say I blame you.”
More silence, punctuated by the sounds of tinkering. “You’re working with The Other, aren’t you?” Agatha whispered.
Tarvek shrugged. “I’d hardly be free or alive if I wasn’t.” Agatha said nothing, but he felt a slight shudder run through her. With a start, he realized that what Agatha thought about him was important. That he had to explain himself. “If I can learn what she’s doing, I can learn how to reverse it. You must believe me... no one else can do this. No one else can stop her.”
“I want to trust you.” Agatha whispered.
Tarvek tried to sound sincere. He found it more difficult to do than usual. “You can.”
Agatha looked back at him over her shoulder. “We’ll see.” With that she flipped the case cover on the little clank closed. “Go on, you.”
After a moment, it saluted and scurried off. Tarvek made a half hearted attempt to grab it, but found himself hampered by the girl sagging in his arms. “Wait!” He looked at Agatha. “What did you do?”
Agatha looked at him and a grin oozed across her face as she slipped further down into his arms. “Now,” she whispered, “You’ve got to trust me.”
Tarvek glared and shook her. “No! Don’t you go to sleep!”
Lucrezia opened her eyes and felt Tarvek holding her tightly. How interesting. “Ooo, Tarvek! You naughty thing! Are you taking advantage of a lady?”
Tarvek almost dropped her. “Of... of course not, my lady.”
She settled a bit deeper into his arms and smiled at his obvious discomfort. “What a pity,” She sighed. She frowned, and looked at him seriously. “Have they found your sister yet?”
Tarvek sighed.
Zeetha and Maxim trotted up to the rest of the group. Neither was breathing hard. “We ran around the whole castle.” Zeetha said. “None of the gates are accessible.”
Dimo scratched his jaw. “Gun be toff,” he admitted.
Maxim nodded. “Kent turn off dot lightning moat.”
Oggie felt he should contribute. “Kent fly.”
Krosp lashed his tail in frustration.
Lars stood up and dusted his hands. “We’ll just have to search for the secret passage.”
He became aware that the others were staring at him. “...What?” he looked at them in confusion. “They’re in all the stories.”
Several minutes later, they were, again, trudging through the city sewers. Krosp was miserably clutching onto Lars’ vest.
“You didn’t say it was in the sewers!” he hissed, his ears flattened.
Now that they could see them, it had to be admitted that as sewers went, the sewers of Sturmhalten seemed to be remarkably well-designed and maintained. Shortly after they had re-entered, they had found lanterns, as well as a collection of waterproof leather cylinders, which proved to contain well drawn, waxed maps of the system.
Large stone galleries were lined with walk-ways. There was no disguising the place’s purpose however. If the omnipresent smell wasn’t enough, now that they had sufficient light, they could actually see what it was that they were desperately trying not to step in.
Lars tried to ignore the more disgusting aspects of their surroundings, and looked for signs of secret passages. He felt a slight sinking feeling when he realized that subconsciously, he was expecting a small discrete sign with an arrow that said “secret passage.”
“Every good story about rescuing the princess from the castle of the evil Spark has a secret passage scene. There’s always an entrance in the sewers.” He muttered.
The others looked at each other and shrugged. It wasn’t like they had any better ideas. Lars halted and unrolled the map. He looked up and examined a small enameled metal sign that had been bolted to the upper wall. He checked the map again, and gave a small grunt of satisfaction.
“Okay, there should be something around here.”
Krosp stuck his head over his shoulder. “What? How do you figure?”
Lars indicated the map. “Not too close to the castle. Not too far. Close to the city gates for escape. Close to the armory and the main barracks to rally the troops. This place is rife with dramatic possibilities. It makes sense to put it here.”
Krosp stared at him and then waved his paws about in an impotent, but adorable, fury. “I can’t believe I’m listening to this! You expect to find a secret passage because of some idiotic stories?”
He no doubt would have said more, but there was a dry scraping sound, and a section of the far wall shivered, sending a cascade of dried material to the floor.
Krosp felt a hand grab the back of his collar and he was jerked back behind a buttress where the others already waited. He felt lips tickling his ear, and Lars breathed, “The thing you have to remember, is that everyone has heard the same stories.”
Zeetha sidled closer. “So what can we expect, story boy?”
Lars shrugged. “It depends. Could be a princess—”
The wall swung open and a clank, startlingly reminiscent of the long-lost Tinka stumbled out. Her eyes glowed with a blue fire. Immediately behind her came four worried looking retainers, carrying a bizarre container. “Hurry!” the clank whispered. “We haven’t got much time!”
The carriers were obviously hard used, and were puffing and sweating. One of the rear men glanced back and shrieked, “Highness!”
From the open wall, five pale figures leapt to the ground. They caught sight of the princess and the lead Geisterdamen pointed. “Tikka zok!” she screamed.
“—Could be a monster,” Lars finished.
The clank girl whirled and yelled back, “Voda za! Shibbak!”
Everyone looked at Lars. He shrugged. “Could be both.” Then he shook his head. “But those are Geisterdamen. In a town. I’ve never even heard of that happening.”
Dimo gnawed his lower lip. “I iz more interested in der doll gurl. She iz speakink like a Geisterlady, bot she hez miz Agatha’s voice.”
Krosp hissed. “They might know something about her. But which side—”
Oggie patted him on the head. “Ho! Dot’s easy, poozy cot!” With that he straightened up and stepped out into the open between the two groups, who froze. He gave each a big smile and waved genially. “Hey dere!” he called out cheerfully, “Who vants to be my friend?”