As he approached, Carson ran a practiced eye over the wall surrounding the main gate of the town. Constructed of a wide variety of materials, the thirty-meter-tall walls were a mosaic of stone, brick, and chunks of metal arranged into a solid line of defense, broken only by the great gate before him. Even there, he saw signs of neglect. A crack had appeared below one of the deactivated catapults. It was probably only cosmetic, since the hodgepodge façade hid an inner wall that had broken the armies of empires, but to allow even the appearance of weakness! If the old Masters had seen such a thing, it would’ve been mortared with his blood.
The great doors themselves were constructed of riveted iron and festooned with carvings of skulls and demons, with ranks of gargoyles leering down to glare at approaching travelers. Many were clutching the gilded trilobite that was the sigil of the Heterodyne family, rulers of Mechanicsburg.
Carson strode through the vast central gate, keeping to a raised walkway on one side of the passage. The usual cart traffic rumbled by. When he cleared the portcullis the gloom of the gate tunnel gave way to bright sun, and he paused a moment, blinking.
A young man who had been industriously sweeping the walkway removed his hat as soon as Carson appeared. “Master Heliotrope!” the boy called. “It has been a while since you’ve been by.” He indicated a small stone bench that had been set into the stone railing that lined the roadway up to the gate. “But I had a feeling you might be here, and I have just finished tidying your bench.”
Carson smiled as he settled onto the sun-warmed stone. “You are a good boy, Kars.” He took a sip of his tea. “And how is your mama?”
Kars looked pleased. “Very well, sir. Thank you.” Carson nodded.
“Do remember me to her.” He ran an eye over the traffic. “Anything unusual today?”
Kars paused and leaned upon his broom. The two of them looked out across the landscape. A well-constructed road led from the gate, crossed the river, and disappeared off between two of the cliffs that encircled the valley. The road was lined with advertisements, touting various taverns and inns, as well as the numerous attractions that helped draw in the waves of tourists who came to see the home of the legendary Heterodyne Boys.
These days most of the town’s visitors arrived by way of the airstrip across the river, but today the old road was noticeably busier than usual. Carson could see, even from here, that most of them were troops. This was even more unusual, as the Wulfenbachs habitually used airships for military transport.
“Forces from Balan’s Gap?”
Kars nodded. “Mostly walking wounded. And they say they’re establishing overland supply lines.”
Carson frowned. Mechanicsburg was the closest town of consequence, but the Empire had the largest air transport fleet—
The old man bit his lip. Of course. This must be a very troublesome Heterodyne claimant indeed for the Empire to send troops, even if they were trying to be circumspect about it. At least the merchants will be happy. Prices were no doubt being raised even as he idled here.
Carson leaned back and closed his eyes. Kars waited a moment, but when nothing else was said, he nodded, and taking his broom, moved to the other side of the roadway.
Carson tipped his head back and regarded several of the gargoyles ranked along the outer wall.
“Another Heterodyne heir,” he grumbled to the air. “And this time it’s a woman, who seems to have gotten her ideas from too many Heterodyne shows.” He shrugged. “I expect she’ll be easy to discourage…”
He considered this statement. “But she apparently had enough power to take on Klaus Wulfenbach. Which makes me think she might be trouble.”
Across the way, Kars continued with his work. He picked up a windblown twig and tossed it over the low wall that followed the road out of town, and Carson watched a leaf detach and briefly spin in an updraft.
Carson laced his fingers together. “And if she is, I expect you’ll help me deal with her. I know you’ll enjoy that.”
A dray wagon loaded with empty barrels rumbled out from the gateway A large dog loped along behind it, tongue flapping.
After a moment of protracted silence, the old man chuckled and settled back on his bench. “Well, at any rate…until we’re needed, I believe I’ll take a nap.”
As the sun slowly rose, the defenders of Mechanicsburg waited.
The Great Chronometer in the Red Cathedral had just boomed out the hour. Nine o’clock. From outside the gate, Carson couldn’t hear the shrieks of the clockwork nuns fleeing the clockwork Jägers, but he was familiar enough with the routine that he could visualize each of the hourly shows as clearly as if he were there. His lips twitched in a faint smile.
So caught up was he in memories that, when the trio of horses stopped in front of him, he continued to drift. The young man on the lead horse had to repeat himself several times, in a slightly louder voice each time, before he was startled back to full awareness.
A tall, friendly-looking fellow looked down at him and nodded his head respectfully. Behind him was a young woman, most likely his wife: young, alert, and wide-eyed. Currently she was staring up at the gate. Fair enough, it took some getting used to. At the gateway, the walls blossomed outwards, and a person entering the town experienced the disquieting sensation of entering a lair of grinning, cavorting gargoyles and other assorted monstrosities. The old Heterodynes were accused of many things, but no one ever said they were unfair. They always enjoyed letting visitors know exactly what they were walking into.
Behind her was—Carson perked up a bit. The woman looked like one of those warrior nuns he’d heard of, from…the old man frowned. That convent fortress up near Lake Geneva…he cursed this further evidence of his aging memory. Twenty, no, even ten years ago, he could have reeled off the name of the place as well as what they usually ate for breakfast.
He shook his head. In the nun’s lap was a—Carson’s breath hissed inwards in shock. It was a child. A terrible, misshapen child, tightly wrapped in bandages. The only thing he could see was a pair of mad, glaring eyes. He shuddered.
Even before the rider spoke, the old man knew what he wanted.
“If you would be so kind as to tell us the way to the Great Hospital?”1
“Certainly. Straight down this avenue until you get to a square with a statue of the Heterodyne Boys. Turn left at the statue, and you’ll start to see the signs.”
The young woman broke off her staring at the gate and turned to him. Her eyes held him transfixed and the old man felt his heart skip a beat.
“Thank you, kind sir.” She broke the connection as she turned to her husband. “Let’s go, darling.”
The old man let out a breath as the horses clopped off. Well. Apparently one is never too old to feel foolish over a pretty girl. He impatiently shook his head.
“It’s unfortunate, that’s what that is,” he muttered. “Now’s a particularly bad time to show up with a sick child. The hospital will be in chaos what with the Baron there and everyone all stirred up.”
He glanced upwards. “Perhaps I could—” He froze, then twisted around and stared up at the gargoyles that lined gate into town. All of them—every blessed one of them—had shifted on their pedestals, gazing after the trio of newcomers as they entered the city.
Agatha glanced at her companions and couldn’t help the small smile that crossed her face as they left the old man. The idea of the boisterous and unrestrained Zeetha as a nun was almost as amusing as the thought of her being married to the normally prim and decorous ex-valet Ardsley Wooster, who had joined them in Sturmhalten. She caught a glimpse of Krosp’s furious eyes and turned away. Intelligent he might be, but Krosp was still a cat, and his dignity was suffering greatly under those bandages.