Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Barry uncurled gingerly from around the little girl in his arms, got his feet under him, and staggered away from the remains of the craft he'd escaped in. After several steps, he went back and, one-handed, rigged it to explode. He wasn't sure if there was any pursuit, but one more scar in the earth would mean nothing. Letting anyone find the vehicle itself could be deadly.

Lucrezia was gone -- he hoped. Bill was dead. Europe was ruined. And he was in some wasteland with the three-year-old daughter Lucrezia had meant to live on through.

"Agatha," he said.

The craft blew, behind them, and Agatha looked interestedly over his shoulder. "Woge-ze?"

The three-year-old who only spoke the Geister tongue. Of which he'd only picked up a bit, by skulking around them, himself. He suddenly felt unutterably weary. "Time for you to learn Romanian, little one," he said, and then repeated it as well as he could in their language.

Barry started walking.

Agatha was mostly a cheerful child and obviously brilliant. She reciprocated his attempts to teach her Romanian by patiently trying to teach him more of the Geister language, and his stomach twisted when he understood that she'd been asking when she would see some of the priestesses again. He was fairly sure at least one of the names belonged to someone he'd killed.

He told her never.

She asked again, as if she thought one of them had misunderstood something.

When there was no more room for confusion, she threw a screaming fit and then didn't speak to him for two days.

Agatha only tried to run away from him twice, and Barry was deeply grateful it wasn't more. The second time his heart almost stopped when he saw she'd come close to a half-buried hive engine. He destroyed it and then carried her through the night and the next day until his feet burned and he finally gave out from exhaustion, and then he sat up with her far into the next night, holding her close, talking over her head. He wasn't sure whether to hope she understood or remembered anything he told her, but the words wouldn't stop coming.

Whatever she did or didn't understand, her spirits recovered with surprising speed. Certainly faster than Barry's. He tried to be cheerful for her, remembering how Bill's dark moods and silence had weighed on him. He didn't think a pretense -- if Bill had been capable of one -- would really have helped, but then, he wasn't a child.

He avoided people and towns when he could, but they stopped at the occasional village to trade work for supplies. He didn't tell people he was Barry Heterodyne. For one thing, they'd have wanted to know where Bill was, and for another he still wasn't sure who might be looking for him, Geisterdamen or humans, and it was probably safer for everyone if they never knew. Ideally they wouldn't even remember him... so he didn't do Spark-work, either, unless there was a problem it was really needed to solve, and then he mostly tried to hide it.

Months later, he reached the mountains near Mechanicsburg, and that was when he heard that Baron Wulfenbach was planning to invade it.

On the face of it, this seemed unlikely on several counts. Klaus had disappeared more than six years ago. No, Barry corrected himself, he'd lost track of time somewhat. Almost eight years ago now. They'd hoped he would come back, they'd searched for him, but they'd never picked up a trail or so much as a rumour and they'd eventually concluded that he had probably run into worse trouble than even he could handle. Since finding out Lucrezia's actual plans, it had occurred to Barry with increasing frequency and discomfort that she had been their only source of information on Klaus's decision to go traveling alone, but that didn't exactly seem to make his survival more probable.

And if Klaus was alive, why in the world would he invade Mechanicsburg? (And how?) The only thing that would make the town happier than Klaus showing up was getting their Heterodynes back, and given Barry was going to have to tell them Bill was dead, Klaus would probably have a less dampening effect.

He sought out more information as he got closer, despite the greater risk of being recognized. Klaus had shown up months, maybe only weeks after he and Bill set off for outer space. Klaus had rebuilt his own town (Barry winced -- he hadn't heard it needed it until then) and proclaimed he'd conquer anyone who attacked it, which was plausible as a fit of temper and which various neighbors had unsurprisingly taken as an invitation. Klaus was now planning to take over the rest of Europe in successively larger radii. Barry wasn't sure what was actually going on, but he obviously needed to be in Mechanicsburg himself.

Everything seemed to be okay when he got there, or rather, no worse than when he'd left. It was quiet. The farmers were farming. There were no encampments outside the walls, and thin but steady streams of traffic tramped through the various gates. There was a rather heavily armed airship with a winged Wulfenbach sigil floating on the near side of town, but that wasn't automatically alarming -- wait. Barry paused, blinked, and looked at that again as he noticed something odd about the top of it. Was that a garden?

The airship wasn't, in fact, on the near side of town. It was farther off, and once he processed the perspective correctly, he was pretty sure it was long enough to stretch across the entire town. That wasn't just a dirigible; it was a floating city itself. How in the world had Klaus....

Several minutes later, Barry shook himself out of an analytical reverie. He stowed his binoculars, hoisted Agatha into his arms (she gave a put-upon sigh: she wanted to walk), and walked down to the road and into town. There was actually quite a bit of traffic. Most was probably local trade, but there were even a handful of tourists already. A couple of people looked twice, but he could almost see them dismiss the idea that a single travel-worn man with a child was one of the missing Heterodyne Boys. One of the great gargoyles by the gate started to turn its head, and he looked up and put a finger to his lips.

Once he got properly into town, everyone who lived there recognized him regardless of how self-effacing he tried to be. He met their eyes, as many as he could, trying to make it clear that he didn't want a fuss yet; and they kept quiet for now and directed him, with subtle head and eye movements of their own, always toward the same part of town. All right then.

When he got to the square, two things struck him. The first was actually the looming statue of himself and Bill, which had not been there when he left -- ten feet tall, smiling and laughing and both giving the thumbs-up signal, on a pedestal which had for some reason been emblazoned with the words "We'll be back -- cancel the milk." These had in fact been Barry's last words before their departure, and he'd hoped even the weak flippancy would be encouraging, in lieu of being able to think of anything inspirational. Seeing them immortalised was a bit strange.

The second was Klaus, talking to General Khrizhan (who was, like everyone else in town, dutifully pretending not to notice Barry) and gesturing with a book held in one hand and definitely alive.

Definitely alive. Barry shut his eyes for a moment, feeling this was one of the nicest things the universe had done in the past four years. Then he strolled up behind Klaus, taking a deep breath and expanding himself into the kind of body language that belonged to being a Heterodyne Boy rather than an inconspicuous traveler, and clapped his old friend on the shoulder. "So I'm told you're trying to take over my town."

“Hoy!” General Khrizhan protested, although he was grinning gigantically. “Ve vas havink a polite chat.”

Klaus whirled and stared at him, tried to say something, sputtered instead, and then actually did manage to say, "Where have you been?" He gestured with the book as if thinking of throwing it at Barry. "Everyone said you were dead. Where's Bill?"

Barry flinched. At the words, not the book. "Bill is dead," he said, his voice low and flat but carrying. The rushing murmur of the crowd went silent and bleak. He hadn't said it before, not out loud, and he had to swallow twice before he could go on. "So is Lucrezia. This is their daughter Agatha."

Klaus swallowed too, gaze going flat for a moment. He looked down at Agatha, who squirmed around to look back at him. "I see." He held out the book to Barry, this time inviting him to take it rather than threatening to throw it at him.

The title was Raise a Child Alive. Well, that was interesting. Barry regarded it for a second and then accepted it. "Thank you. Where have you been? We could never find any sign."

"Skifander." Klaus sounded wistful, as if he'd rather like to be back there. "Lucrezia's doing," he added, and that he sounded embarrassed about.

"Long story, I'm guessing." Barry indicated Castle Heterodyne. "I'd invite you in to exchange them, but at last check my house was incoherently murderous so I think we'd have to start by finding a decent set of tools and a babysitter."

"My house is available, if you'd prefer," Klaus said, gesturing up at the hovering airship.

Barry looked at it thoughtfully. If he seriously thought Klaus was getting carried away with some scheme of conquest, going on board his airship -- let alone with Agatha -- was of course the last thing he should do. "Sure," he said, "but I hope your steering's improved."

Klaus gave him a look. "Don't worry. This one doesn't land," he said, drily.

"Well, that's a creative way around the problem." Barry took a steadying breath. This was hardly the time for jokes. "I should talk to Carson first, though."

Klaus swallowed again. "Carson's dead." Then he frowned, eyebrows pinching together. "I was told he died the night the Castle was attacked. But I'd assume you'd know if that was the case."

Barry's eyebrows rose slowly, and his eyes flicked momentarily up to the silent looming general. "He was alive and coordinating the rescue efforts when we got back, and still fine when we left. As much as any of us were, anyway. His son--" His jaw tightened, and his fingers curled around Raise a Child Alive. "There are probably bits of him in the crypt with little Klaus. They told you the seneschal died, didn't they."

Klaus buried his forehead in one hand. "Yes, they did. I really should have known better than to take anything at face value in Mechanicsburg."

"Sorry," Barry said. As if Klaus hadn’t come back to enough bad news. "I'm not quite sure what the point was, but unless something happened to him in the past few years I'm sure he'll turn up."

"Your friendship is not quite sufficient reason to tell him all the family's secrets," Carson said, from practically at his elbow. "At least not for me to do it. Welcome back. Lord Heterodyne."

Barry closed his eyes and sighed, long and slow, through his nose. Agatha was obviously too young to inherit right now, even assuming Lucrezia and the Geisterdamen hadn't had a chance to complete their plans. "Give the tourists a chance to get out of town before you ring the Doom Bell." Especially more than once.

"I know my job," Carson said simply. "They'll have plenty of time while you repair the Castle. Popular as you are, there may yet be people outside the walls who’d be overexcited to hear you're home."

"Don't I know it," Barry muttered. "Don't worry. I know mine, too."

Klaus led the way through Castle Wulfenbach, currently a web of girders, full of people working on making it more than that. Sound echoed, metallic thumps and workmen calling to one another. Agatha was squirming in Barry’s arms, trying to look over the side of the catwalk they were on. The one finished area was perched ahead of them like a steel box, and Klaus walked a little faster. Inside was a small hallway, branching off on one side into his study, bedroom and laboratory. The other side contained the school.

Barry was looking around with quite as much curiosity as Agatha and presumably a lot more analysis. Based on past experience, Klaus assumed that by the time they reached the finished area, Barry would have about twenty ideas for improvements (half of which Klaus had thought of himself but couldn't implement yet) and know at least seven ways to cause utter mayhem and possibly crash the dirigible by yanking on a mechanism or throwing a small object. It would be more if Klaus had less practice doing that himself.

As they entered the finished area, Von Pinn -- whom Klaus had first spoken to a week ago, and whom he had just yesterday deemed in sufficient control of herself to come aboard and meet the students -- appeared in the doorway to the school like a guardian demon. She stiffened, staring at Barry. No. At Agatha.

Barry stopped walking with an expression of shock. "Madame Von Pinn." He shot Klaus a look of frantic inquiry, then returned his eyes to the rigid construct in black leather. "You look, ah, better than I was expecting."

"Master Barry," she said, her eyes still on Agatha. "This is Lucrezia's child?"

Barry's arms tightened very slightly. "Yes, she--"

"Yes, I am," Agatha said at the same time. "Did you know my mother, Madame Von Pinn?"

Von Pinn hissed slightly. "Yes. I was charged with the protection of her child." She tipped her head back to meet Barry's eyes. "She is mine to care for." There was a note of pleading to her tone and Klaus winced. He wasn't sure Von Pinn could handle being denied a second chance to fulfil her purpose without breaking. Lucrezia had, he thought, rather overdone it with implanting a need to fulfil a purpose.

"I don't remember her," Agatha said, her voice remarkably wistful for a child who couldn't be more than four. "The--" here she said something that sounded like gibberish but clearly wasn't meant to be. "--Just told me about her."

Barry inhaled slowly. "I'll have to come get her again later," he said, without taking his eyes off Von Pinn, "but perhaps the two of you should get to know each other." Klaus could practically see the effort of will it took to extend Agatha toward her, but Agatha held out her arms and then was suddenly in Von Pinn's.

"I can walk," Agatha said, in the tones of one who had explained something many times and didn't expect anyone to listen, but was still trying to be polite about it.

"Once we are inside you can walk all you like," Von Pinn answered. She nodded at Barry. "Thank you." Her disappearance into the school was followed by a babble of young voices as the other children responded to a new arrival.

"Thank you," Klaus said, echoing her last words. "Agatha will be perfectly safe with her."

Barry let out an unsteady sigh. "I'll trust your judgement on her -- and I'm impressed you got her calmed down -- but we really need to talk." He gestured to the study and followed Klaus in, then said, very quietly, "Everybody here honestly thinks Lucrezia was kidnapped, but she left. She was the Other. I took Agatha away from the Geisterdamen not even a year ago."

Klaus stood stock still for a moment and then let out a breath between his teeth. When he'd last seen Lucrezia she'd been insisting that she was, in her own way, going to try being good. Her own way including shipping inconvenient temptations to Skifander. He'd guessed she wouldn't manage it; he hadn't guessed she'd fail so spectacularly. Had she been lying from the start? Why lie to someone you were about to poison? "I never imagined she was that powerful," he said, head swirling with too many emotions for him to manage a less dispassionate response while remaining coherent. Memories of her standing over him, gloating. Memories of her laughing with Bill over the latest stupid novel. "I can see the stylistic similarities, now I know what to look for."

Barry leaned against the wall, arms folded, and let his head fall back against it with a dull thunk. "We didn't actually figure it out until we caught up with her. Bill -- I don't even know what Bill thought. He hadn't exactly been himself for a while, but... you remember we kidded them about how they'd die making out somewhere that was exploding..." Barry's voice failed on the last syllable, though his lips finished the word.

Klaus patted his shoulder, feeling helpless and overwhelmed by his own grief for Bill. And, annoyingly, for Lucrezia as well. He didn't want to feel anything for her but anger and resentment, but while he was feeling plenty of both he was also remembering too many times when the four of them had been together. "Did he know about Agatha?"

Barry brought his hand up blindly to grip Klaus's wrist. "Lucrezia mentioned her. That's why I went to the Geisterdamen." A wince. "She apparently had plans to copy her mind over Agatha's."

Klaus's hand tightened on Barry's shoulder. "I take it you found her before that happened."

Barry swallowed. "I really hope so."

Klaus shuddered, for a moment regretting that he'd sent Agatha with Von Pinn. She was in a room with his son. "I see."

Barry focused again and straightened up, without shaking Klaus's hand off. "I'm... nearly sure, really," he said, more crisply. "I can't see Lucrezia having any great urge to relive childhood, let alone infancy, and as far as I could gather she gave birth among the Geisterdamen and promptly took off to, uh, rain boulders and hive engines down on Europe. I didn't find anything that resembled the mind-transfer equipment in Castle Heterodyne, and Agatha's...." He trailed off and sighed. "A real sweetheart, mostly. I mean, she's got a temper, but if anything she's calmer and happier than I'd expect. Considering I basically kidnapped her from the only people she knew, all of whom adored her absolutely even if they did mean to overwrite her brain one day. But it's not like I actually know what Lucrezia would be like transplanted into a toddler." He held up the book Klaus had handed him. "Please tell me yours sounds that precocious?"

Klaus hesitated. "He died once," he said, also looking at the book. Once had been one time too many. "There's amnesia. He's precocious enough to be compensating for it by picking things up fast, but I'm not even sure how to measure his development at this stage."

"Oh." Barry was silent for a moment, looking at Klaus, jarred out of his own worries. "I'm sorry. I'm glad you managed to bring him back, though." Simple, heartfelt, and utterly unconcerned about the possibility that it sounded inane. "Ah... did someone attack him? Is that why you're not in Skifander?"

"He has a twin sister. They don’t like twins, apparently." Klaus sighed. "And if I'm going to raise a child in Europe I'm going to fix it first."

"I see." Barry's tone was worryingly like the one that had come out of Klaus's own mouth over Barry hoping Agatha wasn't actually a miniature Lucrezia. Suspiciously neutral. "Tall order."

Klaus looked at him impatiently. "I know you always thought that with the monsters cleared out people could rule themselves. But it turns out that they can't. With the Other gone they either grabbed for power or ran around panicking. I started out trying to protect my home, but there's no way to do that without being willing to take down attackers. And then I owe it to the places I've taken to protect them as well. If the only way to clean up Europe is to own it, then I will do that. And I will make it work."

"Klaus," Barry said, looking... so honestly concerned that it was difficult to resent, "you do remember hating politics, right?"

Klaus snorted. "I don't like getting invaded either. I don't suppose I could convince you to do the political part?"

Barry rubbed a hand over the side of his face. "Did you just ask me to help you conquer Europe?"

"No," said Klaus, starting to find this funny and rather feeling he shouldn't. "I asked you to help run Europe after I've conquered it."

"Oh, okay. You're proposing to be the next Storm King with a Heterodyne as your chief minister. Much better. I admit, you've definitely come up with a version none of my ancestors would have signed on for." He reached up and took Klaus by the shoulders; Klaus half expected to be shaken, but Barry just stared into his eyes for a long moment instead, then sighed. "Only you," he muttered, "could be planning to conquer Europe from an airship city and still come across as grounded."

"Despite appearances I'm being practical," said Klaus, not sure whether to be indignant or amused that Barry had thought he might be in a fugue state. "If you've been travelling on foot you must have seen what a mess everything is. And if I know you, you don’t intend to just let it stay that way."

Barry looked guilty at that, which was unsettling: Klaus felt an undefined jolt of triumph, even though it wasn't a reaction he'd meant to evoke, and a simultaneous sense that the world was the wrong way up. "No," Barry said after a moment. "But I admit I haven't got far thinking of how."

Klaus backed off slightly. "You don't have to do things my way. But we could accomplish more working together."

"Well, that's basically always true." The smile Barry flashed then was a shadow of what it used to be. But it was still nice to see and hear, especially given what Klaus was proposing. "I've been listening. I actually do have an idea how many people asked you to do this," he said seriously. "And how many were figuratively asking for it, too. But it's not as if anybody else appreciates being invaded either." A wry look. "Speaking of which. You obviously know pretty much everybody in Mechanicsburg likes you. I don't think they'd have put up with this from anybody else."

"Even if Carson evidently felt the need to pretend to be dead," Klaus said. He decided not to bring up the deal he'd been making with the Jägers; Barry was likely to be even less happy about Klaus's plans if they were involved. "I was fairly confident they wouldn't attack me, at least."

"Carson also told everybody else to go along with you. I hear you're good for tourism." Barry sighed. "But seriously, this is an ongoing moral and practical problem with your plan. Mechanicsburg, like I said, likes you. And saw advantages to joining your new empire, even if they were a little annoyed. But how many places have you pushed into it, that didn't attack you? And how many do you think you will?"

"I do ask." Klaus sighed. "There probably will be times when I have to choose between leaving someone known to be dangerous inside my borders because they haven't attacked me yet or pushing them to say yes. I don't have either your charisma or your ability to be taken seriously due to several generations proving it's a bad idea not to take your family seriously." He eyed Barry speculatively. "If you can convince people to rule themselves in a sensible manner and not attack anyone I'd be more than happy to leave them to it. As you pointed out, I really do hate politics."

"Generally speaking, anybody you've got surrounded is probably going to be twitchy regardless." Barry paced over to take a seat in front of Klaus's desk and propped his elbow on it, evidently reading upside-down Klaus's notes on the map that lay there. "You may have more politics but also less administration and less resentment if you ask for allies." He considered. "And it's not that much more politics, if you're mostly not removing rulers anyway."

Klaus sat down across from him. "At which point the question becomes 'allies in doing what?' Agreements not to attack each other would be a good start. Agreements to contribute to infrastructure might be harder to obtain." He quirked an eyebrow at Barry. "I assume you wouldn't object to taking people who mistreat their subjects out of power. You never did before."

"We did usually try to get them to stop first," Barry pointed out. This had been the topic of a number of past heated arguments. Even assuming the reform was real, heartfelt, and not based on fear of the Heterodyne Boys stopping by again to make a mess of things, Klaus thought it was frequently unfair to leave everyone stuck with the same person who'd been abusing them. In some cases he'd won the argument and they had quite literally removed the offending ruler. "But no."

Klaus looked down at the paperwork. "I did like your way of doing things. But it took twenty years to have anything much to show for it, and everything was undone in five. I'm out of patience for doing things the long way."

"It didn't even take five." Barry looked pensive. "I always hated it when people asked us to take over. Of course, in this case that would hardly have helped hold things together any longer. But I admit it wasn't mostly a philosophical objection."

"If it helps, I don't think anyone ever asked your ancestors to take over."

Barry snorted. "Not likely. If they did, I can't imagine it went well." He drummed his fingers on the desk, then looked up at Klaus and held out a hand. "About the last thing I want to do is fight you, you know."

It was strange to be viewed as someone Barry thought he might have to fight. Klaus had to remind himself that for all his good intentions he was, in fact, a Spark bent on conquest. "I don't want that either," he said. He took Barry's hand feeling that this was, in some way, an agreement not to do things too far from what Barry would approve of. "I'm willing to try for alliances. Will you be helping with that?" Even if things were different, even if he had taken the lead this time, he wanted Barry to stay.

"No, Klaus, I thought I'd push you to do things the hard way and then hole up in Mechanicsburg and not help," Barry said. "Of course I will."

Klaus smiled, feeling the sarcasm was probably a good sign. Barry had seemed so worn. "I'll help with Mechanicsburg too, if you like. Your Castle needs fixing before it eats anymore TPU teams."

Barry blinked. "Before it what? Why did anybody go in?" He stopped and covered his eyes. "Why do I even ask questions like that? Yes, thank you. There's nobody I'd rather have along."

Chapter Text

Just as she'd implied, Madame Von Pinn put Agatha down as soon as they were inside, although as Uncle Barry often did, she kept hold of Agatha's hand. Agatha looked around, as much fascinated as she'd been by the parts of the dirigible that looked from a distance like they'd been spun by a really big metal spider. This wasn't like any building she'd been in before, but the most interesting part was that there were other children here. They didn't look like the Geisterdamen's children. The colours and proportions were different, like her, like the other pink and tan and brown children in villages but she'd never seen so many all at once. They'd all paused to look at her, so she lifted her free hand and waved.

"This is Lady Agatha Heterodyne," said Madame Von Pinn.

"I thought Aunt Lucrezia had a boy," blurted a taller, brown-skinned boy with black hair. Agatha looked at him with some astonishment. If her mother was his aunt, she had a cousin.

For some reason, he clapped his hand over his mouth as soon as he'd spoken, and Madame Von Pinn trembled very slightly and very fast, so holding her hand felt almost like holding a bee. "Her second child, Master Theo," Madame Von Pinn said after a few seconds. "Miss Agatha, if you wish to walk or play, you may."

Agatha felt the grip on her hand release and darted up to Theo at once. "You're my cousin," she said. "I didn't know about any before."

"I didn't know about you," he returned, grinning down at her. He seemed friendly. "You're really Bill Heterodyne's daughter?" He looked around, then asked in a hushed voice, even though she was pretty sure Madame Von Pinn could still hear him, "Is he here?"

Agatha shook her head. "Uncle Barry brought me. He says my parents are dead. I didn't really get to know them. My mother left me with servants, but Uncle Barry says they were bad."

"I don't remember mine very well either."

"I think I like having a cousin, though," Agatha decided. She noticed almost everybody else had crowded around, so she turned and smiled at them. People in the villages usually smiled back if she did that, and most of the children here did too. "So who are all of you?"

"Well, I'm Theo DuMedd," said Theo, jumping in, and then told her everyone else's names in turn. They had lots of questions, so many that Agatha almost couldn't ask all of hers, but she still heard quite a lot about their families and their lessons and what Baron Wulfenbach had been doing lately.

"Are you going to be a student here?" asked a boy from the edge of the crowd. His hair was brown and went wildly in all directions, his skin was light with a touch of gold, his clothes were a little too big for him, and he was holding onto a book protectively, like he thought someone might grab it. Theo hastily told her he was Gil Holzfäller, and a nice kid.

"I don't know," she said. "Uncle Barry came here to talk to Klaus. I mean, Baron Wulfenbach."

"Will he make him stop taking things over?" asked one of the oldest students, a serious twelve-year-old.

Agatha blinked. "I don't know that either. He just said they're friends."

Even though Agatha was not convinced anybody else knew more about it than she did, that topic lasted until three of the children Agatha's size started hitting each other, which shocked her, and somebody pinched Gil but she didn't see who. Madame Von Pinn made them stop and told them that it was time for little children to go to bed and take naps.

Agatha wasn't sure about this. She had taken naps, but usually while Uncle Barry was carrying her. And she didn't have a bed, of course. Madame Von Pinn didn’t like this, but Agatha assured her that she had slept on the ground lots of times, and spreading out a blanket would be perfectly fine, and anyway the floor felt interesting. This wound up with half the other girls dragging their own bedding down to the floor to find out what she meant. Madame Von Pinn said it wasn't proper and began to pick them back up. Agatha told her it was an important life skill. Three of the other girls fell asleep during the ensuing discussion, and after an alarming crash from where the students older than ten were supposed to be reading about history, Madame Von Pinn decided the children lying peacefully on the floor weren't the ones who needed supervising. She left the doors to the bedrooms open and went away.

Agatha settled down. The floor really did feel interesting. It hummed, not exactly like Uncle Barry did, but still interestingly complicated, almost like music. She could feel it vibrating like when he hummed when he was carrying her. It didn't make her sleepy, though. It made her want to think about things.

She half listened to Madame Von Pinn's lessons for a few minutes, until she saw Gil Holzfäller creep out of the boys' room. Now that was even more interesting than the floor. Agatha got up and tiptoed to the door. She thought about getting her shoes, but Gil was barefoot and she thought about how the grownups' boots rang on the floors here, and padded after him silently.

He didn't go to the door where they'd come in. He went the other way from a classroom and slipped into an opening Agatha had thought was only a bit of shadow. She was impressed. Uncle Barry put secret passages in every building where they stayed more than a few days, and sometimes even into tents, but she hadn't spotted that one. She walked in after him, curious, and stopped in a dark spot while he worked a panel of the floor free and squeezed down into it. He didn't quite close it all the way after him, so it was easy for her to move it again when he was gone. She fit easily through the opening, too, feeling her way in the dark. After a brief close place everything opened up suddenly and she lost her grip on her handhold.

Agatha gasped -- the floor was farther away than she expected -- but she landed with only a little thump and realized she was in the web-type place again, on a flat piece of metal twice as wide as she was, which would be kind of narrow for Uncle Barry. She peered over the edge, then stood up and brushed down her skirt. There were two ways to go without climbing on anything she couldn't reach. She thought she saw an irregular shape in one direction and walked toward it, happy when she got closer and could see it was a leg, dangling from a metal bar above in the shadows. She patted the foot attached to it and whispered, "Hi!"

The foot twitched, hard, and then pulled up out of her reach. A moment later Gil's face peered down at her from the shadows. He was frowning slightly, more as if she was a puzzle to be solved than as if he was really angry. "What are you doing here?"

"Following you," Agatha said, even though that was pretty obvious from the evidence. She studied the bar he was sitting on, not sure if she could get onto it even if she jumped up to grab it. "I wondered where you were going."

He pulled back and then slid off the bar, landing next to her surprisingly quietly. He was still holding his book. "Just here," he said. He regarded her gravely. "I can show you more interesting places if you promise not to tell the others."

Agatha looked up at him, thinking. He didn't have to show her anything, of course, and she wouldn't know if she hadn't come looking for him, but Uncle Barry had impressed on her that she should ask why when people wanted her to promise things. "I'd like that. But why are they secrets?" she asked. "And if they're secrets why are you going to tell me?"

"I don't want the others to be able to find me when I'm trying to get away from them. But you already know my way out." He clutched his book to his chest, looking faintly disgruntled. "I thought maybe you'd keep that secret too if you promised."

"Oh. I won't tell them," said Agatha. "Whether you show me anything else or not." She liked the other children, but she didn't see any reason to help them find somebody who wanted to get away from them. "But I'd still like to see."

Gil smiled down at her, looking a little shy. "Okay. Thanks." He reached up and carefully balanced his book on the beam he'd been sitting on, then held out his hand. "Are you good at climbing?"

"I like climbing trees," Agatha said, putting her hand in his. "You're gonna be able to reach a lot more things than me, though."

"Yeah." He walked a little way down the piece of metal and then let go of her hand. Below them was another, identical metal walkway. Gil sat down on the edge of it and looked at her. "We have to jump here. I'll go first and catch you, okay?"

This seemed reasonable. "Okay." Agatha watched him carefully, trying to see how he landed so softly. She was sure the physics of it would make sense under analysis. Uncle Barry said most things did if you looked at them right. Then she sat in the same spot and pushed off.

Gil stumbled slightly as he caught her, holding onto her for balance for a moment after setting her on her feet, then let go and held his hand out to her again. The humming was getting louder here, vibrating through the metal they were standing on.

Agatha wiggled her toes against the flooring and grabbed his hand again. "Where are we?" she whispered, then repeated it a little louder because the words got lost in the hum. She brightened. "Ohh. Are those the engines? They'd have to be really big for this thing!"

Gil nodded. "We can see them by climbing down some scaffolding from the end of here. Do you want to try?"

"Yeah!" Agatha started eagerly forward, looking all around. Now that Uncle Barry wasn't carrying her, she could see downward much better, even though everything did fade into shadows and distant globes of light. Gil tugged back on her hand a little as they reached the end of the walkway, and she got down on her knees for a better look at the scaffolding. That wasn't bad at all. Probably more comfortable for grown-ups than the walkway, but the bars were close enough together for her.

Gil went first, with the ease of someone who had done this several times before, pausing to look up at her at intervals. "Is this like climbing trees?" he asked.

"Kind of," said Agatha. "Trees are rougher in texture and less regular." Her hand slid into the angle between two bars and got pinched, and she blinked back tears. "And with less corners."

Gil scrambled back up a few feet. "Are you hurt?"

"Only a little bit." Agatha showed him her hand. The pinch mark was red, but it wasn't too sore when she flexed it.

"Good. We're getting close to the bottom now," Gil said encouragingly.

Agatha nodded and peeked downward. He was right. The corners were annoying, but she told herself triangles were a good structural choice and kept climbing.

The last few meters of scaffolding and the floor beneath it didn't just thrum with the working of the engines; they shook. Agatha stooped down to spread her hands on the floor for a moment, then got up, grinning. "This is great."

Gil took her hand again and pulled her across the shaking floor to a steel door. He carefully tapped at one of the rivets around the edge and then stood on tiptoes to reach the doorhandle. Once he'd pushed it ajar Agatha could catch a glimpse of a room full of pipes and cylinders, with pistons moving rhythmically between them. Gil bent down to say into her ear. "Be really careful, don't touch anything that's moving."

Agatha nodded, peering through the opening. Everything that was moving, was moving very fast. "I'll be careful," she promised, and they edged inside.

It was hot in here, and it smelled a little like the grease Uncle Barry used and a little like woodsmoke and otherwise kind of awful, and it was so loud she almost couldn't think. But it was amazing and interesting and her eyes darted from one mechanism to another, trying to trace how it worked. Gil helpfully pointed out its features and what the parts were called, which required leaning down and nearly yelling in her ear, but Agatha didn't mind. When it got to be too much, she put her hands over her ears, and he nodded and took her back out, carefully pulling the door shut behind them.

Agatha beamed at him. "That was great. Where to next?" She stopped and frowned a little. "Or do you want to read your book now?" He had said he was there to get away from people. Although not her, especially. But she was pretty sure it was too dark to read where he'd been sitting when she found him.

Gil grinned at her. "This is more fun." He looked around and picked a direction. "They're building a lab up this way, there shouldn't be anyone there now. But they leave all their tools behind." He added the last bit with the air of someone sharing a treasure trove.

Agatha brightened and followed him. "I've never been in a real laboratory," she confided. "I'm not supposed to mess with Uncle Barry's tools, either. Usually. He has some for me, but they're not as interesting."

"It's only half a laboratory so far," said Gil. "I haven't managed to get into any of the finished ones."

"I've never seen one being built before either. Just workshops." She looked up at him curiously. "You've explored a lot, haven't you?"

Gil nodded. "It's interesting."

Agatha thought about that for a little bit. "You spend a lot of time trying to get away from the other students?"

Gil looked down at his feet, scowling slightly. 'Yeah. 'Cause I don't have a family or anything."

Agatha frowned. This didn't seem to follow. "Uh, what?"

"It matters," said Gil. "They all like you because your family are famous. And Sparks. The less important your family is the less people like you. And I don't have one."

"Oh." Agatha stopped walking, but she kept his hand. Gil stopped when she pulled back and looked at her. Uncle Barry had said they shouldn't say who they were when they were traveling because bad people were looking for her. He'd mostly meant the Geisterdamen, which was confusing, but he'd explained why eventually, even if it had been when she wanted to go to sleep. When they got to Mechanicsburg he'd said who they were himself. Everybody did seem to be very impressed. "Well... I like you."

Gil smiled at her, face lighting up. "I like you too. I really hope you stay."

Agatha smiled back and squeezed his hand. "I don't know," she said. "Uncle Barry kept us moving almost all the time, but he said we were coming home."

"That would be Mechanicsburg, not here," said Gil. He sighed and then shook himself. "Come on, you might as well see the lab while you are here."

Uncle Barry had been really glad to see Baron Wulfenbach, though. And Madame Von Pinn said she was supposed to take care of Agatha, but she seemed to be staying at the school. Agatha wasn't sure what to think. "If I'm not staying here, maybe I can write you letters?" she said. She didn't know how yet, but she was starting to learn and anyway Uncle Barry would help. "But sure. I bet it'll be a really good lab."

The lab was mostly bare, steel floor and steel walls, with wires poking out of the walls in clumps. There were chains and cranks around some of the walls too, maybe for moving things that were being put into the lab or maybe for moving large experiments when it was done. Tool boxes were sitting by the door, and there were oily footprints around the doorway. Stacks of things they were presumably going to use -- more tubes and wires, some gears ordered by size, were on the room's only table.

"They've brought more stuff in," Gil said, running over to examine the gears.

"Ooh." Agatha ran after him, but the table was too high for her to see the top when she was close. She looked up at the edge in exasperation, then spotted a crate and went to try to push it closer. It budged. Slightly. Gil came over to help, and even though he was bigger than her she was surprised by how easily he shoved the crate across to the table.

It put her just about at his height, which was almost comfortable for looking at the table. Agatha crawled onto the table -- carefully! -- which made room for Gil to stand on the crate instead, so they could both inspect the equipment. Everything had little flying towers on it, like the dirigible. A lot of it had tiny writing, but she was still working on how to sound those things out at full size. "Baron Wulfenbach labels everything, doesn't he?"

"He really does," said Gil. "I guess he doesn't want anything getting lost?"

"There are trilobites all over Mechanicsburg, but I'm not sure they're on all the pieces." Agatha fitted a pair of gears together, thinking. "But I didn't really take anything apart to see."

"I think lots of Sparks put their sign on stuff," said Gil. "Um. Maybe not on all the pieces though. Baron Wulfenbach's really thorough."

"No kidding." She wondered what they were planning to make here. She was pretty sure there were enough pieces to make something, but right now it might be supposed to be part of the lab.

Gil pulled some cogs over himself, then a length of thick wire. He considered it a moment then pulled about an inch of it over the edge of the table and pinged it, getting a rather tinny note. "If we cut some lengths of this I bet we could make a music box," he said.

Agatha wrinkled her nose a little at the sound and then tried not to. It wasn't polite. And it was a neat idea. She tapped two of the gears together with a soft ding, then set one down on the table and tried again. The sound was much duller, more of a clink. "I bet we can make the sound better with the right casing."

Gil jumped off the crate and went to grab one of the tool boxes, heaving it rather awkwardly onto the table before rummaging through it for a wire cutter. "We could try attaching them to another piece of wire, so they can vibrate more?" Gil suggested, uncertainly.

"Hmm...." Agatha stared at one of the walls for a moment, thinking about wires and about the resonant vibration of the walkways, and then started picking through the tools. "I think I have an idea."

Chapter Text

Talking to Klaus felt a little like coming alive again, not that Barry personally had the experience. Like waking up, maybe, but it seemed like a long time since he'd felt this energised just starting the day. Like throwing the windows open. Like getting out of Mechanicsburg for the first time without their father, he thought wryly, and like coming home at the same time.

He'd been narrowly focused for so long -- searching, fighting, trying to keep an eye on Bill, trying to keep Agatha safe, avoiding connections for fear of what might happen in his wake. Solving the problem currently breathing down his neck. Klaus had caught him off guard, reminding him that they had a lot more to worry about than that.

Barry... did not like the idea of forcing anybody to become part of something. It was wrong, it felt wrong, and moreover it struck him as asking for trouble. Like making somebody drink the Jägerdraught: if it worked, you got a tough, nearly immortal monster-soldier who was now mad at you. (This was actually not on the list of creative ways his relatives had found to kill themselves. Heterodynes were not big on common sense, historically, but they did avoid a few of the standard Sparky mistakes.) Or, say, coercing someone to marry you was not only evil but could get you poisoned by your wife. Just for example.

However, he'd never had a problem with the idea of hitting someone until they stopped causing trouble, even if he preferred to persuade with reason, words and example. He and Bill had still systematically avoided ruling anything except Mechanicsburg, either directly or through vassals -- even if the people asked them to: partly out of personal distaste, which was still in play, and partly the keen awareness that as soon as they kept the lands of a defeated enemy, all of Europe would instantly conclude that was the reason they'd fought. Even then, they'd built defenses, negotiated treaties, arbitrated disputes, and set up communications to try to protect people who could govern themselves perfectly well but lacked the resources to fend off hostile neighbors or rampaging experiments.

Circumstances had changed. With so many of the Great Houses wiped out, there were even more leaderless threats than usual -- even aside from the wasps -- and a sudden surfeit of individuals and villages who'd lost whoever they normally appealed to for administrative or military support. It was no wonder a lot of them were turning to Klaus. And it was no more wonder that he considered himself responsible for people who'd been forced to attack him. The House of Wulfenbach had collected an astonishing variety of secondhand monsters over the years for basically the same reason. Klaus was remarkably good at finding place and purpose for thinking constructs who had been ill-used -- one way or another -- by their Spark. Sometimes before they'd even got around to confronting the Spark himself. Barry still vividly remembered the shock that first time -- they'd faced off against a platoon of intelligent gorilla-frogs and he'd heard Klaus ask them if they actually wanted to fight. And they hadn't.

It mattered to Barry that he not rationalize treating other people badly just because he didn't want to fight his friend. But he didn't actually think Klaus would go that far -- at least, not with someone to challenge him on the lines between necessary, expedient, and completely irrational. Pretty much every Spark needed that. And Barry could make a significant difference to what was actually feasible.

After about an hour of supposedly reviewing where the surviving governments actually were, they were in reality wandering onto tangents about things like road systems and Klaus's theories about schooling and how to make Spark breakthroughs more survivable.

"I was hoping for a more elegant solution to childrearing than a cage," Klaus said. "Anyway, given your talents as an escape artist, I wouldn't expect it to work on your family."

"It focuses the mind," Barry explained. "Why do you think we have three storage rooms full of lockpicks?"

"That was one of the many things I decided not to wonder about too--"

The door banged open to reveal Von Pinn, wide-eyed and white-lipped, entirely still but clearly not much calmer than when she'd hurled herself wailing first at the stone that had killed little Klaus and then at the nearest throat.

"What happened?" Klaus said, a note of command in his voice.

Von Pinn's gaze flicked between them. "Miss Agatha is gone. And Master Gil. I - I am sorry." She ended up looking at Barry, eyes wide and wild.

Agatha. And then, Not again. Barry felt as if his heart seized and stopped, but his thoughts sharpened and raced, twisting. He saw the color drain out of Klaus's face and his expression freeze -- Gil was his, Barry was suddenly sure of it. Von Pinn was distraught but not fighting, which meant whoever had done it was out of reach. There had been no sign in the study of anything unusual going on. Distantly, he noted the thud of his next heartbeat. Only a change in subjective time, then. "What happened? We heard nothing."

"I was attending to some of the older children, and when I came back to check on Miss Agatha she was gone. I checked on the other children and Master Gil was gone as well. Nothing was disturbed."

Klaus took a deep breath. "We need to search the ship. They might simply have wandered off." His voice was steady, but he was pale enough Barry could see he was thinking of the other options. "Von Pinn, you stay here with the other children."

"Did any of them see anything?" Barry asked quickly. There was, he told himself, no conceivable way the Geisterdamen could have entered Castle Wulfenbach.

"No," said Von Pinn. "But no one was awake." She looked desperately unhappy about this.

"Ah. We'll find them," Barry said, telling himself as much as her. It had just better not take three years again. He followed Klaus out, listening, looking around. Trying to think where on a giant airship Agatha would want to go. What would interest her more than anything else. Under the circumstances she'd be a little spoilt for choice. "...They're being quiet. Is there anywhere Gil normally goes?"

"There's a place below the school he sometimes sneaks off to. I wouldn't have expected him to take Agatha, though," said Klaus. "We can start there."

Barry resisted his immediate impulse to vault the railing and figure out the rest from there. "Lead on, then."

The place under the school was a narrow catwalk, in deep shadow from the floor above it. Klaus ran his hand along a beam and came up with a book. "He was here," he said, sounding relieved. "Gil, at least, left the schoolroom of his own volition. It's likely both of them did."

Barry exhaled and looked at the book. Too dark to read it here, but probably the kid carried a lamp. "Agatha would probably have been too excited to sleep," he said. "So... kids. Yours, and Bill's...." A small, crooked smile. "Check the engines? And hope neither one got the notion to try taking them apart?"

"Probably the best place to start." Klaus shook his head and smiled back. "I suppose we can't complain. Maybe I should get Punch and Judy aboard, for their experience at getting us out of trouble."

"Not a bad idea, but it would take a while." Barry started toward the thrum of the engines, not actually that far off, dropping to a lower catwalk after several steps. "They moved to Beetleburg a few years ago."

Klaus dropped to the catwalk after him, making it judder. "That would explain why I couldn't find them when I returned."

"Haven't been back to visit the university?" They were moving quickly, because small children and big engines were not the best combination and intelligence -- especially that of prospective Sparks -- might merely mean a different kind of bad combination. But much of the initial horror had faded with Klaus's certainty that Gil left on his own. "I don't suppose you've had time. Even as fast as you work, you can't have arrived all that long after we left."

Klaus grimaced. "Almost at the same time, I think. Which has done nothing to help the rumours."

Barry rolled his eyes, from about the level of Klaus's feet as he started down the scaffolding at the end of the catwalk. "No, I imagine it wouldn't. That at least, I can fix."

"If only by being helpfully alive," Klaus said, following him down.

"Oh, I can do better than that." Barry gave Klaus room to get around him to the engine room's door, but when opened, it revealed only engines. Very nice engines, and with no evidence of blood or screaming, but also no evidence of children.

Not present children. Something caught the edge of his attention; he paced a few steps, then leaned down and picked a fine red-gold hair from where it had caught against the wall.

"...I suppose we now know our children are smart enough not to tamper with the engines of an airship they are currently on. Which is better than we've done in the past," said Klaus. He rubbed his head. "Gil must have been showing her around -- he's been wandering much farther than I realised if so. Where would he take a child he was trying to impress?" He looked at Barry. "Any idea what Agatha would be impressed by?"

"The entire ship," Barry said, aware that this was complimentary but unhelpful. "A lab?"

"The closest lab would be..." Klaus paused to recall the layout of the ship. "Unfinished, actually. But we might as well start with it. This way."

"That might be a good sign. Things in progress are always interesting."

"Let's hope so."

Indeed. So far the evidence was encouraging but not exactly a guarantee of safety. Barry followed, thinking he really hoped both children were as surefooted as they believed themselves to be, and then paused and caught Klaus's arm to stop him. "Do you hear that?" Something faint, distinct from the noise of the ship itself.

"Yes," said Klaus doubtfully. "Is that music?"

Barry debated that for a moment. "It's musical notes," he said. The notes went up, skipped, then back down and steadily up again at semitone intervals. "It's a chromatic scale." He reached overhead and plucked a heavy wire cable, making it buzz briefly. "Played on electrical wiring." A sudden grin. "I think they're all right."

Klaus closed his eyes for a moment, looking limp with relief, and then returned Barry's grin. "Time to go and find out what they've made."

"And add music lessons to your curriculum," Barry suggested.

"I don't know if Von Pinn is particularly musical," Klaus said, sounding amused by the thought.

"She can play the harp, but she doesn't like it much. You'll need more teachers eventually anyway. We could always ask Lilith." At Klaus's mystified look, Barry clarified, "Judy. They wanted a little anonymity." Beetleburg was perhaps not the most obvious place to seek it, but Dr. Beetle accepted their wishes and much of the population was only there for a few years at a time. "So she might say no," he added, "but now that I'm not trying to hide Agatha, I should write to them, anyway."

"That's not a bad idea, if she is willing. I'd like to see them again, anyway," Klaus said. "Here we are," he added, unnecessarily, as they came to a door from behind which the chromatic scales could still be heard. He pushed it open.

They had certainly made themselves at home. Agatha was sitting cross-legged on the lone worktable. A boy only a few years older, with wild brown hair, was using a crate as a stool. A large tool box, a variety of wires and gears, and possibly some pieces of the wall paneling were on the table with Agatha, and much of the material had gone into a partial box they were both leaning into, containing a system of wires clamped taut at different lengths from a metal bar.

Both children looked up at the sound of the door. Gil shrank back against the table, eyeing them warily from behind his mop of hair. Agatha launched herself off the tabletop and ran to Barry, beaming. "Uncle Barry! Baron Wulfenbach! I met a new friend, he's Gil Holzfäller, come and see what we're making!"

Barry caught Agatha up reflexively, then paused, looking at Gil -- Holzfäller? -- and then inquiringly at Klaus before striding over to the table and setting Agatha back on it. "Hi, Gil. I'm Barry Heterodyne. You had us a little worried, but I'm glad to see you're all right."

"Hi," mumbled Gil, looking up at him.

Barry smiled at him, which Gil appeared to consider another overwhelming aspect of the situation, and then turned seriously to Agatha. "I really am very glad to see you're all right," he told her. "There are people who'd like to take you away and hurt you, and I was afraid at first some of them could have done it. Or that you'd be injured climbing around here. It scared Madame Von Pinn pretty badly not to be able to find you, too."

Agatha squirmed a little. "We didn't do anything dangerous."

"You were in the engine room," Klaus said. "Gil, you know it is forbidden to leave the school. Much less take a younger student into places like that."

"We didn't touch the engines," Agatha argued.

"Sorry," said Gil. "...is Madame Von Pinn all right?"

Barry looked at Gil. "She's... distressed. She lost the first little boy she was supposed to be taking care of, through no fault of her own, and I think we'd better go ahead and tell her we've found you both."

Klaus picked up the box from the table and tucked it under his arm. "Yes. I think we'd all better return to the school."

Gil nodded, looking stricken. "I didn't mean to upset her. I thought I'd be back before she noticed."

Agatha, too, had wilted a little at this information. Barry caught her as she tried to jump from the table again, and they began the walk back. She didn't argue about being able to walk this time, but she did start peering down from his arms again. "I didn't think the walkways were big enough for you," she remarked.

Barry tried desperately not to laugh and had to clear his throat before he could speak. "We have a lot of practice."

They returned to the school, two rather chastened children in tow, to find the rest of the students awake and, not unreasonably, treating Von Pinn with kid gloves. Agatha, on the other hand, rushed up to her and said she was very sorry to have upset her but she'd gone looking for secret passages and nobody had been in any danger. (Barry considered disputing this last point but decided it wasn't worthwhile.)

Then Agatha hugged her, and Von Pinn froze, both clawed hands poised as if she had no idea what to do with them, before gingerly lowering them and patting Agatha on the shoulder. "Child, you must--" She paused, then looked up and met Barry's eyes. "Will she be enrolled in the school?"

Agatha let her go and whirled around. "Will I? I know most of the students said they're hostages, but I think it would be really fun!"

"It's not actually meant to be an unpleasant experience," said Klaus drily.

Several of the students looked various shades of embarrassed or alarmed. Barry noted one boy with a distinct resemblance to the Iron Sheik, an old friend and not a particularly near neighbour, so there was at least one student there -- probably -- for the education, academic and otherwise, and as diplomatic support. He arched an eyebrow at Klaus. "We may have to have a talk about these matriculation policies," he said, straight-faced, "but I'm sure Agatha would be quite safe here." He crouched down to meet her eyes. He was reluctant to let her out of his sight, especially so young and having been among the Geisterdamen, but he'd seen she was craving the company of other children, even before the light in her eyes now. "But I can't send you here if you're just going to ignore the rules."

"It was Holzfäller," blurted one of the students. "He's always trouble."

"I followed him all my own self," Agatha snapped, rounding on her. She turned back to Barry, frowning. "Do I have to say I'm sorry, to come?"

Barry put his eyebrows up again. "Are you sorry?"

Agatha huffed. "I'm sorry I upset Madame Von Pinn and worried you," she said, but then added frankly, "but not that I followed Gil. I didn't get to talk to him much before that and it was a lot of fun."

Barry lowered his head for a moment, fighting a smile. He couldn't quite blame her for that. "I appreciate the honesty," he said, "and I'm glad you're making friends, and I'm very glad you were careful. But you're still going to have to understand and follow the rules if you're going to go to school here. The people taking care of you need to know where you are so we can keep you safe. If you disappear, we can't just assume you're okay and leave it at that." He shot Klaus a wry look. "It's pretty worrying when grown-ups do it, too."

"Indeed it is," Klaus said, just as drily.

Agatha considered this. "So if we say where we're going, can we go?"

"Not necessarily. You have to ask."

Barry was expecting further argument on this point, but Agatha looked up at Klaus and asked instead, "Is Baron Wulfenbach keeping our music box?"

"Well," Barry said reasonably, "you did make it out of his things, didn't you?"

"How about a bargain," Klaus suggested, bending down to meet Agatha's eyes. "You and Gil can have it back to finish, if I get to look at it once you're done."

"Yay!" -- which presumably meant yes, and Barry ducked his head and did chuckle at that. He looked up in time to catch Agatha looking suddenly uncertain. "I'm not sure the sound quality's ever going to be very good though," she said reluctantly.

"Considering that material was meant for building a laboratory I'm impressed you got recognisable notes," said Klaus. "If I'd known you were going to build a music box I'd have provided better materials."

"Does that mean we can have materials to build things?" Theo asked, looking hopeful.

"If you can all manage a little patience I'll provide a teaching lab," Klaus told him.

"That means you should probably avoid taking it apart while he's trying to build it," Barry threw in.

Agatha was beaming by this point. "You are nice," she said, and flung her arms around Klaus's neck while he was still in range.

Klaus stiffened and threw Barry a 'what do I do now?' look, before patting her back carefully.

Barry didn't think that was quite it, so he went over, scooped Agatha up in one arm so Klaus could straighten, and slung his other arm around Klaus's shoulders. He restrained the impulse to actually hand Agatha to him just to see the look on everyone's face. "I've always liked him, myself."

Gil watched Agatha, looking a little awed, as Klaus gave in to the proximity and awkwardly hugged her back.

Barry seriously considered trying to come up with an excuse to grab Gil too, but couldn't think of one. Agatha squirmed at that point, so that Barry rather hastily let her down, and she darted over to hug Gil around the waist. "We get to finish the music box," she informed him, gleefully and completely unnecessarily.

Gil shot some of the other students a wary look, as if he expected them to somehow take the music box -- or possibly Agatha -- away from him before it could happen, and then gave in and smiled. "Yes," he said, hugging back.

"If all of you can try to stay put for now," Barry said, "Klaus and I have a few more things to discuss. Agatha, we'll be going back to Mechanicsburg for tonight, but I'll plan on enrolling you here." A raised eyebrow. "If you think you can behave."

Agatha smiled at him. "Yes, Uncle Barry."

Klaus set the music box down and asked Von Pinn to get them some tools so they could stay "busy and out of trouble" for a while, before following Barry back across the hall and into his study.

"So," Barry said, once they were in private again, "obviously you decided to keep Gil anonymous." But Gil's own reactions.... Slowly, he added, "But just how bad is the amnesia?"

"Worse than I realised at first," Klaus said. "He doesn't remember Skifander at all. Which might be just as well.... At least he isn't missing his sister." Klaus sighed. "He's aware he was the first of the children to be here, he remembers travelling with me vaguely, but he also knows some of the other students are orphans I picked up."

Barry tried to imagine having that much missing, and whether even at seven, it would be possible to avoid realising something was terribly wrong. He failed. After a long look at Klaus, he said, "And you haven't told him he's yours, either."

"The less people know the more chance it has of remaining a secret," Klaus answered.

Barry rubbed his forehead. "Possibly true," he conceded, "but you're keeping even more of his past from him than he actually lost. And if he doesn't miss you, anyway, I'll be astonished."

"He hasn't shown any sign of expecting a closer relationship with me than I have with any of the other students. I think if he really remembered...."

"He's seven," Barry said quietly. "You're in charge of his entire world, and you've told him his name is Holzfäller and not treated him like you expect a closer relationship. Haven't you?" He shook his head. "That could make somebody doubt a lot more solid memories than it sounds like he's got." He wondered sometimes if he was telling Agatha too much of the truth or not enough, and he often hoped she'd just forget the Geisterdamen with time and the changed world. She still seemed to remember all too well, but with no reminders, maybe....

"I want to keep him safe. Being confused won't kill him. Being known as my son might," said Klaus firmly.

Barry opened his mouth, thought, He already lost him once, and shut it to let out a long sigh through his nose instead of speaking. "I don't blame you for worrying," he said quietly. "But I still think you'd both be better off if he knew."

Klaus shook his head. "I'll consider it. But if I tell him I won't be able to take it back, and it's not something to do in haste."

And relying on a seven-year-old who'd just decided to give a new-met friend a tour of the ship to keep secrets was perhaps not exactly reassuring. Barry grimaced. It still didn't feel right, but he wasn't sure what he'd do in Klaus's place. "Are you having a lot of trouble with assassins?"

"Less so now I've got hostages from some of the families that were trying it the most. But yes," said Klaus. "I'm not sure whether you joining me will cut down on that or lead to people trying to assassinate you. Sorry if it's the latter. I'm hoping it's the former."

"So do I," Barry said, "but I'll manage either way."

Klaus smiled. "I know you will."

Chapter Text

Mechanicsburg was full of people who sort of drifted towards them as they walked through it. It wasn't exactly a parade, or a welcome party, just that everyone who possibly could find a reason to be walking their way somehow was. Then the Jägers showed up and that was it for subtlety, because Jägers had never had much use for that to begin with, so they just followed Barry along keeping up a cheerful stream of chatter and...taking bets on how many of the TPU people were still alive? Klaus sort of hoped Barry had missed that.

He hadn't. Barry turned and grabbed the nearest Jäger's arm. "Hang on," he said. "Dimo. You think any of them might not be dead?"

"Vell, it vas makink dem fix it," said Dimo. "Mebbe it decided to keep dem 'til it vas sure hyu vas goink to help."

"It--" Barry stared at him for a moment, then let him go and snarled, "Of course it was." He sped up. "Castle," he barked. "The research party from Transylvania Polygnostic. Do you still have them?"

"Oh, yes." As always the voice sounded weirdly close, as if the Castle could somehow project itself into an invisible presence right by the ear of the person it was addressing. "But now you're here there's no need for contractors."

Barry's head jerked upward, and his voice rang with harmonics that would have prompted the population of many towns to back away slowly, or possibly run full out. "You will release them immediately, alive and unharmed."

"Oh, fine," said the Castle sulkily. "You're no fun at all."

"Thank you." Barry sounded deeply sarcastic. He looked, when he met Klaus's eyes, more subtly relieved and a little haunted. Then he turned away to find the nearest non-Jäger (which took some doing, given their current surroundings) and ask her to see to getting somebody with soup, blankets, and medical supplies to the nearest gate.

The research party was emerging from the gate as they reached it, squinting against the sunlight, their clothing in rags. Barry clapped a hand on the young professor's shoulder and got a start and then a look of total shock.

"Y-you!"

Barry arched an eyebrow. "Me," he agreed. "Don't know what you were thinking, here. I'm expecting enough trouble as it is. Go get some dinner and clean up, all right?"

"They were attempting to discover our secrets while you were gone and I was...less able than usual to protect them. You should have let me squish them a little," said the Castle. "I can still reach from here if you'd let me hit them with a few bricks?"

"No," said Barry. He gestured Klaus in, and the door shut behind them with an unnecessarily theatrical grinding noise and boom. "I'm going to be very nice to them... and I'll consider guilting them about being nosy afterward."

"Hmph," said the Castle, its tone implying it didn't think much of that plan at all. Possibly it just objected to being nice to people on principle.

"So, where are we starting?" Klaus asked.

"Library," said Barry. "The Castle should be able to--"

"Oh dear." The Castle sounded unexpectedly concerned. "I don't recommend that."

Barry paused. "Why not?"

"I--" The Castle's voice dropped, as if it were terribly ashamed. "I can't see it."

"Oh." Barry patted a doorframe absently, then hoisted a death ray and calmly vaporized a giant spiked hammer as it fell toward them. Klaus felt a hot fine film of debris mist down over them. "It's all right. That's part of what we're here to fix."

"Why do we need to get to the library?" Klaus asked.

"Because from there we should be able to figure out where the most serious damage is." Barry glanced at a cracked floor, the other side of it sloping dismally away. "Not necessarily the obvious architectural problems. The Castle's consciousness and control mechanisms."

"The Castle's consciousness is in the library?" Klaus asked. He'd always wondered where, exactly, the Castle's mind was. But the Castle itself tended to be against anyone asking questions, and he suspected Bill and Barry had avoided the subject out of respect for its feelings more than any real disinclination to tell him. He might just be about to find out, though.

Barry paused. "Yes and no. The part we're talking to now, for instance, isn't."

"Right." The part they were talking to couldn't see the library, and was upset about it. Did that make sense? If you cut off the part where its consciousness was, surely it would be able to see the library and nowhere else? But from what Barry had just said it sounded like there might be a different bit that could see the library. Hmm. "More than one centre of consciousness, or the whole thing is one big consciousness?" he asked quietly. Either they had more than one Castle to deal with in different parts or...they had more than one Castle to deal with in different parts, only it had been fragmented by having something blow up inside its brain.

"Normally the latter," Barry said. "You can see why it's having problems. Fortunately," he added, "last time I was in the library, things were working well enough that I think we can get some information there."

Klaus nodded. He'd never imagined feeling sorry for Castle Heterodyne before. "Once we have somewhere to start we should be able to start reconnecting things."

"And once it has full conscious control again -- and enough power --" Barry glanced up at the ceiling and then stepped aside, pulling Klaus with him, as a series of stones smashed down. He jumped across a gap in the floor and headed for the next doorway. "Well, after a certain point it'll do the rest of the repairs itself."

"I know trying to kill us is its favourite hobby," said Klaus, dodging as another gap opened beneath his feet. "But you'd think it wouldn't do this to the people who are here to fix it."

"Unfortunately a lot of this is probably reflexive." Barry looked back to make sure Klaus was all right, then glanced upward and added, "Although if any of it isn't, you can cut it out any time now."

"Some of the traps have developed minds of their own," said the Castle, sounding a little sheepish. "Watch out for the fun-sized mobile agony and death dispensers."

"Thanks for the warning," Barry said, sounding slightly rattled. "Do you know where they are?"

"I've lost them," said the Castle.

"Great. I appreciate the warning." Barry shot Klaus a rueful look. "Thanks for coming, I'll try not to get you killed."

"Watch out for yourself as well. Getting killed by Castle Heterodyne would be a much more embarrassing way for you to die than for me," said Klaus.

Barry snorted. "I'll try to avoid it."

"You'd better," the Castle grumbled. "I was hoping for your brother to come back with you, you know."

That got a wince. "Yeah, me too."

Klaus patted Barry's shoulder and left it unsaid that he had too.

Barry shot him a grateful look and forged ahead. At the next doorway, the Castle warned them that they were about to enter a dead zone, where the traps would be entirely uncontrolled. That was, predictably, exciting. The next section of the Castle's divided mind was almost comically surprised to see them.

The library, when they reached it, was much dustier than Klaus remembered, a condition that was not helped when Barry started rolling up the rug. "Hopefully this does still work,” Barry said. “A little help here?"

Klaus moved forward, but the Castle apparently took this as addressed to it. "With him here?" it asked.

Barry sat back on his heels. "Yes, with him here," he said testily. "He's come in to help us."

Klaus wasn't sure whether to say anything. He was indeed there to help, but it seemed unlikely the Castle would believe him if it didn't believe Barry.

"You want to be fixed, don't you?" Barry shoved the carpet back on his own, since the Castle wasn't helping, to reveal a complex of colored lights. After some irritable flicking of switches, a skeletal model of Castle Heterodyne took shape, limned in fuzzy green and looking as unfinished as the current interior of Castle Wulfenbach. "Anyway, you like him. Better than you like me, sometimes. So cooperate." He poked at the green framework, and several spots turned a grudging yellow.

Klaus had a moment of thinking they should have brought Doctor Sun, even though his medical expertise was no use on architecture, simply for his vast experience at making uncooperative patients behave. Then he knelt down and looked at the map, following the lines of it with fascination. "Are the fuzzy bits the parts you can't see from here?" he asked the Castle.

"I cannot focus very well at all," the Castle complained. "But yes."

Barry waved a hand through the light at a point Klaus recognised as the library itself, in one of the clearest sections. "It normally looks a lot better than even the best sections of this. But the yellow marks -- could you make those red, please? They just look like you're having polarisation trouble -- that's better. The red marks are breaks in control and communication." He peered at it for a moment, then gestured to a ball of red fuzz with lines radiating from it like blood poisoning. "That would be where Lucrezia's labs were. Architecturally they're more intact than that looks."

"Work outwards, starting with the nearest red sections?" Klaus asked.

Barry nodded. "We'll want to check back periodically. The map should improve as we go."

The map did improve with their every return to the library, gaining detail, colour, and frequently new and different sets of red highlights. The range through which the Castle and its subsystems refrained from attacking them also improved, although it kept arguing with Barry over whether Klaus should really be allowed to survive knowing this much about it, and then suggesting he should be consigned quietly to life as an experimental subject if Barry was too fond of him to kill.

"I'm not going to kill him," Barry finally snapped at it, "and I'm not going to let you kill him, maim him, trap him, or whatever other sadistic options you happen to think are funny. He is my friend. You are going to listen to me, and you are going to keep him alive and well and safe as long as he's in your range of influence. As diligently as if he were a member of the family, do you understand me? And the same goes for his son."

"Wait, you're telling the Castle? What part of secret didn't you understand?"

"And you won't tell anybody he has one," Barry added promptly. "Including the boy himself. It's Castle Heterodyne, Klaus. It's generally reluctant to tell people things. Anyway, at some point he might want to visit, although I admit at the moment it's hard to see why."

"I'm sure the book has a chapter on keeping your child away from malevolent architecture," Klaus muttered. "And it's careful with your secrets. I'm likely to get blackmailed."

"You've actually talked me into helping you take over Europe," Barry said, blithely and not completely accurately. By this point he sounded much calmer, though his voice still rang oddly off the stone. "I'm not sure there's anything else it could actually think to ask you for."

"How old is the boy?" the Castle put in at this point. "It sounds as if he might have potential as a consort for the Lady Agatha...."

Barry stared at the ceiling. "Agatha is four."

"I am five hundred and eighty," the Castle pointed out. "There is nothing wrong with thinking ahead."

"At least the pressure's off you now it's moved on to the younger generation," suggested Klaus, trying not to laugh.

"He should pay more attention to continuing the line, too," the Castle shot back. "Preferably with someone more cooperative than the last two Heterodynes' wives."

"I will try not to marry anyone who wants to kill me," Barry said, offering Klaus a highly unconvincing mock-glare, then rolled his eyes and rapped on the floor. "Or destroy Europe, although I suppose generally speaking that would be a plus for getting along with you."

Klaus still wasn't impressed with Barry's secret-keeping abilities, and the fact that Castle Heterodyne evidently wasn't either was small consolation. Its apparent conviction that his son would be an ideal match for the Heterodyne girl was simultaneously unsettling and oddly flattering.

He was distracted by the repairs before long. Barry was droning away again, which tended to shut out both ambient noise and in some cases distracting thoughts, and then there was the uneasy interlude in Lucrezia's laboratories. Klaus was sure they could no longer smell of either blood or perfume, but the odor pressed on him anyway, like having a song caught in his head. As for Castle Heterodyne's fears about letting him see its vulnerabilities, in all honesty he was only growing more impressed. Especially by the entire room full of "fun-sized" tiger clanks surrounding one of the last breaks. (To be fair, Klaus agreed that they were likely to be a lot of fun if you were doing the aiming.)

As they made their way back to the library again, the Castle's chatter was growing more peculiar. It reported massive gains in perception and control, but it also reported having discovered new areas occupied by insane fragments of itself. In some cases, they could hear two fragments reporting the same conflict from opposite sides. And some sections kept breaking into music to, supposedly, entertain them while it was busy.

Barry was frowning by the time they got to the library, now with a gleamingly detailed map that flickered alarmingly in large chunks. "That's the last of the control breaks, but you're still having problems," he remarked, after the dying screams of the latest orchestral arrangement.

"Parts of me are resisting reintegration," the Castle agreed.

"Yes." Barry was pacing the edges of the library -- not exactly a short walk, and full of random obstacles, as the Heterodynes had obviously considered the library one of many excellent locations to display potentially lethal trophies, artwork, and bric-a-brac. "And they'd probably say the same of you. I think I might have to shut you down."

"I am not broken beyond recovery," said the Castle, sounding rather alarmed.

"Temporarily!" Barry said. "Then enough of a power jolt and I think you should come back up... less internally conflicted."

There was a tense pause. "I am not sure I believe that having shut me down you would willingly return me to a functioning state. You have never liked me."

Barry huffed and brushed a hand through the map again, scattering complicated rainbow-edged shadows across the ceiling. "Mutual," he said drily.

"I will not allow you to shut me down," the Castle told him.

"Don't you have to obey Heterodynes?" Klaus asked it, keeping his voice carefully level.

"Not if the family would be better served otherwise. I have always been the Heterodynes' last and best defence. Allowing myself to be destroyed would not serve the family's interests."

"No, it wouldn't," Barry said evenly. "You're murderous, sadistic, obnoxious, and your likely influence is one of several reasons I want Agatha spending time outside Mechanicsburg. But I have a town and a niece to protect -- and I do realise I actually need you." A quiet snort. "Especially since I'm probably going to start annoying people shortly."

"I do approve of your plan to take over Europe," said the Castle. The library doors were trembling slightly, as if it was resisting the urge to slam them. "And your assessment of me is flattering. But I do not wish to be shut down."

Barry rolled his eyes but confined his response to the last part. "I can't imagine it's a comfortable thought, but how long do you think the integration problems will last otherwise?"

"I don't know. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before."

And now Klaus was feeling sorry for it again. The Heterodynes tended towards overengineering their creations to an extent that made them almost indestructible. This was one of their more sensible traits, in Klaus's opinion, but it must be hard for the Castle to find itself vulnerable after five hundred years of nothing getting past its walls.

"I do need you," Barry told it, "but I need you functional. You know that."

"Yes," the Castle agreed. The library doors stopped trembling and remained open, but they looked tense. If doors could look tense. "I am very low on power, though. There may not be enough left for a jolt."

"Okay," Barry said, "that's certainly important to know. I'll check the lightning collectors, but it sounds like something's wrong with your primary power source. So this time you're going to have to tell me where it is."

"Please wait for a moment." Inexplicable music, which suggested that Barry's ancestors had considered captured enemies a type of instrument, played briefly. "You'll have to take a lift down from here." A node on the map lit up. "It is currently in an area possessed by another fragment of myself, but we have communicated and it understands the situation."

"Did it by any chance mention what kind of damage we're looking at?" Barry eyed the map. "That's fairly deep. If we're going to need specialised equipment, I'd like to go ahead and collect it instead of improvising with whatever's lying around in a critical location." Klaus cleared his throat softly, and Barry added as an afterthought, "Or making a second trip."

"You will be fixing a damaged waterwheel. I believe the axle is broken," said the Castle reluctantly.

"This place can't possibly be water powered," said Klaus flatly.

Barry looked thoughtful. "There are some... interesting stories about the Dyne," he said. "And a lingering reluctance to touch it that is adequately but perhaps not completely explained by the possibility that the fish will eat you."

"Yes," said the Castle. "The Dyne is more than water, or it was. At its source it still is. You will see for yourselves soon."

A couple of hours later, they had reset the lightning collectors (so that was what those were) and gone out to collect equipment, plus several of the most curious Jägers for potential assistance with heavy lifting, and now Barry was leaning perilously close to a surging spring of water that was actually glowing blue. It lit the cavern and shone through the stone that curved around it like a broken eggshell. "This explains so much."

"It really does," said Klaus. Like how the Heterodynes had risen to power centuries before the invention of the power sources that gave most Sparks the power to compete with the old warlords.

"The Castle, the Jägers, the ducks...." Barry actually reached down, and Klaus grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him back before he could dip a hand in the water. Barry looked up at him in bewilderment, the blue reflecting in his eyes and an alarming grin on his face, and shook him off to go back to it. "Stop that."

"If the water here were not the problem, I'd be dumping a bucket of it over you about now," said Klaus. "Ninety percent risk of horrible death?"

Barry paused, still leaning on a piece of eggshell-curved stone, and then -- much to Klaus's relief -- turned away. "Point taken. Thanks." He waved a hand at the machinery. "This shouldn't be too hard to put back together after all. I can even think of a few improvements. But speaking of the water, something troubles me." He walked downstream of the wheel and out across a bridge dotted with turquoise-luminescent mushrooms, staring down to where the water roiled gleaming around the supports. "I don't believe anybody's reported an uptick in waterfowl with giant teeth over the past few years."

"And even in Mechanicsburg I think that would be noticed." Klaus followed him, trying to find the point where the eerily glowing water became just water. "Is the Castle storing the energy somewhere?"

"Apparently not." Barry gestured at the banks of turtle-shaped energy storage devices. "Not that it knows about, anyway. But in that case, where is it going and how?" He stared hard at the water. "I think there has to be something in the riverbed," he concluded. "But we can't get at it with the water like this. At least it's downstream."

"We'd better get the waterwheel up and running," said Klaus. "Afterwards we might be able to take a look."

"Yes." Barry dragged his attention away from the water again. At least he didn't propose a swim. "Let's get to that. Jorgi, Dimo...."

At Barry's signal, the Jägers he'd invited along practically jumped into the job. The equipment they'd carried down unfolded with only a little adaptation, and after a few hours, considerable incidental hilarity, and only two near-falls into the spring (Barry, much to Klaus's exasperation, and Maxim) the great wheel slotted back into place on its new axle and began turning. A series of blue lights clicked on through the machinery leading from it, and the glow began to dim downstream, as if the wheel's shadow were growing.

"You can be smug about the safety equipment now, if you like," Barry said.

"Maybe later," said Klaus. "Now that the Castle is fully powered we'd better get on with making it some approximation of rational."

"I think I've worked out how," Barry said. "It will be a little fiddly to build, but it's ultimately just transdimensional harmonics."

They took the lift back up to far more brightly lit rooms than they'd left, and Barry began drawing diagrams for his new device and passing them to Klaus, who usually passed them back with suggested changes, annotations, or occasionally incredulous comments scribbled on them. It took a few rounds before Klaus was satisfied it wasn't going to have any deleterious effect on organic brain function. He suspected Barry would have been fine one way or another -- and then caught himself up, because however hard it could be to imagine anything really happening to Bill or Barry, he knew damned well it could and had -- and he'd sent the Jägers back out again, but Klaus didn't relish having to be revived again any more than the Castle did.

Barry eventually stopped humming and tapped his wrench against the base of what looked, frankly, like a very large lamp. "I think we're ready. Castle, how are your power levels?"

"Decent," said the Castle. "And what will that do, precisely?" It sounded nervous, and was trying to hover a brick out of Barry's line of sight.

"What we talked about," Barry said. "Produce a transharmonic pulse to temporarily knock you out. And by the way, you are not the -- actually you probably were the first to try to sneak up and hit me on the head, but the point is, I can tell."

"...I was going to hit your lamp thing if I decided against this," said the Castle, but it dropped the brick.

"It's not a lamp," Barry said. "And that would have been unusually considerate of you."

"Klaus might have turned it on while I was knocking you out," said the Castle.

"Why Castle," Barry said in mock surprise, "you're learning from us." He and Bill had long maintained that in some cases this was in fact an entirely practical reason for taking out the doomsday device rather than the Spark wielding it.

"I've never doubted your intelligence, no matter how deficient I find your loyalty and ambition," the Castle returned.

"Thank you so much." Barry rested a hand on the lamp. Klaus told himself to stop thinking of it that way. "I've actually set this up to trigger the electrical pulse as well afterward, with a minimal delay. You won't be out for long."

There was a long pause during which Klaus feared for both them and the not-a-lamp and then the Castle sighed. "Very well."

Barry pressed his hand down. Klaus felt as if all the sound in the world suddenly just stopped, with a strange heavy inward pressure against his ears and mind. The lights went out.

The pressure stopped.

Barry counted under his breath.

There was a crack of thunder, all the lights blazed up at once, and blue sparks raced across the stones of the floor.

Barry grinned triumphantly. "Feeling better?"

"Yessss," said the Castle, managing to sound ominous despite the innocuous question and the fact that it almost certainly wasn't planning on doing anything. "I believe I am fully repaired."

"Good to hear." Despite the mutual irritation, Barry sounded genuinely relieved. There was a distant grind and boom of stone. "So." He wandered over and rested a hand against the wall. "What do you remember about the attack?"

"There was an explosion...the areas near the explosion were cut off. I could not see...or respond." The Castle was quiet for a moment, then added slowly. "I am sorry for my failure in protecting your nephew."

Barry sighed, tilting his head back and gazing a little blankly at the wall. "I know you would have saved him if you could."

"For a time it seemed the family was gone. I am glad you are not," the Castle replied. Then, more cheerfully, "You will have to bring the young lady here. Even if you wish to raise her elsewhere, she should still be tested."

Barry grimaced. "There's no doubt in my mind that she's Bill's."

"It seems unlikely you would be mistaken, but she cannot be recognised as the Heterodyne without certainty," said the Castle.

"Testing?" Klaus asked in an undertone.

"Blood test," Barry said. "It... tastes... every child of the family. Normally when we're too young to remember, I think." He spread his right hand and tilted it until the light caught the tracery of work-scars, then ran one finger along a very faint one in the web of the thumb. "No serious damage, obviously. I'm not sure Agatha's going to be thrilled about sticking her hand in a giant mechanical mouth, though." Nor, perhaps, was it the sort of behavior one generally wanted to encourage in a child.

"A way to be absolutely certain of bloodline is practical," Klaus mused. "But does your family have to do everything in the most disturbing way possible? What's wrong with a syringe?"

"Lacks style," Barry said, in a tone that was either deadpan sarcasm or the honest product of an aesthetic sense developed... well, here.

"And that would be terrible," Klaus answered, equally deadpan.

"We could skip carpeting the Chapel floor with skulls this time, though, if you don't mind," Barry added, eyes flicking upward.

"I only do that with false Heterodynes," the Castle answered.

"And there are plenty of those already, but do they have to be on the floor?"

"There wasn't any more room on the walls."

"...I can believe that," Barry admitted. Then, "Listen. About the attack." His voice hardened. "It was Lucrezia's doing. As were the attacks on forty-odd other Spark houses around Europe, and the slaver wasps, if you've been hearing any of the news. Bill and I found her." He swallowed. "She's responsible for little Klaus's death, and Bill's, as well as the damage to you. I believe her plan was to copy her own mind into Agatha's and take her over."

The Castle hissed. It was a deeply unnerving sound, and not just because it made Klaus think of gas leaks. "She is dead?"

"Yes." Barry swallowed. "But in case that somehow doesn't stick -- in case she already made a copy of herself somehow, that I don't know about -- I want you to keep watch for anyone who could be her. And anyone you recognise as having served her. And any Geisterdamen, although I wouldn't really expect them to turn up in town. If you notice any such person, I want them detained, as quietly as possible and without disturbing the tourists. Get Carson to help, and tell me." Grimly, "Don't kill them if you can avoid it. I'll want to question them."

"I shall make sure the torture chambers are prepared," answered the Castle.

"That's not -- actually, you know, what the hell. Go ahead."

Klaus gave Barry a look. Not that he really expected his friend to go through with torturing anyone, even Lucrezia. Perhaps especially Lucrezia, when they'd known her as a friend, whatever she was now. "Perhaps we should go somewhere that's less of a bad influence?" he suggested drily.

"I may need to scare somebody," Barry said darkly, then closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he looked... more like himself. "Not a bad idea, though," he said wryly. "Even if I am going to be living here."

"If you'd care to get ready by the main doors, we do have one last thing to do to celebrate your return," said the Castle, tone gleeful.

"I suppose we do," Barry said, sounding resigned. "Well, Carson's certainly had time to see to warning the tourists." A thoughtful pause. "Not that that necessarily means they left."

"If they decided to stick around to see what the Doom Bell sounds like, that's their lookout," said Klaus. He wasn't looking forward to hearing it himself, but at least he knew what he was in for and could probably avoid actually falling over.

"I wouldn't be overly surprised if Carson charged them for staying," Barry said drily. They both glanced up as the Castle made a sound that might have been a giggle. Or perhaps just a gurgle somewhere in the reconstituted plumbing. "All right, let's go."

Chapter Text

The Doom Bell struck through Barry, as it had ever since he was fourteen, with a sense of fierce loss and fiercer potential. He spent a few minutes talking with the town elders, many of whom insisted on teasing Klaus about appointing them to the town council, then left them to explain to the recovering tourists why there was a dragon rampaging through the streets exhorting them all to REJOICE.

He grinned a little wryly at Klaus once they were on their way back up to Castle Wulfenbach. "You're getting used to it, aren't you."

"The Doom Bell? It's been a while since I last heard it, actually, but I remembered it well enough to brace myself."

"Well, it would have had to be several years, yes." The Doom Bell didn't ring unless the Heterodyne was there. "But you might be the first person who doesn't live here to actually stay upright."

"Is Agatha going to have to develop a tolerance for it? Or do Heterodynes have some sort of natural immunity?" Klaus's fascination with the quirks of various Spark bloodlines -- and the Heterodynes had more than most -- was familiar.

Barry contemplated the question for a moment before determining that he didn't actually have sufficient evidence. "I'm not sure. Maybe a little of both. It rings for births, so it's one of the first things most of us feel." Not hear. It was sound, of course, but it wasn't mostly sound. "But we never seem to be as strongly shaken by it -- physically or otherwise -- as people who've lived here for decades. I suppose we'll find out. It'll ring again when she's announced."

"And she wasn't born in Mechanicsburg," finished Klaus.

"Exactly." Barry paused. "I have no idea how to warn her about it."

Klaus considered that. "I really have no idea either."

"I suppose it'll fit in somehow with the giant biting clank face and the chapel full of skulls." Sometimes Barry seriously wondered why they had tourists at all. Then he remembered that first, he and Bill were heroes, and second, the Heterodynes were not uniquely morbid, just unusually spectacular about it. "But it doesn't really feel to me much like anybody outside the bloodline describes it."

"And you don't know whether Agatha will feel what you feel or what the rest of us feel. At least the giant biting clank face is easier to describe." He shook his head. "One advantage of enrolling Agatha in the school is that she won't grow up thinking that sort of thing is normal." He was smiling slightly, probably remembering surreal conversations with Bill and Barry at a time when they were new to living outside Mechanicsburg.

"No, she'll have an entirely new set of strange things to classify as normal," said Barry. More wholesome, though. "I do think it'll be good for her. She'll have more of a chance to make friends, for one thing." In her admittedly limited visits so far, Barry was pretty sure she was already making friends with nearly the entire student body.

So it was a bit of a surprise when they arrived at the school to find Agatha fuming at a table by herself, scowling and swinging her feet angrily. There were several groups of other students in the room, mostly huddled over books, but their attention all seemed to be somewhat furtively on Agatha. Von Pinn greeted them and then looked at Agatha, whose feet stilled very briefly before she gave the leg of her chair a defiant kick.

Barry raised his eyebrows. "What happened here?" he asked, before thinking that possibly he should have let Klaus ask that, since it was his school. Oh well.

"I am not sure," said Von Pinn. "I arrived to find most of my students backing away from Miss Agatha. It doesn't seem as if she actually did anything to them, and they haven't been able to explain what she said to frighten them either. Apparently that they'd be sorry, but it's hardly unusual for them to say such things to each other."

"I take it she didn't explain it any more clearly?" Barry asked, and Von Pinn shook her head. Agatha's temper was fierce enough that he had lain awake nights hoping it was all her own and not actually an adult Spark's -- he suspected, now, that traveling largely in isolation had allowed his imagination to run away with him sometimes -- but why would Agatha be terrorising the other students?

"I said I would make them sorry," Agatha said distinctly, her small hands curling into fists on the table.

Oh boy. Barry walked over to the low table and crouched down to catch her eye. "For what?"

"For being mean to my friend!" Agatha burst out. "They ought to be sorry! You taught me better than that and I didn't even know anybody and they're older!"

Barry paused, suddenly even less sure than before how to proceed. On the one hand, terrifying the other students was not a good habit to get into; on the other, this actually sounded like a pretty good reason. He was -- somewhat academically -- aware that children could be as cruel to each other as adults could, but he wasn't really sure how good Agatha's evaluations would be at this point. "I could do with a little more information," he said. "What did they do, and what did you do?"

"I told you, I said I'd make them sorry." Agatha's eyes flashed. "You should make them tell. They tried to tell me it was how things were supposed to go!"

Barry eyed her for a moment. That was a suspiciously familiar justification. "How things were supposed to go. Anybody else want to explain, then?" he said, consciously trying to keep his voice mild.

Gil, who had been doing a pretty good job of fading into the background, stepped forward when none of the other students seemed inclined to. "Um. They stole my book." He looked embarrassed, either at having the other students dislike him or at not being able to defend himself. "I usually just do something else 'til they get bored and put it down somewhere, but Agatha got mad." He grinned, briefly, at the memory, eyes bright with admiration. "It's not her fault, she was trying to help."

Barry glanced around the room. Only a few students met his eyes; some looked defiant, while others went red in the face. "My mother spent a lot of time teaching Bill and me that it was wrong to take other people's things just because they weren't your own people and you could," he said, conversationally, and ostensibly to Gil. "I'm glad to hear Agatha's got the idea already."

Von Pinn walked over and put a hand on Agatha's shoulder. "In future you should tell me and I will see to frightening those who deserve it." Klaus, perhaps not wanting to show interest in Gil or perhaps feeling the students had now been sufficiently terrorised for the day, kept quiet.

"Thank you, Madame Von Pinn," Agatha said politely, although she cast Gil an uncertain glance as if to suggest that if this worked, it shouldn't still be happening.

"You can also try asking for it back, and losing your temper only if they refuse," Barry began, then glanced at Von Pinn. "Not that I mean to suggest undermining your teacher's authority, of course, but still, you might be surprised how often asking is effective if you do it right." Agatha looked interested. With a faint sense of triumph, he noted that she wasn't the only one.

The ensuing discussion was actually rather refreshing, even if Barry was a little rusty on having that sort of argument. The students were spirited in question and debate, once they warmed up to it, and to Barry's secret glee, Klaus eventually joined in too. (He said something about acknowledging the elephant in the room. Barry reminded himself that really was conspicuous in most rooms. Castle Heterodyne was unusual in many ways, among which decorating with various sizes of preserved mammoth was really one of the least.)

"I think that went well," he said to Klaus, after Von Pinn had at last tactfully suggested that the children had other lessons to consider, as well as meals. It was pretty much the politest way he'd ever been ejected from area or conversation.

"They are here to learn political theory," Klaus said, sounding amused.

Barry grinned at him. "And now you have proof it's taking."

"Hsst. Gil." It wasn't normally easy to have a private conversation in the school, but the construction of the new teaching lab and the expanded sleeping quarters was loud enough that Agatha's whisper was nearly lost even as she plopped down next to him, looking very serious for a four-year-old. "Wanna visit Castle Heterodyne?"

Gil looked down at her, wide eyed. "Really? I've never even been on the ground."

Agatha squirmed slightly. "Uncle Barry says I have to go there and get bit."

That sounded alarming. Why would Barry Heterodyne want something to bite her? "By what?"

She folded up, wrapping her arms around her knees. "The Castle. It needs blood to make sure I'm really a Heterodyne."

"Oh." Gil put an arm around her shoulders. "That sounds scary."

Agatha leaned into him. "He says he was too young to remember when it bit him," she said a bit grumpily, "which isn't very helpful. But it does it to all the babies and doesn't maim them permanently."

"That's... good? I'm glad Castle Wulfenbach doesn't bite people. I'll stay with you while it does it if I'm allowed."

"Thanks. I asked if I could bring a friend. He said yes but he looked kind of funny." She was quiet for a moment, curled very small against his side. "Gil, I think my family might be really weird."

"Your father and uncle are heroes, though," said Gil. "I don't think heroes can be weird."

"Yeah, but before that they built a talking castle that bites people. Uncle Barry says a lot of their history isn't very good."

Gil settled back to think about this for a moment. "I guess at least you know some of your family are good? No one knows anything about mine, so they could all be really bad." Although they probably hadn't built biting Castles. Gil doubted more than one family would think of that.

"I know you're good," Agatha said firmly. "...Maybe a little too nice sometimes." This last part was mumbled, and possibly in reference to his alarm at the suggestion of booby-trapping his notebooks so people wouldn't steal them (at least not more than once). "But... not anything at all?"

Gil shook his head and looked at his knees. "Don't tell the others," he said, not bothering to ask her to promise or even wait for her to agree. By now he trusted her to keep his secrets. "But I don't really remember things too well. Before, um, half of a year ago?" He wasn't really sure exactly when his memories cut off, and there was a time before that where he had misty shreds of them, of someone he sometimes thought was the Baron looking after him. But surely he didn't take care of the orphans he found personally. "Before then I don't remember much at all."

"Ohh." Agatha wormed an arm around his waist. "That's... weird. That's older than I still am." That was a weird thought. "So... everything you remember is the school?"

Gil nodded. "I've been learning fast to catch up."

"You're really smart."

Gil smiled, he was proud of how well he was doing at keeping up. Even if the entire point was for no one to appreciate his efforts. "Thanks."

"It's getting harder to remember... stuff before Uncle Barry," Agatha said, as if chewing over a problem, "but it doesn't sound like the same phenomenon at all." Sometimes you could really tell Agatha had learned to talk from a full-blown Spark. "Maybe you got really sick?"

"Maybe? I don't remember feeling sick." But then he didn't remember much at all. "Are there diseases that cause that kind of memory loss?"

"Bad fevers maybe...?" Agatha sounded doubtful. "Or Lethean brain worms? I wasn't really s'posed to listen when people asked Uncle Barry medical questions, I think. He gave me loud things to play with sometimes."

"I hope it's not brain worms, those sound really bad."

"I don't really think you have brain worms. They'd have come out your nose by now."

Gil clapped a hand over his nose automatically before lowering it with a sheepish smile. "Erk," he said and then laughed.

She grinned up at him for a second. "So I think you're okay." She leaned forward and picked up an adjustable wrench, fiddling with it for a minute, then said, "What about your name?"

"I don't know. Do you think it's a real one?” asked Gil.

"Oh. You think the Baron might have made it up?"

"I don't know," Gil repeated. "I guess I thought if he knew enough to know my name he would have told me?"

Agatha frowned. "Um. Would he... know you don't know?"

Gil turned it over. "I guess I didn't tell him I didn't." Somehow he'd just assumed the Baron would know. He seemed like he'd know everything. "Do you think I should ask him?"

"Probably? Then if he knows anything at all he can tell you. ...I think he's nice. Uncle Barry likes him. I think he’s coming to Castle Heterodyne with us."

"I'll... think about it," said Gil.

He thought about it a lot, over the next few days. It wasn't that he thought Agatha was wrong about the Baron being nice, exactly. It was just, he decided, that the Baron was really intimidating, which was maybe something Agatha just didn't notice. And of course the Baron liked her. She was his best friend's daughter, or niece, depending on which one you meant.

And he wasn't sure he'd like what he found out.

But he wanted to know.

When he asked Madame Von Pinn about going to Castle Heterodyne, she said she would have to ask the Baron, and Gil took a deep breath and made himself say, before he could stop and think about it again, "May I do it?"

She looked at him in surprise and said, "Yes, you may."

He was expecting to have to wait, but she took him to the Baron's study only a few minutes later and rapped on the open door. "I know you're there," the Baron began, looking up from his desk, and then stopped, his eyes resting on Gil. "...You, I didn't expect. I beg your pardon."

Gil wasn't sure what to think about that. "It's... okay?" he ventured in confusion, then felt silly because it wasn't as if there had actually been any reason for an apology and he felt like he'd said the wrong line or something. Baron Wulfenbach's mouth flexed in the beginning of a smile, but there wasn't any amusement in his eyes, and Gil couldn't decide if he was being laughed at or reassured or what.

"Do you want me to stay?" asked Madame Von Pinn.

She was talking to Gil, not the Baron, and they both waited for an answer. Gil swallowed and said, "No, thank you," and she returned to the school, leaving him facing Baron Wulfenbach across a study that seemed enormous and a desk that seemed bigger still, which made no physical sense. Gil blinked hard and told himself not to be nervous. It didn't help. He reminded himself that the earliest memories he'd been able to scrape up (at least, he thought they were earliest) seemed to have Baron Wulfenbach in them, and he hadn't been afraid of him then. He'd been afraid but the Baron had made him feel better. He thought. He just wished he had any idea what had been going on at the time. There was an awful lot of detail missing, like fuzzy bits of dream.

"Come and sit down," said Baron Wulfenbach. He came out from behind his desk and took one of the two chairs in front of it. Gil swallowed and started walking; the study wasn't really that big, and clambering up into the other big leather chair was easier than navigating the girders. And squishier. The Baron leaned forward, arms folded loosely on his knees. "What did you want to talk about?" He sounded... friendly. Almost. Not easy, like with Barry Heterodyne, but like he was trying to be.

Gil took a deep breath. The first question really shouldn't be scary, especially since if the answer was yes he'd be travelling with the Baron anyway. "Agatha asked if I wanted to come with her to Castle Heterodyne when it bites her. Um, when it confirms she's really a Heterodyne. Her uncle said she could invite somebody. May I please?"

The Baron sat back, hands curling suddenly around the ends of his chair's armrests. "I should probably have been expecting that one," he murmured. "Did she explain to you that Castle Heterodyne is intelligent and very dangerous?"

"She said it was going to bite her," Gil repeated. Did that count? "I've heard some stories. But it's hers and Barry Heterodyne's, isn't it? I wouldn't think they'd let it hurt people."

"I don't think so either," the Baron said. "I will give my permission. But I want to make sure you know to be careful."

Gil nodded earnestly. "I'm always careful."

The Baron rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Regardless of whether it's at something you're supposed to be doing."

Gil froze, not sure how to answer that.

After a moment, the Baron eyed him and smiled just a little. "Never mind. You're not in trouble for anything. Was that all?"

Gil breathed again and, one more time, rushed the words out to keep them from getting tangled up in worry and hesitation. "No, Herr Baron, I had another question." He had to stop and swallow, then, but the Baron waited and looked like he was paying attention, still smiling a little bit. "Please. Herr Baron. Do you know anything about my family?" The Baron's smile went away entirely, and Gil's stomach lurched and twisted, but he added desperately, "I don't remember very much. Agatha said maybe you didn't know that and hadn't thought to tell me. I just wondered if... if you had any more information. Sir."

"Gil...." The Baron leaned forward again, and Gil swallowed, feeling a little ill and shaky at the serious look on his face. The Baron set a large, heavy hand on Gil's shoulder, very gently, and closed his eyes for a few seconds as he slowly inhaled. Then he opened them again, looking even more serious, and said quietly, "I'm sorry, Gil. There's nothing more I can tell you."

The fear went away, and Gil suddenly felt tired all over instead. And maybe like crying, but he was old enough he shouldn't be doing that so much anyway. And it wasn't as if the Baron had said anything on purpose to hurt. So it was silly. But his eyes still felt hot. "Thank you, Herr Baron," he said dully. "That was everything." He slid out of the chair, out from under the hand on his shoulder, and felt light and chilly when it was gone. The Baron's hand settled on his own knee. Gil bowed a little bit and it curled into a fist.

"You're very welcome. I'm sorry I couldn't be more help."

Gil swallowed and thought he should probably say something else, but he couldn't think of what and there was the kind of lump in his throat that didn't move when he tried to swallow it, so he just went back to the school. By the time he got back to Agatha, he could talk enough to say he was coming with her, and when she hugged him and Sleipnir looked jealous he could smile.

Chapter Text

Barry still had some misgivings about taking Agatha to meet the Castle properly, but there wasn't much to be done about it. He pushed the feeling aside to grin at the outflier pilot, who by this point was probably starting to feel like he'd been assigned to Heterodyne-ferrying duty, as they docked. He clanked his way through Castle Wulfenbach, which was beginning to look much more densely constructed. The guards let him into the completed section, where he found Klaus's door open and his friend himself scowling at paperwork. Barry cleared his throat. "Not that there's any particular rush," he said lightly, "but I think I do have an appointment."

Klaus put the paperwork aside, looking somewhat relieved at the excuse. "We wouldn't want Castle Heterodyne to get impatient," he said.

"It has been giggling at me," Barry said. "And I've barely been inside. It also thinks I should give you an oubliette as a housewarming present, by the way."

"On an airship?" said Klaus.

"Well, a bottomless pit would be superfluous."

"This is true. If your house wants to give me presents I'd rather have a spare torchman," said Klaus. He stood up and walked over to the door. "Time to get going?"

"Yes. Ah --" They'd both been busy. Barry wasn't sure exactly what the school procedure would have been. "Agatha asked me if she could bring a friend. Have you had a permission request or anything?"

"Yes." Klaus looked worried, but resigned. "From Gil. I told him he could come."

"I thought she'd ask him. I already told it not to tell him, well...." Barry trailed off. "I don't think I can talk it into holding off on the Doom Bell, though."

"I'll give orders to get out of range before we leave," said Klaus. "There should be time."

"I would think so." Gil, of course, would still be with them. Well, all the children in Mechanicsburg coped, and the Castle probably wouldn't let him get seriously hurt even if he somehow fell off anything. "Let's go, then." He went over to rap at the school's entrance.

Von Pinn opened it so quickly Barry wondered if she'd been waiting just inside. "Herr Baron. Master Heterodyne. The children are--" She effortlessly reached down and blocked Agatha's attempt to dash past her. "Ready."

Barry's mouth twitched, and he held out a hand. Von Pinn allowed Agatha to walk past a bit more sedately to hug him. "So I see." He nodded to Gil. "Good to see you again, too."

Gil smiled up at him. "Thank you."

"We don't take a lot of visitors to Castle Heterodyne," Barry said seriously. "You'll, ah, probably see why. But you're Agatha's friend and I've told it to protect you like you were part of the family." He glanced at Klaus. "I grew up there. It may be more helpful to you if Klaus tries to give you an idea what to expect."

"I expect Agatha's told you the Castle is alive," said Klaus. "Within itself it can do almost anything, but it won't actually do most of what it will threaten you with. It has a nasty sense of humour, but it does obey Barry." He hesitated and then put a hand on Gil's shoulder. "I wouldn't take any of my students there if I believed they would come to harm. Just be careful, it contains a lot of things that shouldn't be meddled with even when it's not trying to hurt you with them. And, after Agatha is accepted, it will ring the Doom Bell. It brings up bad memories for anyone who hears it, but it will be over quite soon. And it's best to get used to such things, everyone in Mechanicsburg does."

Gil looked up at him wide eyed and nodded solemnly. "I'll be careful," he said. He glanced at Agatha to see if she was listening as well.

Agatha was looking up thoughtfully at the Baron, then regarded Barry with one of those expressions that made him wonder if she was supposed to be quite like that when she wasn't even five yet. "Will it listen to me too?" She considered for a moment. "After it bites me?"

Barry reflected that Gil must have received an interesting idea of the Castle already. "Sometimes," he said. "After you grow up, it will listen to you more than me."

"Do you want it to listen to you?" asked Gil. He thought about that for a moment. "It would definitely be better than it not listening to you, but...."

"If I have to tell it not to hurt my friends," Agatha said, "it had better."

Barry found himself suddenly much less worried. "One of our ancestors modelled it on his own personality," he began.

Agatha gave him a skeptical look. "He bit people?"

"I doubt it," said Klaus. "Although there are rumours of a Heterodyne Vampire."

"Oh, we won't run into him," Barry said, all apparent innocence. "I wasn't planning to go to the crypt."

Gil gave Agatha a rather wide eyed look, not quite sure whether to believe what the adults were saying.

"Come on," said Klaus. "If we don't get going the Castle will be sending torchmen up to fetch us."

"It could get a little impatient," Barry conceded, and they set off. He resisted picking Agatha up for now -- it was, after all, demonstrable that she wasn't going to vanish if they got too far out of contact, and it was a short walk.

She was giving him a skeptical look every time he glanced down at her. As they reached the outflier and he took his seat, she rested her clasped hands on his knee. "Uncle Barry," she said, with a severity she had to be imitating from Von Pinn, "is there a real vampire? I thought they were strictly folkloric."

Barry shot Klaus a look, mostly to give himself time to control the urge to laugh at her tone. "People do a lot of strange things," he said, when he could trust himself to speak, "to themselves and each other. There was a Heterodyne whose revival went wrong and he got a taste for blood, but he's all the way dead by now." His son was a bit more complicated, but he wasn't going to get into that. He lifted Agatha into her own seat, instead.

Gil, from his place next to Agatha, leant over and whispered, "You might have been right about your family."

Barry regarded Gil with some amusement. "What did she say?"

Gil looked faintly embarrassed, but Agatha said plainly, "I said they sound weird," sitting back to watch the pilot.

Barry shrugged. "Really can't argue with that."

Castle Heterodyne made a minor show to welcome them, of course, flinging the doors open with a boom. (Closing doors with a boom was one thing. Opening them that way was just showing off. Barry considered annoying it by suggesting it needed its hinge coordination recalibrated, but decided this was not the time to be unnecessarily antagonistic.) Agatha clung firmly to his hand and Gil's, although Barry wasn't quite sure whether the latter was for her own comfort or a protective impulse. "Hello, Castle," she piped up.

"Greetings, Lady Heterodyne, if my lady you be," the Castle boomed. "I have prepared a way to the chapel."

Agatha blinked and looked up at Barry. "Wasn't there one before?" she asked.

"It may mean it decorated," Barry murmured. And wasn't that a worrying thought. "But it does rearrange the floor plan sometimes. Hello to you too," he added blandly, in the direction of the doorway ahead of them.

It had decorated. Rather more tastefully than he was expecting, with looping curlicues and trilobites and only the occasional grinning skull. It had also made sure it was obvious that the elegant walkway over the courtyard was by no imaginable measure structurally sound. Agatha's hand slithered out of his, and he looked over to find her and Gil crouched down to peer underneath the edge.

Barry cleared his throat. Agatha ran back over hastily and joined him to cross the bridge. The stones held, under all four of them. A winding stair, with -- voices ahead? That didn't sound like the Castle's voice....

Barry stopped and rubbed his eyes as the chapel door came into view.

There was a Muse sitting outside it. Ragged hair, her gown now only a few rags, but the intricate sleek structure, the fleur-de-lis markings, were impossible to mistake. Chains had been welded to her ankles and wrists, but were broken off short now. The great wings, most of their fabric feathers gone, arched with an odd air of irritation. Well, maybe not that odd, all things considered. "...Otilia?"

"No," said the Muse, with some annoyance. "I am Castle Heterodyne."

"Part of Castle Heterodyne," corrected the Castle, its voice coming from inside the chapel.

Barry looked at Klaus, then down at the children. "This is evidently going to be more complex than I was expecting." Why was a Muse claiming to be Castle Heterodyne? Although, if he could listen past the voice, he supposed the tone was very Castle-like. "Castle," he said, "please, explain." A very brief pause, then to the Muse, "You start."

The Muse stood up. "Lucrezia. She has a laboratory beneath me, where I could not find it, and she downloaded a copy of my personality there, transferring me into this body. The Muse she transferred elsewhere."

Barry exhaled slowly between his teeth. Mind transfers, again. Not a good sign. "Where did she put the--" A possible answer occurred to him. Harmonised with the facts, like a struck chord. Lucrezia's creation. Lucrezia's creation who loathed her and didn't say why, who lost her mind when she couldn't protect her charge. "Von Pinn?"

"Yes." The Muse looked at him, wings flaring behind it. "You must return her to this body."

"She didn't come with us," said Barry. "I'll talk to her when we get back to Castle Wulfenbach."

"Talking won't help. You need to bring her here."

Barry paused. "Excuse me?"

"If she could have told you she would have done so," interrupted the voice from the chapel.

"...Lucrezia would have built compulsions into the new body. Of course." Barry rubbed a hand over his face. The idea of yanking somebody's mind into a different body based on the Castle's word alone worried him, but the whole thing rang of truth. The Muse -- or the Muse body -- was there. It was bizarrely easy to imagine Von Pinn as the Muse of Protection. And it was uncomfortably possible that she was rendered not only incapable of saying what had happened, but incapable of agreeing to the reversal. He hoped not. "You know where the lab is now, I assume. I'll need to see her equipment. The only mind-transfer devices I'm familiar with are strictly biological."

"There is a secret passage behind her --" the Muse began, only for the chapel to interrupt it.

"There isn't. I know all the passages inside my walls."

The Muse's wings flared. "I walked up it." It glared at the chapel and turned to Barry. "Please reunite me with this Castle, I clearly have the better part of our intellect."

Don't laugh at the Castle, Barry instructed himself. He cleared his throat. "Well, I'll certainly have to do something. No matter how intricate Van Rijn's work is, I can't imagine there's room for two of you in there."

"I suppose I survived it once," grumbled the Castle from the chapel.

"You'll be fine," Barry told it, then glanced back at the Muse. "I don't know if it's explained about the earlier reintegration problems."

"Somewhat," said the Muse.

The Castle sighed. "I don't actually wish to lose the memories of that part of myself."

"It might be easier this time," Barry offered. "Two of you instead of a dozen, and both relatively calm. However--" He looked down at Agatha and discovered she was trying to peer between the chapel doors. "Perhaps we can get the recognition taken care of first."

"That might be best," agreed the Muse. It stepped aside and bowed, just as the chapel doors swung inwards.

Agatha stumbled a little, and Barry rested a hand on her shoulder and tried not to sigh at all the skulls. "Welcome to the family chapel of the Heterodynes," he said, a little resignedly. "Agatha, ah... watch your step." He really wanted to step between the skulls himself -- even if they'd been trying to steal his house, walking on what was left of them was uncomfortable.

The face folded up from the floor, focussing on Agatha. Gil stepped closer to her, grabbing her hand, and for a moment seemed to get its attention. "There's no need to protect her from me, so long as she is who she claims, little one. And if she is not there will be no point in trying." It returned its gaze to Agatha. "I congratulate you on having gained loyalty so young. He may be a fine consort one day."

"A what?" Agatha asked, sounding startled.

Barry wasn't sure whether to be exasperated at the Castle for bringing it up at all or relieved because this was, actually, its version of nice. Kind of. "The Castle thinks your father waited awfully late to get married," he said drily. "It's still not something you need to worry about any time soon."

"Okay." Agatha glanced up at Barry, looking a little worried; she squeezed Gil's hand, then let it go and walked forward, carefully picking her way among the skulls. "Uncle Barry says you're gonna bite me."

"Indeed I am," said the Castle. "But you are young and I will be, heh, gentle."

"You had better," Barry said under his breath, as he started to follow her. The Castle would hear him. It probably wouldn't care, but it would hear him.

Agatha looked back up at him, nose wrinkling, and for a second he thought she'd overheard, but that wasn't likely over the clattering of the disturbed skulls. "It sounds like one of the older kids when they're about to do something they only think is funny."

Barry shrugged a bit helplessly. "It does that a lot. But I was less than a day old and it didn't do much damage."

Agatha grimaced. She reached the face and stuck her arm between the giant teeth, as far as it would go. Barry felt her other hand tighten on his fingers, and he squeezed back as much as he dared.

Then she yelped, yanked her hand back, and promptly stuck it in her own mouth. Barry crouched down to tug at her arm. "Let me see." The hand he tugged free of her mouth was a little slimy by then, of course, but the cut to the web of the thumb was barely a scratch. "Ah, that's not so bad." He glanced up at the face. "You did get enough blood, didn't you?"

"Enough, yes. She is indeed your brother's child, and our Heterodyne." The Castle didn't bother to sound too dramatic on an announcement of something they'd all known anyway.

"There we go, then." Barry hesitated. "And thank you for taking it easy on her." He raked a hand back through his hair and regarded the Muse. “I can go ahead and hook you two together fairly quickly, I think, either before or after we announce Agatha. After that--” He turned to Klaus. “I’m not sure we’d be able to get Von Pinn to come here if we left Agatha on Castle Wulfenbach.” Or Gil, for that matter, but he was trying to be circumspect.

"Is there such a thing as a safe place to leave them inside the Castle?" Klaus asked. "I'd rather keep them close."

"Gradok Heterodyne's childhood laboratory was mostly used as a storeroom once he grew out of it,” the Castle suggested. “It still contains a lot of his earlier inventions, and some tools, but nothing instantly deadly. Some of the tools are sharp, but I can take them away if they're being used that badly." Its tone suggested it didn't think much of any Heterodyne, however young, who would use basic equipment badly enough to seriously injure themselves. But that was all right, Agatha and Gil were both demonstrably capable of safely handling sharp objects. More so than some adult Sparks, really. Watching some people try to hold a scalpel was hair-raising.

"The ‘Good’ Heterodyne," said Klaus to Barry, dubiously.

"This would be from about a decade before the Cathedral," Barry told him. "It's probably fine. And... almost age-appropriate, anyway. He broke through when he was ten."

"Your family break through young," Klaus remarked, with a glance at Agatha. Possibly he was thinking about having the chance to observe her breakthrough, or possibly he was imagining the chaos it was likely to cause for his school. "If it doesn't contain anything worse than tools, it's probably safer than leaving them anywhere they'd get bored and wander off. And I'd really prefer not to resort to the cages."

"Some of us do. This way--" Barry glanced down at the children, who looked like they weren't quite sure if the cages were a joke or not, and then glanced back up at Klaus and grinned as they set off. "It may be full of dragons. Gradok made Franz."

"I'm not sure if that's reassuring or not," said Klaus. "I like Franz, but he does consider people to be edible."

"True, but without much enthusiasm." Sometimes that was as good as it got. "I suppose that must have been a later development," Barry added reflectively. "According to the notebooks, he started out as a particularly dragony piggy bank."

"Really?" asked Gil. "How big is he now?"

"You're about the size of one of his fingers," Barry told him. "Gradok made him to guard all his treasure, and get bigger as needed. Only, Gradok was still a kid at the time and had two older siblings, so he wasn't ever expecting to be the Heterodyne himself...." He tried not to sigh. Okay. Occasionally he could sympathise with some of his ancestors. He could also remember learning Klaus had lost both his own brothers and finding it unimaginable.

"It must be very hard to steal from your family, if all your money is in a dragon," said Gil. "Do you have to take it out of him to pay for things?"

Barry shook off the melancholy moment. "We keep some out so we don't have to wake him up all the time. He sleeps a lot." His mouth quirked. "When Bill and I were really little, our father would occasionally rouse him when the town was under attack, and put us inside the vault."

Gil thought about that, brows drawing together solemnly. "Were you scared?"

"I... think I was too young to realize there was anything to be scared of. I don't remember it very well. Mostly an impression of being put inside, and Franz being grouchy because he was still half asleep." Bill and a blue lamp, and gold coins sliding around. Blinking in the daylight when their mother pulled them out. "Considering some of the things Father considered fun and educational, I guess those must have been some of the more worrying attacks."

Gil nodded, still frowning.

"What did he think was fun and educational?" Agatha asked. "Besides being inside a dragon?"

"Ah...." Barry rubbed his forehead, trying to think of examples that would get the idea across without the descriptions themselves being too awful. "He did have us watch some attacks on the town later. Vivisections." He shot Klaus a rueful look. "I understand he made Bill set the Wulfenbachs' great hall on fire once."

"I remember that," said Klaus. "In retrospect I think Bill only did it so he could aim at the parts that would be easiest to put out."

"He was afraid if Father took back the flamethrower, he'd aim at people," Barry agreed ruefully.

"But why would he want to do that?" Agatha asked, distressed.

Barry sighed and scooped her up to hug her. "He didn't tend to think about being nice to anybody who wasn't from Mechanicsburg. Mother spent a lot of time explaining why we should."

The Castle made a disapproving grinding sound. Klaus gave the nearest wall a wry look. "The Castle still doesn't agree, but fortunately it can't leave Mechanicsburg," he said. "And it makes an exception for friends of Heterodynes, even while grumbling about friends not being worth bothering with," he added to Gil, who glanced at Agatha and looked reassured.

Barry's mouth quirked. "Good summary." Agatha squirmed, so he let her down, whereupon she promptly and firmly latched onto Gil's hand again. "And -- here we are." Gradok's laboratory had a long, slender dragon sculpted around the door, regarding the doorknob with evident suspicion. Barry turned it anyway, revealing a room with low workbenches, stepstools, a conglomeration of boxes toward the back, and unboxed clanks and tools laid out in what had probably been neat rows before the damage and repair of the Castle. The sun coming through the window highlighted a hazy layer of dust, but that was the only sign of neglect.

Klaus walked in and gave the clanks out on the benches a swift glance before nodding. "This looks safe enough," he said, then paused to open up a dragon's claws. "Fascinating. Very elegant for a Spark just past breakthrough, especially one so young."

Agatha moved in as well, looking around in evident delight and towing Gil with her -- not that he needed much towing.

"The 'good' designation aside," Barry said, picking up a small and equally dragony bellows, "Gradok was a very impressive Spark. Attentive to detail.” He checked to make sure it was only a bellows rather than producing its own fire, then used it to puff clean a section of workbench. “I'm not sure what he'd have done, if he hadn't spent most of his life trying to figure out what happened to his sister."

The look Klaus gave him at that was sympathetic but he didn't say anything, just turned to the children. "Will you two be all right here while we sort the Castle out? There will be a moment when it shuts down briefly, so if the lights go out it's nothing to worry about."

"I think we'll be fine," Agatha said. By this point she had climbed up onto a short stack of boxes to peer into a higher one and was almost at eye level with Barry, thoroughly smudged with dust already and starry-eyed when she turned to face them. "This place looks like fun."

Gil nodded enthusiastically, already pulling a stool over to climb up and peer into a box of his own.

"Okay, good." This should definitely keep them busy. Barry paused on his way out. "Tell the Castle if you get hungry and it can pass a message to the cooks." He wasn't sure Agatha was listening, but Gil looked up and nodded. Barry could hear them start to chatter as the door closed, and he looked up to nod at the towering Muse. "All right," he said, "library."

Chapter Text

However Lucrezia had managed it in the first place, connecting a Muse to Castle Heterodyne proved predictably fiddly. Just as predictably, it was one of the more fascinating technical experiences of Klaus's life. Beetle's rhapsodies about the Muses were entirely justified, even if this particular clank was at present occupied by the wrong mind.

Once that was settled, they headed back to Castle Wulfenbach, where Von Pinn greeted them with urgent alarm. "Herr Baron. Master Barry. Where are Master Gil and Miss Agatha?"

"They're still in Castle Heterodyne," Barry said. "They're fine. But it turns out we need you to come with us."

"You left children alone with Castle Heterodyne?" she demanded. "Take me to them right now."

Well, Klaus thought, that solved getting her to come with them. Whether they could convince her to come to Lucrezia's lab instead of running off to find her charges he had no idea.

The ride back down to Mechanicsburg passed in uncomfortable silence, and she was hard enough to keep up with once they landed that they were inside Castle Heterodyne before there was really another opportunity for conversation. "Where did you leave them?"

"Gradok's lab," Barry said, laying a hand on her arm. "Madame Von Pinn, I mean it, they're fine." Then, apparently deciding on the direct approach, "But we found a copy of Castle Heterodyne occupying Otilia's body. It claims you're the one who belongs there."

She stiffened under his hand, trembling violently, and finally said in a choked voice, "The Castle...always..." She hissed. "I am...I can...I will go with you."

"Thank you. We just need to, ah, collect your body and head down to Lucrezia's lab." He glanced up and addressed the Castle. "Which you can locate now, right?"

"There is a secret passage leading down from her bedroom. I still can't feel it, but I now remember where it is. As you go down it, please see if my mechanisms near it have been blocked," said the Castle.

The Muse was shut down and empty when they reached the library, an oddly unsettling sight. Barry disconnected it, and Klaus carefully folded the great tattered wings and picked it up. Even at his height, it made an awkward burden, but was easy enough to carry. Less fragile than the tales of the Muses' destruction suggested -- the interior workings were a marvel of delicacy, but if you didn't open it up and start taking things apart, you weren't going to damage them that easily.

Lucrezia's bedroom still felt like her, which also remained vaguely unsettling, as if she might pop out from behind a mirror at any moment. Klaus was distracted enough by that fancy that Barry opening the secret passage made him start, despite being at the Castle's explicit direction.

"And you can't feel this at all?" Barry was saying, stepping in and out of the passageway and inspecting the entrance.

"Ah, no," said the Castle, sounding rather unnerved. "It's as if you keep disappearing."

Klaus walked over and peered past Barry into the passage, not at all sure what he was looking for.

"I suppose your awareness has to have boundaries somewhere," Barry muttered, "but this is bizarre. What in the world would...." He trailed off, into classic Heterodyne humming with a distinctly baffled air. "...Correspond to a local anaesthetic?"

Klaus frowned, as an edge to the humming caught at his mind. Every so often Barry would hit a particular note and there would be an echo, a soft burring noise. "Do you hear that?' he whispered, twisting his head back and forth as he tried to work out where the echo was coming from.

Barry paused, then resumed humming more systematically. The echo caught again and held, and then Barry picked a wrench off his belt and jammed it into the wall.

"Ah," said the Castle. "Ow. Pins and needles. But I can see you, now. The passage fades out again about ten feet in."

"There must be a lot of them, then," Barry said, frowning down toward where the passage spiraled out of sight. "Thanks, Klaus." He started humming again as he advanced down the steps.

"We should try to get hold of an intact one," Klaus said.

"Would that really be necessary?" asked the Castle.

"Useful," Barry admitted. "We could figure out how they work. I should have dug that one out, I was just... annoyed."

"Family feeling?" said Klaus.

Barry eyed him a bit balefully. "...Maybe."

Klaus managed not to laugh.

Barry dutifully extracted the next device from its camouflaged niche and took it apart in a less irreversible manner until it stopped working. Then he poked around the niche until there was a snapping noise and a blue spark and drew back. "How's that? If they were all on the same circuit, they should be off now."

"That's much better," said the Castle. "I can see the laboratory too, now, but...hmmm. I still can't see the end of this passageway, it just keeps going down further than I've ever been able to see."

"Something else we'll have to check later," said Klaus. He wondered how, exactly, Lucrezia had dug a tunnel. Either she'd had help or she'd built a tunneling device without any of them knowing.

"Worrying," Barry said. "But yes, we'll investigate later." He steered the unresisting Von Pinn onward, down the spiral -- Klaus glanced back and noticed that the stairs had a pre-gloating checklist on them -- and into a surprisingly cosy laboratory that bore the signs of unplanned departure but (thankfully) not of beasties, prisoners, or dark gods. Unless you counted the skulls in the autoclave, which had long since lost its seal and leaked. Several items had fallen over; Lucrezia evidently hadn't secured her secret laboratory in preparation for the destruction of the Castle. There was a tea cart, complete with the residues of very stale tea.

Barry, of course, seated Von Pinn carefully in the armchair and headed straight for the notebooks, while Klaus set down the Muse and went to inspect the equipment directly. They'd have to rebuild a lot of melted circuitry -- probably backwards -- but the basics seemed to be in reasonably good shape.

"How long is it going to take before we can do this, do you think?" Klaus asked. There was a limit to how long they could leave the children in even the most fascinating laboratory, and probably a limit to how long the Castle would wait for them to present Agatha.

Barry brought the notes over to compare them to the equipment. "Less than an hour, I think, and that's with a few minor revisions to reduce the risk of overload. All the groundwork's laid already."

"Why a Muse?" Klaus wondered aloud, as he read the notes over Barry's shoulder, and then answered his own question. "Clank lifeform. The Muses and the Castle must be the only known examples, I suppose getting access to both was too much to resist."

"Not a lot of Sparks who get hold of a Muse do resist," Barry said wryly. "Although most of them don't go swapping minds around. Muse to an organic brain, Castle to Muse... of course, the Castle was based on a human mind originally...."

"It never talks about itself that way," Klaus said. "As a human, I mean. But neither do the Jägers."

"Evidently, becoming a building changes you," Barry said flippantly, and then he laid the book down and his face drained to a ghastly ashen grey.

Klaus grabbed his arm. "Barry? Are you okay?"

Von Pinn surprised him by walking over to take Barry's other arm. "Come and sit down," she suggested.

"I'm--" Barry blinked, looking slightly less ill and more confused at Von Pinn's arrival, then took a deep breath. "Not... actually going to faint," he finished, in a rather wan effort at humour. He did let them sit him down, though. "Lucrezia was too... purposeful to be shunting minds around just for fun," he said. "We know she meant to copy herself into Agatha. I don't know if she thought she could empty the Castle's mind into Otilia, or what... but Bill and I found her in a fortress she'd built out in orbit." He swallowed. "I only just thought of it. I suppose anyone else would have thought it was odd for so many things to move on their own."

"You think there's a fortress in orbit that contains a copy of her mind," said Klaus, feeling rather grey himself at the thought.

"Hmph," said the Castle. "My mind is far too vast to be emptied out so easily."

"Yes," Barry said. "Ah, we did a lot of damage. Hers is probably in worse shape than this Castle was when we got here. At least it shouldn't be able to start dropping rocks again independently... I think. We should probably check on that."

"On the one hand that's good to know. On the other the Castle was insane when we got here, and Lucrezia..." Klaus sighed. "As long as she can't do anything about it, I suppose." He tried not to think about the vast damaged mind hanging alone in space that had once, in some form, been the woman he loved.

Barry looked over at him, then surged back to his feet to begin work on the wiring. "I don't know what she can do," he said. "I... assume I only survived because I was with Bill most of the time and she still didn't have the heart to kill him on purpose."

She hadn't had the heart to kill him either, Klaus thought. Shipping him to Skifander had been unnecessary, but she had cared enough not to just kill him. Considering that she had killed Bill though, even by accident, and after so much destruction, made what she'd done to him seem almost trivial. He turned back to the wiring. "We'll have to deal with her sooner or later," he said.

"Yes." Barry started heterodyning after that agreement, which Klaus took as a cue that he didn't want to talk, even though it wasn't always.

The atonal noise didn't always make concentration easier for people who weren't Heterodynes -- some found it downright irritating -- but Klaus had worked with them enough that he associated it with focussed work and close companions. Perhaps because they were both ferociously trying not to think of anything else, the work took nearer half an hour than a full one before the empty Muse was connected.

"Madame Von Pinn," Barry said quietly. "...Otilia. Ready when you are."

"I have been ready for a long time," said Von Pinn, which was probably not a comment on how long they'd taken. "Where do you need me?"

"On the slab, please. The restraints are purely in case of convulsions." Or possibly last-second activation of an implanted compulsion to resist. They weren't entirely sure they could restrain Von Pinn, but Lucrezia appeared to have scavenged the shackles from old Heterodyne laboratory materials, so at least they were sturdy.

Von Pinn smiled faintly and allowed them to restrain her, and Barry threw the first switch. Electricity danced through the room, but that was expected. (Klaus could think of a few ways to cut down on it, but they'd been more concerned with speed than conserving power. Sometimes the trick was convincing Castle Heterodyne you only needed so much, especially since it seemed to be fond of the displaced Muse.) Lucrezia's admittedly elegant system of indicators informed them that neural translation and synchrony had been achieved, and they threw the remaining switches. The rock of the floor vibrated under them, briefly; Von Pinn went still and white, and Otilia's eyes opened.

"How are you feeling?" Klaus asked.

Otilia sat up and examined her hand, opening and closing it, then flexed her wings before looking down at herself. "Somewhat in need of a new dress," she said. "Thank you. It is a relief to be in a mechanical body again."

"I'll get somebody to work on the dress," Barry said. "And your feathers."

"There's some damage to the wing structure, too," she said. "It feels like just the struts, not the mechanisms."

"I know someone who can look you over, if you like," said Klaus, thinking that they were going to make Dr Beetle's entire life if they turned up with a Muse who needed even a little fixing. And he could probably be trusted not to do anything but fixing, especially with both of them waiting nearby. "After that do you want to remain in my employment? I take it you no longer need to take care of Agatha."

"I do," said Otilia. "That order did not come from Lucrezia alone."

Barry looked up from dismantling the transfer circuitry again, bemused. "Who else could have given it?"

Otilia clasped her hands together, posture rigid. "My Master instructed me to protect the Heterodyne Girl. My Creator ordered me to keep her safe."

The Storm King and Van Rijn. It never seemed tactful or prudent to ask Castle Heterodyne or the Jägers too much about them. But Klaus throttled his thoughts back from historical fascination to that peculiar emphasis--

Barry beat him to it. "Safe," he said. "As in the opposite of dangerous, I'm guessing?"

"Yes." Otilia's wings shifted, Klaus got the impression if she was human she would have swallowed. "I thought I would have to kill her and guard her grave. But Agatha is a darling child, and certainly no threat to Europe."

"I'm glad you agree," Barry said, sounding... relatively composed considering Otilia's declaration. "But she's also," he pointed out, "not Euphrosynia. Did they both seriously say 'the Heterodyne Girl'?"

"Yes," said Otilia. "Unfortunately I cannot ignore orders because they were given by fools."

"Okay," said Barry. "That's... awkward, but at least you apparently have some room to interpret them. Although 'kill her and guard the grave' is clearly not a solution any of us want to see. If you don't see Agatha as a threat to Europe, that one shouldn't be an issue... right? So what would satisfy the order?"

"My Creator's original intention was that I should guide her, teach her to be someone who would not plunge people into war to satisfy her own whims. In this case you've done much of my job for me already," she added, smiling at him slightly. "I will not harm a child, ever, you have my word on that. I would prefer to teach her, and to protect her, and to do the same for those others currently placed in my charge."

Barry smiled at that. "So, Klaus found pretty much the perfect role for you already after all?"

"Yes. I would like to continue in it."

"You're welcome to," said Klaus, unable to help grinning at the idea of a Muse wanting to stay on as schoolteacher. Goodness knew what the nobility were going to think. "I know the children will be safe in your hands."

"Wonderful," said Barry. "Speaking of which -- we should probably go get Agatha and Gil. Castle Heterodyne's been waiting long enough, and Castle Wulfenbach is certainly out of range of the bell."

The laboratory had boxes full of dragons. Barry Heterodyne's description of his childhood sounded weird and kind of disturbing, and Castle Heterodyne apparently didn't approve of caring about anyone outside your town, but... on the other hand, it had boxes of dragon clanks.

"Your house isn't quite what I was expecting," Gil said to Agatha, as he lifted out a segmented and rather snakelike dragon. This one didn't have any wings, so he set it aside gently and reached back in for another.

"Me neither." Agatha picked up a blue one and regarded it in surprise when it sloshed. "It can be mean, but it sounds like it's happy to see us."

Gil nodded. "I was expecting it to be evil, like things in stories that are really scary all the time. Mostly it seems like it bullies people, but...it's a lot like a person." He laid out five dragons with different wing types, including one of the tiny ones with insect wings, and set about comparing them.

"I think maybe it is? Uncle Barry said it was based on one of our ancestors...." She dug out a double handful of the tiny clanks, making Gil wince for the sake of the stiffly outstretched wings, then flopped down on her stomach on top of the worktable, with the swarm scattered in front of her. They didn't look damaged.

"I knew that," said Gil. And he had, it just hadn't quite sunk in that a building that bit people could also be something quite human. "I guess your ancestors sounded a bit like evil wizards in stories too. Sorry."

Agatha thought about that a moment, not really looking offended. "Uncle Barry also says people used to call Sparks magic, and stuff. Maybe they were."

"Wizards and dragons and talking castles," said Gil. "And skulls," he added, remembering the chapel. "I feel like we should be rescuing a princess." Only given the make-up of their school Agatha was more likely to be rescuing Gil from princesses. "This is more fun though," he added, very gently spreading a bat-like wing of worn canvas on ivory struts.

Agatha giggled. "It is." She thought for a minute. "I guess Uncle Barry and Baron Wulfenbach are kind of rescuing a Muse?"

"I hope she's happier being a proper Muse again," said Gil.

"Me too. It seems like it'd be uncomfortable having somebody put you in a different body." Agatha bit her lip. "I don't know why my mother would do that...."

Gil reached over to put an arm around her, the position slightly awkward with her lying on the table. It sort of looked like both sides of Agatha's family were strange in different ways. "I don't know."

Agatha sighed and leaned her head against his for a few seconds, then sniffed and sat up. "I'm gonna look at the tools and see if they're all dragony."

Gil pulled back and nodded. "I was wondering if any of these could be scaled up. If I built a flying dragon I'd want to ride it. Maybe I'll ask your uncle later if Franz can fly."

"Ooh." Agatha perked up at that. "If you make a riding-dragon, can I come too? If Franz gives rides I'll bring you...."

"Of course," said Gil. "I probably can't actually do it, though. No one even knows if I'm likely to be a Spark."

"I guess," Agatha said, set back a bit by this. "But you're really smart and I bet we can come up with something!"

"Well, if it's both of us we can probably do something," said Gil, grinning at her. "If I'm not a Spark I could be your minion instead."

Agatha grinned back, but wrinkled her nose. "If we're waiting for me to break through it would take too long," she complained. "Baron Wulfenbach said ten was early. Hey, this is weird...." She clambered down to show him a particularly complicated little dragon. "This was in with the tools. Look at its feet!"

"Oh, wow." Unlike most dragons it had six feet, and each of them had four talons with bits sticking out, like on a key. "Do you think it opens doors?"

Agatha poked at them, intrigued. "Why would... ohh, I see." She jumped up and went to look at the unused lock on the laboratory door, then up at the ceiling. "Castle, couldn't Gradok have just asked you to open things? Did he take this other places?”

"His breakthrough caused nineteen explosions, after which he was placed in a cage until the worst of it passed," said the Castle. "A number of Heterodynes in that situation have invented lockpicks, but his solution was probably the most creative if not the most co-operative."

Agatha and Gil blinked at each other. Apparently Baron Wulfenbach hadn't been kidding about resorting to the cages. "What did he make that blew up?" Agatha asked after a moment.

"Wyverns," said the Castle. "His older brother adapted them for use on the battlefield as much larger versions, which only blew up as a last resort rather than accidentally."

"...Do we still have any?" Agatha asked, sounding interested.

"No," said the Castle. "Not the small ones, and I don't think your uncle wants you playing with the big ones."

"What did you mean about it not being cooperative?" asked Gil.

"It got him out of the cage," said the Castle. "But he had to chase it down afterwards."

"So if we woke it up again, it would probably fly away from us?" Gil could see why Agatha hadn't said "run". Its feet weren't really built for that.

"It might unlock any doors you asked it to first," said the Castle. "But probably, yes. I could power it up if you like, it could be entertaining."

"Ooh," Agatha began, then slumped down a little. "Um, but Uncle Barry would probably be really upset if we ran off to chase it. And they're bringing Madame Von Pinn."

"Yeah, she'd probably be really mad," said Gil.

Agatha brightened. "Could you keep it in here?"

"Yes," said the Castle sounding a bit indignant that she'd thought it couldn't. "But that's no fun for me or the dragon."

"Aw." Agatha petted it, even though it was shut down. "I wanted to see it."

"You are no fun at all," the Castle informed her. Apparently it wanted to get them in trouble. (Gil had to admit, to himself anyway, that chasing a lockpicking dragon all over the Castle sounded like fun. But Baron Wulfenbach and Madame Von Pinn... or Otilia... would be really mad.)

"I wanna explore all over you," Agatha told it. She gave the inert dragon clank a final pat and got up to head for one of the shelves. "Just... not and scare Uncle Barry. Maybe when we have all night or something." She pulled down a box and made a satisfied noise. "C'mon, Gil, let's make a generator."

Gil jumped down from his stool and ran over to see what she'd found. Magnets, as it turned out. They made the mistake of setting the box down on a metal table and then couldn't get it off again without prying all the magnets out individually, and the Castle laughed at them the whole time. They found a good one, though, and Agatha was winding the wire while Gil built a crank when there was a knock at the door.

Agatha looked up, confused. "Uh, hi?"

"Lunch, Mistress," a voice called.

Agatha and Gil exchanged a confused look. Agatha went to the door, which probably wasn't necessary, and opened it. "Thank you? Miss...?"

The young woman made to hand her the tray, then stopped with some consternation on realising it was nearly as big as Agatha. "Mirela. Ah, is it safe to step inside, Mistress?"

Agatha looked at Gil and shrugged. "I think so. We're okay. Thank you for lunch?"

Miss Mirela left the tray and retreated. Agatha looked at Gil after the door shut. "I guess she's new."

Gil nodded. "The food looks good," he said, grabbing a large sandwich in both hands.

Agatha gave the generator a longing look, but then her stomach growled. She giggled and plopped down to attack the cheese. "Thanks, Castle. I wasn't thinking about food."

"Your family usually don't," said the Castle.

She glanced up. "I'd've got hungry sometime...."

"Before finishing the generator?" the Castle asked.

"Um...."

"As I thought."

"I did say thank you," said Agatha. "But I hope we can still finish the generator before Uncle Barry gets back."

Gil looked doubtfully at the wire and magnet. "That depends how long they are, I guess."

Agatha chewed her lip. "We could take it with us?"

"The dragon?" Gil looked at it thoughtfully. "We could probably put the little ones in our pockets, but I think they'd notice that one."

Agatha blinked. "I wasn't gonna hide it."

"Oh. You think they'd let us take clanks home with us?" Maybe Gil was a little too used to hiding things he wanted to hang onto. They had got the music box back even though they hadn't been meant to be making it.

Agatha grinned at him. "Why not?"

"They might not want us to pick all the locks on Castle Wulfenbach," said Gil. "Although I'd like to."

"Oh. Hm." Agatha looked at their dragon thoughtfully. "I guess taking those off until later would be too obvious."

"Maybe we could take them out and replace them temporarily?" said Gil. "With normal claws, although then they might wonder what it was for."

Agatha brightened. "Oooh. Then it just looks like a fun toy."

"And this will worry them less than you wandering around me?" asked the Castle.

"It will if they don't know about it," said Gil, unfolding a claw and looking for the screws holding the talons on.

"Yeah," Agatha agreed, bringing over a bit of metal to see if it was about right for turning into a replacement claw. "Like exploring you at night, see?"

After a moment, the Castle said, "You may be slightly more interesting than I thought."

Agatha patted the floor. "Does that mean you'll recharge the dragon for us when we're done?"

"I'll consider it," said the Castle.

Agatha grinned, apparently considering this enough of a victory. They managed to get the claws replaced and finish lunch without getting any crumbs in the mechanisms, and Castle Heterodyne agreed to turn on the dragonfly clanks, which flew around the room in formation. They were still winding wire for the generator, though, when the door opened again to reveal the grown-ups and the Muse.

"How are you doing in here?" Barry asked, looking around at the clutter of dragons. He picked a dragonfly out of the air on its way past and peered at it.

"Uncle Barry!" Agatha abandoned the generator and went to pick up the de-lockpicked dragon clank. "Can we take this one with us?" She stopped, looking up at Otilia. Or Madame Von Pinn. "Um. And... did it work?"

"Yes, child, it worked," said Otilia, bending down to rest a hand on Agatha's shoulder. Gil stared at her. She still looked a bit scary, especially with her clothes and hair in rags and those huge ragged wings, as if she'd been through a fight and hadn't let it stop her, but it was a different kind of scary from Von Pinn.

Agatha was looking up as if a bit enchanted. "What did you do with your other body?" Okay, apparently not enchanted like somebody who'd been reading about the Storm King....

"It was never my body, merely one I was forced to inhabit," said Otilia. "It is in the laboratory."

"Oh." Agatha tilted her head. "What are you gonna do with it?"

Otilia looked back at Klaus and Barry. "I recommend destroying it. It will still be compelled to obey Lucrezia's voice and it has no mind of its own beyond that."

Barry grimaced. "I was thinking of giving it a chance to develop one, but I admit there's probably not a very good foundation."

Gil walked over uncertainly. She was still Von Pinn, but she was also a Muse, and he wasn't quite sure how to react to that. But as soon as he got close enough she surprised him by picking him up and hugging him, the metal of her body cool and vibrating very slightly. "I have not changed that much, Master Gil," she said.

He nodded and hid his face against her shoulder for a moment, despite the faint smell of mildew from the dress. "I'm glad you're in a body you like now," he mumbled.

"And she's decided Klaus already found her dream job," Barry said after a moment, his voice soft and light. "He's always been good at that."

"You're staying?" said Gil, looking up.

"Yes. I am staying," Otilia told him. "I dread to think what trouble all of you would get into without me."

"Good," said Gil. "I'd miss you."

"Me too!" Agatha piped up. "I'm glad you didn't just like us 'cause you had to."

"You are quite likeable enough," said Otilia, ruffling her hair. "Now, what is it you are attempting to bring back with you?" she added, with more severity.

"A dragon clank." Agatha held it up. "It looks like fun. Gil's trying to figure out how to scale one up so it can still fly."

Barry's mouth quirked. "That is a little bit of a problem for Franz...."

Otilia inspected the clank. "It seems harmless enough," she conceded. "If Master Barry and Baron Wulfenbach agree to your bringing things home you may."

The dragonfly clanks had returned to hover over the group, possibly because of their trapped member.

"I think I'd better look at that a bit more closely," Barry put in, releasing his dragonfly back to the swarm and taking the dragon. He peered into its mouth, then opened it up along the spine and took out a small fuel tank. "I could be wrong," he said, giving his friend a wry glance, "but I'd guess Klaus would just as soon you not bring self-propelled flamethrowers onto his airship. Without that, it may be fine."

"Really? A flamethrower?" said the Baron, shaking his head and leaning over to get a look at it himself. "But without that they can bring it along."

"Well, it is a dragon," Barry said reasonably. He gave the dragonflies a thoughtful look, then closed the clank back up and returned it to Agatha. "It may turn out to be pretty lively, flamethrowers aside."

"Castle Heterodyne said Gradok had to chase it sometimes," Agatha admitted. "I'll probably have to hang on to it in open places so it doesn't get lost."

"Just remember to shut the laboratory doors before turning it on," said the Baron.

There was a throat clearing sound from the wall. "If you would proceed to the main doors, the people of Mechanicsburg are gathering to welcome the new heir."

"Thank you, Castle," Barry said. "Agatha...." He trailed off with a strange air of not knowing what to say. "Let's go."

"Okay!" Agatha gave a small skip and took his hand, but then looked back at Gil with a faintly worried expression. "So... this is the Doom Bell? With the bad memories?"

"Yes." Barry squeezed her hand slightly. "You'll be all right. And so will Gil."

"It's okay," said Gil, as Otilia set him down and took his hand. He was feeling at least as much anticipation as fear, if it brought up memories then could it bring up those he'd lost? Even if it was only the bad ones it would be something.

Agatha smiled at him, just a little, and they left Gradok's laboratory. The dragonflies tried to follow them. "Castle," Barry said, "I actually do like those, but this is not the best time to appear with an escort of bugs."

"Try a two-note whistle," suggested the Castle.

Barry blinked, then whistled. The dragonflies formed up and hovered in front of him, waiting. He regarded them for a moment, then reached out to let the largest sit on his finger and very carefully took it back inside to set it down on a table. The rest of them swooped down to rest behind it. "Stay," he said, in a tone somewhat more experimental than commanding.

"They take only very limited verbal commands," said the Castle, sounding amused.

Barry took a step back; they didn't move. "I might come back and work out the control panel later."

"It's a bit of a strange one," said the Castle. "Gradok was very young and used what was to hand -- a control panel based on the height of a number of tiny screws isn't the most efficient to set."

"Interesting, though," Barry said, as they set off again (this time without the dragonflies). "What was he up to?"

"Attempting to catch his sister kissing Ogglespoon," said the Castle. Gil thought that sounded like a rather odd reason to invent anything, if he had a sister he couldn't imagine he'd want to see her kissing people.

Barry gave a surprised snort of laughter. "Oh, of course."

They reached the doors without adding anyone else to the party, and they swung open on an even bigger crowd than Gil was expecting. Barry picked Agatha up and held her high, and everybody cheered loudly enough that even Castle Heterodyne had to raise its voice.

"I present the Lady Heterodyne, heir to Mechanicsburg," boomed the Castle. As the cheer afterwards died away the Doom Bell began to toll. Gil clutched at Otilia as memories welled up. Confusion, misery, all the times he'd felt broken and useless for knowing so little of himself, all the times he'd been picked on. And a dark feeling, deeper and darker than he'd felt at the time, seeming to vibrate through him with each chime. He clutched at Otilia's leg, burying his face against her hip as she held him. It was only after the sound faded that he realised none of the memories had been new, none of them going back to before his time at the school, and even shaking with the aftereffects he had time to be disappointed.

When he looked around it seemed like everything was shaking for a moment, Otilia and the stones of the Castle and all the people, even the Baron, everything except Barry and Agatha. A few people in the crowd had fallen all the way over and were being picked up by the vibrating people next to them.

Barry let Agatha down and she ran over to Gil. "That was weird," she whispered. "Are you okay?"

Gil shook his head without thinking and then said quickly, "It's okay now it's over." He added, more quietly, "I thought I might remember something, but I didn't."

Agatha went a little wide-eyed and then hugged him, apparently unconcerned with the fact that everybody was watching them. (And cheering again, mostly. Probably not about the hug.) Gil hugged her back and tried not to look embarrassed. It was just... a bunch of people he didn't know. And Otilia, but she was Von Pinn. And Barry Heterodyne. And -- ack -- Baron Wulfenbach, who looked tired and like the bell hadn't felt very good to him either.

"Back inside, I think," Barry said, quietly but somehow easy to hear over the noise anyway. The great doors closed, shutting them away from the crowd and the open sky, which was sort of a relief at the moment. Castle Wulfenbach was big, and it had windows, but it was still weird being on the ground... the horizon was closer but the walls didn't wrap around. "You kids both handled that really well."

"It didn't feel like Baron Wulfenbach said," Agatha told him, then glanced at Gil. "At least to me."

"I wasn't sure how it would feel to you," Barry admitted. "Heterodynes usually seem to take it a little differently. And people from Mechanicsburg mostly get used to it."

"It was very strange," said Gil. "Why was it being rung? Um. It doesn't seem like it would make people feel very happy about a new heir."

Barry rubbed the back of his neck. "Yes, well.... We are traditionally a little ominous."

"You're not," said Gil. He didn't think it explained why everyone had been so happy, either. Apparently they enjoyed bells that made you feel sad and ominous leaders.

"Thanks." Barry smiled at him a little wryly. "I'm serious about your taking it well, by the way. Most people from out of town pass out the first time they hear it. Anyway--" He looked up to meet the Baron's eyes instead, looking amused for some reason. "I thought we should all go have cocoa."

Maybe he hadn't passed out because he didn’t have as many memories as most people, Gil thought. He smiled at Barry. "Cocoa would be nice."

Chapter Text

Otilia's return to Castle Wulfenbach caused quite a stir, the children crowding around her excitedly until she proved she was still Von Pinn by sending all the younger ones to bed for a nap and demanding the older ones sit down and do something quiet. The latter was, Barry suspected, writing to their parents about being taught by a Muse. With Agatha confirmed to be asleep, Barry and Klaus met for a rather belated lunch. It wasn't until they'd finished eating that Klaus said, "There's something I need to talk to you about before we leave Mechanicsburg."

Barry gave him a thoughtful look. "This sounds like something you suspected would ruin my appetite," he said wryly. "What's on your mind?"

"Before you returned I had a deal with the Jägers," said Klaus. "They would serve me until a Heterodyne was found. As that happened rather sooner than expected -- to the relief of all of us -- the deal is void. But I doubt you were planning to use them for anything, so I was wondering if I could hire them from you."

Barry stared without actually seeing his old friend for a moment, his vision caught up in faint red haze and old nightmare. He and Bill had discussed, once in their distant youth, the idea of releasing the Jägers from their service. But the Jägers had sworn lifelong service -- for what often turned out to be a very long life. Their homes and frequently their descendants were all in Mechanicsburg. It wouldn't have been either fair or practical to break the agreement. And... what they might do if turned loose across Europe hadn't borne thinking about. The possibility that they'd take it into their heads to resume old raiding habits in his absence (to be fair, it likely wouldn't have been just the Jägers, but they'd have been the most effective) had been one of several things that had kept Barry awake at night and driven him to travel faster homeward.

He'd seen the Jägers at war before. Defending Mechanicsburg, yes, that was fine, but thirty years ago his father had dragged him and Bill on some miserable raiding journeys. He vividly remembered their joy in the fight and their callousness toward the terrified people whose lives and livelihoods they were destroying. "Klaus," he said, a little hoarsely, and then discarded both Hell no and Are you out of your mind? in favor of saying, "I'm not sure you've thought this one through."

...Well, that was a stupid reply. Klaus had certainly had time to think it through.

"They are soldiers and I needed an army," said Klaus. "I trusted them to hold to an agreement with me. With you here there's no need even to trust to that. Whatever you tell them will be obeyed."

"I'm not so sure about that," Barry muttered. "Klaus, you have an army. You took down Teufel already." Barry hadn’t heard much about the Black Mist Raiders until after the fact; Teufel, or Kipp, had been operating farther to the west. Klaus had fought him on both military and technical grounds and won, which accounted for several regions eagerly clustering under the umbrella of the nascent Empire.

Granted, the Jägers might still beat Klaus’s forces on the field. More likely yet from a walled town, although Klaus definitely would have had air superiority before Castle Heterodyne was repaired. Mechanicsburg had been reluctant to fight partly because the consequences of winning -- with no Heterodyne, most of their neighbors less than pleased with the result, and against an old friend -- might have been more troublesome if less embarrassing than losing. Of course, the Dreen would have been a problem. And why was he even thinking in these terms?

Klaus grimaced. “It wasn’t exactly easy.”

"And you're going to tell me a better army means fewer casualties on your side and probably overall than drawing things out, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Klaus. "This isn't relevant now, but that wasn't my only reason for wanting to take them. They are less vulnerable than most monsters, more able to think for themselves, but without a sense of purpose they are easily distracted. And their sense of purpose was always your family. People would have seen the chance to wipe them out before a new Heterodyne arrived to command them again." He smiled slightly. "Besides which, I do trust them, more than I trust a human army. They are predictable, broadly, if chaotic in the specifics. Merciless but not sadistic, with no particular desires beyond fighting, staying together and pleasing their masters. Very hard to subvert or lure away."

Only Klaus, Barry thought, in all of Europa, would come up with the idea that he needed to protect the Jägers. He had a point, though. The old Heterodynes had earned the hatred of their neighbors near and far, over and over again. He and Bill had changed, among other things, the popular view of the name and the town, but that didn't erase old grudges and they'd made enemies as well as friends of their own. And while the main responsibility had always been their family's and the enthusiasm pretty widely spread, the Jägers were both highly recognisable and in many cases actually the same people other towns were mad at. Which led to the other astonishing thing Klaus had said. "Not sadistic?"

"I suppose that's a matter of opinion," Klaus conceded. "They certainly enjoy beating their opponents thoroughly. But they don't attack people who can't fight back, or, usually, anyone who they haven't been sent to attack. They enjoy the fight more than the kill."

"They enjoy the kill well enough," Barry said. "I've seen them fight." But so had Klaus. In Mechanicsburg, where they'd all fought alongside them and Klaus had fought with them just for fun. All too likely he'd seen them fight in his own town. Their father would hardly have taken Bill to attack another fortified town without any Jägers.

"They might enjoy it, but they will forgo it," said Klaus. "They fought differently under you and Bill than they did under your father. And I've seen them fight each other. I've seen them fight human friends too, and not leave anything more than bruises."

Barry had... known that, or should have known that. Obviously Klaus's scraps with them hadn't led to anything that bad, although Klaus was -- of course -- tougher than an unaltered human anyway. Even for a Spark. Barry didn't think of the Jägers as likely to show restraint on their own, but there were times they did. "You... know them better than I do, in some ways, don't you." It was quiet, and not quite a question.

"I always rather liked them," said Klaus, which was not quite an answer.

"I know. That always puzzled me."

"Why not? I enjoy a good fight too," Klaus said flippantly, then continued more seriously. "They asked me for stories. Because you never took any of them I became a sort of honorary Jäger for them, I think. They demanded news of you the way they would from any of their own who had been taken on a special mission."

Barry had enjoyed fighting, once. Against mindless enemies, and not because they were easier. Against people, if they could win without killing. The matching of wit and skill. He thought the danger itself, the challenge of winning when lives were at stake, had appealed to Bill in a way it hadn't to him. But Bill would have done it and Barry would have gone with him even if none of it had been any fun. And had still, when it wasn't. The last few sickening years, against revenants who hadn't been mindless before the wasps got them, against the Geisterdamen and their devotion.... "I didn't know that."

"You should talk to them," said Klaus. "I don't know whether you'd find it reassuring but you'd probably find it instructive."

"You're right. I should have done it more a long time ago, probably." Barry sighed. "I do know they'd enjoy going with you, a lot more than staying here. I'm worried they'd enjoy it a little too much. They have... in some cases literally centuries of habitual brutality, in real fights. And we didn't leave them home solely because we were afraid they'd get out of hand. A Jäger army is going to bring up bad memories for a lot of people, mostly not the ones who actually wanted to start anything."

"That is a point," Klaus admitted. "I was planning to use them as something of a last resort, at least when it wasn't a case of clearing up slavers or someone's feral creations, and to threaten to send them in more often than actually do so. Which might be less interesting than they were hoping for, but you are right that I couldn't send them in without people expecting the worst."

"I suppose they'd actually be thrilled to be turned loose against stray... anything, really," Barry said, then paused, thunderstruck and not sure whether to be horrified. "Or the... Klaus, they'd eat the wasps for lunch. Literally. I'd better ask if they tried it already, if anyone was affected, I haven't seen all of them since I got back--"

"They prefer them cooked," said Klaus. "But they are immune. A few wasps managed to get down their throats and they just swallowed. They assure me there were no effects."

"Okay," Barry said slowly, alarm fading. "That's good." A little perplexing, but certainly good. Maybe the Jägerbrau's own modifications were too extensive for the slavers to handle. "In that case, we'd better set them against the wasps, at least."

"Does that mean you'd be willing to let them come with me? I'll be travelling to places where that's needed more than you will," said Klaus. "Not that they'll all come, with a Heterodyne in Mechanicsburg I expect some will insist on guarding you whether you want them to or not."

Barry's mouth twitched. "Now that you mention it, with Agatha aboard Castle Wulfenbach, I'm not sure how far you'd get without any."

"They might trust me to keep her safe. Or more likely Otilia," said Klaus, sounding amused. "But yes. I expect they'd sooner keep both of you close right now. There's a difference between sending bodyguards, though, and trusting me with the greater part of the group."

"I do trust you. I always have. Even when we didn't agree."

"I appreciate it," said Klaus. "Perhaps I should have said, whether you trust the greater part of the group to go with me and still behave when you're not there."

How much did he trust them to behave when he was there? Could he in good conscience send Jägers into other people's lands, and with Mechanicsburg otherwise defended, could he in good conscience refuse to send them against wasps? "I'm thinking about that. I'm...." Barry smiled a bit ruefully. "Trying to think about it rationally."

"I won't demand an answer right now. If necessary it can wait until after we've been to Beetleburg, since I'll be returning you here," said Klaus. "But I will need an answer then."

"Fair enough." Barry suspected he shouldn't be amused by being given a deadline. "You're right that I should talk to them," he said, more briskly. "And I'm not fool enough to think we can still fight every battle personally with no more than half a dozen friends along." Strictly speaking, they hadn't quite done that, even back in the day. But taking Jägers would have sent entirely the wrong message no matter how well they behaved.

...He wondered if he could change that.

Barry spent much of the rest of the afternoon deep in thought, in between the involved processes of catching up on recent developments in Mechanicsburg and attempting to discourage Castle Heterodyne's suddenly renewed interest in getting him married off. Somehow he'd thought introducing it to Agatha would have the opposite effect, but no.

Just after sunset, he walked into Gkika's. It smelt of smoke and alcohol and Jäger -- this last being the equilibrated result of vigorous good health and rare bathing, something like vinegar and leather -- and by the turned heads and flared nostrils it was clear that none of that pungent mixture disguised his arrival in the slightest.

"I'll buy the next round," he said, when he reached the bar. "Old Hypothesis for me."

Gkika poured it for him herself, while the clank waitresses set about pouring out the round he'd just bought for everyone else, and handed it to him with a grin. "Here hyu go, Sveetie. Velcome home."

"Thank you." Barry sipped at his drink. "It's good to be back."

"Hyu gun bring hyu niece to meet us sometime? Der Kestle likes her spirit," she said, grin turning outright wicked for a moment.

What in the world had Agatha and Gil been doing with the dragon clanks? "I'd say I think she's a little young for this place, but after I let the Castle babysit, I'm not sure I'd have a leg to stand on."

"Tch. Hy keep her behind der bar, not out dere," she said, gesturing to the bar itself. "Not fair on der customers to haff people dey got to vorry about breakink."

"Right." Barry looked at her thoughtfully. That was a pretty good segue, probably on purpose. "Speaking of whether to worry about breaking people, Klaus mentioned the deal I interrupted."

Around them ears were pricking up, both literally and metaphorically. "Ve vondered vhether he'd mention dot," she said. "He still hoping to get hyu permission?"

"Oh, yes. Most of the same reasons still hold. I told him I'd think about it."

She rested one hand on the bar, painted claws tapping a lazy rhythm. "Hyu vanna tell me vot hyu iz tinking about it?"

Barry raised his eyes to meet hers. "I'm thinking that there are a lot of people, a lot of towns, that need help out there. The wasps are horrors, but they're really just the start."

"Grr." For a moment she looked feral, lips drawn back in distaste. "Dose tings are der vorst."

"They are," Barry said, looking at her curiously. "I've seen -- far too many of them, the past few years. Klaus tells me the Jägerkin are all immune, which is certainly a relief."

"Yah," she said, relaxing. "Vouldn't vant any of dose tings controlling my boys. Zo, hyu tink is okay to send uz after dem?"

"They all need to die," Barry said darkly, "so yes, most likely."

"Zo, at vorst ve get a modified agreement to go after bogz," she said.

"I imagine Klaus would agree to that." In the unlikely event that he didn't, Barry thought he might have to take them out himself, once things were a little more settled here. At the rate he'd been running across hive engines just on the journey with Agatha, if even a small percentage of the ones that had fallen were still viable.... "Everybody was looking forward to it, weren't you?"

She turned away slightly, resting one hip on the bar. "Iz not so simple as that. Hy vasn't going anyvay. But, yah, Klaus vants uz to fight, ve vant to fight, it vorks out nize."

"Why weren't -- ah. Anyone who needed serious medical attention would have come back here?" With no Heterodyne to provide it, but if they'd survived the trip Gkika could probably at least keep them relatively comfortable.

"Yah." She smiled at him, this time not her fangy grin but an oddly serious smile. "Ve vas looking forward to it, but not as much as haffing hyu beck."

Barry blinked at her, taken a little off guard. "Despite my longstanding habit of spoiling your fun? Not that I haven't felt welcomed, but...."

"Hy said it vasn't simple. Ve vould haff gone vit Klaus, but it vould haff felt like giving op on hyu. Dere vas talk of volunteers, sending some of uz out to look for hyu or hyu heirs." This grin was sharp in at least two senses of the word. “Ve dun giff op on our Heterodynes, Sveetie. Und effen hyu haven't yet giffen op on uz."

That was... touching, and stinging at the same time. "I'm not planning on it," he said, a little sharply in his turn. But had he, had they, all along in one sense? They'd spent so much time trying to talk everybody else around to their point of view, but the Jägers... did what he and Bill told them, even though they didn't like it, out of loyalty to the ancestors whose behaviour the new Heterodynes were rejecting. Arguing with them had always felt more than a little awkward, somewhere between bullying and being humoured.

"Do hyu vant Klaus to succeed in vot he iz doing?"

"Yes." Barry raised his eyebrows. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be trying to help."

"Den trust uz to do vot hyu vant, not chust vot hyu say," she said, seriously. "Hy ken't promise perfect judgement from der boyz," she added, rolling her eyes. "But Klaus knows dem, he von't ask for vot dey ken't manage."

Barry sat back, definitely surprised this time... a little chagrined, and rather more fascinated. "Well, I can see why he thought I needed to talk to you more," he said. The Castle didn't even pretend it was going to do what he meant if he wasn't careful enough about what he actually said.

"Uz Generals should haff spoken to hyu too. But hyu vas goot boys, and haffing fun fighting hyu own way."

Of course it would have looked to the Jägers like he and Bill were hogging all the fun. Barry rubbed his forehead and rested his elbows on the bar again. "Honestly, regardless of how they acted, I think taking Jägers with us early on would have panicked everybody we wanted to stop and listen to us. But I am starting to think we should have asked for a squad to come meet us once the wasps started showing up." They hadn't even exactly decided not to; it just hadn't crossed their minds. Not his, anyway, and he was pretty sure Bill would have done anything he thought of that looked like it might speed their search and destroy more of the wasps. Slowly, he continued, "There's still a considerable risk of panicking people now. Which is partly what Klaus has in mind and... in some cases might be necessary. But I'd like to minimise it." A wry look. "Especially when you're actually there to fight wasps or runaway clanks or grapevine-piranha hybrids or something. I speak from experience, it's easier to rescue people who don't think they need to be rescued from you."

"Hmm." Gkika tapped a claw against her chin and contemplatively turned blue. "Gun be difficult. But, vell, it vorks around Mechanicsburg und some of der villages. Pipple who iz used to uz being on their side iz less scared. Und pipple who fight alongside uz..." She gave the crowd in the bar a calculating look. "Vell, dot ken depend. Some of der boyz extend 'Jägers dun't leave anyvun behind' further den others."

Jägers didn't leave each other behind out of a mix of long -- often very long -- camaraderie, and protectiveness of the Heterodyne secrets involved in their biology. Barry found it encouraging that they did extend the former, in some cases, to their relatively ephemeral companions. "I'm fairly good at convincing people of things," he said. It had taken significant work to persuade people that he and Bill were not, in fact, bloodthirsty maniacs out to conquer or lay waste to Europe and perhaps significant swathes of Asia. This might be somewhat more complicated, but hopefully his reputation was solid enough. "If I tell people you're not actually there to destroy everything, word will get around." So long as they backed him up, of course.

"Ve haff managed minimal destruction in der past. But dot vas usually for Heterodynes who vere tryink for another Empire und vanted der cities relatively intact."

"That applies here," said Barry. "Approximately, anyway. I want...." He rocked his glass in a half-circle, thinking. It was asking a lot, maybe, of the Jägers and the universe. That didn't mean it wasn't worth asking. "The past Heterodyne Empires never lasted all that long. A few generations, maybe. Granted, sometimes that was because the next Heterodyne got bored with the idea... but basically, the problem was that people really didn't want to be in them." This was not exactly the only problem from his perspective, but it was a reasonable summary. "The Jägerkin would be very different, if you weren't volunteers."

"Hyu ken tell hyu vas raised in Mechanicsburg after all," she said. "Iz asking a lot to vant der whole vorld to be der same vay."

Barry couldn't help grinning at that. "I'm not going that far," he said. "But I don't want everything we do to fall apart in a few decades, either, and I do believe it's more likely to hold up the more people join in willingly."

"Vell. Iz not up to me to say vot a Heterodyne ken't achieve if dey try," she said, smiling back. "Vill be plenty of fightink vitout terrorising anyvun, und it vould be interesting to see an Empire dot ecktually lasts."

"So far, 'Heterodynes are terrifying' hasn't kept any of them going that long -- for us or the Storm King." Klaus being terrifying seemed likewise temporary. Most likely there would always be somebody they had to fight, but if they could get people to try cooperating again -- and Barry was willing to use charisma and reputation and Bill's memory if necessary to sweep them off their feet, where sound argument wasn't enough -- then hopefully the real benefits would convince them to stick with it. Barry lifted his glass of Old Hypothesis. "Seems to be worth testing something else."

"Zo how much of dis does Klaus know?" she asked. "Ve gun be vorking vit him or around him?"

She caught him mid-swallow, and Barry put his drink down rather hastily and coughed. "With," he said. "What he doesn't know yet, he will."

She gave him a rather wicked grin. "Sounds goot. Hyu vant me to tok to de other Generals?"

"Please. We should probably all get together to work out the details at some point." Barry offered a grin of his own, a little wry but with a hint of mischief in it. "And decide who's coming to Beetleburg."

"Hy ken tink of a few who vould like dot." She poured a drink of One Mean Mead for herself and held it up. "To new plenz."

"New plans and old friends." Who warn us when the new plans are getting a little out of hand. Barry clinked his glass against hers and drained it.

Chapter Text

Klaus was somewhat amused at how well talk to the Jägers had actually worked as a suggestion. Not that he'd ever doubted they'd obey Barry, but Barry seemed much happier about using them and they seemed surprisingly on board with a plan that was going to avoid violence where possible, without it just being because it was their Heterodyne's plan and they'd go along with it regardless. Apparently they were willing to consider saving people as the non-boring option when they got to do it too. Currently there was a small group of them aboard Castle Wulfenbach, to guard Agatha and Barry and, less officially but no less enthusiastically, to visit Punch and Judy.

Getting to Beetleburg would have been faster in a small ship, but with Agatha and Otilia the ones that needed to go there it was easier to bring along the school. They had sent word ahead to Beetle, of course, and also to Punch and Judy.

Beetle's reply had been oddly formal, but arrived fast enough that Klaus tried to hire the courier long-term. (She declined to join his fleet and provide exclusive service, but as she'd docked with them for receipt or delivery twenty-three times between Mechanicsburg and Beetleburg, this was arguably becoming a moot point.) On arrival, they were to meet at the university -- Klaus suspected this was partly to avoid the question of why "Adam and Lilith Clay" were getting such interesting visitors.

He quelled a wild impulse to invite Gil along when they collected Otilia and a highly excited Agatha from the school, and they descended on the old familiar campus. The Jägers might have been the only reason they weren't swarmed by curious students. Beetle came out to meet them, looking slightly fretful. "Klaus! Barry! You both look well, you... ah...." He went from anxious to goggle-eyed as Otilia swept off the airship. "You actually brought a Muse."

"I did say that," said Klaus.

"I wasn't sure you were serious," Beetle said, sounding rather dazed. "Enchanté, Madame."

Barry smothered a laugh. Mostly. "It's good to see you too."

"A pleasure," said Otilia. "I'm told you can fix my wings." Her wings were currently skeletal: when she had taken off the rags she had been wearing she had been given a new dress but opted to leave feathers until her wings were fixed. It gave her a slightly spooky look, still, even though she was far closer to looking like the Muse in the murals than she had been at first.

"I believe so." Beetle gave Klaus and Barry a curious look. "I confess, I'm a little surprised these two didn't do it themselves. Won't you come to my laboratory?" He gestured to the nearest building.

"Yes, please," Agatha chirped.

That did make Barry chuckle. "Yes, and we can introduce you to everyone there."

"Would I rob you of the opportunity?" said Klaus, following along as Otilia walked after Beetle.

"I must confess I am very curious about your plans here," Beetle began. But it hadn't taken long to reach his laboratory, and Punch and Judy were there, alive (Klaus had known that, but...) and rising to greet them and converge on Barry.

"Master Barry. We were starting to get worried. And this must be Agatha. Klaus--" Judy, unexpectedly, tore herself away from Barry and Agatha to hug him. "We were definitely worried about you."

"I was worried about you," he told her, hugging back with some embarrassment. "I had no idea you were in Beetleburg, when I got back it seemed as if everyone had vanished."

"Oh dear. I suppose it must have." She stepped back, but kept hold of his shoulders for a moment, looking into his eyes as if searching for something. "What happened?"

Klaus glanced at Beetle. He wasn't sure whether Barry intended to make it known that Lucrezia had been the Other, and while he could tell her part in his disappearance without bringing that up it would probably be better to avoid talking about her. Besides, it was embarrassing. "I'll tell you later," he promised.

"Long story," Barry added, helpfully if only semi-truthfully. Klaus had told him enough about his time in Skifander to qualify, but it could have been summarised briefly. Evidently he didn't want to go into detail either.

"Oh, all right." Judy returned to Punch's side -- he was now holding Agatha, who seemed entirely pleased with this arrangement -- and regarded both Klaus and Barry with a little bafflement. "You two," she began. "Speaking of -- of worrying, and long stories. What on Earth?"

"It started as a way to defend Wulfenbach," Klaus said, trying to suppress the feeling he was about to be scolded for trying to take over Europe.

"It needs doing," Barry said quietly. Klaus tried not to feel relieved. "We are not... any more out of our minds than usual."

Punch raised an eyebrow. "Taking over Europe," Judy said skeptically, "needs doing? Isn't that what nearly everybody's been trying to do since the Other vanished?"

"Yes, but not very well," said Barry. "Old games and old grudges. We are, at this point, basically back to trying to get people to stop tearing things up and hitting them if they won't, but with as many people as we've lost... we can't just hand the administration back to whoever's in the area anymore and move on. Too many of them are dead or defenseless."

Judy pursed her lips. Beetle looked up from his apparently distracted contemplation of Otilia’s wings, and pushed his glasses up his nose. “And what of those of us who are not dead, defenseless, nor a threat to our neighbors, but in your path?” Klaus had just inhaled, starting to feel annoyed that even some of his own friends apparently meant to assume the worst, when Beetle nodded to the Muse and added, “Is she advising you?”

"No," said Otilia. "He is hiring me as a teacher, not an advisor, and I am not obliged to play that role."

Klaus raised his eyebrows, and both Beetle and Barry looked interested. He doubted any of them had ever heard somebody sound quite so emphatically pleased at not being asked for advice before.

"A teacher?" Dr. Beetle asked, looking thoughtful.

"Surely you'd heard about the school aboard Castle Wulfenbach?" Barry returned smoothly. "A few years on, I imagine you'll be seeing some of its pupils here. Hopefully they'll cause you less trouble than we did. Otilia, do you mind terribly if we talk behind your back, here?" At her amused consent, he settled down with Beetle and passed along tools as they spoke. To Klaus's own amusement, Otilia actually started chatting quietly with one of the Jägers in lieu of participating. "We actually hope to make it easier for you to go on as you always have," Barry began, which was true enough -- Beetleburg's internal rules were functional, if a little pitiless, and Klaus had been deeply relieved to learn that Dr. Beetle himself, the town, and his old university were still intact. He wondered if that was because Lucrezia had still been sentimental about it as well. "But we have some ideas for collaborative projects...."

As Barry set about infecting Dr. Beetle with his enthusiasm for improved travel, apparently as a gateway to alliance, Klaus noticed Punch was moving off to let Agatha look (without grabbing) at the laboratory equipment, and Judy made a small motion to catch his eye. Klaus nodded slightly in return and went to join her.

"I am sorry about not getting in touch," she said quietly, voice pitched not to carry toward the cheerful efforts at negotiation by the workbenches. "Wulfenbach was actually one of the few places we left any information about our plans, just in case, but...."

"Thank you for trying," Klaus answered. Not much had survived, so it wasn't surprising the information hadn't.

"It must have been a nightmare to come back to."

Klaus nodded, thinking of returning to find most of his town in ruins, and with Gil to protect as well. "I'm glad you were safe. Beetleburg doesn't seem to have been too badly hit."

"No. We only had wasps and revenants approach from outside, no direct hits." Her eyes were a little haunted, all the same. "Adam and I weren't even in Mechanicsburg when everything began."

"Bill and Barry didn't come to you after the Castle was hit?"

She shook her head. "We got letters once in a while from Barry, but as they were fairly sure nobody in Beetleburg was likely to get away with holding Lucrezia hostage...."

"So you had no idea what had happened to them either," said Klaus. Or to him. It seemed as if their entire group must have been worrying about each other.

"Barry's last message said they'd located the Other, but didn't mention where. Then -- nothing. At all." She shook her head ruefully. "Dr. Beetle tried to offer to go with them, but as we never really knew where they were until after the fact, and it was usually in the worst places, it's not surprising that they didn't seem to be getting our letters."

"No. I wish I'd been here," said Klaus. They didn't seem to have taken any of their other friends with them, but he thought they might have taken him.

A soft huff. "Everybody wished you were here. Not just for that." She looked at him sideways. "The Masters spent the first year you were gone searching, too. Lucrezia swore you'd been fine the last she saw you, only disappointed -- with no trail and no sign of violence, we finally all ran out of ideas."

Klaus sighed. He didn't want everyone to know, but Judy deserved to hear it. "Lucrezia shipped me to Skifander," he said.

"She what?" Judy stared at him for a moment, then muttered, "I can't say I never wondered if it was her fault, but I didn't think of that."

"I suppose Skifander was the farthest place she could think of," said Klaus.

"I suppose it would have to be." Judy grimaced slightly. "I didn't like to say so in front of Agatha, but to be honest, we moved partly because she was getting more irritating. And partly because the tourists were picking up, again, but...."

"What was she doing?" Klaus asked. He intended to tell Judy the whole thing, of course, but the question of why Lucrezia had done the things she did -- how she had changed from playfully "evil" Spark into a truly evil and destructive force -- was eating at him.

Judy looked a little guilty -- of course, Barry wouldn't have put anything truly private into an unencrypted letter, so complaining of someone who'd died was... awkward. "Harassing the Jägers, for one thing. She was subtler with everyone else, but she'd have them do the most ridiculous things, apparently just to make the point that they would. I'm not sure she realised they were humouring her. But they were adamant about not telling Bill."

"Control," said Klaus, mostly to himself. Had she realised? Later, at least, that the race of obedient servants she'd thought she had were actually beings with their own will and opinions of her she couldn't control? Had she decided she needed a race that was that obedient? But he wasn't sure the revenants had even really been under her control, they'd done nothing but mindlessly spread wasps. He looked around to check no one was nearby. "There's something you need to know about Lucrezia," he said.

Judy gave him an uneasy look. "And what's that?"

He dropped his voice further. "She was the Other. Probably still is, in a sense, Barry and I are fairly sure there's a copy of her mind out there."

She went pale and a little green, and her eyes darted to Barry. "She and Bill killed each other, didn't they."

"Something like that. There may have been an explosion, I didn't press for details." Klaus looked at Barry as well. There was a light in his eyes now that there hadn't been when he'd returned, as he worked on talking Beetle around.

Judy closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. "He's doing better than I'd expect, after that. I imagine finding you again was a lot of it." She gave Klaus a searching look. "How have you been? Really."

"Angry. With Lucrezia, with the people who destroyed my home, with… most of Europe, for falling apart so easily after all we did." He rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Better for finding people again."

She caught the back of his other hand and squeezed. Possibly still worried about their plan, but emphatically a friend regardless. "I'd imagine. Klaus...." She hesitated for a long moment, then, "What happened in Skifander?"

Klaus's lip twitched. "I got married."

Judy blinked at him as if it was taking her a few seconds to decide he wasn't joking. "Congratulations. I suppose that explains why you didn't hurry back."

"Thank you." He should probably tell her about Gil. Judy could definitely be trusted, and if he could announce Lucrezia was the Other without fearing being overheard he could mention Gil.

"Well?" She was giving him an expectant look. "Who's the lucky girl? And--" A wry look. "What brought you back now, if you didn't know?"

"Zantabraxus," he said, smiling. "I was rather surprised how glad she was to see me again." More soberly he continued. "That really is a long story. I have a son, Gilgamesh. And a daughter too, Zeetha, although she's still in Skifander. Gil's here. I'm keeping his identity secret but he's being educated on Castle Wulfenbach."

"That does sound like things got complicated," she murmured, sounding sympathetic. "Do we still get to meet him?"

"If you'd like to visit Castle Wulfenbach, then yes," he said. "I expect Agatha will introduce you."

Judy glanced over to where Agatha was cheerfully carrying on an extended conversation with Punch, regardless of the lack of verbal response. "Will she, now. We'll look forward to that."

"If you're interested, I'd like to ask you to teach music for us," he said. "Gil and Agatha are both musically inclined. With Agatha's family I suppose it would be surprising if she wasn't."

Judy looked startled and then thoughtful. "I'm honoured," she said, darting a look in Otilia's direction, "especially considering you already have a Muse teaching. Although I suppose that's not exactly Otilia's sphere."

"Not really," said Klaus.

A wry look. "Although we did come here partly to be less conspicuous."

"I'll understand if you want to remain in retirement," Klaus told her. "But the offer stands."

"Thank you." She smiled. "On both counts. We'll think about it. And I do look forward to meeting Gil."

"One thing," said Klaus. "He doesn't know he's my son. It's safer if it stays that way for now."

Judy looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "What? But--"

"Excuse me," Dr. Beetle called, and they both looked over to see that he and Barry were surrounded by a U-shaped collection of chalkboards, all covered in small writing and large diagrams, and an inexplicable wild tangle of silken streamers, as if they had decided to try to build a cocoon instead of feathers and it had gone very poorly. Otilia sat completely expressionless and yet somehow Klaus still thought she looked amused. "Adam? Lilith? Klaus? Could anyone bring over two more blackboards and perhaps a pair of scissors?"

"It does look like we'd better, doesn't it?" Judy called back. "Let me guess," she added to Klaus, under her breath, "It's a long story?"

"Yes," he answered as quietly, looking around for some scissors. "I'll tell you and Punch later."

They set that question aside to free Barry, Dr. Beetle, and Otilia from each other, slightly hampered by the mistake of actually bringing the other chalkboards over before they were finished, which distracted all three Sparks. "Did they at least finish the mechanical repair?" Judy asked Otilia, unwinding a streamer from one of her wing struts and taking it over to be efficiently clipped according to the feather pattern.

"Yes, thank you," said Otilia, flexing the freed strut.

Klaus paused at this exchange, then collected all the chalk and took it across the room to eliminate further temptation. He caught Punch trying not to smile.

Judy looked sidelong at Otilia. "You know," she said, "I'm afraid I keep half forgetting we had already met."

"That's understandable," said Otilia. "I wasn't precisely myself at the time."

"No, I suppose not. It must be a relief."

"Very much so," said Otilia. "Organic bodies are just too much trouble, and," she gave the watching Jägers a severe look, "get too much unwanted attention."

Judy's mouth quirked. "Oh dear. I suppose you would have appeared to be the Jägerkin's type." Her glance at the nearest Jäger was distinctly mischievous. "My sympathies."

The Jäger grinned. "Iz not our fault she ken't appreciate quality."

"I didn't realise soon enough that wounding them counts as encouragement," said Otilia.

"Oh, yes, I can see where that would be a problem."

"At least they get the picture now. Just as well, since I'm going to have to live with having them aboard Castle Wulfenbach now."

"Hyu know hyu'd miss uz," another Jäger put in cheerfully.

"You'd certainly be hard to forget," Judy told him.

That got her a proud smile from the Jäger and a small, amused headshake from Otilia.

Judy shrugged slightly. "I imagine you got much more of a reaction than I did. I just ended up teaching them to knit."

Otilia actually looked surprised at that. "How did that come up?"

Barry cast his eyes to the ceiling. "Bill and I regarded it as historically problematic to take them... uh, anywhere, at the time... so they were very bored."

"And this was solved with knitting?" said Otilia incredulously.

"Solved is probably too strong a word," Judy said. "But many of them got quite good at it. I believe most of the tourists always assumed the 'Jäger-knitted' labels were lies...."

Klaus smothered a laugh. Mechanicsburg was a mix of the authentically strange and tall tales told to outsiders, and tourists were usually wrong about which was which.

Barry grinned at him. "Mechanicsburg has some very strange marketing theorists, but they seem to be good at their jobs." He gestured to Dr. Beetle. "And I believe we, incidentally, have a treaty."

They did. Dr. Beetle was almost as cheerful about it as Barry. A section of one of the chalkboards turned out to hold the basics and town-specific terms of the agreement, fighting for elbow room against vaguely rhapsodic diagrams of Van Rijn's handiwork. Eventually, after it was drawn up properly and signed, Dr. Beetle informed them that he had letters to write -- Klaus suspected they would be largely about Otilia -- and Judy and Punch admitted having appointments in the afternoon, although Judy invited them to stop by Clay Mechanical later.

He and Barry stepped out of the laboratory and found themselves caught up at once in the noontide rush of university students hurrying out for lunch between lessons or experiments. It took him back rather abruptly, by more than twenty years, in a way that simply seeing Beetle's labs again hadn't. It was somehow unsurprising, too, that the press and scurry was so single-minded, very few people seemed to take immediate notice that they were jostling several Jägers and a Muse. Although the Jägers did start gathering a bit more space fairly quickly.

"Ah," said Barry, "this was the point at which we usually decided to go work for another hour until things settled down, wasn't it?"

Klaus snorted. "I don't know about 'usually', but you were frequently trailing enough of a crowd to swamp a restaurant by itself."

"Okay, sometimes. We could always go someplace less convenient to the university, since I don't think any of us are in a hurry...." Barry looked up at Otilia. "Or do you want to go back to the school, or anything? You're welcome to join us, obviously, but if you aren't interested we'll go back to the outflier first."

"I'd rather return since I can't eat," she said. "Thank you for bringing me here," she added.

"Dr. Beetle was really the best choice we could think of," Barry said. "And, well, we did need to talk to him. Thank you for being patient about it." He looked abruptly sheepish. "And, um, about the tangling."

"You did sort my wings out eventually," said Otilia, sounding rather amused about it. "And my Creator would have been flattered by your assessments, although perhaps it's just as well he couldn't see them."

"Because we don't understand his work yet or to keep from overfeeding his ego?" Barry asked with a grin.

Otilia smiled back. "I was thinking of the second."

"It wouldn't just be ours. He's -- you're all pretty much legendary at this point. I don't know how much chance you've had to notice."

"We were legendary from the start," said Otilia, sounding as if she felt this was something to regret. "He was already famous and he made it clear that he considered us his best work, indispensable and unique."

Barry shrugged, opening a hand. "As nobody's been able to match him since...."

"I didn't say his opinion of himself was wrong." She shook her wings out. "Just inconvenient. I suppose it was necessary, if we were to inspire we had to be noticed. But I expect my sisters are long gone as a result."

Barry winced at that. "I'm afraid you're right. I'm sorry."

Otilia's wings drooped and she lowered her head. "It's nothing I didn't expect. I will manage. I have work to do, after all."

Too many lost siblings all around, Klaus thought. It was a dim note on which to part from Otilia, but they hadn't left the airship very far away and even the lunchtime crowd of students could only prolong the trip so much.

When it lifted away with her, he exchanged a rueful look with Barry, who said, "Makes you feel like we should be questing for the other eight, doesn't it?"

"Well, we know where to find two," Klaus said grimly. He didn't really want to tell Otilia that Mawu and Liza -- or what remained after various ham-handed attempts at study or reassembly -- had been seized and preserved by the exasperated Master of Paris and constituted one of the most prized and closely guarded exhibits in the Louvre. If she didn’t know, she'd probably find out eventually. "But if Voltaire hasn't tried putting them back together, I don't think he'll let us try it."

"He should give you a chance. If anybody can make sense of another Spark’s work it's normally you." Barry grimaced. "But I don't know if I could talk him into it."

"I'm not sure I'm that much better than everyone who's tried over two centuries, but I wouldn't say no to the opportunity," said Klaus. "Especially if I did have a chance of getting Otilia her family back."

"I know," Barry said. Then, a little more brightly, "And honestly, you probably are. Not least because you'd actually ask her things and listen. Plus I imagine she'd let you look at her brain if she thought it would help."

"Now that's entirely too tempting a thought," said Klaus. "Come on, let's go and find somewhere to have lunch that isn't swamped with students."

"Food!" Agatha put in gleefully. "Can we go somewhere with cheese?"

"I'm not sure we could avoid it," Barry told her.

They found somewhere that did indeed do cheese -- a restaurant they remembered fondly from their student days that was far enough from the university to have avoided the worst of the rush. The Jägers were getting nervous looks, but they were hungry too and hadn't actually done anything, and the restaurant proprietor didn't dare say anything when they followed Klaus and Barry into the restaurant.

She came over, looking uneasy, and Barry gave her one of his best sunny everything-is-perfectly-fine smiles. "Mistress Nicoletta," he said, and Klaus nearly did a double-take. She'd been thirteen last time they visited together, but it was the same girl. "I remember when your mother brought you here in a basket. I didn't realise I'd been gone so long you had time to grow up and run the place yourself."

Nicoletta smiled back hesitantly, looking between the two of them and not quite able to focus for glancing at the Jägers. "Grandfather was getting tired and my father never did want to take it himself, so I got to be the apprentice for a while and now, well -- ah, what would you like?"

"Ah--" Barry paused and glanced around the table. "Before any of the Jägers order, does Beetle still forbid restaurants from selling raw meat?"

She looked unsettled. "Uh, yes, I'm afraid so."

"Iz hokay, ve dun mind it cooked," said one of the Jägers, with a grin that was probably not going to make her less nervous.

At which point, much to Klaus's surprise, the pepper grinder on their table unfolded itself somehow and launched at the speaker's face in a flurry of blades, shedding a cloud of pepper from the mechanism. "Hoy!" The Jäger blocked it, despite a sneeze, but it started trying to grind his hand. Nicoletta took a step back in alarm; Barry grabbed at the pepper grinder and smashed it on the table, scattering peppercorns; and motion from the kitchen caught Klaus's eye.

"Down!" he bellowed, dragging Nicoletta out of the way as a roasting jack hurtled at them from behind her, wielding its spit like a spear and dripping ham and partially toasted cheese along the way. Barry, looking incredulous, thrust Agatha under the table and told her to stay there.

The Jägers, more prepared this time, jumped on the new attacker, taking down a table in the process. One of them drew a sword and wedged it into the clockwork while a couple held the struggling roasting jack down. One of the Jägers doing the holding was, Klaus noticed with some amusement, tearing off half cooked ham to eat with his free hand.

Barry looked around warily, in case anything else jumped them, and then joined the Jägers on the floor and disassembled the motor. "Nicoletta," he said when he stood up, eyes unusually steely, "What the hell?"

"I didn't know they were going to do that," she said, shakily, as Klaus let her out from under the edge of the table. She looked back under it for Agatha, but Agatha went the other way, looking grumpy. "I, I -- Grandfather said once there were craftsmen in the towns that used to get raided a lot who could build almost anything to recognise a Jäger, but I didn't know we had any."

The Jägers were sitting on the floor around the ham they'd apparently claimed as spoils of war. After a quick glance over to see Agatha emerging, wide-eyed but unhurt, from under the table they seemed fairly relaxed about the whole thing. One of them licked at a bleeding hand and then pulled a face and muttered about it tasting of pepper, but it didn't look like a serious injury and aside from that none of them were hurt.

"That's a hazard of bringing Jägers places I hadn't thought of," said Klaus in an undertone. "I'll have to take it into account in future."

"I hadn't either," Barry said sourly. "They exaggerate it a little, but they sound like people from Mechanicsburg, because they are."

Klaus winced. Mechanicsburg was a very insular place; it was quite rare for people from it to travel much let alone move away. But this was a university town, and one not that far from Mechanicsburg itself. Barry was probably lucky his own accent wasn't strong enough to set it off.

"I'm sorry," Nicoletta said miserably. She straightened and dusted pepper off her apron. "I -- you'll all eat free today, of course, if you want to stay at all, and I--"

"Oh for God's sake--" Barry cut her off, then cut himself off, and inhaled sharply. "I don't actually think it's your fault, and that's a fair offer, but trust me, a little more extravagant than I want to take you up on. Just...."

After Barry trailed off crossly into a brief, awkward silence, Nicoletta suggested, "Would you like to move to different tables?"

Barry closed his eyes. "Let's start with that. And get me a first aid kit."

"A lot of people with anti-Jäger things probably don't know what they've got," Klaus said, deliberately calmly, as they moved to another table. "Although using Spark creations without finding out what the extra bits do is risky enough in itself. Maybe we could pay some of the University students to help check, people would probably bring things for the reward of being told what extra functions their appliances have. It wouldn't help with the people who do know what they've got, though."

"Indeed." Barry glanced around at the Jägers. "Do you want to stay and eat here?"

One of them was bringing the remains of the roasting jack. After a moment, he volunteered, "Iz goot ham," holding up a handful in illustration.

"What about you?" Klaus asked Agatha. "We didn't plan for your lunch to be this exciting."

Agatha made a face. "I'm mad at her. They didn't do anything!"

"She didn't know what those things would do," Klaus told her. "At worst she's guilty of being foolish enough to use technology she didn't fully know the purpose of. Be angry with the people who made such imprecise weapons and left them looking like normal appliances."

"They were her grandfather's, I think," Barry said with a sigh. "Probably in the family longer than that." The pepper, smeared ham, and broken table were being rapidly and quietly cleared away.

"Goot ting about staying here, Mistress," offered Dimo, "iz effryting else already heard us tokk. I vant to eat before ve haff any more fun."

Agatha looked a little doubtful about this definition of fun, but climbed into a new chair anyway. Then she appropriated the first aid kit and instructed the injured Jäger, "Give me your hand."

The Jäger knelt down by her chair and presented a bleeding and slightly peppery hand with some amusement.

The bandage probably wasn't strictly necessary, although the pepper grinder had done a surprising amount of damage. Barry peered over Agatha's shoulder, talking her through the process of correctly cleaning the injuries and finding a way to bandage them that wouldn't interfere unnecessarily with the use of the hand while it finished healing. Klaus was trying not to watch too overtly -- this couldn't possibly fall under the heading of proprietary information, but it might annoy them if he were openly nosy -- but he was fairly sure the cuts had shrunk measurably during the process.

Agatha secured the last bandage, quite deftly for a small child, and completed the treatment with a careful and rather maternal kiss.

The Jäger grinned up at Agatha, who managed to look totally unperturbed by the amount of teeth on display. "Thenk hyu, Mistress. Hyu done a goot job," he said, and then stood up and went to take his own chair.

They managed to order food with no further incident. Nicoletta waited on them herself as much as possible, although this might have been mainly to spare her unnerved employees. Seeing that Barry wasn't cheerily trying to smooth things over, several of the Jägers apparently decided to fill in and assure Nicoletta there were no hard feelings by flirting outrageously with her.

Big smiles... unselfconscious enthusiasm... a certain intentional goofiness.... Klaus suppressed the abrupt urge to laugh at the parallel with a large bite of bread.

He didn't tease Barry about it much, but he did manage to get an uncalculated smile before lunch was over. Dimo, somewhat astonishingly, managed to make a date for a late dinner with Nicoletta. (Apparently he had better manners than some of the student customers. Klaus and Barry looked at each other once and mutually decided not to ask.)

Barry remained mostly pensive, however, all the way back to the university, where Dr. Beetle hospitably offered them the use of a laboratory (the Jägers sensibly stationed themselves outside it) in which he was storing several projects with unsolved problems. "You're still brooding," Klaus said, after these had failed to cheer Barry up for several minutes.

Barry sighed a little explosively. "I suppose most of the people who made those really were from places that never heard a Mechanicsburg accent unless they were being raided."

"Mostly," said Klaus. "It's not as if you don't know your town's history, and Mechanicsburg has never encouraged people to regard it fondly. But that kind of reaction probably doesn't encourage them to regard the rest of the world with much fondness either."

"It's certainly not conducive to switching to any other type of relationship." Barry rolled his eyes. "I suppose not every town can be Sturmhalten... all right, that may be just as well...."

"God save us from more Sturmvorauses," Klaus muttered, rather unfairly. They revelled in politics as much as he loathed it, and it made it rather hard to see their good side. Even if Aaronev had been a sort of friend several years ago.

Barry's mouth twitched. "So, I should take that negotiation too, shouldn't I?"

"Please," said Klaus.

Barry grinned. Of all things to cheer him up. "If necessary I'll even let them propose more new architecture."

"I never did understand that bet." It didn't help that he'd heard the story of the Red Cathedral’s origin from Jägers, who seemed to think no action too extreme in pursuit of making someone eat a hat.

"I'm not sure I can really explain."

"I really don't expect you to explain the things your ancestors did," said Klaus, amused in his turn.

"A lot of them make sense from a certain perspective," Barry said. "Granted, that is not necessarily a perspective I want to practice thinking in."

"It might help when it comes to dealing with the Castle," Klaus teased.

Barry snorted. "That doesn't explain your talent for it."

"Are you implying I think like an evil overlord?"

"Here and there. Just a touch. You did build a flying city from which to conquer Europe, you know. And then got me to go along with it." Klaus was briefly worried that this was the prelude to a more alarming bout of brooding, but the thoughtful look Barry gave him had a different tone to it. "I think you may be the only person in history to have decided to take over Europe on the grounds that it needed looking after."

"And why are you helping?"

That got a smile. "You had a point."

Gratifying, but Klaus couldn't resist adding, "And you wanted me to do it your way."

"Are you really complaining?"

"No. Everything seems to be working nicely," Klaus said. He poked at a clock and the cuckoo inside it poked its head out and gave him a funny look. "Is there a working clock around here? We should probably be heading for Clay Mechanical soon."

Barry looked around the laboratory, which featured at least three stopped clocks and four that were moving at different rates, and produced a watch. "Quite right." He exercised his persuasive talents to part Agatha from the glockenspiel and retaliated for Klaus's suppressed amusement by handing her to him. Klaus failed to dodge and found himself thinking of his daughter for the entire walk. He couldn't decide if he was relieved or reluctant to transfer Agatha to a smiling Punch when they arrived.

"We've been discussing your invitation," Judy said, leading them into a lovingly kept kitchen. Klaus's first thought was that it was a pleasant place, his second that the care put into it might reflect a desire to stay, his third that Judy and Punch used to set campsites with similar pride and affection, and his fourth Why in the world do they have that many canned goods? They wouldn't prepare for a siege with glass jars.... Barry, who hadn't been in on that part of the conversation, interrupted his musings with a questioning noise. Judy added, "To teach at his school."

"Oh, of course. He mentioned wanting to ask, I just didn't know he had."

"Mm." She brought tea and settled at the table with them. "There is a... little problem with leaving."

Klaus quirked an eyebrow at her. "A problem?" He'd thought they might not want to leave, he hadn't thought there would be anything they couldn't leave.

She exhaled, looking troubled. Klaus exchanged a glance with Barry and felt they had probably both identified the mannerisms as belonging to secondhand embarrassment, a reluctance to discuss other people's problems. A delicacy to which Barry had always been largely immune, but his creations weren't. "Some -- many of our friends here," Judy began, confirming the impression, "are likewise constructs who came to Beetleburg to be less remarkable." Or remarked on. "And safer. That doesn't necessarily make it easy for them to make a living, although Dr. Beetle does hire some in inconspicuous positions. We've been... helping. It's not that they can't manage their lives without us, but...."

Klaus glanced at the jars and jars of preserves. That wasn't the kind of help offered to people who could get by without you, that meant a lot of them probably didn't know where their next meal was coming from. "Constructs that look too strange to be hired," he said, considering. Castle Wulfenbach was already home to quite a high proportion of constructs (about to get higher once the Jägers were on board) compared to the general population. "Is it just appearance?" He realised pretty much immediately he could have phrased that better.

"Just?" Judy gave him a wry look, but she did know him. "Not in all cases, but...." A brief pause and her gaze turned thoughtful. "Nobody you wouldn't have invited to Wulfenbach, once."

"That hasn't changed. Castle Wulfenbach is just more mobile now," Klaus answered. "Also still under construction and hiring everything from construction workers to secretaries."

Her expression lightened. "I'm not sure how much time you have for interviews...."

"If you're vouching for them, I'm willing to extend the offer to come now and sort out who's doing what later."

A smile bloomed on Judy's face. "We'll talk to them. We might have to ask you back for introductions at some point, though. We're vouching for you, too, but they haven't known us as long."

"We wouldn't expect you to pack up and leave overnight even if it was just you," Klaus assured her. "Assuming you do want to come, with that problem solved. I won't rescind the offer to your friends either way."

"I didn't think you would." She smiled at both of them. "And I do think we'll come. We've made a good life here, by any measure, and yet...." She sipped her tea, considering. "You've always been hard to say no to, really."

"Me?" Klaus asked, looking at Barry. But Barry had actually been remarkably quiet so far. Klaus was used to the Heterodyne Boys being the persuasive ones, though.

Barry looked amused. "Should I comment on your talking me into things lately or just point out that she likes you?"

"All right," said Klaus, still a little startled and oddly flattered. He'd been thinking of himself as someone who had to force people into things -- until Barry had arrived to do the persuading. Maybe he didn't need to carry a big stick quite as much as he'd felt like he had. "Do you want to set a date for when you'll be ready?" he added to Judy. "Or send a message to us when you are?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it, eyebrows drawing together in an oddly puzzled expression. "I know exactly how fast we could leave if we had to, under a few different conditions of emergency," she said, "but I'm honestly not sure how long it will take normally." A wry glance at Barry. "Even though we did it once."

"Well," Barry said reasonably, "Mechanicsburg was different. More travel preparations and less recruiting."

"Send a message then," said Klaus. "I've set it up so we get mail pretty reliably wherever we are, and Beetle's going to have a way to be in touch."

"We'll do that." They'd mostly finished the tea by this point, even lingering, and Judy stood up. "For now, let's go tell Adam."

Chapter Text

Barry turned a corner and paused midstep. Granted, he had been away for a while, but he knew the streets of Mechanicsburg rather well. In fact, he'd been on this very street this morning, and it had continued past the Sphere Gears shop then.

"Castle," he said, "again?" Its matchmaking efforts over the past several weeks had taken the form of arranging the town streets into a maze (which really took remarkably little modification) to direct attractive female tourists to him. He must have missed the underfoot rumbles while he was in the factory.

"If you'd be a little more co-operative this wouldn't be necessary," the Castle replied.

"It isn't necessary now," Barry said testily. "And in case you didn't notice, I am working."

"You could always take her with you."

This gave him pause. The factories were hardly as secret as some of the Castle's critical workings, considering their products were actually for sale, but most of them weren't tourist destinations either. "I'm not sure whether to conclude you really like this one or are trying to get her in trouble."

"Perhaps I'm interested to see how she reacts," said the Castle enigmatically.

"Uh-huh," Barry said. He could probably get away if he really tried. Demand the Castle let him (although he wasn't really sure that would work), duck into a shop and ask to leave through the back, climb over a shop. But then he'd feel guilty about leaving some innocent to the Castle's dubious guidance. "Fine," he said, turning back toward the intersection. "Where is-- oh." Probably the pretty stranger glancing around like she was looking for somebody. She spotted him, looked twice, and then put her shoulders back and started toward him.

"See," said the Castle. "Old enough you won't complain that she's the wrong generation, probably still fertile, very pretty, good hips..."

Barry was trying not to react to the Castle's commentary, but when the woman's step faltered and her eyes widened, he realised it must have chosen to let her hear that too. He rubbed a hand over his own eyes, feeling himself blush. Was that what it had wanted to see her reaction to? "I am so sorry about that," he said.

She looked down for a moment, mouth working as if she were fighting a smile, and he could just see the blood rising in her cheeks under warm brown skin. "It was pretty straightforward about the whole thing," she admitted. "I hadn't expected a chance to meet you when I came here, but I could hardly turn one down." The smile broke loose. "And I have an aunt who tells me I've wasted my youth, so I sort of appreciated the compliment."

Barry was startled into laughter at that. "Well, I appreciate your being a good sport about it."

"...And she looked like she wanted to take one of the torchmen apart," the Castle concluded.

"What?" Barry looked past her down the street in alarm, as if he might have somehow missed an ongoing crisis. "Why was one of the torchmen even active?"

The tourist looked more embarrassed than she had over the Castle's evaluation. "It wasn't. It just looked like it could be. And I was just looking, really!"

"I could activate one," said the Castle, in the sly tone that meant it knew Barry was about to order it not to and was even angling for it.

"I don't think you actually want her to take one apart," Barry shot back. He regarded her with somewhat greater interest. "Think you could?"

She wrinkled her nose. "At least my hair is tied back, but I'd want more protective gear to take apart a clank if it was actually on fire."

"Fair enough." It was pretty hair. Glossy black. God help him, he was thinking about going along with Castle Heterodyne's attempt to get him a date. "Ah, I should've asked. What's your name?"

"Donna DuLac."

Family from France and India then, probably. And he couldn't quite resist asking, "Lady of the Lake?"

She grinned. "My mother hoped I would be a swordsmith."

"Are you?" He glanced at her hands and wrists, the musculature and the signs of long-healed burns. She might well work at a forge.

"Among other things, yes."

"Why don't you show her the factories," the Castle suggested, innocently. "After all, you are working."

Barry eyed the nearest wall dubiously.

Donna asked politely, "I've interrupted? I can go--" She paused at the sort of grinding noise that frequently preceded the Castle deciding to move a building, and looked warily over her shoulder. "I think."

His lack of confidence in Castle Heterodyne's matchmaking abilities was no reason to be rude to her. Glaring at the walls when it suggested they spend time together probably qualified. "I'm sorry, it's... supervised the past thirty generations of Heterodynes, so to speak, so you can probably imagine on a historical basis why I find its attempts to introduce me to women a little alarming. But you seem very nice and," a smile, "it is right about your being pretty. Would you want to see the factories?"

Her eyes lit up. "Wouldn't I! What are you working on?"

"Defense systems for our allies.” It was a fairly significant factor in a number of the treaties. “A lot of what Klaus and I are trying to do is make Europe a safer place to live, and Mechanicsburg has actually been exporting military clanks and traps for centuries--"

Donna raised her eyebrows. "That long? Wasn't that a bit counterproductive back when it was raiding?" She paused. "Or, maybe not, but if your armies knew all the weak points, I wouldn't expect a lot of repeat customers." She grimaced. "Am I being rude?"

"How? I'm the one who brought up the family history." Barry snorted. "Anyway, there were definitely some complications, but since I don't plan to resume raiding people, that should eliminate a few. I was on my way to the kraken works, if you have any interest in mechanical squid."

There was another grinding noise and the roads slid back into their normal places with a slightly smug air.

"--And now it will be much easier to get there," Barry finished, gesturing back in the direction he'd intended to go in the first place.

Donna stared down the street. "Your town actually blocked you in to get you to talk to me?"

Barry rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I wasn't avoiding you personally, but... yes?"

Her mouth twitched. "And you're still doing it?"

He grinned. "So far. Kraken?"

"Why not?"

It turned out the kraken works had misplaced a few of the burrowing squid when the Castle was moving things around, which made the visit a little more exciting than planned. Still, reworking them was a pleasant few hours, and Barry had quite lost track of anything else until Donna started slightly at the sound of the clock striking four.

"I am actually supposed to meet some people," she said, pushing her goggles back. "How likely is it I can get back to the inn and across town in an hour?"

"Reasonably good, I think. Castle," said Barry. "Leave the streets where they belong and don't interfere."

"Invalid instruction," said the Castle smugly.

Barry paused. "Or not so good. Castle, what?"

"I can move the streets or leave them where they are, but I cannot leave them where they belong."

Oh, for-- "Why are the streets out of place now?"

"Klaus came to visit," said the Castle. "I explained you were on a date, but he was not at all reasonable. I had to make some buildings quite a bit taller before he would stop climbing over them."

Barry considered dropping his face into his hands, but they were covered in grease (and possibly ink) and he wasn't sure he wanted to give the Castle the satisfaction. "Put the streets -- and buildings -- back where they belong, without trapping or injuring anyone, and then leave them there. And you know, Donna might have liked to meet him too."

"Probably not right now, though," murmured Donna, her expression caught somewhere between horror and humour.

"Well, it's hardly your fault," Barry said, "but perhaps not the best timing. You go find your friend, I'll go placate mine."

"Everything is where it usually is," the Castle told him after a few minutes. "Klaus is waiting for you at the Castle itself."

"Thanks." After showing Donna out of the factory, he took the fastest route back to the Castle. He found Klaus in the green drawing room (had the Castle picked that knowing he missed Zantabraxus?), looking decidedly sour. "I'm sorry," said Barry, before he was all the way through the door. "I didn't know it was blocking you."

"Apparently dating takes priority over politics," said Klaus, glaring at a wall.

"Politics is just a way of assuring there is something to give to future generations. But future generations are required for that," said the Castle. "We have no guarantee the Lady Agatha will survive her breakthrough, and I would sooner not risk all on a single throw of the dice."

"Thank you for that... morbid moment." Barry rubbed his forehead. "And seriously, don't do that again. Klaus, I am sorry about that. And glad to see you. What's the political matter?"

"Aaronev wants to make terms," said Klaus, still looking irritated but with a different focus now. "Very favourable ones. Including outright offering his son as a hostage for his good behaviour. An offer which doesn't seem likely to offer the poor boy a long life if taken literally."

"Well, we knew the Fifty Families would be interested once word got around about Otilia." There were many aspects to the Storm King's history and legend that appealed to different parties. That he had been one of the last royals for whom Sparks had stayed mostly subordinate -- aside from the Heterodynes, who were less of an embarrassment due to having ruled nearly as long as the Habsburgs -- was part of the fascination for the current ones.

"I know," said Klaus. "But Aaronev? I might have believed he'd roll over for a show of force, or that you could talk him around, but this... I don't like it."

"It is odd," Barry agreed. "But he is practically next door. I suppose he may have decided he'd hear from us before long and would rather make the first move. And let's be fair, he does take pretty good care of Sturmhalten."

"I know. He was always Lucrezia's slave and that bothers me. He can hardly be blamed for anything she did -- I have no idea how he'd react to finding out what she did -- but it makes me uneasy now." Klaus sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't complain about getting what I wanted too easily."

"No, but you can raise an eyebrow about being offered it by somebody you don't trust," Barry said. "Although I must say, I never found infatuation with Lucrezia to reflect that badly on a man's character."

Klaus shot him an irritated look and then chuckled. "Fair enough," he admitted. "Perhaps we should go and visit, though. Accept his terms in person. And have a look around when we do."

"That does sound like a good idea. Lucrezia aside, the Sturmvorauses have always borne watching. They pride themselves on it." A swift grin. "And that's when we're getting along."

"When are you likely to be free to come?" Klaus asked. "Assuming the Castle will let you leave while your date is still in town."

Barry would have protested, except he wasn't entirely sure that was a safe assumption. "I need four days, I think," he said after a moment to calculate. "If I'm going to retool the factories so they can get started on the new designs. Two and a half if you have the time to stay and help." A sudden, mischievous look. "Might get it under two, if Donna decides it's an improvement on her original plans, but I should probably make sure she isn't secretly planning an attack or anything first."

"I did look for someone who shares your ridiculous worldview," said the Castle.

Barry blinked. "You did?" That was unexpected. "And just how much of an interview did you conduct, anyway?"

"I listened in on her for a while before we spoke," said the Castle.

"It's a wonder you have any tourists," muttered Klaus.

"I often think so myself." Unwillingly fascinated, Barry added, "I'm not sure whether I'm more confused that you determined this based on casual conversation, or that you were trying."

"She came here because she admires what you did in the past," the Castle told him. "Which was not that hard to find out. And if she shares your perspective she's less likely to kill you."

Barry paused. "I -- all right, that does actually make sense." And from Castle Heterodyne's admittedly unsettling perspective, his mother and Lucrezia might look more similar than he'd previously considered.

"And this new approach seems to have improved its matchmaking technique enough it's found someone you want to spend time with," said Klaus, raising an eyebrow.

"Apparently," Barry said, bemused. "It's been steering tourists in my direction for weeks, but...."

Klaus rather poorly hid a chuckle at that. "Maybe it was just a matter of probability then. Or testing. I'll look forward to meeting her and promise not to hold the Castle's antics against her."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that."

Klaus couldn't exactly say he was in a tearing hurry to talk to Aaronev, but he was interested both in the mechanical squid and, however exasperating it had made his afternoon, in the astonishing spectacle of Barry allowing Castle Heterodyne to matchmake for him. Naturally he agreed to help retool the squid factory.

At dawn the next morning, he joined Barry, who said, 'You're early. I was going to go meet Donna at the inn first and meet you at the factory.'

"I thought I'd walk over with you." Klaus grinned at him. "I'm curious."

"You're impatient," Barry said, laughing. "It would only have made a few minutes' difference. Come on, then."

"She decided this was a good way to spend her holiday, then?" Not that this was exactly a surprise. Very few Sparks would pass up the chance at a day or so in a Mechanicsburg factory, and very few people in general -- none of whom were likely to make a point of touring Mechanicsburg -- would pass up the chance at a day spent with Barry Heterodyne. "Did you have a good time inviting her?"

"She had plans for the evening, Klaus," Barry said in tones of mock reproof. "I had the Castle ask her."

Klaus blinked. "You let Castle Heterodyne relay a message to someone you want to see again?"

"Very funny. ...If it's actually trying to be encouraging, it can co-operate." Barry did sound a little worried, though. "If it said anything else appalling to her--"

"What did it say yesterday?" Castle Heterodyne had a wide repertoire of appalling.

"It evaluated her age and hips," Barry said, "in her hearing. Fortunately I think she believes I didn't put it up to this."

Klaus managed to stop laughing before they reached the inn, where it turned out Donna had not been deceived, misrepresented, or imprisoned in some sort of improvised labyrinth for the Castle's notion of Barry's convenience. She was discussing the day's plan animatedly with her travel companions, who ranged from equally excited to insisting it wasn't actually possible.

She had a lot of travel companions. At this early hour, they were the only customers in the inn's common room, and despite filling three tables they were clearly either all together or had made friends rather quickly. Barry started toward them and said, "Good morning, Donna. A lot of early risers, aren't you?" and all of them, predictably, lit up.

Klaus identified Donna initially because she was the one who jumped up and at whom Barry smiled the most warmly. "Everyone wanted to meet you," she said. "I'm not sure half of them believed me until I thought to ask the Castle to speak so they could hear it...."

"I'm not sure that should have been convincing," Barry said wryly, "but I've strictly forbidden it to prank the tourists."

"Guiding them to you doesn't count?" asked an older woman with twinkling eyes. "Or is that pranking you? Either way, we're honoured to meet you."

Donna took this as her cue to introduce everyone, starting with her great-aunt and proceeding through two sisters; a brother and sister-in-law; another sister-in-law whose husband hated to travel and had stayed home; an aunt and uncle from the opposite side of the family from the previous aunt; three cousins of varying degree on both sides, one of whom was male and travelling with his wife; and a half-dozen friends of these assorted relatives. Klaus was a little intrigued. Of course travel was generally considered safer in large groups, despite his recent efforts at getting main routes cleaned up, and probably always would be -- but this eclectic selection of friends and relations struck him as unusual, and more so in that Donna seemed to be the only Spark of the lot but was neither alarming the rest of the party nor turning them into an entourage.

"And this is my friend Klaus Wulfenbach," Barry said, once everyone else had been identified.

"Oh." Donna sounded rather startled. "Herr Baron."

"Miss DuLac," Klaus returned, a little drily. "--Klaus, please. This is not a state occasion." Spending the day collaborating with Barry and his new girlfriend was one thing. Doing so while on unreasonably formal terms with said girlfriend was just ridiculous.

"Klaus," Donna repeated, sounding not entirely comfortable about it.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you all," Barry was saying to the rest of the party, "but we do have a lot to get done. I hope you won't begrudge my depriving you of Donna's company for a day or two of your trip." (Klaus rather thought that on balance they'd be more likely to envy Donna.)

"Are you joking?" asked the great-aunt. "She spent all evening talking about her afternoon with you. It was obviously good for her." She regarded Donna with obvious affection before smiling at Barry again. "Now get you gone with her, before she decides the table knives need reforging."

"I would not--!" Donna began indignantly, then stopped and sighed.

Barry laughed. "All right, then. And perhaps you could all join us for dinner."

"We would, again, be honoured. But are you likely to stop and have it before midnight?" Clearly, Donna's relatives had enough experience of Sparks to recognise a pattern.

"I'll remind them," said the Castle, sounding sufficiently pleased with itself to make Barry look slightly worried.

They settled on eight o'clock, enough time for a long workday without being ridiculously late, and set out for the factory. After a few moments of small talk that was rather more stilted than anybody had hoped, Donna said to Klaus, "I am sorry about yesterday."

He looked at her blankly before realising what she meant and then burst out laughing. "You really shouldn't apologise for Castle Heterodyne's behaviour. If you start, it may never end. I only occasionally hold Barry responsible for it."

"Yesterday, admittedly, being one such occasion," Barry said. "But it certainly wasn't your fault. Is that what's been bothering you?"

She made a face. "Sorry. This is a little overwhelming." She glanced at Klaus. "You've been running my home town for about a year now."

"It sounded like you were fine yesterday," said Klaus. "Don't tell me you can manage a date with Barry Heterodyne and take the Castle's commentary with aplomb, and I overwhelm you." At her slightly sheepish look, he added, "Would it help to think 'goofy sidekick' instead of 'conquering tyrant'?"

That surprised her into laughter. "I'm not sure, but your suggesting it does." A wry look. "I wasn't exactly thinking 'conquering tyrant' either. I'm from Jibou. We have a fair number of Sparks, but my swords are about as practically military as we get. We weren't prepared to mount the kind of defence we've needed the past several years."

"A lot of people weren't," Barry said rather grimly.

"So we were mostly relieved when you came back," Donna finished. "Even if we had to leave my great-uncle out of the agreement."

The awkwardness was mainly gratitude, then, not resentment. Some days it was all too easy to forget the areas that had actually been glad to see him before Barry showed up... which wasn't really fair to anyone involved. "Relatively speaking, you weren't doing that badly on your own," Klaus said. "Were the portable walls your making?"

"Yes, actually...."

"I've been trying to adapt those for air-dropping."

Barry blinked. "Wouldn't they fall over if you don't drop them somewhere perfectly level? You can't adjust the base to the terrain. Or is that the adaptation?"

"Frankly, that was always a problem." Donna frowned. "Bracing them would be even harder if you're going to drop them. Or are you making the base sharp, and dropping it into the ground?"

"Maybe some of the time." Klaus made a mental note to try that. "But the bracing is solvable."

The introduction of a technical problem improved the conversation substantially, which was encouraging, and on arriving at the kraken works they shifted smoothly enough to discussing the plans for the squid clanks and how the factory would implement them without Barry's direct involvement. (One of the things Klaus liked about Mechanicsburg -- and was busily trying to duplicate -- was the frequency with which they managed this.)

Later in the day, while they rebuilt and Barry directed gleeful workers and Klaus sketched revisions and Donna decided to forge and grind a sample blade for the squid's drilling attachment, they eventually drifted back to the possibility of dropwalls, which involved quizzing Donna on the implementation of the groundbound version and shouting over the sound of their tools when necessary. After the fifth different cousin who came up, Barry said, “It's starting to sound like you're related to the entire town. How many relatives do you have?”

Donna started laughing. “I'd have to think about that. Do you want just the ones in Jibou or the branches back in India or France? Blood relatives only or in-laws and cousins-of-cousins?” She adjusted her goggles and moved to the blade grinder. “I don't know that it's really that many objectively speaking, but we do try to keep track of each other.”

“You're certainly spread out,” Barry said, sounding -- to Klaus's amusement -- a little dazed.

“Six of my eight great-grandparents had wanderlust,” Donna said cheerfully, “and a seventh had a father who sent every Spark in the family out to find or found or conquer their own new homes.” A pause. “It didn't go well for most of them. But one met a pretty blacksmith's daughter in Jibou and apprenticed himself to her father.”

“Wise of him,” Klaus said. “And you inherited both the Spark and the sense to make yourself useful to your neighbours?”

“Oh, the Spark skipped a couple of generations before it got to me,” Donna said. “We're not as consistent about it as the Heterodynes. In the past few generations I guess it's maybe... one out of five or seven of us? Depending on how you count.”

“You have enough siblings and cousins to have statistics?” Barry asked.

She shrugged. "Well, we're also a bit more prolific than the Heterodynes, apparently--”

The Castle made an interested noise.

“--I don't know about your mother's family.”

Silence fell and Klaus tried not to glance uneasily at the walls. Nobody talked about Bill and Barry's mother much in Mechanicsburg, and when one of them mentioned her there had always tended to be an air of challenge to it. Donna went still for a moment, herself, and then Barry said, “I'm afraid I don't know much about them either. It always seemed a little awkward to approach them, but maybe I should find out.”

“Maybe.” Donna dropped the subject and focussed on her work for a while before breaking into the conversation again with the now-quenched blade. “Here -- it could be better with a less accelerated tempering process, but this should give you the idea.”

It was a lovely blade, actually, with curves and angles ideal for the spinning attachment, but it was astonishingly thin. There was a different kind of awkward pause before Barry said, “It looks amazing, but it might be a little delicate for a burrowing squid.”

Donna blinked at him. “I didn't forget it had to go through earth and rock,” she said. The irritation in her voice was strong enough to set off alarms anywhere else -- she sounded like a challenged Spark now -- and because it was Mechanicsburg, everyone in the room looked up with mildly eager interest. Donna flicked the blade downward with the tongs, and it disappeared into the floor at Barry's feet.

Barry stepped back, looking more startled by the small slit in the floor than he had by her throwing a blade in his general direction. “Okay,” he said, sounding understandably impressed. There was a small cheer from other quarters of the kraken works. “Point taken.”

“Not by you,” said Castle Heterodyne.

Donna looked abruptly sheepish. “Ah, sorry. I didn't think of you feeling that.”

“I am not hurt.” The Castle sounded amused. “But how did you intend to get it back?”

“Aah... I didn't really think of that either.” She cleared her throat. “Can you get it out? Gently? And if so, would you please?”

“It probably can,” Barry said, kneeling down. “And if not, it won't hurt it to take the floor apart any more than it does the machinery.”

“I can give it back,” said the Castle. “But I want more of these. They needn't all be attached to the mechanical squid, either.” The floor vibrated, and the blade rose halfway out of it.

Barry tapped it with a finger, evidently found it sufficiently cooled to touch, and pulled it the rest of the way free. “This could be better?”

“I rushed the example. This one will dull fairly quickly, but I can recommend a process that should keep them in service for years.”

Barry smiled at her and she smiled back as inevitably as the moon reflected light. “Then by all means,” he said, “tell us what to do with the blademaking section.”

“So,” said the Castle, as Donna started toward the tempering ovens, “if you should have the average number of children for your family, how many would that be? Roughly?”

“Ah--” She glanced at Barry, who covered his eyes a little overdramatically, and turned away from him with a hand clamped over her mouth. “I'm off to a bit of a late start, I'm afraid,” she said, when she'd composed herself again. “So I doubt it would be more than four.”

“Now I'm not sure whether to apologise for the Castle or ask you to stop teasing it,” said Barry, trying not to laugh as well.

“No need to apologise. I have relatives like that.”

There was a somewhat bewildered pause, this time, before Klaus asked what everybody had to be thinking. “You have relatives like Castle Heterodyne?”

“Well, not in the sense of animating a building,” Donna said. “But old warlords who think their descendents should be out conquering something, and any number who are intensely interested in my love life....”

Barry paused and asked cautiously, “Are any of them in your current travel party?”

Donna grinned. “Not the really pushy ones.”

“And how would they feel about your marrying into the Heterodynes?” the Castle purred.

“Do you really have to ask?”

“You'd better not invite them here until you've had a chance to get to know each other without them,” Klaus said, thoroughly entertained by this point. “I think the Castle provides about all the encouragement Barry can handle.”

After two days -- right on schedule -- they were wrapping up the retooling of the factory and preparing to leave for Sturmhalten, and somewhat to Castle Heterodyne's disappointment Barry was so far not engaged.

He was, however, interested enough to arrange to see Donna again even though her visit was also about to end. They had just agreed to write (Donna had in fact also agreed along the way to exchange letters with Klaus and Adam on a more professional basis, so she was going to be a rather busy correspondent) when Barry added, “You know, you should come back to trade at the Vermin Fair.”

Donna blinked at him. “The what?”

“Mechanicsburg has a very peculiar relationship with its rats, mice, and spiders,” said Klaus.

“Some of the spiders. And pigeons. And -- the point is, by now a lot of them use tools and are smart enough to trade,” Barry explained.

Donna regarded them both skeptically. “They trade.”

“We keep them supplied and armed, they keep the town mostly free of, ah, normal vermin. They're more hygienic than the unaltered wild-types. And the spiders, well, we never did get the mulberries established but Mechanicsburg doesn't have to import silk from China.”

“Really.” Donna was still looking between them dubiously. “What do they trade for?”

“Among other things,” Barry said, “cutlery. They're smart enough to appreciate your knives.”

“That doesn't take much,” Donna said, then shook her head. “I am not sure you aren't pulling my leg but I don't think there's anybody I could ask who wouldn't play along, so I will too. Send me suggested measurements and I'll come.”

Barry grinned at her. “You won't be sorry.”

Donna smiled and only said, “No, I don't think I will.”

After they parted, Klaus shook his head. “I'm amazed we're actually done, with all your antics.”

“You like her,” Barry said, sounding happy and about halfway to a question.

“You don't need my opinion!” Klaus laughed and clapped Barry on the shoulder. “But maybe you should try meeting up with her outside Mechanicsburg.”

Chapter Text

"Tarvek." His father rested a hand on Tarvek's shoulder. "This is very important."

They were waiting for the Heterodyne and the usurper Baron Wulfenbach. He could hardly forget it was important. Tarvek only said, "Yes, Father."

"We have a long and, shall we say, storied history with the Heterodynes. You must win over the Mistress's daughter. Reveal nothing and--" He fell silent as their guests came into sight. Walking, for some reason, though they did walk surrounded by Jägers. The little girl was barely visible among all the legs. She was probably why they were running a little late.

"Wilhelm." Barry Heterodyne -- it was odd thinking of him as the person from all the stories, especially without the other Heterodyne Boy, Tarvek decided -- came smiling up the steps to shake Prince Aaronev's hand. Putting things on a more informal footing even though this was Prince Aaronev's city. Well, they'd been at university together and he was a Heterodyne. Baron Wulfenbach offered a more formal but shallow bow, and his father returned a nod. Anevka curtsied gracefully. The Lord Heterodyne continued, "It's been a while. We were surprised to get your letter." A sweeping gesture, smile falling away at the right moment. "I'm glad to see Sturmhalten survived the wars so well."

"We were most fortunate," his father said gravely. Fortune had had nothing to do with it. "And of course I wrote to you. I am fascinated by your plans. The benefits to Europa could be immense."

Tarvek glanced at Agatha, still surrounded by people's legs, and offered a bow of his own. "Pleased to meet you," he said, pitching his voice quietly so he wouldn't be interrupting the adults. "I'm Tarvek."

Agatha smiled brightly back at him. (The nearest Jägermonster looked down and gave them both a rather fangy grin.) "I'm Agatha!" Her voice wasn't quite as soft. "Uncle Barry says you'll be coming to the school. It's great, I think you'll really like it."

Winning her over didn't look as if it would be difficult, precisely, although if she was this friendly to everyone then simply being another friend of hers might not be enough to please his father. "I'm sure I shall," he answered. Then, eagerly, because he couldn't help asking, "Is it true you have a Muse teaching you?"

"Madame Otilia," Agatha agreed. "She's very stern but she's been lots happier since Uncle Barry and Baron Wulfenbach put her back in the right body."

Tarvek had a moment of wondering why, and how, a Muse would be in the wrong body. Then a slightly longer moment of internal panic and forcing himself not to look up at his father to see if he'd heard that. Not that Tarvek knew the details, but he'd heard consciousness transfer devices being mentioned recently, and in the context of making sure the Baron didn't know about them. "How did she wind up in the wrong one?" he asked, finally, between really wanting to know and wanting to know what Agatha knew.

Agatha looked uncomfortable. "Well... my mother, um...." She looked up at the Lord Heterodyne and bit her lip. Tarvek couldn't think of a way to get her not to involve the adults, and it was too late, they'd paused in their own conversation now anyway. "Used to be a villain?"

"Lucrezia transferred Otilia's mind into the body of a new construct," said the Lord Heterodyne. "I'm afraid Bill and I didn't know about that, when we first met the new nurse. Fortunately, she was otherwise mostly intact."

"Truly remarkable," Tarvek's father murmured.

"I look forward to meeting her," said Tarvek. He glanced at the still watching adults. "Perhaps I could go ahead?" He wasn't sure whether, if he was going to talk to Agatha about mind transfer, he should do it where his father could hear what she knew. But his father might also want to talk to Barry Heterodyne and the Baron without being interrupted, and Tarvek could write to him later.

The Baron raised an eyebrow. Tarvek thought he caught a slightly doubtful glance at his father, but it was too fast to be sure. "I don't see why not."

His father did not look completely pleased, but he didn't give Tarvek any warning signals, so perhaps that was only for their guests' benefit somehow. He crouched down and set both hands on Tarvek's shoulders, looking earnestly into his face. "I'll have your things sent up.” Tarvek swallowed. Last time he’d seen his luggage, his pet Andy had been draped across it looking hopeful. He wanted to remind his father that he’d asked to have the midmoth returned to Tweedle, if he couldn’t take it to Castle Wulfenbach, but he couldn’t say that now. “Behave yourself as befits a prince of Sturmhalten. Learn all you can."

"Jorgi," said the Lord Heterodyne. "Would you mind taking him there?"

"Bye!" Agatha added. "I'll see you when I get back!"

He'd sort of assumed Agatha would be sent along with him since she attended the school too, but he'd have plenty of time to talk to her later. "I'll see you," he answered, smiling at her.

He could briefly hear the adults introducing the two girls and then drifting back into politics and empire. Although he couldn't hear any of it very well, because the Jägermonster charged with accompanying him -- Jorgi, apparently -- talked constantly, cheerily, and familiarly.

They took a short ride on a small, swift airship up to the looming bulk of Castle Wulfenbach, and Jorgi walked him to the school.

Where a real Muse opened the door. Tarvek gazed up at her, still hardly able to believe it, and nearly missed his cue when Jorgi introduced him. He bowed a little hastily. “Madame Otilia. It’s an honour to meet you.”

“Master Tarvek.” She smiled at him. “An honour and pleasure to meet you.” She really sounded like she meant it. How had van Rijn made her able to sound so sincere? “I was told you would be joining our school.”

“I’ve read so very much about you.” The Muse of Protection. She was glorious.

The smile was fainter this time, more formal, but it still felt weirdly real. “My sisters and I were aware of our fame.”

“You’re amazing,” he said. Blurted. It wasn’t a properly calculated compliment at all. He could hardly think -- no, he could, he was, but it was mostly awe and analytical appreciation, and details like circumspection and breathing were getting a little lost.

“I’m afraid the Sparks here are not allowed to study me, since being taken apart is not conducive to being able to teach them,” she said, and her tone was still soft but...was that sarcasm? Bitterness?

“I wouldn’t want to do that,” he said earnestly. Well, he’d like to see how she worked, but the idea of breaking her the way so many of them had been lost was horrible. “I want to find all of you and put them back together.” And oh, no. He’d never said that to anybody, even Violetta. He had got too carried away. It was dangerous to tell people what you really wanted.

Her smile softened and she rested a hand on his head, cool metal fingers ruffling his hair for a moment. “Perhaps I could make an exception, then,” she said gently. “For now, let me introduce you to the rest of the class.”

Tarvek swallowed and nodded. That felt... nice. And an exception? Really? Did that mean what it sounded like? “Yes, Madame.” He had better pull himself together for this. It should be all right, he told himself. Even adults were likely to have a slight lapse over a Muse now and then.

The other students all gave Otilia their undivided attention when she turned to them, which was only natural, and then converged on Tarvek once he’d been announced to them. It was a really remarkable collection, with hostage children from nearly all the top families within Baron Wulfenbach’s rapidly expanding area of influence and a few students from shockingly farther afield, like the Iron Sheik’s son. If Baron Wulfenbach and the Lord Heterodyne kept on as they had begun, this would be the best possible place to form connections and figure out what his own generation would be doing. Lucrezia Mongfish’s own nephew Theo DuMedd seemed to reign supreme -- that might be because Agatha was away, but he was all of twelve, openly bright, and presented himself as personable and utterly relaxed. Tarvek covertly studied how he did it, but nearly gave up in shock when Theo suggested sneaking into the laboratory early over lunch.

“I’m surprised you’re at school this far from home,” he found himself saying to the Sheik’s son Z, after considerable thought. What he wanted to know was whether Z was there as a hostage or if the Iron Sheik had an eye on the potential to watch the ruling families of Europe.

Z grinned easily. “The Baron is an old friend of the family. My father thinks the experience will be good for me.”

“The Baron has created an excellent school.” The curly-haired girl sounded stiff about it, as if she was quoting. “And, of course, a Muse as a teacher--”

“That’s very impressive,” Tarvek agreed, trying to fit her to any of the portraits he’d been instructed to memorise. “Ah, you must be Princess Zulenna.”

She raised her eyebrows, looking pleased and as if she didn’t want to be surprised that he had identified her. “Of Holfung-Borzoi,” she said. “The Lord Heterodyne invited us to ally. He and his brother built defences for my family years ago.”

“I hear they were really good at that,” Tarvek said, because pointing out that they’d done that for a lot of villages would just be rude.

As it turned out, a few of the older students did slip away early from lunch, and Tarvek waited worriedly until everyone filed into the teaching lab and the handful of people already in it were merely scolded for their impatience and then a bit grudgingly complimented on setting things up for the younger pupils. It was a good lab, with work surfaces at different heights and supplies everywhere. The teacher, Mr. Argyll, was a construct. He (they?) had two heads and, for some reason, nine tentacles extending from all around his shoulders and upper chest instead of arms. Both heads seemed to know what they were talking about, though, and Tarvek slid into the lesson easily.

He was quite enjoying himself until he glanced up in time to see someone drop a pellet into the solution of a wild-haired boy his own age -- Gil Holzfäller, orphan, Tarvek recalled from the earlier introductions; someone else had supplied the second part. Before Tarvek could say anything indignant about adulterating an experiment, it proved to do worse than that: the purple solution turned pale pink and started fizzing all over the bench, which was certainly not supposed to be the next step.

Gil hurried to mop it up, with more haste than care. Tarvek, his mind’s eye filled with visions of corroded flesh and melted workbenches from his father’s cautionary tales about laboratory safety, turned down his burner and went to make sure it was done properly. He kept a wary eye on his own work area in between calculating how to neutralise everything they’d used and guess what had been in the pellet. Gil gave him a baffled and deeply suspicious look, which was understandable -- at least the suspicious part -- but Tarvek felt put-upon anyway.

By the end of the laboratory period, Tarvek still felt put-upon, but he didn’t blame Gil for it. Instead of the competitive sabotage Tarvek’s cousins engaged in, Gil’s lack of family connections made him fair game for teasing and pranks from everybody, and the rules seemed to be different. Trying to steal each other’s results was one thing; modifying an experiment or setting booby traps was a good test of both parties’ skills, though it did get tiresome at times; but simply spoiling procedures or notes did nothing to advance science at all. And all the efforts were so clumsy. Gil’s attempts to protect his work were even worse.

They were ruining it, Tarvek thought fiercely. He’d liked it here already. He’d liked them. Better than his cousins. But a good ruler had a duty to his people. Andronicus Valois and the princes in Sturmhalten hadn’t let the old Heterodynes do whatever they liked to their people. Valois had even stopped the renegade Sparks from causing trouble, for a while. He’d have had the Baron at his court, working on... on the first big dirigibles or something. A good ruler, or somebody who was going to be a good ruler, tested himself against actual rivals instead of picking on somebody who couldn’t pick back just to do it.

The final straw all around was when King Dunsany’s daughter bumped Gil when the teacher’s back was turned, managing to jog his arm so that the chemical to be added dropwise all went in at once and knock a solvent over onto his notes. Gil stepped back from the rising cloud of fumes, took one anguished look at his notebook, and then raced off.

“Master Gil,” Mr. Argyll said sharply as Gil shoved past him, “where are you going?”

“To cry for his mummy,” suggested a ten-year-old who thought he was witty.

Tarvek, who had watched his own mother die, pressed his pen down so hard that the nib broke off in a blot. “I think he got a faceful of fumes when Princess Sleipnir ran into him and spilt half his materials,” he said, a little too loudly. As the teacher saw what had happened to Gil’s workbench and began to look alarmed at the silvery cloud rising from it, Tarvek added recklessly, “I’ll go check on him, shall I?” and ducked out, leaving everyone else to deal with containment.

He managed to keep up an air of purposeful certainty until he went through the door Gil had used and found himself in a storage room. He stepped out of sight of the door and looked around, puzzled. It was a small room, full of the dusty dry throat-catching smell of chemical powders. Well kept, no actual dust to smear and leave a trail. But Gil wasn’t in here, so there had to be another way out.

Tarvek spent a minute searching briskly for secret passages, listening uneasily to the sounds from the classroom outside and hoping not to be interrupted, and then stopped. Thought. There had to be a way out, but why would the Baron build a secret passage to the chemical storage room off a teaching laboratory? This wasn’t an old family home with the interstices holding as many passageways as its owners had been able to fit without making it unstable and sometimes a few more. Castle Wulfenbach wasn’t finished. The school sat on the edge of a blob of livable areas among a lot of... framework.

So if he tried this side of the room, and instead of proper secret passages he just looked for a way through a recently built wall....

Tarvek slid one of the panels gently aside and was encouraged to find that it didn’t grate loudly. He wriggled through, got his legs safely onto a girder, and pulled the panel back into place after him. Then he sat back on his heels and considered his situation. He swallowed. Solving the problem had been interesting, but now he was sneaking around Baron Wulfenbach’s airship and everybody had seen where he went. Maybe he should have spilt something else before he left, to keep them busy.

The engine noise and occasional distant clangs were punctuated by a quiet sniffle, somewhere in the dark off to his right, and Tarvek remembered what he’d set out to do and moved quietly toward the sound. He got as far as seeing the one irregular shape in the dim light before realising that he didn’t know any rules for this kind of conversation. Great. He cleared his throat slightly and began, “Gil?”

“What do you want?” said Gil, sounding prickly enough that his voice was the vocal equivalent of a curled up hedgehog.

“Ah--” Tarvek usually had a better answer to that question. “Are you okay?” He seized on his excuse to the teacher and added, quickly, “The fumes from that reaction could have been bad, especially with the volatile solvent mixed in. If you got any in your eyes you should really flush them with water or preferably buffered saline as soon as possible.”

Gil moved around to peer at him, eyes visible as faint glimmers in the darkness. “It’s fine. I’m not going back to rinse them.”

“All right.” He’d seen Gil pull back, after all. He didn’t believe there was actually any risk. “But you probably should, whenever you do go back in. Just in case. Of any irritation.” And so it wouldn’t show that he’d been crying. Now what? He’d expected Gil to be in another part of the school, not out in the sprawling dark. “I don’t know where you expect people to think you are. There’s no place to hide in that storeroom.”

“Everyone knows where I am, they just don’t know where I am,” Gil said, and then apparently realised that made no sense and shook his head. “They know I know how to get around out here. There’s no point in trying to follow me.”

Tarvek considered pointing out that he’d followed him. But if Gil had gone farther he doubted he could have picked up the trail. “Don’t you get in trouble for that?” And how much trouble was he going to be in?

“I don’t care,” said Gil defiantly. “We’re not meant to come out here, but everyone does. It’s interesting.” He twisted around properly, uncurling and dangling his legs over the edge of his walkway to regard Tarvek solemnly, no longer hunched up defensively but not ready to trust yet either. “I might get in trouble for leaving a lesson though. You might too if you don’t go back.”

Tarvek forced himself not to hunch his shoulders, even if a small part of his mind was wailing that it was only his first afternoon there and how could he have got into trouble already? He didn’t ask what the Baron -- well, the teachers, more plausibly -- would do to them, either. “I told the teacher you’d had a faceful of chemical fumes and I was going to check on you. If you go in soon and wash your face right away then we might both be fine.”

Gil scrunched up again. “I told you I don’t care. Being in trouble won’t be worse than having to put up with all of them for the rest of the lesson anyway.”

Tarvek’s heart sank. “Are you sure?” he asked before he thought properly about it.

“Cleaning grease traps is pretty horrible, but at least grease traps don’t mean to be horrible,” Gil answered.

“Grease traps?” Tarvek asked blankly.

“Um. Things in sinks and stuff for catching grease in water you pour away. In the kitchens, and from when people grease the engines. And in the labs too, but other stuff than grease gets caught there so we aren’t made to clean them.”

"I know what a grease trap is," Tarvek said, slightly nettled. "I was just surprised."

“I didn’t think nobility had to deal with grease traps. Until they come here, anyway,” Gil said. He grinned, suddenly, a white flash of teeth. “I don’t think Zulenna knew what one was until she had to clean one for the first time. She made such a fuss.”

“My father is very strict about laboratory safety. I’ve been drilled on where anything hazardous can wind up, or had better not.” Tarvek hesitated. “Are we talking about ones for individual sinks, or the big tanks?” Even the little ones could get pretty disgusting, if you had to open one up when it hadn’t been emptied for a while.

“The little ones,” said Gil. “I think the big ones actually might be worse than going back.”

“I guess that isn’t too bad.” And if sneaking out into the unfinished areas was really not unusual, maybe he could make up for this one time by being very diligent. “Is that really all they’ll do to us?”

Gil tipped his head on one side. “If you get caught by Jägers they sometimes threaten to do some really weird stuff, but they don’t mean it. And if I’m with Agatha they just pretend they haven’t seen us, it drives the Baron nuts.” Then, somewhere between curious and starting to worry, “What does your family do if you sneak off?”

If he’s with Agatha?! Gil spent enough time sneaking around with the Heterodyne girl that the Jägers had skipped catching them multiple times? The other students were picking on a Heterodyne companion in her absence? Tarvek rearranged the implications in his head a couple of times while he answered, “Well, it’s hardly the same. Sturmhalten doesn’t exactly have humongous construction areas like this. But I’m expected to be... wherever I’m expected to be. And I assumed Baron Wulfenbach’s people would be rather strict about it all.” About hostage behavior, but he supposed an orphan couldn’t exactly be a hostage.

“The Baron’s nowhere near as strict as he seems,” said Gil. “Otilia’s strict, but she hates punishing us. It is scary if you really upset her, though.”

That was... interesting and unexpected. “I wouldn’t want to upset her. She’s a Muse.” Tarvek sat down and let his own feet dangle. Getting back promptly was obviously a lost cause, so he might as well be comfortable. He seriously doubted Gil was going to tackle him, so the ability to move fast wasn’t as essential as it could be. “I know they were meant to teach, but it’s still so weird for her to be here.”

Gil nodded. “She used to be a construct,” he said quietly, not whispering but confidential anyway. “She was the Heterodyne’s nursemaid, Lucrezia moved her brain somehow. She was looking after me before the school started and then she turned out to be a Muse. I wasn’t sure if she’d be different, but she’s just calmer about things mostly.” Gil swung his legs. “Everyone’s excited about her now, though.”

That fit with what Agatha herself had said. Apparently the knowledge was more widespread than Tarvek had thought, but then, she hadn't acted like it was a secret. "She was looking after you before the school?" Tarvek's thoughts went to the lost Heterodyne heir -- there was supposed to have been a boy. Maybe Barry Heterodyne was hiding him? But then why let everybody know about the girl? Could he make the Jägers not let on? Anyway, he'd have been younger.

“I was the first one here,” Gil said, sounding unsure whether to be proud of that or not. “I guess the Baron just found me somewhere, but that was before he started taking hostages. So for a while it was just me. He was probably planning to take more children already, or he would have left me with someone.”

“The nannies my family hires aren’t nearly that interesting,” Tarvek admitted. Experimentally, he tried to imagine Baron Wulfenbach finding a small child and deciding to keep it.

“The Baron hires lots of interesting people,” said Gil.

“Does he?” If Gil felt like telling....

“Like all the people from Beetleburg,” said Gil. “They’re not famous though. Except for Punch and Judy.”

“There are a lot of people from Beetleburg?” Interesting but not famous people from Beetleburg? Tarvek felt he had missed a step. At least Punch and Judy made sense, what with the Heterodyne involvement. What had the Baron done, hired away half the university?

“Like our science teacher,” said Gil. “I think they were all Punch and Judy’s friends.”

“Oh.” Probably not from the university then. At least, not the faculty. “I think the science teacher needs more eyes. Or an assistant.”

Gil sighed. “It would probably help,” he muttered.

At least Gil didn’t think Mr. Argyll was ignoring it on purpose. Tarvek didn’t either, but it would have been a plausible guess. “I’m used to having more instructors at a time. My cousins and I mess with each other’s work, but that’s -- that’s also part of the lessons. Our instructors would never let us get away with some of what they were doing. Nobody learns anything that way. And it’s--” He broke off.

“...Agatha wants to boobytrap everything but I don’t really want to fight them,” said Gil. “Some of them are okay. Sometimes. Sleipnir’s pretty nice until the others start.”

No good offering elaborate revenge on her, then. Tarvek wasn’t really excited about the idea either. “They shouldn’t be like that,” he said, even though ranting about the ideal behaviour of a ruler in Castle Wulfenbach might not be smart. “If they’re going to be in charge eventually, they’re supposed to be better than that.” A sigh. “Protective traps, maybe,” he suggested after a moment, looking for a compromise. “No poison or blades, but something to... dye them purple, maybe, so it’s obvious they tried and you beat them. That’s if you’re not there. If it’s in lab you’d need more of a warning, or something to slow them down, but even for a Spark in his own lab, it’s tricky to make an experimental setup impervious to interference while you’re working on it.” He hesitated and glanced back over his shoulder. The laboratory period shouldn’t be over yet. Maybe.... “Or, well, you can get someone to watch your back.” Sometimes. If you gave them a good enough reason.

Gil let out a snort of laughter and then covered his mouth, but when he looked up he was still smiling. “You and Agatha should really get along,” he said. “But I don’t want you to boobytrap my stuff either.” He considered Tarvek for a moment. “Were you offering to watch my back?”

Tarvek was determined to get along with Agatha regardless, but this was probably a really good sign. And he felt weirdly happy about making Gil smile. “If you’ll watch mine,” he said, mostly for form’s sake -- though, even if Gil wasn’t that wary yet, he could probably learn. “Actually for today I was thinking I’d ask if you wanted to work with me.” Assuming nobody had messed with his workbench, but it would probably be obvious if they had. “There isn’t really time to start over, so hopefully we’d be allowed.”

“That would be nice,” said Gil, suddenly sounding almost shy about it. “Thanks.”

Tarvek let out a relieved breath and smiled at him. “Okay. So, we go in, and straight to the wash station, and I’ll ask the teacher about working together.” Hopefully then they wouldn’t be in too much trouble. And he’d found out a lot already about the students here. Maybe it was a good thing he’d had a chance to observe them without Agatha here, after all. And lucky that he’d gone after Gil. That could help with befriending Agatha.

(He thought he liked talking to Gil. And the Heterodyne girl tried to look after the student who got bullied, even if she was three years younger. She sounded like she might be one of the good ones, when she was queen someday.)

The science teacher didn’t yell at them when they got back, and they didn’t get sent to clean grease traps.

Tarvek decided it was a pretty good afternoon.

She couldn’t say Sturmhalten had been boring, exactly -- it was a new place and their piano sounded amazing -- but Agatha was glad to be back at the school anyway. She got there just as everybody was starting in for dinner, returned greetings happily, and got Theo to lift her up for a few seconds so she could spot Gil and Tarvek. They were together, which was convenient, and Tarvek’s pet (a giant mimmoth, or perhaps a not quite so miniaturised mammoth) apparently scented him because it let out a trumpeting squeal and started galumphing around people. She darted after it. “Hi! Tarvek, I brought your -- what do you call that?”

Tarvek crouched down and petted it, looking delighted, and it patted at his face with its trunk. “A midmoth. My cousin made him for me. His name is Andy. I didn’t think Baron Wulfenbach would let me have him at the school.”

“He said he couldn’t see why not, unless it was likely to explode,” Agatha said. Tarvek looked rather shocked at the idea. “Oh, and your father and sister are on board for dinner, and you’re old enough to go join them if you want but you don’t have to,” she recited dutifully.

Tarvek looked uncertain and thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. “Thank you. I’ll stay here. Would you like to sit with us?”

“What was Sturmhalten like?” asked Gil, offering the midmoth a hand to sniff and then grinning when Andy wrapped his trunk around it.

“I was planning to. And it’s really pretty, but --” She gave Tarvek an apologetic look. “I don’t think Tarvek’s sister is as much fun as Theo. Maybe she doesn’t like littler kids as much.”

Tarvek’s look also turned apologetic. “I should have stayed. I thought they’d bring you back here when I went.”

“Uncle Barry said it was good for me to get to know our neighbours,” Agatha said, as they found seats. Andy curled up under Tarvek’s chair with an air of expecting snacks. “I’ll have lots more time to get to know you.” She settled in between them and looked up at them both. “Did anything interesting happen here?”

Gil and Tarvek looked at each other and Gil said, “Not really.”

“Okay.” That was too bad, but sometimes it didn’t. “You want to play with the dragon later?” Tarvek seemed nice; maybe he’d like to meet it too.

“Yes,” said Gil, smiling. “You can come with us,” he added, to Tarvek. “I didn’t get a chance to show you around earlier.”

Tarvek’s expression was very uncertain. “Sneaking off again?” he asked, lowering his voice.

Agatha beamed encouragingly at him. “Gil finds all the best places.”

“Okay,” said Tarvek. Then added, “You have a dragon?”

“It’s a clank. We found it in Gradok Heterodyne’s lab from when he was a kid. Uncle Barry took out the flamethrower so it was safe to have on an airship.” After a moment’s thought, she added, “I guess I have Franz, but he lives in Mechanicsburg.”

“The Great Dragon of Mechanicsburg is called Franz?” said Tarvek.

“Uh-huh. He’s really nice. Uh....” Agatha ducked her head a bit sheepishly. “Except he used to eat people, apparently.”

Tarvek looked awkward. Gil jumped in to say, “He let us ride on him. The clank dragon is a lot of fun but too small for that. Um, obviously. I’d like to build one that’s big enough, though.”

At that Tarvek stopped looking awkward and looked enthusiastic. “Could I help? I’ve worked on clanks at home, sometimes. Although not dragons.”

Gil lit up. “We ought to get one if all three of us are trying.”

“Maybe after dinner? Or were you going to show me your dragon then?” Tarvek asked.

“We can look at that one and all the notes,” Agatha said. “And go -- hmm, we probably don’t have time to try and build a dragon and go exploring.”

“We should go exploring if we can,” said Gil. “Because we can work on the flying dragon with adults around.”

“That’s true.” She wasn’t sure if anybody expected them to succeed in building a flying dragon they could ride, but it was allowed.

They ate fast and slipped away from dinner a little early, while Madame Otilia was still busy. Agatha felt her eyes on them, and Tarvek actually turned to look back. Agatha tugged on his arm, and he followed them, but it felt like he was hanging back a little. Agatha made a side trip to get Gradok's little dragon and its harness while Tarvek took his midmoth to make a nest or something, and then she met the boys in the recreational mechanical lab, with the dragon tucked firmly under her arm. From there, they wormed under a shelf, Gil moved a panel aside, and they were out into the rumbly unfinished parts of Castle Wulfenbach.

As soon as they were around the first corner, Agatha stopped to check the harness -- she didn't think Castle Heterodyne would be impressed, but she didn't want to have to chase the little dragon all over the whole dirigible, so she'd made it one first thing out of reinforced cable -- and turned the dragon back on. It immediately flew to the limit of the harness and then made an indignant little noise and dived back to display its claws to her.

"Is it sentient?" Tarvek asked, leaning over to try and get a look at it while staying out of reach of its claws.

The dragon flopped down on its back in Agatha's lap, waving its feet at her imperiously until she caught one and started taking the claws out to replace the original lockpicks. "I think it's smart like a cat."

Tarvek knelt down and shuffled closer. "It's remarkable," he said. "I wonder how its mind -- I suppose it would be a bad idea to try and look --"

"You can look," said Agatha. "Just not when it's on. I think things might fall out if it took off while it's open."

Tarvek nodded and sat back. "Does it obey you?" he asked.

"Not really," said Gil.

Agatha sort of felt like she wanted to be grumpy about that, but it was true and anyway, it was Gil. "The Castle says when Gradok built it, he had to chase it all over." She looked around and down over the edge. "I let it loose inside the school one time without its lockpicks and it didn't get out, but it got into pretty much everything."

"That's interesting," said Tarvek. “Most Sparks would start out with making sure a clank obeyed them, but Heterodyne creations --” He stopped and looked a bit embarrassed at bringing it up.

"Have a lot of personality?" Agatha said, grinning.

Tarvek relaxed and smiled back. "Something like that."

"Uncle Barry says that sometimes. Not always like it's a good thing." She finished the last lockpick, dropped the replacement claws into their pouch, and patted the dragon's tummy before it zoomed upward again.

"Maybe he means the Castle," said Gil.

"They don't get along very well sometimes," Agatha admitted.

"Um," said Tarvek. "Do either of you read much history?"

"Not really," Agatha said, a little confused. "I didn't have a lot of books before the school. Just the ones Uncle Barry bought when we were travelling, or wrote down."

Gil looked uncomfortable. "Me neither. I'm working through the school library."

"My family's town is right outside the area the Castle can reach with torchmen," said Tarvek. "It was built as close to Mechanicsburg as it could get without being destroyed. The Castle would probably still like to do that, if it could."

Agatha blinked. "I didn't know it could send them that far," she said, intrigued. She wasn't exactly sure how far Sturmhalten was, but she knew it would have taken a lot longer to walk than it had in airships. You couldn't see it from Mechanicsburg. "Why did your ancestors want to build right at the edge of our lands?"

“We were serving the Storm King," said Tarvek proudly. "Your ancestors weren't like your uncle, they were really dangerous. The Storm King was protecting everyone, so he had to keep them inside their own lands where they couldn't attack anyone. We were the closest, because we were needed on the pass, the other castles keeping them in were further away."

"Oh." Okay, she could see that. She liked Castle Heterodyne, but it could be really mean, and Franz used to eat people, and Uncle Barry had told her that their ancestors had mostly looked after Mechanicsburg but weren't usually very nice. It made sense if that meant they'd attacked people outside it. "So the Storm King was kind of like Baron Wulfenbach?"

"No!" said Tarvek, looking like he’d bitten into a bad nut. "The Storm King had a right to rule Europa."

"How come?" Gil asked. "I'd heard of the Storm King, but besides him and the Heterodyne Boys I thought it had mostly always been a lot of little kingdoms and things trying to conquer each other."

"He had agreements and things," said Tarvek, tipping his chin up a little haughtily. "And he was a King."

Agatha exchanged a puzzled look with Gil. "The Baron and Uncle Barry have agreements," she said. They'd just made one with Tarvek's father. "Isn't that why you're here?"

"Kings -- and princes -- usually outrank barons," Gil offered. "I don't think Sparks usually bother about that though."

"The Storm King wasn't a Spark," said Tarvek. "In the fifty families the Spark's still not the only thing that matters."

"I know," Gil said, making a face. "It's always who your family are."

Tarvek frowned at him. "Sparks care about that too, as soon as it's their family inheriting."

Gil looked away, then said, "But I don't think the Storm King's father ruled Europe, either."

Gil was starting to look upset and Agatha wasn't sure if Tarvek knew why. "Anyway," she said to Tarvek, "Uncle Barry said your father wrote to them, so I guess he doesn't think it's a bad idea. If the Storm King has heirs who are supposed to be protecting Europe, they obviously need help, so I think they should do that too."

Tarvek looked surprised and then smiled. "Maybe they will." He looked at Gil and added, "Sorry. We were meant to be exploring and I got distracted."

Gil took a deep breath and smiled back. "No problem. Let's go."

Agatha twitched the dragon-clank's tether so that it dived back down toward them and then lunged away again impatiently. Gil grabbed her and steadied her, and they set off to see what the Baron had built lately.

Tarvek followed them, head jerking up to every muffled sound vibrating through the girders around them. The big, empty space carried sounds, so they were quiet, bare feet pattering along walkways with barely more noise than a mimmoth. All of them were careful, jumping and holding their breath when a panel tipped slightly under Agatha's heel and dropped back into place with a clatter, but for Agatha and Gil it was a fun sort of wariness, scares followed by hands flattened over their mouths to muffle giggles. At times Agatha thought Tarvek was really afraid -- once he froze so sharply she found herself remembering her uncle, still like that with his hand holding her tight against him -- and she wondered if he was enjoying this at all.

Then Gil jumped easily across a gap between webs of girders and leaned back for Agatha, when she was just too short to reach, and Tarvek grabbed one of her hands tightly, so she could let go with the other and lean out far enough to grab Gil. They scrambled over, joined into a chain, the dragon's harness tangling her fingers and Tarvek's together, for several breathless moments keeping each other from falling. Then they were all clinging to the new scaffolding, and when Agatha grinned up at Tarvek he was smiling just as hard as she was.

"This wasn't here at all last time we came through," she whispered as they started toward the nearest walls.

"I know." Gil looked back, eyes alight. "They're building out between the labs over there--" He pointed left for Tarvek's benefit. "And the living quarters that way. I couldn't tell what they were putting in, last time, but there are some really big rooms and I saw them bringing up really enormous lamps."

"Lamps?" asked Tarvek. "Like ones for really big rooms?"

"I guess. They were shaped funny. All flat. We can probably find them; they can't be that hard to--" Gil broke off abruptly at the distinct ringing of an adult-sized boot on the catwalks.

Tarvek went utterly still again, except for his eyes darting around. Agatha looked toward the sound, off to their right, and wondered if they shouldn't have gone for deeper shadows.

Another footstep, and another, and a figure came out from behind a corner of the new walls. Agatha relaxed. It was a Jäger. He tilted his head, sniffed twice, and then looked straight at them and grinned so his sharp teeth caught the light.

Agatha grinned back and waved.

The Jäger made a gesture somewhere between a wave and a salute and walked on without stopping. Once he was gone Tarvek let out a strangled sounding gasp and Gil looked at him with concern. "I told you the Jägers ignore anyone with Agatha," he said.

Tarvek still looked rather pale. Agatha took his hand again. "I am the Heterodyne, you know," she said, a little jokily because it wasn't exactly true until she came of age, but she thought the reminder might help.

Tarvek squeezed her hand and managed to smile at her. "Right. And he really won't tell anyone?"

She shook her head. "If we were gone long enough people started to worry, I guess he'd come back to look for us. But I think everybody's calmed down a lot about that." Even Madame Otilia. Actually, Madame Otilia seemed calmer about a lot of things since she'd stopped being Madame Von Pinn.

"They know you do this?" said Tarvek. "Not just the Jägers, I mean, but your uncle and Baron Wulfenbach?"

"Um," said Agatha. "Kind of. The first time I went, we were just visiting, and they noticed we were gone and came looking." And Uncle Barry had told her she'd have to follow the school rules if she was going to attend, she remembered uncomfortably. But as long as they didn't damage anything or worry people she thought it was okay. It wasn't like the grownups tried very hard to keep them in, and it was so interesting out here.

"Oh," said Tarvek, looking a little uncertain again, although no longer as shaken as he had been.

"Baron Wulfenbach said our music box was pretty good for being made out of lab parts," Agatha added. "You can see it if you want, but the sound quality on the later ones is better."

"Here we go!" Gil whispered excitedly. Agatha and Tarvek both looked up at him. They were in among half-built walls now, and Gil grabbed Agatha's other hand and towed them around a corner to a maintenance door next to what did, indeed, look like the back workings of a really big flat lamp. After clambering around and puzzling over this for a bit, they reeled in the dragon, which made short work of the lock and then sat on Agatha's head (which really wasn't comfortable) as they went through.

And stopped and huddled in the corner next to it, because on one side of them was the big lamp and on the other was a coloured glass wall.

"What in the world?" Gil asked, sounding baffled.

"There are stained glass windows in Mechanicsburg," Agatha said, feeling very confused herself, "but not indoors."

Gil peered through a bit of pale yellow glass. "Well, we can't go through here, there's people. They'd see our shadows. Let's go find a different one."

Instead of opening the door again and going out, Tarvek shifted aside so Gil could reach it, and didn't take his eyes off the glass. "That's beautiful," he whispered. "It must look even better from the other side."

Gil looked at him for a moment, then said, "There were a bunch of the lights. If we find an empty room we can look at the glass from inside."

Tarvek stared longingly at the glass for a moment longer -- Agatha tried not to be impatient, because it was pretty but she'd rather see one she could actually look at properly instead of staying squished in a corner because there were people using the room on the other side of it -- and then followed them out. They found an empty room on the third try and wandered around it a few times, looking at the stained glass and trying to guess the room's purpose from the flooring. But Tarvek was too nervous about somebody coming in to enjoy that as much, and Agatha and Gil had to admit he had a point, so they went back up to climb around investigating the lamp and look at the indoor window from behind.

"They are usually meant to be seen in sunlight," Tarvek said, sitting in the cool spot behind one of the mirrors that made sure most of the light was thrown into the room. "I don't know why they're building them indoors."

"Most of the exterior windows on the dirigible are meant for people to see out of, I think," said Gil. "Maybe Baron Wulfenbach wanted some anyway because he likes them as much as you do."

Tarvek looked somewhat doubtful about that -- perhaps he was just having a hard time imagining Baron Wulfenbach admiring a stained glass window.

Gil shrugged, and they moved on, because even behind the mirrors the lamps were awfully warm. Agatha was sweaty all over and it was just as well they'd be made to take baths when they got back.

The big rooms with stained glass windows gave way to finished labs that Agatha and Gil had seen already. They didn't meet up quite evenly, because the rooms were different shapes and there was a lot of support equipment on the lab side. Agatha thought it might be time to go back. Tarvek hadn't seen the labs, but they were more likely to have people in them, so he probably didn't want to see them right now, and she was getting tired.

She was surprised when Tarvek slipped away into an opening she hadn't even paid attention to and then peeked out of it, glasses slightly askew and looking excited. "Come in here!"

They did. There wasn't anything inside, just a space, but it was a nice space. The flooring extended into it, and it was big enough for all three of them to spread out a bit, but it was too low and narrow to be a room meant for grownups.

"You found a secret room," Agatha said, pleased. "I mean, you found an accidental secret room."

Tarvek looked a little flushed and, suddenly, much more relaxed. "I thought maybe we could make a... a redoubt here."

Gil looked at him. "It's not a fort...."

Tarvek flushed a bit more. "A figurative one. Where we could... could put things we didn't want found. Or come to work on them. Or talk. If you wanted."

Gil brightened. "That sounds like a good idea." He looked up at the ceiling centimeters above his head and laughed. "At least until we get taller."

Chapter Text

"Cahul is calling for help," Barry said as Klaus waved him into his office.

Klaus blinked and then scowled. "Already?" This was understandable. Barry had hardly reached Mechanicsburg from the negotiations when the courier caught up with him, and he'd turned around and come straight to Castle Wulfenbach. "What's going on? And why is this the first I -- oh, never mind, of course they wrote to you."

Barry slung himself into a chair and handed over the letter. "They want more squid. Or fewer, possibly. The Duke of Taraclia has sent an army of them."

"He's attacking one of our allies," said Klaus. "I made the consequences of that quite clear. There's no need to simply increase Cahul's defences."

"I was assuming we'd show up with them," Barry said. While the growing Wulfenbach military was not reassuring to everyone and the Heterodyne one had rarely reassured anyone at all outside Mechanicsburg and its immediate surroundings, the promise of active defence was a definite selling point for many of their new allies. "Ah. Right. You'll be planning to keep Taraclia."

"Yes. Depending on the situation, he may get to remain in place as a vassal." Attacking people with an army of squid wasn't promising, but enough Sparks who were otherwise sensible rulers had moments of attacking people with monsters that Barry could see why Klaus wasn't entirely ruling that out.

"You know, I thought at some point you said you were tired of leaving lunatics in charge with a promise to do better next time," Barry said, lightly teasing.

"A promise to do better next time or else is different," said Klaus. "Anyway, we can decide what to do with him after we've taken the town. It shouldn't be too hard if we take the Jägers, squid -- yours excepted -- aren't usually efficient fighters."

"They are difficult to adapt for land combat." Barry frowned slightly, thinking. "We'll want to be careful about the townspeople."

"I do try to avoid hurting civilians," said Klaus. "If we give them time to get out or take shelter and then take the army out fast they should be in minimal danger."

"I was including the army."

Klaus gave him an incredulous look. "You can't fight a battle without hurting the opposing army."

"I know that, but we can try to minimise it. This probably isn't their idea." And wasn't this usually Klaus's argument?

"I'm not suggesting we don't ask them to surrender. I'm saying if they don't surrender then they're going to have to take the consequences of that."

"And I think we can come up with ways to make the fight less lethal."

"At considerable risk to our own troops," said Klaus, frowning. "Fighting someone who is trying to kill you when you're not trying to kill them is extremely dangerous."

"I know, we've done it before," Barry said drily.

"And it made us less effective than we could have been, with the time and the risks we took on that," said Klaus. "And this time it's not just a risk to us."

"Part of the effect we were after was keeping people alive!" Barry said, then stopped and inhaled slowly. Klaus was not wholly wrong. Admit that part. "I'm not disputing that it was slower and more dangerous." But even if it had allowed them to reach more towns over time, he didn't think less care would have been an improvement on balance. "On the other hand, this time we're bringing a lot more force to bear. Which also means we'll be taking an army inside the town itself, so even if the army gives us enough trouble to require killing them, I want nonlethal options for anybody who's just in the way, inadvertently or not."

"Inadvertently I'll grant you, but anyone deliberately getting in our way is actively fighting us whether they have a gun in their hands or not."

"And at that point it'll be because we're invading their town."

Klaus hesitated for a moment, then his eyebrows drew together. "Invading their town is necessary, and getting our troops killed doing it isn't. What would you suggest as an alternative?"

"Well, it helps that Jägers are hard to kill," said Barry, sitting back a little. And just when had he started assuming he could send Jägers into battle in a town and tell them to try not to kill people? "And I've seen the battle clanks you're working on; they're miles past Beetle's already."

"The clanks are one thing. The Jägers are hard to kill but not impossible to hurt." Klaus considered that, then sighed. "Although with you here there's very little that can't be fixed."

That didn't mean the injuries didn't matter, but the rest still did too. "That's true, although I'm really not trying to be cavalier about it. They're also very good." Barry paused, thoughts veering off in a more technical direction and then taking a quick swerve into directly practical concerns. "And I might have some ideas we should give them a chance to practise with before we arrive."

Klaus gave him a look. "Did you just assume you'd won this argument and go straight into working out how we could do it your way and still have it work?"

"I've been working out how to do it my way since I got the letter," Barry said, then had to admit, "But yes, I suppose I did."

"...I'll take a look at your ideas," said Klaus, rubbing his forehead. "If they seem like they'd work we can try it, the Jägers won't want to do something you don't agree to anyway. But if this results in too many casualties we're doing it my way next time."

Agatha had seen this gymnasium before. It was one of the ones designed for Jägers, which meant they had even less hope of managing to climb anything than in the ones meant for adults. Today the floor was white and slightly shiny and there was a machine with a big spray nozzle sitting on a vaulting horse.

Tarvek poked at the floor with an inquisitive toe. “It’s slippery.”

“Ooh. Like ice skating,” said Agatha. She’d been ice skating last winter — they’d stopped in a small village and Uncle Barry had made ice skates for her and all the kids that didn’t already have them. She didn’t have her skates with her, but maybe it would be the same? She decided to experiment and stepped out, trying for the long, gliding steps she’d made on the frozen lake. At first she thought it was the same, and turned to grin at Gil and Tarvek who were watching impressed from the doorway, but in a moment she found out it wasn’t quite like ice skating. Without the friction of a blade on ice, melting a straight track, her feet could go sideways as well as forward. One went out from under her and she fell on her bottom, more jarred than hurt. “I’m okay,” she said quickly, pushing herself back up carefully on hands and knees, twisting to look at the boys over her shoulder. “Come and try it.”

Tarvek edged out of the doorway with a frown, concentrating not worried, touching the wall with one hand while he imitated Agatha’s movements. Gil took a few steps back and Agatha was just about to tell him it wasn’t really hard when he ran forward and took a flying leap into the gym, knees bent to keep his centre of gravity low as he skidded across the floor grinning wildly. He made it across most of the room before falling over and sliding shoulder first into the wall with a thud.

“Gil!” Tarvek shouted and let go of the wall to try to run to him, predictably falling over himself and winding up floundering forwards on hands and knees.

Gil rolled over and sat up, face twisted between pain and laughter.

Tarvek stopped, still on hands and knees and bellowed, ”Haven’t you got the sense of a Jägermonster?”

“They’re not stupid!” Agatha said, because those were her Jägers, as she skated across to help Gil up.

“Hey!” Gil protested, realising she’d defended the Jägers and not him.

Tarvek flopped face down in his arms, glasses askew. “Promise you won’t ever do that again.”

Gil, half holding the wall and half Agatha, managed to get to his feet rather than pulling her off hers, and grinned at Tarvek. “If you stop clinging to the wall and try this properly.”

“I’m not clinging, I’m practising,” said Tarvek with dignity. He clambered to his feet and skated to the centre of the room with a few graceful steps, shooting a triumphant glance at Gil.

Agatha giggled.

The squid the Jägers hacked at, rough and messy. Tentacles anchored them, entangled them, reduced their normal darting patterns to hacking and clawing, stopped them going to each other's aid, but for all that that the rubbery flesh parted under swords and claws and if it was messy it wasn’t leaving the Jägers with much more damage than wrenched limbs and puncture wounds, occasional patches of skin stripped away in long grazes. Most of the blood they came away covered in was blue.

Barry had more sense than to try to close with a squid with merely human strength (Klaus was a different question and irritatingly hard to keep track of), but death rays aimed at the heads left the tentacles writhing uncoordinatedly and added a surreal odor of seafood to the battlefield atmosphere. He had enough distance to be mostly out of it when they reached the first squid with modified ink, which sprayed a black mist into the air instead of puddles. The edge of it made him cough but also gave him enough information to start improvising a quick neutralising agent, spritz the area as a test, and then fall back to the chemical wagons to start a bigger batch. The next batch of squid had emphasised the cohering properties of the ink; in water this might have made an effective decoy, but here Barry mostly ended up charging around ungluing Jägers who had been caught in it and wishing he'd thought to put glue guns on his own kraken.

Although, he thought, ducking a large chunk of tentacle as one of them boiled up under the nearest land squid, perhaps the burrowing blades were enough after all.

The town was different. Inside the town people poured out. Trained soldiers, some of them, others confused farmers and craftsmen clutching at their sharpest tools, reacting to an invasion of their homes. The Jägers stopped at the edge of the town, heads tipping towards one another, conferring. He heard growling laughs here and there and suppressed a sigh — this was Jägers not trying to be intimidating — before lifting his megaphone.

“This is Barry Heterodyne,” he announced. The projection system picked up the signal from the megaphone, and his voice echoed over the city from the airships ringing it. “We are here to liberate you. Throw down your weapons and you will not be harmed. Come out of the city and you will be protected.” He wanted to protect them anyway, but he couldn’t guarantee their safety in the middle of combat.

Inside the town some people dropped their weapons, started to shuffle forward looking around them, and then took courage at noticing their neighbours doing the same and started to stride.

“Leave the town and I will turn you into squidapeds!” yelled a voice from inside the town, wild and on the edge of laughter. “My soldiers will kill you if the Jägers don’t eat you first!”

"Oh for God's sake," Barry snapped, "they don't actually eat people, and we aren't going to turn you into anything you don't ask for. But if you're currently somewhere safe, stay there until we can get to you, your Duke clearly can't be trusted with you."

People hesitated, cowed by their Spark, some ran back to their dropped weapons. But others looked at each other and threw theirs down, and then as the voice yelled, “Soldiers!” started to run.

The Jägers moved apart, letting the people flow through them like water. A horn rang out somewhere and then half the Jägers moved into a more complete circle and half of them were gone, bounding from windowsill to windowsill and onto the roofs of the city.

Barry stuck the megaphone back on his belt and ran for the ladder to one of the smaller airships, where Klaus turned out to be already aboard. "There you are. You could have shouted at them from here, you know."

Barry snorted. "I was busy. I'm surprised we didn't have to pry you out of there."

"I kept out of the glue," Klaus said blandly.

The smaller airships turned inward and began criss-crossing over the city, dodging the occasional upward barrage. Some doused the Duke's soldiers and streets in slick liquid, leaving the soldiers slithering helplessly and the more agile (and prepared) Jägers to attack from above or cheerfully skate over the cobblestones. Some served as decoys. And this one headed directly over the Duke's castle and let Klaus and Barry down in rope harnesses onto the roof.

Getting into the castle was relatively easy, familiar and almost fun; the Duke had not guarded it heavily from above, and they both had plenty of practice sneaking past guards, or sneaking up on guards and rendering them unconscious with minimal risk by various basic or creative means. And even though the ones at home weren't actually intended to kill him, Barry had never been able to shake a slight and irrational suspicion that most other Sparks who made deathtraps weren't really putting their all into the design process.

Klaus identified the logic of the floor plan (the Duke had logic to his floor plan, which always helped, although Klaus also had an astounding ability to follow the unrelated jumps between mashed-together purpose in some haphazard pieces of architecture, and had once laughed so hard he had to sit down when Bill mentioned being impressed) and they made their way toward the inner sanctum. Conscious of the risks being taken in the battle outside, they went only a little slower than if there was a doomsday device on countdown. It increased the chances of being surrounded after the fact, but of course, by then they'd have the Duke.

The Duke had retreated here by now, or had never left; they could hear the voice now and it was the same one that had threatened the townspeople. "You've been listening to Heterodyne stories," the Duke sneered. "What are you afraid of?" There were probably several reasonable and accurate responses to this. Nobody volunteered them. "They're fiction! They're exaggerated!" Something crashed inside, and there was a faint sizzle. Barry could picture the sweep of the Duke's arm, the arc and shatter of glassware off the bench and something corrosive splashing on stone. It probably had not endeared him to anyone on that side of the room. "Are you expecting them to just materialise inside here?"

One day, some Spark or another was going to give them a perfect line like that and actually be prepared for them to take the cue. So far even Lucifer Mongfish hadn't managed it yet. Barry kicked the door in.

Klaus flashed past him and had hoisted the Duke by the back of the neck before anyone else had a chance to move. Barry hastily narrowed the beam on his sleep gun and dropped the guards who were in a position to fire on Klaus from behind, then covered the other half of them, smiling faintly, as they looked uneasily from him to their captive lord to their fallen fellows.

"Put down your weapons," Klaus said evenly.

"Shoot them," the Duke snarled. Barry arched an eyebrow at him and hefted the sleep gun.

The remaining guards evaluated the situation and obeyed Klaus.

That taken care of, Barry scanned the rest of the room hastily to mark likely traps. Klaus was holding the Duke just out of reach of a cord attached to something presumably unpleasant in the ceiling... several likely-looking levers in various parts of the room.... There was one apparently unarmed man, or at least unweaponed -- a jester in motley, standing at the back of the room with all four arms folded, looking wary. Barry gave him an extra sliver of attention, perplexed; he wasn't acting like a guard and was making no effort to be a distraction--

The man's eyes flicked to the Duke, and burned. Oh.

He wasn't there for function or friendship. He was the only modified human Barry had seen here. The Duke had retreated with his prize experiment.

Barry fought down the familiar flare of temper to a smoulder, an old battle; weary, but he knew he'd be sorry if he lost it. "Surrender," he said to the Duke, "and we--"

"Barry." Klaus interrupted. "Don't make promises we can't keep."

Barry stopped, jarred. “What did you think I was going to offer him?” They had left the question of what to do with the Duke until they had more information. The unhappy jester and the squidaped threat were evidence of experimenting on his own people. Barry scanned the voice projection system. Pressed a button, frowned, flicked a switch and it was active. One more chance. "Tell your people to surrender. We won't harm them."

Klaus lowered the Duke slightly, although not to the point that he could actually reach anything. The Duke's head came up; he fixed burning eyes on the jester and howled, "Activate the self-destruct mechanism!"

Barry pressed the muzzle of the sleep gun to the Duke's head and fired. Then held his breath for a few seconds, listening for any hint of something actually activating. The jester met his eyes and shrugged minutely.

Barry leaned over the projection system. "Sorry about that. This is Barry Heterodyne." His own voice came in distantly from outside. "We have your Duke and his Castle. Unless you particularly want to turn your backs on the Jägers and try to rescue him, I advise you to lay down your weapons now."

When he looked up, the jester was bending over one of the guards, checking for a pulse. He straightened, looking more analytical and less unnerved. "He's not dead."

Barry raised his eyebrows. "It's not a death ray. What's your name?"

"Boris Dolokhov." The man glanced down at himself and added, with a bitter twist to his mouth, "I am a librarian," as if daring them to laugh.

"I could use a librarian," Klaus said without batting an eye. There were reasons Barry couldn't stay exasperated with him for very long. "Do you want a new job?"

Boris stared at him as if unsure whether to take this response seriously.

"He means it," Barry said. "I think you'd prefer his library to mine. It doesn't talk back."

"I would very much like nearly any job that does not involve juggling," Boris said, still sounding rather suspicious. "I did not want to be a jester."

"Don't you know any Heterodyne stories?" Klaus asked blandly. "The position of comic relief has been filled."

Barry covered his eyes. "And yes, that is his idea of a joke."

Boris almost smiled.

The room where the injured Jägers gathered was as much victory party as infirmary. None of them had died, and the most seriously hurt were grinning with gritted teeth as their friends offered drinks, jokes, and congratulations to take their mind off it. Barry didn't keep them waiting long, although he was a tiny island of pensive quiet, politely declining drinks and lightly toasted squid kebabs until he was done and humming to shut out the raucous noise around him as he worked. When this continued past the most serious injuries, however, the silence started to spread a little.

"Hoy," said Maxim, as Barry extracted a squid-claw from his knee. "Hyu dun look happy. Der battle vent pretty good, yah?" He sounded just a touch worried.

Barry blinked at him and tried to shake off the melancholy. He pitched his voice to cut and carry through the room -- not a hard task when he suspected nearly everyone in it had just turned an ear their way. "All of you did great."

"So vot's wrong?" Maxim asked, head cocked to one side, looking far more concerned about Barry's mood than his own injury.

Barry bit down a flippant answer along the lines of Klaus didn't tell you I always sulk after battles? and said, "It... always bothers me to have people getting hurt on my behalf."

Maxim gave him a completely bewildered look and then looked at the other Jägers as if one of them might know what Barry was talking about. "Ve iz meant to do dot," he said.

"Iz kind ov der point ov haffing an army," Dimo said from somewhere behind Barry.

Barry gave the claw a slight twist and it slid free from the joint. He took a moment to press the heel of his hand against his forehead before flicking the magnifying lenses into position on his goggles and scrutinising the claw to check for missing bits, or anything more solid than blood that it might have snagged on the way out. "Yes, well, I'm not very good at that yet," he muttered. "And I did ask you to take added risks to avoid killing people. Which, again, you did very well." There had been deaths; Barry had made it clear this wasn't an 'at all costs' situation and the Jägers weren't stupid. But there hadn't been very many.

Maxim winced, ears twitching slightly because they couldn't really flatten, and then smiled at the praise. "Ve spent three years underground because der Red Heterodyne vanted bat sandviches. Hyu don't got to feel bad about asking for tings."

Barry mostly smothered a laugh and dropped the claw into a specimen tray. Nice to know 'keep your opponents alive where feasible' was at least considered no more unreasonable than 'let's stay in this cavern, I want to eat bats.' It wasn't easy to out-eccentric his relatives. He squeezed an analgesic gel into the wound and pressed a sonic wand to it, analysing the resulting echoes. "Good, no loose bits. Try to take it easy for at least six hours after it closes up." He started wrapping Maxim's knee in a bandage, partly as a reminder that the injury was there even if the pain was gone. "I don't... exactly. It's basically what Bill and I asked of everybody we fought alongside, and I still think it was better to do it this way. You made it possible to do it this way. It still bothers me when you get hurt."

"Ve dun like each odder gettink hurt," said Dimo, squeezing his shoulder now he wasn't half way through fixing Maxim. "But ve like der fightink und der vun goes vit de odder."

Maxim nodded, eyes bright. "Ve'd rather be hurt den left behind."

It was easier to grin and say the blood spilt was worth it when it was his blood, but this was possibly not a sentiment he should really share with the Jägers. It did help to be reminded that this wasn't a case of dragging people into fighting for a cause they didn't believe in. (Which he'd done on occasion, usually with Sparks slightly less recalcitrant than the Duke.) Okay, their interest in the cause was perhaps secondhand, but they wouldn't be Jägers if they weren't willing to fight, or for that matter to take insane risks for the sake of the House of Heterodyne, and they really did want to come.

It was still his responsibility to worry about the risks to them and the cost of victory, but he didn't have any business moping about the cost of victory when the people who'd actually paid it wanted to celebrate. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "I am immensely proud of all of you, just so you know." Barry drew a deep breath and then grinned at them as he finished cleaning up and moved on to his next patient. "And I'll tell everybody who didn't crowd in here as soon as I've finished up."

Barry joined Klaus and the Jägergenerals about an hour into the victory party, smelling vaguely of antiseptic. (Given they were surrounded by Jägers and alcohol, Klaus assumed he actually reeked of it.) "Effryvun all right now?" Øsk asked.

"Should be. I want to check on everybody who got a lungful of squid mist again tomorrow morning just to be sure." Barry poured himself a drink and then stood up again, grabbing a skewer of calamari and everyone's attention, and told the Jägers he was proud of them. As he should be at this point, Klaus thought, although if Barry had warned him first he might have put in earplugs.

They eventually left the Jägers to their own devices and ended up back in Klaus's study. "So," Barry said, "what do you want to do with the Duke?"

"Imprison him," said Klaus. "If we give him enough bits and pieces to play with he may not even try to escape very much."

Barry blinked. "That almost sounds like you mean to imprison him in a lab."

"Why not? It would keep him busy and may even be useful," said Klaus. "What did you intend to do with him?"

"I'm not sure I was going to be that nice," Barry said drily. "What on Earth did you think I was going to offer him?"

"...I'm not sure. But you were never particularly ruthless before." Bill and Barry had sometimes decided to reform Sparks by bringing them along -- they hadn't had the resources for imprisonment, but between them the Heterodyne Boys had succeeded in being incredibly overwhelming which somehow had almost the same effect. In situations where that hadn't been an option...Klaus had dealt with it. He wondered now what they would have done if he hadn't, or what they'd done on those occasions when he had been elsewhere. He'd always felt oddly like he needed to protect their innocence, as if they weren't powerful Sparks from a long line of warlords and capable adventurers besides.

"Sometimes I'm not sure you realised that actually took effort," Barry muttered. "I was going to say we'd let him live."

"You would have done that regardless," Klaus pointed out.

"He didn't know that. And I lied to Boris." At Klaus's mildly puzzled look, Barry added, "It's a death ray if you turn it up all the way."

"That's not exactly surprising. You and Bill always did have a tendency to add death rays," said Klaus. Including a Death Ray Room at the Great Hospital which had been boarded up by pragmatic but unquestioning Mechanicsburgers as soon as it was built. "Although I always wondered if they were meant to be decorative, since I don't recall you actually using them." Except accidentally a few times, once leading to their building a wall building machine to repair a University Laboratory. They'd managed to track it down again before it turned much of Beetleburg into a maze.

"Well, we tried to avoid having to," Barry said. "Though I suppose some of them were rather pretty."

"The aesthetic appeal of death rays aside," said Klaus, "I don't think I ever considered that you might. I'm sorry I assumed --" Sorry he assumed what? That Barry was more innocent than he actually was? Less practical? "-- that you were making promises beyond the obvious without consulting me."

"I probably shouldn't have been promising not to kill him without consulting you either," Barry said, "unless I was going to take him home with me and I'm not entirely sure making him listen to Castle Heterodyne's suggestions would be kinder." Klaus was fairly sure that was a joke, but it didn't quite sound like one.

"You can assume I intend to take prisoners, at least as a first resort," said Klaus. "For future reference."

"Good to know." A wry look. "I did assume it was more of an option now."

"And you don't object to my plans for him?" It was worth checking.

Barry shook his head. "No. And knowing you, Boris won't ever have to look at him again."

"The airship's certainly big enough for me to arrange that."

"Certainly true." A minute pause. "How did the casualty rates end up outside the Jägers?"

"For our side or theirs?" Klaus asked, and then shook his head. That had been unfair. "Not any higher than expected. The Jägers took the brunt of it, in the hand-to-hand fighting, a lot of the human combatants on our side were gunners. A higher proportion might have been hurt, but with those tactics we had less on the field to begin with."

Barry tipped his head to one side. "Were you satisfied?"

Klaus sighed. "They were," he said. Protecting Jägers from their Heterodyne -- he was insulting them and Barry just thinking it, probably. "I can't complain on grounds of damage to my troops, and the Jägers...did save a lot of lives, in all honesty. On balance I might consider it worth it even if they weren't so happy about it."

"I didn't ask anything of them that we hadn't asked of you," Barry said. "Or any number of other people."

"I know," Klaus admitted. He was the one who had suggested Barry should talk to the Jägers, he'd wanted Barry to accept they wanted to please him. But he'd been thinking it would lead to Barry willingly placing them under his command, not retaining command over half his army and using it. Maybe he was just a little jealous. Especially since Barry's tactics really had worked. "I am satisfied."

Barry nodded. "I am taking you seriously, you know," he said. "I'm... not going to insist on this when it would put us at a serious risk of losing." Although he looked a little pained about it. "And I'm not treating the risk to the Jägers as trivial."

"That's good to know," said Klaus. "I didn't think you were, precisely, the second part at least. You never treated the risk to anyone as trivial."

Barry smiled wryly. "I do try not to. Even when they are having fun."

She had a letter. From Barry Heterodyne. It wasn't the first one, but there had been few enough that Donna was still delightedly astonished all over again every time. She was also pretty sure she was giddy for more personal reasons than being starstruck.

A courier ship dropped it off just after dawn; she made herself wait until lunchtime to read it, lending gleeful anticipation to her morning's work, and then hung up the hot protective apron and gloves, washed off the sweat, and finally opened and unfolded the letter. At which point Cousin Yvette arrived on her round of lunch delivery. She set down a little loaf of fresh bread from her bakery -- scooped open, filled with lentils and chanterelles and drizzled with clarified butter -- and then nearly draped herself over Donna's shoulder. "Ooh. A love letter!"

"Get off," Donna said, laughing. "You don't want to meet all your other customers smelling of the forge. And it's not exactly a love letter." At least, it wasn't the sort of sweet nothings Yvette and her husband constantly exchanged when he was travelling. She and Barry were still getting to know each other and had exchanged letters several times now; the topics ranged from news to philosophy, biography, music, literature, and each party's latest scientific or engineering breakthroughs. Sometimes in the same paragraph.

Yvette winked exaggeratedly at her and went her way. Donna rigged a quick system of holders and mirrors so she could read and eat at the same time without risk of smudging the letter, and settled in.

A small principality to the east had begged for help, and Barry and Klaus were taking the Jägers against the Duke who'd attacked it. He's using land squid, Barry wrote, a few pages in, but I've had a look at them and while they are understandably frightening to their targets, I don't think they'll be any match for either our mechanical squid or the Jägers. It's very easy to lose efficiency when adapting an aquatic form for dry terrain, and harder to make up for it the more you stick to the original biology. I'm more concerned about reaching his capital and what we'll have to do to whatever army he has there.

He wasn't worried about winning, she noted. She doubted he would be if he and Klaus were going alone rather than with the resources of a growing empire and a small army of Jägers. Just about how much damage they'd have to do in the process. Actually, come to think of it -- she waggled a small lever to return to the first page of the letter and check its date. Days before -- well, it hadn't been an emergency courier! The battle was likely to be done by now.

By the way, not wanting to take advantage of your good nature, I have taken the liberty of calculating your percentage of the proceeds from the squid factory, to reflect your design and technique contributions. So far the new blades have found little challenge in rock, sticky clay, or heavily armoured clanks. Donna goggled at the amount (not enclosed: the courier didn't have enough of a reputation yet to risk carrying valuables). She'd counted herself lucky to have a chance at the machines there, let alone the company. She'd have done it for that alone. But she had to admire the care about treating her fairly. And apparently somebody was paying well for squid clanks.

She hadn't made it any farther before Yvette's eldest, Jaya, came racing up. "Cousin Donna! There are Jägers. I bet they're looking for you!"

Donna blinked, chewed, and swallowed a mouthful of bread. "I'll come and be found, then."

There were Jägers, six of them, hanging around the centre of the town. Most people had gone indoors and were nervously peering out from between shutters. The few who hadn't had been cornered and were being asked for directions -- although Donna got the impression that if they were being menaced it was purely accidentally.

Yvette herself was one of them, although the Jäger talking to her appeared to be slightly distracted by her lunch deliveries. She peered past him, caught sight of Donna starting purposefully toward them, and pointed.

"I'm Donna DuLac, if you're looking for the blacksmith," Donna said. "What are you all doing here?"

"Ve heard hyu mek nize swords," offered one, red eyed and sharp toothed but otherwise not very inhuman looking.

She scanned the rest of them interestedly. Green, purple, blue with gold fur, hulking grey with ram's-horns, pale with one ram's-horn. He didn't seem bothered by the asymmetry. "I do," Donna agreed, because it was true. But it had been true for quite a while without prompting Jägers to show up with a commission. She put her eyebrows up. "Should I guess you also heard I'm seeing Barry Heterodyne?"

"Dot too!" said the one with a single horn, with a wide grin.

It was a very toothy grin but less alarming than bright-eyed and infectiously cheerful. Donna smiled back at him. "Well, you can all come back to the forge, then, and stop making everybody nervous. If you want to buy lunch from Yvette, I'll show you to the bakery -- the meals she's carrying right now are spoken for."

"Lunch vould be good," said the red eyed one.

"Jaya!" Yvette called. "Run ahead and tell everyone to get busy." She smiled politely at the Jägers as her daughter pelted off. "I'll be back myself when I finish my deliveries."

Donna gestured for them to come with her and started off. When she glanced back, people were emerging from their houses and shops, beginning to look curious now that the Jägers were with her. "I'm sorry," she said after a moment, "I didn't ask your names. Who are you?" She couldn't keep identifying them to herself by transformation.

They each gave her a name; Jorgi, Dimo, Maxim, Vali, Fane, and Ognian. "Und ve know who hyu are!" Ognian finished cheerfully before adding, apropos of not very much, "Hyu squid blades are vonderful."

"Thank you," said Donna. Then, "Oh. Did you just see them? Were you at the battle?"

That got her a chorus of affirmatives. "Dey vere great," said Maxim. "Beat all der real squid."

"Der real squid didn't haff svords," Dimo clarified. "Just suckers vit needles."

"Vhich vas easier for those ov hyu vit fur," Fane rumbled.

"...Ouch," said Donna. Squid with needles? "I imagine it would be hard to teach a real squid swordplay," she added reflectively. "I take it the capital went well too?" She looked at them quizzically. "I had a letter this morning from before the battle. It was a few days old, but you nearly beat it here."

"It vent great," said Ognian, with an ear to ear grin. "Ve hardly killed anyvun, just like Master Barry vanted! Und ve left all der buildings still up."

Donna swallowed a sudden and possibly nervous urge to giggle. Probably she shouldn't be picturing the Jägers habitually bringing down buildings bare-handed. "Taking a town and hardly killing anyone sounds very difficult," she said. "He must have been very pleased with that."

She was instantly surrounded by sharp, happy and rather smug smiles. "He vas," said Vali.

"He's gun let us do it again now!" added Maxim.

"Yah, ve don't haff to stay in Mechanicsburg anymore," said Ognian. "Ve gets to fight!"

Donna very nearly asked how often they expected it to come up, then realised it was a silly question. When she considered the wrecked state of the continent, and how many times the Heterodyne Boys had clashed with evil Sparks, and how many more of them people had hoped they'd get to. Although nobody had hoped they'd do it with Jägers, of course. "Between uncooperative Sparks and the stray creations in the Wastelands," she said, "I imagine you'll have a lot of chances." She gestured to the bakery ahead. "And there's Yvette's place."

Forewarned, the rest of Yvette's staff had steeled themselves for the Jägers' arrival and started a lot of extra food, so this went relatively smoothly. Leaving aside their table manners they were polite. They ate a truly astonishing amount of sandwiches, paid for them and even tipped well. They then followed Donna back to the forge where they proved sword shopping hadn't been entirely an excuse by breaking up to look at her wares. Maxim poked at cavalry sabres, Vali at short swords and Ognian at anything that looked interesting. Dimo, passing by her desk, paused for a moment, brows furrowing, and sniffed the air before noticing the letter. He gave it a quick sniff and then passed on with a grin to test the balance of a collection of throwing knives by spinning them between his claws. Jorgi looked more at her work area than the finished weapons, and when he looked up regarded her with the same frank interest he regarded her work.

Fane came up to her and held out his right hand, at least twice as big as a human hand and with only two blunt fingers and a thumb. "Hyu do custom vork?"

"Yes, regularly." He'd need something a little more customised than most, but he had the height and strength to go with the size of his grip, which improved the options. She started to reach for his hand, then checked herself. "May I?"

"Sure ting." A smile, amused and just a bit flirtatious, as he held his hand still for her to inspect.

Donna smiled back, also amused, and began exploring the muscle and bone structure. (The muscle was hard enough she wasn't sure she'd have been able to find the bones if he hadn't completely relaxed his hand for her.) She did less mechanical work than the average Spark -- her breakthrough had mostly allowed her to pursue the whole of her fascination with metalworking, although she could appreciate a good design too -- and less biology, but hand anatomy was an extension of her interest in weapons and other tools. Fane's fingers seemed to have fused, from four to two; the phalanges were still broad enough from side to side to reflect that. (Ouch, Donna thought. Something similar seemed to have happened to Ognian's feet, actually.) The distal joints allowed slightly increased flexion, and the claws would have to be taken into account for a really comfortable grip....

"All right then," she said, looking up at him and considering rather belatedly that prodding analytically at a Jäger's hand might be something to be nervous about. Then again, it probably wasn't objectively more alarming than Castle Heterodyne trying to set her up on a date. "What kind of sword do you prefer?"

"Arming svord," he said, gesturing to the straight, double-edged blades.

Donna nodded thoughtfully. He could probably wield most longswords one-handed, but there would be structural differences and even the longer hilts would tend to be uncomfortably narrow. Not really satisfactory. "I'd like to see your grip...." She offered him a short steel bar, then almost immediately shook her head and replaced it with a wider one.

Jorgi wandered over to sit at her desk, half watching the process and half fiddling with her mirrored reading device.

Fane wrapped his hand around the bar and tilted his head towards her questioningly.

"That looks about right. How does it feel?" She glanced over at the glint of one of the throwing knives. "Dimo, there are targets out back if you want to test those."

"Preedy goot," said Fane, gripping more firmly and swishing the iron bar through the air with a frown.

"Thanks, dollink," called Dimo, vanishing out the back with a selection of knives fanned in his hand.

"Tell me how they do, I can't put the power behind them that you will," Donna called back, studying how Fane moved. That was it, aside from the length of the fingers there were shifts in the wrist and shoulder movement. There was only so much one changed the basic structure of a sword, but there were a lot of subtleties in the shape of the hilt and blade. She quizzed him on what he was looking for and at last concluded, "All right.... I can make you a sword that will feel and handle very nearly like a good standard arming sword from before your transformation."

He grinned at her, pleased and fierce. "How long vill it tek?"

Behind them there was a clatter -- Maxim and Ognian had started trying out swords on each other with some playful sparring and Ognian had stumbled into a display rack. From the way Ognian was holding his sword it wasn't his normal weapon and both of them looked sheepish as they picked the rack back up.

"About a week, I think." She eyed the other two. Neither appeared to be bleeding, at least. And if they'd been able to damage any of her work by falling into it, she wouldn't have wanted it going out into the world with her mark on it anyhow. "Should I send you two outside as well?"

"Ve'll be more careful," Maxim said, picking up the knocked over swords. Ognian nodded.

The last people to try a swordfight inside here had been boys, and she had naturally run them right out and had words with their parents about making sure they knew what they were doing. These were obviously grown men, and given the Jägers were supposedly unaging and the Heterodyne Boys had not added to their ranks, they probably had been for a few of her lifetimes. "Well, there is more space there. The display racks will only make a mess," she said drily, "but please, stay away from the fire."

"Ve don't vant to miss anyting," Ognian said cheerfully. "Ve ken stop fighting if hyu like."

"That might be better," she agreed. "Though I'm not sure exactly what you think you'll miss. Did you want to talk, or watch me start on Fane's sword?"

"Hy don't know vot ve'd miss either," said Ognian, looking puzzled for a moment.

Jorgi rolled his eyes at him. "Ve ken talk," he said. "Hyu haffen't sold to Jägers before or ve'd haff heard. Hyu sell to constructs?"

"If they come to me," said Donna, "which I admit isn't very often. I did arm nearly everyone in town when things were particularly bad outside, although I suppose in proportion to the number of Sparks we don't have that many constructs."

"It dun't bother hyu," said Fane, flexing his hand on the table. "Adapting."

"It's an interesting prospect!" Donna gestured, perhaps a little more wildly than necessary. "Most really large blades are for clanks or other machines... and I mean limited-function automatons; I suppose making one for Otilia would be a different matter entirely. Of course it's important to make a high-quality blade that suits the mechanism, but it's not the same set of concerns as dealing with the flexibility demanded by a skilled swordsman and the feel of handling it."

"If hyu come live in Mechanicsburg hyu ken mek a lot of svords for Jägers," said Jorgi, half teasing, genuinely welcoming.

"That is a potential advantage," Donna said cheerfully -- also teasing a bit, because it was hardly the main consideration, but she did mean it. "This town does not need nearly as many blades as I want to make."

"Hyu haff family here," said Ognian, poking at things restlessly again now he wasn't fighting. "Vould hyu miss dem?"

"Mm, yes, but I'd plan to keep in touch. I have family from Calcutta to Algiers as it is. Comparatively speaking, Mechanicsburg isn't so far."

"Dot's a lot ov family," said Ognian respectfully and maybe a bit wistfully.

"We have several people very determinedly keeping track," Donna said. "And writing a lot of letters."

"Oggie's family vould be bigger if he didn't do dot," Maxim muttered.

Donna blinked. "Ah, what?"

"Iz such a ting as too much encouragement. Und rilly bad matchmaking," Maxim answered.

"Ah," Donna said. It would probably be kinder toward both Ognian and several of her own relatives if she didn't say she had sometimes felt a little too encouraged herself. Not to mention Barry's opinion of the Castle's intervention, although she wasn't exactly complaining about that one yet. "Yes, I suppose that's possible." Her thoughts veered back to sword design as her eyes fell on the bar Fane was still holding, and she held out a hand for it, drifting over to examine her metal selection.

This was perhaps not entirely the behaviour of a courteous hostess, but Fane wanted a sword and her guests were presumably used to the distractible behaviour of Sparks. They gathered around at a nearly sensible distance and chatted intermittently with her and each other as she began beating the layers together.

It was a little while before Dimo came back in and announced, "Hyu targets haff beeg holes in dem," while putting back some of the knives he'd taken and picking up a few more of the one he'd selected.

Donna had to pause in her hammering and ask him to repeat himself. "I take it I'll need new ones," she said. "But the blades held up well?" She went over to inspect one of the rejected ones, holding the edge up to the light.

"Very well!" said Dimo, putting his selections down on the counter. "Dey ken tek a lot of force."

"Good. Did you use the bone target?" There had been this... thing... a couple of years back, that had eventually been more pried apart than cut and seemed to be internally composed largely of giant knucklebones. She had kept several of them, boiled clean.

"Dot vun haz smaller holes in it."

"Excellent. I don't know what its creator did to the bone composition, but I hadn't managed to make a mark on it, even with the ones that go through rock with no trouble."

Dimo smiled at her. "Vell, it vasn't hyu knives dot vere der problem. How much for dem?" He glanced out the window at the sun and added, to Maxim,"Hyu'd better pick vun if hyu iz buying today. Ve still got to get beck."

Donna quoted him a total (discounted a bit for quantity, friendliness, and how long throwing knives tended to sit in the shop). "You're on a short leave? Back to where, by when?"

"Kestle Wulfenbach iz moving over cloze," said Jorgi. "Beck before its out ov range."

Maxim brought a cavalry sabre up to the counter and Fane followed him up, asking, "Hyu vant der money now? Or vhen I pick it up?"

"When you pick it up," she said. "You can decide if you like it first." A quick, mischievous grin. "You will, though."

"Hy don't doubt it," said Fane, smiling back.

They exchanged farewells, and the Jägers left town at a lope, apparently satisfied and managing to look like an impressive horde even with only six of them. Donna tried to decide if she could spot Castle Wulfenbach among the scattered clouds (probably not) and then went to check on her destroyed targets.

And answer her letter.

Dear Barry,

I hear the battle went well….

Chapter Text

Otilia made good on her promise to let Tarvek study her, taking him back to her own room after class one day. Somehow it was surprising she had her own room, even though it wasn’t as if she would be shut down when she wasn’t teaching them like an off duty clank. There wasn’t a bed or a bathroom, but there were chairs with books by them and a sink in the corner with both soap and polish resting on its rim.

Otilia sat down in an armchair and lifted him gently onto her lap. “For now you can look at what is visible without removing anything,” she told him. “I wouldn’t trust far older Sparks than you to open my casing carefully enough.”

Tarvek nodded and spent some time inspecting the intricate joints of her hands with a magnifying glass, and trying not to wish he could open her up just a little. He’d be very very careful, he wouldn’t even touch. “I don’t think any of the students could hurt you doing this,” he said.

“I am their teacher, not an object of study,” she said quietly. “Would you wish to be regarded as a biology specimen by people whose respect you needed? I would sooner be listened to than marvelled at.”

Tarvek looked away from her, still holding his magnifying glass. “I’m not.…”

She surprised him by putting the arm he hadn’t been studying around his shoulders. “You are a little. You are a Spark, after all. But you were dreaming of reuniting us, not copying us.”

Tarvek risked a glance up at her and found that she was smiling at him. It was not entirely a happy smile, wistful and bitter, but it looked genuine and he didn’t think she was sad because of him. “I can stop if you don’t like it,” he said, anyway, leaning into her. She was slightly cold, the way she always was, and very lightly vibrating, and somehow comforting anyway.

“The fact that you say things like that is why I let you do this in the first place. And why I don’t mind continuing,” she answered.

“I do know you’re a person,” Tarvek murmured, not entirely sure whether he wanted to resume studying just yet or stay where he was a bit longer. He wouldn’t have expected a Muse to hug people, but it was nice.

“Then you’re smarter than a great many Sparks have been.”

It had been right about... here.

In the eerie blue light of the Great Movement Chamber, Barry tapped a toe thoughtfully on the bank of the Dyne. It ran clear and dark now, beyond the glowing foam at the water wheel. But this was where the energy had faded out even without the Castle's equipment.

Of course, Castle Heterodyne had not been quite in its right mind at that point. Such as it was. "I suppose I should at least try the easy way," Barry said aloud. "Castle, are you aware of any equipment to drain energy off the Dyne downstream from your main collectors?"

"No," said the Castle. "As far as I am aware my collectors being disabled should have had a most interesting effect on the town."

"Probably immediate enough that I should have noticed even by the time we got back," Barry said wryly. Bill, he wasn't so sure about. At that point Bill might very well have missed the river boiling blue and fish climbing onto the banks to bite people. But Barry was pretty sure nothing of the sort had been going on. "Well. So much for the easy way." He clamped a cable firmly to the floor, shrugged into the harness, and eased himself feet-first into the Dyne.

The current tugged strongly enough to make him glad of the harness. The water was disconcertingly warm and tingled when it soaked through to his skin. Barry paused for a moment, getting used to the feeling, and then fixed his goggles firmly in place and dived.

The first thing he noticed from underwater was that the river channel had been carved. Most of the signs were worn away by centuries of flowing water, of course, but the stone was hard enough that he could tell the original shape was not quite natural. That must have been exciting. Less so if old Egregious had arranged this as part of the preparations.

Barry worked his way gradually upstream through turbulent water until his headlamp's beam glinted back at him, brass-bright. He surfaced, inhaled, and plunged back under to explore properly.

An intricate band of flat circuits -- waterproofed, naturally -- spanned nearly half a meter and appeared to have sunk into the surface of the stone. A curious glitter hung in the water over the same band. The whole thing was clearly inspired by Faustus's work, but not a direct development of it. It was intricate, fascinating, and did not notably answer most of Barry's questions.

He hauled himself out of the water and let his feet dangle in it, leaning back on his hands. "Found it," he said. "Now the question is where the energy goes."

"Do let me know when you find that out," the Castle said.

"It can't be anything that doesn't get along without it," Barry mused. There hadn't been any obvious problems from not having the collector active. But where it could go that the Castle couldn't trace it….

Barry jumped up and barely dried his feet before reaching for his socks. He knew it didn't lead to the hospital. But there was one other place in Mechanicsburg that the Castle couldn't see.

On the way to the Cathedral, Barry noticed he'd acquired a Jäger shadow. "Maxim."

Maxim stopped trailing him and loped a few steps to catch up, flashing a smile at Barry as he did. "Hyu iz in a hurry?" he asked, apparently unabashed.

"I suppose there isn't really that much of a rush," Barry admitted, but didn't exactly slow down. "You remember I was wondering what happened to the Dyne energy when the Castle wasn't using it?"

"Hyu found it?"

"Sort of. It must go to the Cathedral," this was not strictly true, but Barry didn't feel like qualifying it, "but it's certainly not the main power source."

"Huh." Maxim looked at the tower of the Cathedral, frowning. "Schneaky, den, if der Kestle didn't know."

"Yes. And it wouldn't get any energy flow at all unless the Castle's ability to collect it was compromised. An odd set-up all around."

"Ve go und look?" Maxim asked. Apparently Barry acknowledging he was being followed had counted as an invitation.

"Yes." A swift grin. "I can use somebody to think aloud at. I can't physically follow the whole course without digging it all up, which seems like a shame if it turns out to be something useful for more than keeping the Dyne halfway tamed, but either Dr. Yglyn or the Crypt Keepers may know something."

The air in the shade of the Cathedral was cool, uncomfortable when Barry's clothing was still wet but he was too interested in the question to really care. Inside, Yglyn -- somewhat to Barry's surprise -- brightened upon being asked about high-energy installations and took him immediately downstairs to a large room with one ornately carved wall.

"Well, I must be going now!" the curate chirped. "Enjoy!"

Maxim was definitely frowning now, he looked at the door they'd come through, and then suspiciously back at the wall, before moving closer to Barry.

Barry ran a hand across the carved wall, humming quietly. "Is something the matter?"

"Hy dunno." Maxim shook his head. "It voz a long time ago, und Hy thott ve voz jest mistaken, but dere voz a time der Goot Heterodyne kem in here vit Prince Vadim. Ven der Cathedral voz new." He paced over to the carved wall himself, running a claw over it. "Ve voz locked out und ve couldn't hear him. Vit only him und still looking for Euphrosynia ve voz on edge, ve thott something voz wrong but he voz fine..."

"Hmm." Barry cut off the thinking-noise before it turned into a real hum again, his attention split between the technical question and Maxim's two-century-old worry. "That's... odd. The walls aren't that thick." Gradok had still been rather young when the Red Cathedral was completed. It had gone up fast; the Castle couldn't have been interfering, even if Barry couldn't imagine it had been happy about an area it couldn't reach. "Gradok, what were you up to?" he murmured, then slid his hand across stone again and felt his way into a nook almost hidden in the design. The wall opened, part of it folding out and downward, and Barry stepped aside, grinning as brilliant green light poured from the cracks.

Maxim stepped back quickly, blinking. "Vot?"

"I don't know what it is yet," Barry said cheerfully, "but I think we found it."

"If dere voz someting..." Maxim came over to Barry's side sharply. "Don't hyu vanish."

"I'll try to avoid that." The light was concentrated in something that looked like a rectangular slab, but there was something eye-twisting about the shape that played tricks with the perspective. Barry tore his gaze away from it to look at Maxim. "Whatever it is, Gradok was fine," he added, as a reminder. There was no way this was just built to dampen sound, though.

Maxim nodded, still looking a little dubious. "Vot iz hyu goink to do vit it?" he asked.

"Identify it, first...." Several more controls were revealed in the green light, and the mechanisms were not exactly obvious in their function but looked like they were meant for efficient use. At least it wasn't a panel of screws; Gradok had clearly put some thought into this control system. "It can't have been completely unpowered the rest of the time, but what would Gradok have wanted to boost if the Castle was down?" Or not down -- the Castle had considerable stored energy, under normal circumstances, and Gradok had installed the lightning collectors. Did it ever stop drawing off the Dyne?

"Hy dunno. Vhen he made it der Kestle voz der problem." Maxim followed, watching Barry more than the controls. Whatever it was he didn't expect to be able to learn anything from it. "It voz," he waved a hand, "krezy overprotective, hyu know?"

"I'm a little surprised Bill and I made it to Beetleburg," Barry muttered. A refuge from the Castle. An... escape from the Castle? Or an escape from Mechanicsburg if it was damaged? He took a step back, studying the slab of light, squinting through it at the controls, putting the principles together. "It's a portal," he said suddenly. "It's--" Designed to be worked on by a skinny teenager, apparently. He walked carefully around the light in a semicircle to avoid both where it appeared to be and where it might be and pried off a panel that had looked almost like part of the solid stone.

"He really voz gone." Maxim followed, not quite as careful but not entirely careless around this either. "To Sturmhalten?"

Barry turned to look at him. It could take hours to confirm that by studying the unlabelled mechanisms, but there was no point overlooking the obvious. "With Prince Vadim. Right." He frowned. "That... about halfway makes sense. Everything connects to Vadim and Sturmhalten, but a portal from Mechanicsburg into one of the fortresses meant to contain it? That seems like a fairly bizarre risk on both sides."

"Dey vere keeds, und both scared," said Maxim with a shrug. "Dot family voz alvays preedy mean und schneaky to dere own."

Barry's mind went involuntarily to Aaronev Wilhelm's very courteous offer of his son as a hostage, as if this were the natural way to propose an alliance with someone running a school. And the previous Prince Aaronev's expression on catching his son and a pair of Heterodynes where they apparently hadn't been meant to be. Heterodynes were historically horrible to everyone else, but the worst Barry's own father had done to his sons was try to raise them to be like himself and he'd started that too late.

Kids, and both scared, more of their own towns than the boy who'd been on the other side of the war. As a military and political strategy, an undefended portal between Mechanicsburg and Sturmhalten was madness, and not the usual kind. As a secret way out of a situation that might at any moment become impossible.... "They were closer friends than I realised."

"Dey vere. Dey met five -- mebbe six -- years before der Cathedral voz built. Gradok voz twelve, Vadim a few years older. Dere fathers died in der same battle, chust before." Maxim broke off for a moment, lavender eyes wide with painful memories of his own, and then shook his head. "Ven Vadim offered him food Gradok ate, ve had all tried..." A lopsided smile, one fang poking over a lip. "Dey voz goot keeds."

Barry closed his own eyes for a moment. Yes. It hadn't been quite the same after their parents -- they'd had each other, and they'd flung themselves into everything their father hadn't allowed. But there were times during those last few years that he'd have done a great deal for someone who could get Bill to look after himself. Let alone smile. "Sounds like it," he said, a little hoarsely, then cleared his throat.

Maxim looked sympathetic. "Voz a long time ago," he said. He looked up again at the shining panel. "Hy dun tink dey ever used dis."

"Just tested it." Barry looked at the controls again. Those were adjustable. Curious. "But I can see where it would have been reassuring, to them if not particularly to anybody else. I wonder if Aaronev still knows about this?"

Maxim snorted. "Hy hope not."

"Hah. So do I." Barry took out his waterproof notepad, flipped past the diagrams from the river, and began sketching the portal workings. "I think I'll put up a few traps in here."

Maxim grinned, happy and vicious. "Dot sounds goot."

"If I catch anybody, I'm going to have a lot of questions. Come to think of it, I have a lot of questions for the Cathedral personnel already." Barry looked at the slab of light a little wistfully, then stepped back and closed it up. He would not go through just to see what it was like and whether Aaronev had any interesting traps on the other side. That would just be silly.

There was a Heterodyne show in town. This was unremarkable; it hadn't been rare before, and they’d been coming through even more frequently since Barry got back. He was mostly working around them and not paying too much attention. It had been fun for everybody once in a while if he and Bill paid a surprise visit to one -- sometimes with Lucrezia, because the shows had really taken off once Lucrezia started travelling with them -- but that had been when Bill was alive and Lucrezia wasn't the Other, not that Barry was about to tell them that. Anyway, the shows had always done better by restricting their engagement with reality to a metaphorical peck on the lips.

So Barry was surprised for more than one reason to receive a note that Master Payne of the Circus of Adventure 'requested an audience with the Lord Heterodyne, at his earliest convenience.'

Somewhat bemused, he waited until the shows were over for the night and everyone was cleaning up, then strolled quietly into the camp and headed for the starry-coated magician calling out directions. "Master Payne, I gather?" He grinned as the magician started and turned. "Barry Heterodyne. I got your message. Was that an attack of excessive formality or a pun?"

"That depends." Payne recovered and bowed with a flourish. "How do you feel about puns, my lord?"

"This one I don’t know about. I'm not used to being a solo act." Barry almost managed to say it lightly, then shook his head. "Why did you want to see me?"

Payne inhaled slowly. "We heard that you and Baron Wulfenbach had found and repaired the Muse Otilia."

That wasn't surprising. Beetle's enthusiasm had likely propelled the news well into Asia by this point, in spite of the rulers who'd interdicted all travel and transport from wasp-infested regions. "Yes." Barry regarded him quizzically. "Did you want to meet her? You must have heard as well that she's still in his employ aboard Castle Wulfenbach."

Payne grimaced a bit sheepishly. "You are a little more accessible. And on our route. Two of my company very specifically asked to see you. They are, well -- perhaps you'd better see for yourself."

Barry raised his eyebrows. Anything that could tongue-tie a showman like this.... "Lead on, then."

Payne brought him to a wagon and opened it up. Nothing moved, but in the shadows there were two fleur-de-lis marked clanks. Barry studied them for a moment: one unequipped, one permanently seated, with a game board. Unusually accurate, if they were fakes. But Payne wouldn't have made such a fuss over fake Muses. There was nobody hiding in here. Barry bowed shallowly to them. "Tinka and Moxana?"

They turned towards him. Tinka, standing, was considerably shorter than Otilia and somehow projected a doll-like delicacy despite her steel casing, and was smiling at him, wide glass eyes hopeful. Moxana, beside her, was more inscrutable, fixing expressionless eyes on him as she drew out a card and held it up. The Aegis.

Barry couldn't help feeling this was a bit like having Punch -- Adam, rather -- act as spokesman for the group. Which had happened occasionally. The obvious interpretation was either the Muse of Protection or that they were asking for his protection, and as far as he could read either of them they didn't seem fearful. "Your sister Otilia is on Castle Wulfenbach," he said. "If you can stay for a few days--" He glanced at Master Payne. "Then I have no doubt she'd be glad to see you."

Tinka looked at Master Payne as well. “We will stay,” she said. “Will you wait for us?”

"Of course," Payne said, sounding startled and rather touched. Then he glanced at Barry. "If we're permitted, of course."

"Are you planning to do something to get yourselves thrown out of town?" asked Barry. "Otherwise I don't think it will be a problem." A swift grin. "I should mention, unless I tell him you're in a tearing hurry Klaus will probably just bring the whole Castle."

“We can wait,” said Tinka, but she looked concerned, smooth metal face somehow drawing into a frown.

Barry glanced between them. "Is there a problem?"

Moxana held up two cards, more to Tinka than him, the Aegis again, this time half covering the Page of Wands.

“He will not want to let her go,” said Tinka.

"He's not holding her prisoner," Barry said.

The Muses looked at one another, this time without either cards or words. “Then it will be for us to solve,” said Tinka.

By the time the gossip that they were on their way to meet another two Muses reached the classroom, Tarvek, Agatha and Gil had already known about it for almost a week. Agatha and Gil considered that if adults didn't want them to eavesdrop they should tell them more things. Neither of them knew about the notes Tarvek carefully took and then encoded in his letters home; the Baron was working with Agatha's uncle and he wasn't sure how she'd react. He'd been watching Otilia avidly ever since they'd heard, wondering whether she was excited or happy and unable to tell. He was excited. Would the reunion happen somewhere they would be allowed to watch? Somewhere they could watch even if it wasn't allowed? Gil had laughed at him for being the one to suggest breaking the rules for once, but would find a way to do it if there was one.

Otilia herself informed them the morning they reached Mechanicsburg, although clearly without any illusions that she was telling them something new. “Two of my sisters, Tinka and Moxana, have been found and will be visiting today. I intend to bring them here to meet you, and I expect you to treat them with respect.” Tarvek sat up straighter, practically quivering. They were going to be brought here, where he could see them without any sneaking around at all. Agatha and Gil both shot him quick grins. “In the meantime we will continue with our normal lessons.”

The Muses arrived in the late morning, Tinka pushing Moxana's chair. Tinka took a moment to park Moxana where she could see both the room and Otilia and then ran across the room, the light fluttering run Tarvek had seen ballerinas use on stage, and threw her arms around Otilia's neck. Otilia gently folded one silken wing around her and the two of them stayed like that for a moment. It was a beautiful image, the two Muses perfectly, inhumanly, still like a posed statue of sisterly affection.

They fitted together, but in another way they didn't, and as they drew back to regard each other Tarvek found himself looking between the two Muses. Otilia was wearing plain dove grey muslin, Tinka a peasant blouse and full skirt, dyed with cheap, bright colours. They both looked a world away from the rich silk court gowns he’d seen in illustrations; they looked a world away from each other, and that seemed wrong. They had been made as a matched set, they should be a matched set. Right now they were looking at each other, gazes considering but soft. Tinka looked... at home, in these clothes, with the life they implied among the circus folk who had found her, as Otilia was at home with Tarvek and the other children. It was so strange.

"It is good to see you both again," Otilia said, fanning her wings behind her again. "I had not thought to. I had feared...." She trailed off. It didn't really need saying to be understood.

"We never expected to see you again, either," said Tinka. Moxana looked up and reached out a hand towards Otilia, beckoning her over since she was unable to go to her. Unable even to smile at her rather than simply widening her eyes a little.

Otilia went, taking Moxana's hands, her own eyes shining green. "How did you come to be with a -- a travelling show? Have you spoken with the Baron about teaching here? I have no doubt he'd arrange it."

"A lot of circuses have fake Muses," said Tinka, following her. "We were hiding with them. Master Payne found us after the last one we travelled with ran into trouble. He understands." She put a hand gently on Otilia's shoulder. "We have been happy there. We travel, we perform and inspire. I thought you would come with us."

"With a circus," Otilia said, sounding rather incredulous. "Tinka, I guard and teach the heirs of Europa here. I have the Heterodyne Girl here. I--" She looked at Moxana. "I had not thought to leave."

Moxana let go of her hands and held up three cards together, the Device, Movement and the Aegis, then laid them face down, still together, and spread her hands.

"I wanted us to be together too," said Tinka. "But the Baron." She stopped and turned her head to scan the children, as if realising they were present and listening, her gaze pausing briefly on Agatha. Moxana did the same, looking at Agatha with dark eyes before moving on to the rest of the students. But for a moment Tarvek thought her eyes had paused on Gil. Neither of them noticed Tarvek -- which was only to be expected, the Muses could predict things with remarkable accuracy but they needed something to work with. All the same he wished they had, that he could tell them somehow. Surely if they had a Storm King it would be enough to keep them together?

"What of the Baron?" Otilia demanded, sounding a little defensive. "He is trying to bring stability after the chaos the Other created."

"Europa was not his to inherit," said Tinka. "If we find the one it should belong to, you know we would have to work against him. Why work with him now?"

Tarvek caught himself holding his breath and tried to let it out and inhale without drawing attention. He probably needn't have worried. The arguing Muses had everybody's attention riveted.

Otilia's eyes flared green again. "If there is a Storm King, let him claim us. I am following his last command to me."

Tinka's eyes found Agatha again and she nodded slowly, as if accepting that. "What would I do here, though? Teach them to dance? I can fulfil my purpose better travelling. And even if you must serve the Baron for now, I don't wish to."

Otilia bowed her head, which somehow only emphasised the way she towered over Tinka -- let alone the seated Moxana. "I do not wish to be parted from you again," she said. The pain in her voice made Tarvek want to run out and tell them, or failing that, curl up somewhere and hide. "But I have work here. I -- I would not wish to leave my charges, even were there no Heterodyne Girl."

Tarvek couldn't look at her and he couldn't look away from them and he knew he absolutely must not do anything as strange as run away. He found himself looking at Moxana, silent and strangely serene, and she looked up and met his eyes, flicked through her cards and held up XVII, and turned it to face him. Peace: a woman with a star on her forehead gazed over her shoulder at one that gleamed in the distant sky, and rivers and the bounty of the earth flowed from her hands.

"But must you serve the Baron? And the Lord Heterodyne, even if he is very different from the previous ones?" said Tinka.

Tarvek heard a quiet indignant huff from Agatha, but she didn't interrupt. He was sort of relieved. Mostly.

Otilia closed her eyes and tipped her head back. "Lucrezia Mongfish moved my mind into an organic body of her own making, subject to her commands," she said, the words as bare and cold as long-shadowed steel. "After I failed the charge she gave me, I could not think, I could only rage and weep and tear. I think you will not understand this. I would not, until I felt it. It was like breaking. The Baron spoke to me as if I could still function. He gave me -- these children to guard. And when he and the Lord Heterodyne learned what Lucrezia had done, they restored me, and asked me what I wanted to do."

Tinka went still, eyes wide and for a moment there was a sheen of blue behind them like the green glow that sometimes showed in Otilia's. "I'm sorry." She bowed her head. "We have been running and hiding for a long time, but we were never caught to be broken or experimented on. And Master Payne has protected us."

Moxana caught Otilia's hand and squeezed it, metal on unyielding metal.

Otilia's arm quivered, but her hand closed around Moxana's and she smiled faintly. "Then I can only be grateful to your Master Payne," she said to Tinka. "I am glad beyond measure that you are safe and unharmed. And perhaps I should understand better why you would want to stay with a common circus."

Tinka tilted her head to one side in a way that made her look oddly young. "I should be grateful to your Baron too. I am, that he helped you. Perhaps, even if we don't stay together all the time now, we can still see each other? We travel through Mechanicsburg regularly and the Lord Heterodyne is there, the Baron must visit."

"He does!" Agatha called, having apparently reached the limit of her ability to stay out of things.

Otilia glanced toward her, tolerantly amused. "That is true." She turned back and took Tinka's hand as well. "It seems very strange to choose to be parted. But I believe they would make it as easy as possible for us to meet."

"And what of you?" Tinka asked Moxana, sounding nervous about the answer.

Moxana drew one of Tinka's hands and one of Otilia's down to lie palm up on top of her own, then gently closed their hands, opening them to reveal the Device card in Tinka's hand. Before they could respond she closed their hands again and this time when they opened the card was in Otilia's.

Tarvek caught his breath. Otilia stilled for a moment and then smiled. "That, too, they will gladly help arrange." And then she almost sounded like she wanted to laugh. "But you must not play games with my students when they have other lessons."

Moxana put away the cards, rather abruptly, and her mechanisms shifted with startling speed to display more games than Tarvek could follow, all in a row, ending with a simple board of alternating squares and the pieces for a dozen different games patterned on it. Then just as swiftly they vanished, leaving the plain green mat and the fanned Tarot, all face down.

The Muses teased each other. Tarvek thought, maybe, finding that out was a treasure all its own.

Gil had a wonderful afternoon. They did all get to play games with Moxana -- he was actually good at most of them -- and dance with Tinka, who didn't really seem to mind them even if she wasn't staying at all, and showed them everything from ballet poses to lively dances that whirled fast enough Gil finally found out what it was like to be so dizzy the room seemed to be turning around you while you held still. And his secret fear that Otilia would leave to be with her sisters didn't happen.

So he was a little surprised that after the other Muses left them for now and he and Agatha and Tarvek clustered together for free time, Tarvek threw himself full-length on the floor and clutched at his hair. "That was awful," Tarvek moaned.

"I thought it was fun," Gil said, confused.

"Not that part. The first part."

"Why?" Agatha flopped down so she could peer into Tarvek's face and propped herself up on her elbows. "They decided something good."

Tarvek looked at her doubtfully. "They were arguing," he explained.

Agatha, looking a little confused herself, patted his arm. "But they stopped."

"But -- they're Muses," said Tarvek. "They were... they were made to be together."

"But you wouldn't have wanted Otilia to go off with them," said Gil, sitting down next to Agatha.

"Well -- no, of course not." Tarvek buried his head in his arms for a moment. "It still just feels wrong."

"At least they're all happy?" suggested Gil.

Tarvek sighed and lifted his head, then un-flopped and sat up. "I guess so. I hope so? It's just so weird."

Gil shrugged. He'd read the accounts of the Muses in the history books and after phrases such as "at times the mimicry of emotion was so fine it seemed almost real" had decided that no one had known much about Otilia then and she'd probably changed since anyway. "It's not like the history books are that good," he said. "They're adults, so they can figure out what they want for themselves."

Tarvek looked a little startled by what Gil had thought was a fairly obvious point. "I'm not sure a lot of adults are very good at that...."

"Aren't the Muses supposed to be good at deciding things?" Agatha asked.

Tarvek blinked. "I don't know. They were supposed to give advice, but not too directly."

Agatha frowned. "Madame Otilia is pretty direct."

"Moxana can't give advice directly," said Gil. "Unless she writes it down. Why did she get made without a mouth?"

"I don't know," Tarvek said, successfully distracted. "I should certainly think she could write, though."

"I asked why she doesn't write!" Agatha said. "She showed me the Chaos card and Tinka said she's even more cryptic in words."

"So even if she could talk she'd probably say really weird things?" said Gil, intrigued.

"Maybe," said Agatha.

"That's interesting," Tarvek said. "Her thoughts must be really complicated." He leaned closer to them, looking uncertain, and then said in a rush, "I think she tried to make me feel better," and immediately blushed so hard Gil could practically see individual capillaries.

"When?" Gil asked, leaning in a bit as well.

Tarvek ducked his head. "The Peace card. They call it the Star in regular decks?" He glanced up and met the gazes of two children who were not as familiar with Tarot decks as he apparently was. "It's -- it means rest and guidance and hope for sometime in the future when everything's going to be okay."

"Oh." Gil thought about that for a moment. "You think she was telling you they'd stop arguing soon?"

"Maybe. Or... or just that it would come out all right and not to worry about it so much." Tarvek put his chin in his hands again. "I guess it did, like you said. If they're all happy."

"It was nice of her to tell you," said Gil. Moxana was nice, even if she was a lot harder to understand than Otilia. Literally. "You should teach us about the cards so she can talk to us if she's going to be staying."

"Okay." Tarvek looked happy about that. "I think she's using the Queen's Tarot. Albia's supposed to have designed it herself and it's kind of dangerous, but she seems fine. We should probably only study one card at a time just in case."

"Cards can be dangerous?" said Agatha, looking more curious than concerned about it.

"Well, yes. Albia's a very strong Spark, you know."

Gil tried to imagine Agatha -- who was definitely going to be a strong Spark one day -- designing dangerous cards. It was surprisingly easy.

Klaus came down to see the circus off, along with Otilia who was, to his surprise and delight, staying, and Moxana, who was, to his even greater surprise, planning on spending time with each and was starting with Otilia whom she hadn’t seen for two centuries.

Off to one side Otilia was telling Tinka to be careful and he caught Tinka’s response of, “I have been doing this for two hundred years,” while Barry was arranging the next time Master Payne would visit Mechanicsburg with him.

"Now, we realise," Barry said to Payne, "that while most people probably wouldn't believe this situation if you told them -- come to think of it they might be less likely to believe it if you do tell them --" The two of them shared a grin at this. "--There's still some increased risk to both you and the Muses introduced by Moxana's going back and forth and being publicly known when she's on Castle Wulfenbach."

Payne rubbed the back of his neck. "It does help considerably that she'll be making the transfers in a place we regularly stop, and you're being surprisingly subtle, but... yes, you make a fair point. I take it you're about to offer a recommendation?"

"I've developed an emergency beacon," said Klaus, resisting the urge to say something indignant about surprisingly subtle. What was Payne expecting, an outbreak of pageantry? He offered the circus master a fist-sized black globe with recessed controls and an extendable antenna. "The red button will activate a radio signal. If you encounter a situation you can't handle, use this, and my forces will come to assist you as soon as possible." Drily, he added, "I do not expect you to abuse it. I doubt you're that eager to see me."

Payne blinked. "Ah... thank you, Herr Baron." He gave the device an uncertain look. "Is it likely to do anything else?"

"It's not going to explode," Barry said patiently. "He's very good about that."

"It won't do anything unless you switch it on," said Klaus.

"Reassuring," Payne said politely. He accepted the beacon, although he did look a bit as if Klaus were handing him a snake or perhaps a poisonous frog. "We appreciate your offer of assistance."

"Otilia just got her sisters back," said Barry. "We would hate for her to lose them again, or for them to lose friends. Be well."

Tinka hugged Otilia and Moxana tightly, and then those who were staying got out of the way and watched as the circus finished packing up and set off for the next town. Something about the circus's equipment and a few of the performers itched at Klaus's mind, and he half wished he'd made time to attend a show and see whether he could spot a minor Spark in the group. Perhaps some other time.

As the circus left Mechanicsburg for points north, Barry joined Klaus and the Muses on a small airship heading back to Castle Wulfenbach, which would probably thrill all the students and certainly would delight Agatha.

"Not that we want anybody else losing friends or siblings either, of course," Barry said ruefully, gazing out the airship window, "but we can't be everywhere."

"No," said Klaus, considering possibilities. "Although handing out beacons to trustworthy travellers would be one way of being alerted to problem areas. Getting there is another matter, of course."

"Yes." Barry grimaced. "Too bad Lucrezia didn't leave any of the one-way portals she'd been working on lying around. Although maybe I can reverse-engineer something. It turns out Gradok had one, although it seems to require equipment on each end."

"Gradok had a portal? Specifically him and not any of the Heterodynes following him?" said Klaus.

Barry smiled wryly. "We do misplace secrets now and then, and this one seems to have been rather closely guarded, which is probably just as well. It serves as a secondary power sink if anything happens to the Castle -- that's where the Dyne energy was going -- and it opens in Sturmhalten."

Klaus's eyebrows went up. "And it's two-sided? Does Aaronev know?"

"I have no idea and I'm hardly going to ask him! If he does, he's been keeping it pretty firmly under his hat. I've trapped the room it's in just in case."

"Good plan," said Klaus. "But why is it there? Isn't that a huge liability for both sides?"

"Yes," said Barry. "But apparently Gradok and Prince Vadim trusted each other with it as a potential escape route from, respectively, a rather overwrought Castle Heterodyne or Vadim's assorted relatives. Which might account for neither of them spreading the information around much."

So, in the midst of political chaos, they'd trusted each other enough for that. "It's in the Cathedral?" he said. It was barely a question, given the bet it had been built on that would have to have been their cover.

"Yes. Not one of the Castle's secrets, this one." Barry shook his head. "Really not something I'd have expected. Even more on Vadim's side -- I mean, my father used to open the gates for armies that were actually there; it's almost worse for invaders to make it inside the walls than not. But it makes more sense if they were thinking of each other as friends who might need help."

"Yes. Very much a personal alliance and not a political one." Klaus thought of the school, where Aaronev's son was currently inseparable from Agatha and Gil. Goodness knew what would come of that once they were old enough for it to make a difference -- Klaus had to admit he was a bit uneasy, given how callous that family could be even towards its own. He'd been friends with Aaronev, once, but he'd never trusted him the way he did Bill or Barry. Vadim and Gradok, children of the politically backstabbing Sturmvorauses and one of the most terrifying families of Sparks in Europe, had not only trusted each other but apparently come through without either betraying that trust. "Aaronev's son is with Agatha and Gil nearly all the time," he added, out loud, not quite sure whether it followed from the conversation or not.

"Agatha talks about the boys practically as a unit sometimes," Barry said. "I would guess Aaronev gave Tarvek instructions to be on good terms with Agatha -- he already suggested a betrothal, I'm not joking -- but I think it's gone rather beyond that."

Klaus sighed. Historically betrothals could take place almost as soon as a child was born, but he felt it was hard on the children. Castle Heterodyne suggesting it was less disconcerting simply because no one expected anything else from it. "First a hostage, now a fiancé," he said. Not that it was unusual for nobles to eagerly offer their children up for political gain. "And I think it has."

"I told him Tarvek would surely be a fine consort but our alliance didn't require him to commit to anything like that so early," said Barry. "Which may discourage Aaronev from arranging anything else before they're all old enough to do their own courting."

Klaus wondered whether Aaronev had intended it to be that way around -- normally the wife would be the consort, but with Heterodynes of course the Heterodyne was the ruler -- but suspected Aaronev would want to keep the option open either way. "Or at least until they're old enough to have some say in it."

"Somehow I don't think Agatha would appreciate my making any promises about that on her behalf," Barry said, sounding amused. "Do you have plans for Gil?"

"Certainly not yet," said Klaus. He tried to imagine Agatha's reaction if someone told her she was betrothed. "Has anyone ever successfully arranged a marriage for a Heterodyne? Outside of Opera?"

"Uh...." Barry shook his head after a moment. "You might have to ask the Castle about that one. There have been enough Heterodynes in alliance marriages that some of them might have been going along with their fathers' pick over shared practical concerns, but I'd be surprised by anything like Reichenbach's version."

Klaus snorted. "I'm fairly sure you are the most accommodating Heterodyne who has ever existed, and I can't imagine you acting like the wilting flower Reichenbach created."

Barry started laughing. "Oh, I don't know about wilting. Reichenbach's Euphrosynia falls in love with somebody else at her own wedding, and you notice once he kidnaps her, Ogglespoon is never seen again either."

Chapter Text

"Miss DuLac has just entered by the town's northern gate," said Castle Heterodyne.

Barry put down his wrench and the lamp he'd been tinkering with, and pushed back his goggles. "I didn't realise you were watching for her." Possibly this should have occurred to him.

"Of course I was watching for her," said the Castle.

Barry had a vague feeling he should discourage this sort of thing, but he couldn't honestly say he was sorry to know. And for that matter the Castle really was supposed to be watching the incoming traffic in case of anybody who might secretly be Lucrezia. "I'll just go meet her, then."

"You do that," said the Castle.

It sounded just a little bit smug. For once he didn't actually mind.

Donna hadn't made it very far into town by the time Barry reached her, because she was on foot and he cheated. She was also looking around her with interest and rather heavily laden. "Donna," he said, coming up beside her. "The Castle said you were here. I'm glad you came."

"Barry!" She jumped a little, then smiled at him and let go of her hand-cart to take his hands. "I said I would. And I wondered if it was going to when all the gargoyles waved."

He couldn't help laughing at that and then leaned in to kiss her lightly. Their dating relationship had so far consisted mostly of Spark-work and a lot of letters, but she looked so bright-eyed it seemed like the next natural thing to do. "It's good to see you, but why on Earth are you carrying a sword as tall as you are? Can you actually use that?" It was in a back harness, which made it only moderately less awkward to manage.

"Hah. Not well, but it helps discourage brigands anyway."

"Ah. Yes, we're working on that," he said ruefully, "but clearing out stray inventions tends to make things safer about equally for legitimate travellers and robbers at first. Though Mechanicsburg is a rich source of strategic information about brigandage."

Donna snickered. "On a not unrelated note, the sword is ultimately for one of your Jägers. I expect Fane's still on duty, but I thought I might as well bring it along."

Barry blinked. That certainly explained the size and the broad hilt -- it would be a one-handed sword for Fane. "Ah, your letter didn't mention it was a commission, but I should probably have guessed. If you want I can have it delivered to him, or ask Klaus to send him back for a bit, they're not that far at the moment." A grin. "Unless you particularly want to carry it on the way back. Do you want me to take it for now?"

"Would you? It's not as bad for the open road but I could swear it feels heavier in traffic." She shrugged off the harness and let him shoulder it. The sheath alone was beautiful work and from watching her work on the kraken clanks, Barry suspected it was entirely outshone by the blade. "And I'd like to see him handle it for the first time, but I don't know if this is a good time for him to make a special trip."

"He'd hardly mind. But if you prefer I could just take you up. It would take you away from the fair for a bit, of course, but if you're in a hurry to see the sword in his hands," which was only natural, as it was nearly always hard to be patient about a new creation, "it would actually be quicker. You could say hello to Klaus and Adam, meet Agatha...." This was sounding better and better.

Donna looked intrigued. "That does sound nice."

"Great. Let's just get you to your room, first, and work out the plans." Barry had, with some misgivings, invited her to stay in Castle Heterodyne, although he had written that particular letter outside of town and assured her he would be equally happy to arrange a hotel room. Donna had pointed out that the Castle had been chatting to her at the inn before, and as she understood the situation, she couldn't actually stay outside its reach without an inconveniently long trip into town in the morning. Which was true, but having her within the Castle proper gave it more opportunities to do creative and embarrassing things with the floor plan. On the bright side, it liked her.

All the Castle had done with Donna's room this time was to decorate it with, apparently, all the nicest swords it contained. Decorative scabbards, jewel inlaid or enamelled hilts, delicately etched blades -- several centuries and a few continents of swordsmithing art. If you looked closely you could see they were hanging against the wall, rather than from it.

"Oh." Donna stopped beside him in the doorway, and when Barry looked at her she'd gone starry-eyed. "That's magnificent." She pushed her luggage and wares just far enough to be out of the way and began a slow circuit of the walls.

"Well done, Castle," Barry murmured, laying Fane's sword down across a shelf.

Donna glanced back. "This was its idea?"

A rueful grin. "One of the few I've been tempted to claim. I believe my house is trying to seduce you."

She laughed. "I believe we already knew that."

"I know what Sparks like," the Castle said smugly. "And you could have gone ahead and claimed it, you know. I'm not trying to seduce her on my behalf."

"No, no, this was smart," Donna said, darting an amused glance at Barry. "I appreciate knowing you were the one to welcome me with such excellent taste."

"I aim to please," said the Castle, managing to sound even more smug.

Barry resisted the urge to ask it since when. His invitation had been partly on the theory that if he was thinking he might seriously court anyone, she ought to have a good idea early on of what to expect from the Castle; if it actually meant to get along with her, this deserved encouragement. "I think you actually hit 'ecstatic'," he said, as Donna was wandering happily along the walls again.

"Displaying one's finest weapons as part of courtship is traditional," said the Castle. "It's a shame she doesn't have even a small army or we could have displayed them on a battlefield. But I notice she's displaying hers as well."

Donna's eyebrows arched like ruffled feathers at the suggestion that a courtship might be improved by at least a small war, although in all honesty, Barry suspected that conflict had lent a good deal of spice to Bill's adoration of Lucrezia. (Then again that hadn't exactly gone well.) "Feel free to draw Fane's if that was a hint that either of you wants a better look," she said lightly to Barry. "And you can look at the, uh, spider ones too if you want."

"Are you still suspicious that was a joke?" Barry went over and put his arms around her from behind instead. "I should take you straight down to the square where they're setting up."

Donna leaned back against him a little, which was nice, and then said, "All right, yes, I'd like to see. Should I bring anything?"

"Mmm, not the cart yet if we're leaving. Grab something small." It was still full daylight, so the crepuscular participants in the Fair wouldn't be out in force yet.

"You said my customers this time would be rats and spiders--"

"Don't forget the pigeons," Barry put in.

"--They're all small." She opened up a trunk and took out what looked very much like a silverware roll, which she tucked into the crook of her arm, and Barry led her down.

The square was set up with tables, as it would be for any fair, but in this case some of the tables had little ladders leaning against them -- those were the, currently empty, stalls belonging to the mice, who would come all at once and at dusk. The nyar-spiders had racks rather than tables, skeins of silk draped enticingly over them. One spider per rack -- unlike the mice they were solitary, and the males valued tableware partly because it stopped their hungry mates snacking on them. The tables belonging to the pigeons were more varied. Magpies might more traditionally grab shiny things than pigeons, but most pigeons weren't looking to trade. Anything interesting seen from the air would eventually wind up on a table here. The pigeons ran their tables as flocks, and specialised. One was full of lost pocket watches, another of dropped toys. One even had a small selection of what seemed to be bombs, although it was anyone's guess who had dropped them.

"You really weren't kidding," Donna said in wonder, watching a young man and a spider haggle via gestures over the price of a knife and fork. ("Nyar!" declared the spider, pointing one foreleg emphatically at a smaller skein.)

"Told you," Barry said, a little smugly himself this time. "The mice and rats will show up this evening. Are those spider-sized?"

Donna unrolled a half-turn of fabric and extracted the most perfect miniature dagger Barry had ever seen. The sun flashed off it as if she'd taken out a mirror and the nearest forty-eight spider eyes suddenly fixed on her.

...Donna looked slightly daunted as five large spiders started toward her. The sixth hunkered down on his rack and began extruding more silk on the spot.

Barry set his hands on her shoulders. "I understand the Vermin Fair got started when Bob Heterodyne got tired of spiders making off with the silverware."

"...Bob?"

"A lot of us are named by our mothers. It's supposed to keep things interesting." Heterodyne whim wasn't really a recipe for boring, but nor was it actually responsible for Bob's half-siblings being named Slantax and Niffedri. "Anyway, his diary says there is nothing quite like being menaced by a spider wielding a butter knife."

Donna blinked. "I imagine there isn't, but I'm suddenly not sure if I should be providing them with sharper objects."

"Ah, don't worry, we mostly get on and I can always carry a bigger knife than a spider so I win all the dominance posturing. You'd better go closer, though, or they'll try to carry you back to their racks."

"Thanks for the warning." She straightened her shoulders and stepped forward -- carefully -- as the spiders neared her feet. They changed direction and scurried back, waving to get her attention. Donna undid more of her roll and hung it over her arm, approximating a display rack of her own.

People actually made blades for the rats and mice all the time, or reworked the handles of old knives, and traded them for things like useful and surprisingly artistic bits of woodwork. But if anybody had tried to design spider-customised grips before, it was at least a few human generations back and ancient history for the spiders. Barry wasn't entirely sure how she'd managed that one.

At any rate she only squeaked a little when one of the spiders jumped onto her arm for closer inspection, and she sold out of the roll of little knives, in the process making several spiders very happy and earning enough silk to smother in. Barry helped her get it back to her room, where they spread it out on the bed and Donna regarded it in some bemusement. "It's so soft. Even after handling it, I keep half expecting it to be sticky."

"They can control that," Barry explained. "This is based on what would be the structural fibers in a web, although most nyar-spiders produce silk fast enough to just wrap up their prey on the go. If it gives them trouble they'll use the sticky kind." He ran a hand over one gossamer skein, going nearly invisible against the coverlet. That one was fine enough to be see-through in a single layer no matter how tightly it was woven, and he reminded himself that there were many applications for such fabric, including things like scarves and curtains. "It's tougher than it looks."

"I noticed. It looks like it should have fallen apart by now!" Donna petted the same skein. "I'm not sure I quite thought through the implications of trading with spiders."

"Having them run at you, or what to do with the silk? If you don't want to wear spider-silk -- or not all of it -- you won't have any trouble finding someone who does want it."

"Bit of both." She looked up. "If we're going to Castle Wulfenbach, should we get started?"

"Most likely." He picked up the sword, and they headed for his airship.

Barry's airship displayed a gargoyleish face on the bow, with a trilobite on its forehead, and several other trilobites visible from various angles. There was no conceivable way to mistake it for anything but a Heterodyne craft even before going inside and seeing the wide variety of armaments around the edges. It was comfortable even with the guns taking up space (in fact, when not in use they were cushioned) and turned out to be remarkably fast.

Barry slowed it sharply as they approached Castle Wulfenbach, looming in the air and looking even more impossibly huge than from the ground. Great doors rolled open ahead of them, and he glided in to touch down lightly in a hangar.

They disembarked, Barry hauling the sword over one shoulder, and were met by a four-armed man holding a large black notebook. Barry blinked and strode forward with the kind of genuinely glad-to-see-you brilliant smile that had helped win the hearts of most of the continent -- frequently when he and his brother were armed with something more destructive than a giant sword. Donna had believed in it wholeheartedly in her teens and later wondered if it was one of the many exaggerations. It was not. Barry seized the man's free right hand to shake. "Boris! Meet Donna DuLac--" He gestured back to her, although without explanation. "Donna, Boris Dolokhov." He focussed on Boris again. "You look well. How are things?" He paused. "Not that it isn't good to see you, but why are we being met by a librarian?"

"I've been promoted to secretary," said Boris. "At least, it pays more and requires more work, so I assume it was a promotion. Good to see you, Lord Heterodyne." He turned and nodded to Donna. "Miss DuLac."

"Pleased to meet you," Donna said, offering a smile of her own.

"And congratulations," Barry said. "We're here on a combination of business and a social visit -- Donna made a sword for Fane, one of the Jägers, and I thought we'd drop in on friends if they've got time and definitely Agatha since classes should be out."

"Baron Wulfenbach is in his office, the children are in the common room," said Boris. "If you want a Jäger you'll have to ask one of them, I don't keep track of them."

"They can be hard to keep track of," Barry said amiably. "Apparently on leave they wander off and buy weapons from my girlfriend."

"Thankfully not all of them at once," Donna murmured.

"We'll go say hello to Klaus first. I'm sure one of them will turn up."

"This way, my Lord, madam," said Boris, leading them out of the hangar and into the corridors of the ship. Corridors with walls which were mostly plain sheets of metal, and sometimes decorated, and sometimes not there at all leaving them crossing a web of girders on walkways.

Barry was right; a Jäger did turn up, bounding sure-footed and careless across the web of girders. Barry greeted him as Minsk and sent him back off after Fane while they continued to the Baron's office, where he knocked on the doorframe before Boris had the chance to announce him. "Hoy, Klaus."

Klaus abandoned his papers with just enough alacrity to make Donna want to smile. "Well, you sound like you've been back in Mechanicsburg for a while."

Barry looked very slightly fazed. "I suppose I do."

"Thank you, Boris." Klaus turned back for a moment, then handed him a stack of papers, which Boris leafed through briefly and then took away. "I suppose you're not here to help me look over research funding applications. What's going on?"

"Delivering a sword and then intruding on your school, unless that's a problem. Fane should be turning up fairly soon."

"Lessons are out for the day, and I believe Agatha is in the common room rather than the lab today. This may have something to do with a recent delivery of school supplies including rather a lot of paint," said Klaus. "But if you don't want to be chased out by Otilia I think you'd better deliver the sword first."

"What, you don't think she'd want to see it?" Barry asked with a grin. "We'll watch out for the paint." He looked over his shoulder, even though Donna hadn't heard anything, and she turned as well and saw Fane. "Anyway, here we go."

"Hy heard hyu brought der svord," Fane said, to Donna, after giving Barry a quick salute.

"I might have been a little impatient," she said, as Barry unslung the sword and passed it off. Fane took it -- not quite like it weighed nothing, but like it weighed as much as a sword ought to. Good. "It won't feel truly finished until you've tried it."

"A Spark ting?" he asked, drawing it and admiring the blade. Klaus craned his neck to admire it too, rather than demanding a Jäger not test a new sword in his office.

"Hmm, my teacher was not a Spark but was very firm on the subject of commissions. But maybe, because I often feel I'm still holding Spark-work in my mind until it's been tested."

"Not actually unusual," said Klaus. "But it's convenient that your version of tested doesn't mean blown up."

"That would make a terrible sword," said Donna, and got a smile from Klaus and a sharp bark of laughter from Fane.

Fane flicked a glance around the room, checking he had space, and then dropped into a fighting stance, launching into a series of sword exercises. The sword moved easily, flashing and darting despite its huge size, beautifully balanced. Klaus watched like he was taking notes, leaning his elbows on his desk. When Fane was done he slid it into the sheath and looped it over his shoulder. "Now Hy pay hyu und hyu get beck to hyu visit," he said, smiling. "Thenk hyu for bringing it."

"You're very welcome." And watching him with the sword was deeply satisfying.

Fane counted out her fee, saluted Barry again, and departed jauntily. "Well," Barry said, "we can go see Agatha now without outraging anyone, presumably. Klaus, I will come back and help with those if you save some until after the Vermin Fair. By the way, do you want anything?"

"Airship grade silk is always welcome," said Klaus. "As is the offer to help with the paperwork."

"I'll see what I can do." Barry led the way out of the office and to the school, where they were met at the entrance by a towering, unbelievably perfect winged clank in flowing muslin confined by a large wraparound apron. Somehow knowing there was a Muse turned out not to be quite adequate preparation for seeing one. Especially in a colorfully paint-splotched apron. "Good afternoon, Madame Otilia. This is Donna DuLac. May we come in?"

There was a delighted shriek from beyond Otilia. "Uncle Barry!"

Otilia put out a hand to stop the little blonde girl attempting to dart past her. "It is not good manners to throw yourself at guests, Agatha," she said. "Especially when you have paint on your hands."

Agatha looked down at her hands and sighed. "Yes, Madame Otilia. Hello, Uncle Barry. Hello... um... I'm Agatha Heterodyne and I have no idea who you are."

"This is Donna," said Barry. "Er, Miss DuLac."

"Oh! The nice lady you and Adam have been writing to." Agatha looked up at Donna. "I probably shouldn't shake hands, huh?"

Donna bent down to look at the displayed hands, which were indeed thoroughly coated with paint, as was Agatha's protective smock. "I think yours are drying," she said. "And I could always wash before I handle anything that needs to stay paint-free."

Agatha broke into a delighted grin and offered her hand; Donna took it. Only some of the paint came off.

Otilia stepped aside. "Agatha can show you into the common room, or, if you'd prefer, one of the empty classrooms. I'm afraid we don't have a visitors' room."

"The common room's fine," Barry said. "Agatha, will you introduce Donna and your friends?"

"Sure!" Agatha led the way deeper into the school, to a large room that did not look particularly like anywhere Donna had ever been in her life, but reminded her warmly of home and her own childhood anyway, because it was swarming with children of all ages in various stages of mess, although presumably in this case they weren't all some variety of cousin. Agatha made a beeline for, surprisingly, two boys who had to be a few years older than she was. "Hey Gil, Tarvek, Uncle Barry brought his girlfriend."

...Definitely reminded her of home.

The boys looked up from their paintings, and the red-haired one stood up and wiped his hand carefully clean on his smock before offering it. The other, brown-haired at least where he hadn't run his hand through his hair and left a spiky blue streak, stayed sitting on the floor but said, "Hello," a little gruffly, and smiled at Barry.

"Prince Tarvek Sturmvoraus," Agatha said, more formally, "this is Donna DuLac." She waited barely long enough for them to shake hands and then tugged Donna down to the other boy. Donna smiled at the discovery that Barry had already joined him on the floor to inspect the paintings, and sat down as well. "And this is Gil Holzfäller."

"Pleased to meet you," said Tarvek, sitting down in front of an attempt at a portrait of Otilia. He'd done rather a nice job of the texture on the wings, even if he hadn't quite got the proportions right, and he'd certainly mixed the colours himself (they were rather more muted than the bright shades in the pots). Gil had apparently gone with the bright colours, and his paper was full of pictures of brightly coloured animals in equally bright clothes -- including a fox cub wearing spectacles remarkably like Tarvek's and a red-gold kitten with somewhat startlingly large green eyes.

"I'm collecting handprints from everybody, right now," Agatha explained. She certainly was. She had one sheet full of overlapping ones and two more with a mostly neat array and only a few splotches, still partially filled. "But I'm not sure I can get Madame Otilia's."

"I'm really not sure you should," said Tarvek. "Her joints fit together tightly, but getting paint in them still wouldn't be the best idea."

"She washes them," Agatha argued. "They have to be pretty well sealed."

"Probably best to skip, actually," said Barry. "They are, but they're still moving parts. Water evaporates; paint sticks to things and dries, and I'm not sure she'd especially want to deal with turpentine in there either."

"Oh, well..." Agatha frowned. "Maybe I'll ask her if she'd do it with a glove. Miss Donna, do you want to come meet everybody else?"

"Ah -- yes, thank you." Donna got back up and Agatha proceeded to take her around the room, starting with "my cousin, Theopholous DuMedd" and continuing through quite literally everybody -- all the students and a few teachers, including Lilith and Adam Clay. Donna rather suspected she’d have met nearly everyone eventually by staying where they were, as children kept coming by to speak to Barry for some time after they got back.

Gil pulled over another sheet of paper and started brushing bright green paint onto it. "Are you really dating Agatha's uncle?" he asked.

"He said she was," said Agatha.

"Yes," said Donna, smiling alternately at all three of them and finishing on Gil. "I don't blame you for being surprised; I still am too."

"I didn't think that was supposed to surprise people," Agatha said doubtfully. "Are you sure you're doing it right?"

Donna swallowed a laugh. "I didn't say that well. I visited Mechanicsburg because your father and uncle are... famously admirable, for helping a lot of people. I wasn't actually expecting to meet him."

"Oh. How come you did?"

"The Castle decided to introduce us." Donna opted against trying to explain the details.

"Oh," said Gil. "It thinks I should marry Agatha, too."

"Really?" said Tarvek, giving Gil a startled look. "Why?"

"Why not?" said Gil, looking defensive.

"But I mean, you're not..." Tarvek trailed off. "I thought the Castle would make a big deal out of family and things, considering what it is. That's all."

"Castle Heterodyne is intensely concerned with the Heterodyne succession," Barry explained. "Its attitude toward politics is, shall we say, undiplomatic and it considers war a particularly entertaining form of courtship. It rates Gil as a devoted friend and likely to turn out to be a Spark."

"Oh," said Tarvek, looking thoughtful and, oddly, a bit concerned. "That's certainly true." Then, when Gil gave him a puzzled look, he rolled his eyes at him and looked more cheerful. "I don't know why you think you won't be a Spark, it's pretty obvious."

Gil flushed. "Everybody says there's no way to tell if you don't have a family history of it."

"I don't know about that," Donna said thoughtfully. "My family has quite a few Sparks and a number of people who aren't as well. I can't say we can make truly reliable predictions, but sometimes everybody expects a particular child to be a Spark years before breakthrough."

"Gil is trying to figure out how to build a dragon clank that's big enough to ride and can really fly," Barry told her.

"Oh, yes, that would probably do it."

Gil grinned. "Well, I might be," he said. "Especially since Tarvek pretty certainly is and my wing designs are loads better than his."

"They were not," said Tarvek.

"They are," said Gil. "Just because you still don't understand how they can work..."

"I understand that your calculations are off if you expect those joints to hold..."

"Lessons got a lot more interesting once I got into their classes," Agatha confided. "I need a better mechanical background before I can evaluate their designs properly though."

Donna raised her eyebrows. "You're four and in classes with...." She took the higher end of her estimate to be tactful. "Eight-year-olds?"

"They're seven," said Agatha. "And yes. Once I learned to read and write all the languages the little kid lessons got kind of boring."

"The curriculum's somewhat flexible anyway," Barry put in. "Different families have highly varied approaches to how they start off. Agatha started off in the preparatory classes, essentially, and once she'd mastered the tools to move on...." He ruffled Agatha's hair affectionately and glanced in mild surprise at the flecks of orange paint on his hand. "We actually moved her to an earlier level first, but discovered she was paying more attention to her friends' work than her own."

"It was more interesting," said Agatha patiently.

Donna smiled at her. "Why do I suspect that means they were more interesting?"

"That too!" Agatha agreed cheerfully.

Gil and Tarvek broke off from their increasingly involved argument about wings to smile at her. "I think we need a bat," said Gil, still looking rather distracted.

"...What?" Donna asked.

"Oh, for the wing structure," Agatha said, apparently having no trouble following this line of reasoning.

"I'm not sure Klaus has bats on board," said Barry. "There may be a book on them here, or if not, I can draw you a diagram."

Agatha handed him a piece of paper and a paintbrush, which was not quite what Donna thought of as diagram material. "I'll go and look!"

"Okay," said Barry, as Agatha ran off, "I'm not sure whether to take this as a challenge or look for a pen."

"I kind of want to see this," Donna said.

Barry grinned at her, dipped the very tip of his brush, and started painting. "Tarvek's getting pretty good precision, actually."

Tarvek smiled at him and shuffled over to get a look at the diagram as it was painted. Gil came over too, kneeling up to look down at it.

Barry started mixing greys; Tarvek hastily offered his selection, and Barry thanked him warmly and began picking out shadows in what was less a diagram than a moderately realistic skeleton.

"It looks like a hand," Tarvek said after a few minutes. "With really long fingers."

"It essentially is one. Not as versatile as ours, but then again... we can't use ours to fly."

"We were copying the smaller dragon's wings, but it's much simpler than this," said Gil.

"I don't think it needs to be this complex," said Tarvek. "Just scaling up wasn't working, but we don't need anywhere near this much rotation in the joints and it would leave the elbow weak."

"Bats don't come apart at the elbows," said Gil.

"Are you planning to essentially build the entire supporting muscular structure, though?" Barry asked.

"No," said Tarvek. "We'd be better off just strengthening the joint even if it loses flexibility."

Gil sighed and then nodded. "Okay. We need to figure out how to make it fly at all before trying to make it really manoeuvrable," he admitted, then his eyes brightened. "We can leave that for the second prototype."

Agatha returned at this point. "I found bat books, but I couldn't bring them without having a bath in turpentine," she reported, possibly quoting a librarian. "Ooh, that looks like a hand."

"Your uncle says it is," said Tarvek. "Only we probably aren't using that design. Sorry."

"Oh, well, then you don't need the books for now anyway."

"We can still use bits of it. But we can probably manage without the books," said Gil.

After several more minutes of comparative wing anatomy, Barry pulled Agatha close against his side, heedless of the paint, and kissed the top of her head. "This has been fun," he said, "but Donna and I are supposed to meet some mice this evening. I'll visit again soon."

Agatha stood up and flung her arms around him. "Have fun! Don't get married or anything without me!"

Gil had picked up a paintbrush to attempt his own diagram, and Tarvek looked up halfway through taking it from him with a frustrated huff. "Goodbye," he said, wiping off the paintbrush where Gil had shoved it into the pot. "It was nice seeing you, and thank you for the diagram."

"Thank you," Gil echoed. "Have fun meeting mice."

"I hope to," said Donna.

Barry patted Agatha on the back. "You're very welcome, thank you all for the conversation, and Agatha, we're not rushing into anything but if I have a wedding I will wait until you have time to come." He stood up and brushed at his hands, then went to find the turpentine before they left.

They arrived back in Mechanicsburg in the early evening, to find the pigeons yawning at lamplit and half empty tables, while the previously untenanted tables were now occupied by rats or mice and filled with strangely elaborate wood carvings. One table, empty of wares, had a big sign in careful letters "CLOCKWORK REPAIRED", and a group of mice with tiny tools spread out around them standing on it. A lot of the mice wore belts, with knives or swords hanging from them, some wore harnesses with pouches and tools. A few wore tiny hats, or cloaks made out of scraps of fabric.

Barry had mentioned they were smart. Donna nonetheless hadn't quite expected literate. She browsed for a few minutes, feeling as if she'd walked into a very odd fairytale, and then went up to get her cart.

Haggling with a mouse was harder than with a spider, and a bit less mathematical. But her eye was caught by a sculpture of water, a cataract in white wood, with the grain worked into the design so that it almost looked alive and flowing, only to have stopped in a single moment. The fact that if you looked closely you could figure out it was emerging from a drainpipe didn't actually make much difference.

The artistic mouse picked out a knife suitable for woodcarving and all three flea combs (she'd debated whether this might be offensive, but made a few anyway), and as far as she could tell everyone ended the evening content. Barry walked her back to her room after dinner and helped wind the spider-silk off her bed.

When Barry turned to leave, after clearing her bed, he turned the door handle and then stopped, frowning. "Castle?"

"You could at least kiss her," said the Castle, sounding vaguely despairing.

Barry covered his eyes. "Unlock the door and I'll think about it."

There was a click and then a "Hmmm?" noise.

Barry tested the door, apparently suspicious; it opened this time, and he looked back at Donna. She gave up and giggled. "I could go for a kiss goodnight. The first one was very nice."

The walls made an encouraging sound.

"You know, I should look at the statistics, but I think there's a reason a lot of Heterodynes meet their eventual spouses outside of town," Barry said conversationally. Donna wasn't entirely sure which of them he was talking to, although he came over and took her hand as he spoke.

"If your house makes a habit of commenting the entire time, I think I'm impressed that your family manages to maintain the line at all," said Donna. "Would it be premature to invite you to visit me next time?"

Barry put his arms around her; she leaned into him. "Hmmm, I don't think so."

"Remember whose doing it was the two of you met," said the Castle.

"And I appreciate the introduction," Donna said, awkward as it had been at the time, "but if you keep this up I'll be embarrassed and laughing too hard to get a kiss at all."

At which point Barry did kiss her, and for several seconds Donna entirely forgot they had an audience.

...Maybe that explained it.

Chapter Text

Gil pulled one glider wing out to examine it while he waited his turn at the gas pump. It wasn't much like either the bat wing Barry had drawn or like the dragon wing he'd been copying. There was the basic structure -- struts radiating from the point -- but this had no flexibility at all beyond up and down and didn't generate its own lift either. It was not, he decided, going to be anything he could incorporate into a dragon unless he cheated and filled the dragon's body with gas (which was a possibility, it would help get around the size issue, but it was rather a boring solution).

He was distracted from wondering when Agatha kicked off from the floor and glided across the hangar. He looked up to follow her with his head, smiling, excitement at the thought that he'd be flying soon jolting him out of further analysis. Baron Wulfenbach stepped forward and caught the blimp between his hands, lowering it until Agatha's feet were on the floor and opening the valve. "If any of you find yourselves floating while still indoors, you have overfilled your blimp," he said. "Either let some gas out or call an adult over."

"Thank you," Agatha chirped at him, even though she'd obviously been having fun.

The Baron closed the valve, lifted her blimp to the height of his own head, and let go. He observed critically as Agatha drifted gradually downward, giggling. "There, that's about right."

Gil's own blimp, when filled, hovered above his head but didn't pull him off the ground so he thought he'd got it about right. It made him feel floaty when he walked, almost weightless, and he bounced eagerly across the room towards the open hangar door. Otilia caught his eye and tapped her foot as he got too close to the line of yellow tape marked out. She was wearing a glider too -- blimp oversized for her greater weight, and her own wings folded down against her back. Gil wondered whether they'd give her extra steering if she unfolded them or just get in the way.

Gil stopped with his toes just barely not touching the tape, grinning hopefully at Otilia. It was really windy in here with the door open, and it tugged at him a little, but not so much he couldn't stay where he wanted to be.

"This feels so weird." Tarvek came up beside him, just a little farther back, and gave Otilia the slightly awed, generally adoring look he always did.

"Yes," said Gil, bouncing slightly on his toes because jumping would probably make him drift over the line. "I can't believe we're going to get to fly." He craned his head back to see how close they were to everyone's blimps being full. Sleipnir was bouncing across the hangar now, braid whipping out behind her, while Theo helped some of the younger ones get the right amount of gas in their blimps.

"I'm not sure I believe it either," Tarvek said, laughing a little.

Agatha bounded up to them, and Tarvek grabbed her arm before her enthusiasm could carry her across the line. She grinned at him. "It looks fun. And it does make sense."

"Heh." Tarvek twisted to glance over his shoulder at Baron Wulfenbach before saying, quietly, "I'm not sure this is the safest safety drill I've ever heard of."

"He taught Uncle Barry already," Agatha said cheerfully. "I think they think it's fun."

"I think it's fun," said Gil. "And I don't think we can really fall, not very fast, anyway."

At this point Baron Wulfenbach clapped his hands and everyone turned to look at him. "Everyone behind the yellow line," he ordered, and the children scrambled to obey. "Now, your wings are controlled by two sticks, which you will hold. Lowering your wings will bring you down, lifting them will slow your fall but also catch any breeze. Steering is done by shifting body weight." He strode forwards, his own glider making his steps longer, and pointed across at another hovering airship holding position. "All you need to do, and all you will need to do in an emergency, is to glide across to another airship. Hold your wings steady, lower them if you're coming in too high, and keep a straight course. If you do get caught in turbulence, especially if you feel yourself being lifted, drop your wings. You're less likely to tumble that way, and you won't fall fast. We have people below to catch you."

"Uncle Barry's one of them," Agatha confided, not very quietly.

"Actually, Barry Heterodyne is on your target airship at the moment," the Baron said drily. "Now, for the first practice run, you'll go in groups of four." He counted off four of them -- to Gil's disappointment, from one end rather than who'd been ready first. "The rest of you will stay put. Now, let's go."

Gil watched them go, drifting easily downwards. There was enough of a breeze for it to pull them across slightly; Zulenna corrected determinedly and almost swerved in the opposite direction before straightening herself, while the other three went with it since it wasn't pulling them fast enough to miss the hangar. It was over surprisingly soon -- which was both good, since it meant his turn would come sooner, and bad, because it meant his turn would be short. It looked like getting across was easy, whatever Tarvek thought, they'd barely have a chance to figure out how using their gliders worked.

The other airship shifted upward slightly, to allow the Baron and Otiia to fly back, and returned to its earlier position. Gil watched every group intently until it was finally his turn, with Agatha and Tarvek and Z.

They launched, and he pushed his wings up to catch the wind.

He could feel the air moving past him, out here he was perfectly free, hanging weightless between the airships. Behind him the familiar bulk of Castle Wulfenbach, ahead of him a brilliant blue outflier, below the silvery sheen of another airship. There was something incredibly familiar about it, as much his as the walkways and scaffoldings inside Castle Wulfenbach, even as it was all wonderfully, incredibly new. He swung his weight slightly against the breeze, let himself turn, but flying straighter would only get him there sooner and he didn't want that.

He tipped his wings down slightly, slowing, falling behind the others. Tarvek tried to turn to see what was wrong and the shift in his own weight turned his glider awkwardly across the breeze, starting to push him off course. Gil grinned at him, "I'm fine, go on," he called, not sure if Tarvek could hear. Then he turned himself fully and raced alongside the airship, flying with the wind.

"Gil!" The Baron's shout chased him down and Gil winced just a little thinking about getting caught. His grip on the handles tightened, and he turned his head to look back, straining to do it without turning his body.

The Baron was way behind, looking distinctly frustrated, and as Gil watched he veered off and circled back. Tarvek was trying to straighten up but Agatha and Z were trying to watch both of them and not making a lot of progress. Gil faced forward again, exhilarated. It was probably fairly easy to catch up to somebody who was falling or tumbling, if you knew what you were doing, but harder to outrace somebody who was already in a wind current when you had three other people to worry about.

He'd just reached that conclusion when Barry Heterodyne finished a gradual diagonal swoop and matched speed with him. "You really should be getting back, you know."

Gil looked at him, rather surprised he wasn't being grabbed, and then further surprised when he didn't have to look up. "I want to learn how to fly properly." He could drop, he thought. Drop and veer, go under their target airship, and he'd be out in the open sky. If he did it fast enough Barry might not catch him before he completed it. (And after he completed it, he admitted to himself, he might be glad to have an adult on hand.)

"Can't really blame you for that," Barry said. "But this is a safety drill and everybody else needs their own chance to practise." He let that sink in for a second. "On the other hand, Klaus appreciates competence, however old you are. If you head back now and stop worrying him for the rest of the session, he might be up for training you further, so you'd be able to assist in a real evacuation."

Gil hesitated, wondering if he could really believe that. But he appreciated being called competent -- he hadn't done much yet, but he thought he was picking this up fast, and maybe it would be true. He nodded and dropped his wings slightly, just enough to get behind Barry Heterodyne and twist out of the current with his glider pointing back the way he had come, body swinging slightly too hard and tilting him wildly for a moment. He held still and let the glider settle. It felt strange, hanging in the dead air after the rush. He was going forward because the gliders were balanced to go forward, but slowly. They'd come a surprisingly long way, nearly at the tail of the airship they'd been aiming for.

"I'm not sure how to get back against the wind," Gil said. "I'm going to lose too much height." Barry would have to tell him how to get higher.

"You can get it back." Barry swung around to pace him. "Watch the seagulls." Castle Wulfenbach and the rest of its fleet attracted a lot of seagulls, especially the garbage scows. Gil followed Barry toward the nearest gulls, a little puzzled, and then saw that they were spiraling upward without flapping much.

Gil tilted towards them experimentally, feeling the tilt and dip of his glider through the rigid handholds and the shift in his harness. He slid into the place the seagulls were, expecting to have to copy their circling. But his wings and blimp caught the updraft and were lifted, suddenly, like a paper airplane being lofted. He found himself laughing, even as he tipped forward out of the updraft, he'd gone higher than he expected. He tucked his wings down slightly, he was going to want to lose some height, and slid down the air, disappointed that he quickly went back to a fairly slow glide.

"You can look under puffy little clouds or over dark patches on the ground, too," Barry called over, "but the seagulls are generally going to be easier to find."

The air was clear ahead of them leading to the target hangar, although the Baron launched again as they watched, jumping hard to gain altitude and then circling a few times as he waited for them to zigzag back.

Gil watched the seagulls, not just in the updrafts but where they drifted outside them. If you looked at it right you could map the sky with them, go where they went (or at least he could if he wasn't on his way back to the hangar). He felt an odd kinship with them, almost envy, hanging so easily and naturally on their hooked wings, made for height and distance. They'd already ruled out bird wings for the dragon, too much relied on muscle and not enough on bone, but for a moment he wished they hadn't.

He turned regretfully towards the hangar and slid across the breeze and in, dropping his wings to make a graceful landing, still smiling from the flight.

There was a hard thud just behind him, and all the students ahead looked wide-eyed. Gil twisted around as quickly as he could, and the Baron seized his blimp and moved it out of the way so he could scowl down at Gil. "What did you think you were doing?"

"I wanted to fly," said Gil, scowling back, for the moment still too elated (still feeling too free) to be properly scared.

"This is an emergency drill, not a game!"

"Very true," said Barry Heterodyne, landing somewhat less abruptly. "But he's back, he's safe, and," here he gave Gil a significant look, "he will not be doing that again. Will you."

Gil hesitated for one very impolitic second, remembering the moment he'd just turned and run with the wind. "No, sir."

"He is a natural, though," Barry said, as breezily as if the moment of sternness had never happened and the Baron weren't scowling at him. "Comfortable in the air. If he can demonstrate he'll be responsible about it, maybe you can train him for rescues, too."

The Baron's scowl only deepened. "He's seven. This is meant to teach him to get himself to safety, not to risk it for other people who are likely to be older than him."

"He's not going to be one of the youngest students forever," said Barry. "I wasn't suggesting you put him on rescue duty now. Anyway, once everybody's got the basics down, the more people can handle turbulence and troubleshoot, the better."

"I'll consider it. I'll be teaching some of the older students how to assist younger ones if necessary." The Baron turned his frown on Gil. "I'll consider letting you join the group, if we have no more nonsense on the return flight."

"Thank you, Herr Baron," Gil said politely. He rather thought he should thank Barry Heterodyne, but he wasn't sure if that would just annoy the Baron again.

He managed not to start grinning again until the adults weren't looking, but as soon as they'd taken off to collect the next group of students, Tarvek pounced on him. "You did that on purpose?"

"Of course I did it on purpose!" said Gil indignantly.

Tarvek spluttered. "I thought you were in trouble and then you just -- just kept going!"

"You can't really get into that much trouble while surrounded by airships and adults," said Gil. Then he squeezed Tarvek's shoulder and said, "sorry," and kind of almost meant it, more than he had when he said it to the adults anyway, because he hadn't meant to scare him. "I'll behave on the way back."

"You act like getting into trouble with the adults doesn't even count," Tarvek muttered. "But okay. Thanks."

"It's not as if I like being in trouble," said Gil."But sometimes it's worth it to do things you couldn't have done without being in trouble."

Tarvek looked a little ill. "I'd rather there be at least a chance of not getting caught," he said. "But at least with the Heterodyne here they went easy on you."

Gil blinked at him, because his first thought was Agatha and although she made the other kids go easy on him he didn't think she affected the adults much. Then he realised who Tarvek meant. "He was really nice about it," Gil said. "I thought he was going to grab me and drag me back at first, but maybe that wouldn't have worked in gliders."

"He had a propeller that folded up," Tarvek said. "And goodness knows what else. I think he could have if he'd really wanted."

"It was nice of him then," said Gil.

"He is nice," said Agatha, from slightly higher up than usual. Gil turned around to discover that she'd taken advantage of the adults' distraction to overfill her blimp again and was dangling from it, looking very pleased with herself, her head exactly level with his. "He was building the propeller last night at the Clays'. And I think he's right, you'd be good at rescuing people."

"I'd like to rescue people," said Gil, thoughtfully. Until then he'd mostly been thinking about having the chance to fly again.

"Just please be careful," Tarvek said. "Agatha, come here, they're on the way back."

"I'm fine," Agatha said, but she let him adjust her blimp before the adults came in for their next landing. Gil suspected this was just to make Tarvek feel better.

Tarvek stood behind the yellow line waiting his turn and wishing, for once, that he wasn't in the same group as Gil and Agatha. Although Gil had promised to behave this time and was probably one of the least likely people in the class to have something go wrong by accident with all that he'd managed to do on purpose. He seemed to think this was a game though, and Agatha wasn't much better. As if they weren't miles up in the air with nothing below them for a very, very long way.

He never thought of Castle Wulfenbach as being in the air while he was on it, really, it was mostly like being indoors. But standing by an open hangar door waiting to launch himself out into the sky he was terribly aware of all the depth below him there was to fall through, and it made him feel as if things were squirming inside him. Nearly losing control on the way over when Gil had startled him wasn't making him feel any better, either. He took a deep breath and told himself he couldn't throw up during an emergency drill, and that once it was over he wouldn't have to do it again.

He wasn't entirely sure having to fly alongside Baron Wulfenbach helped him either, although at least the Baron seemed to be taking the situation seriously. So was Otilia, of course.

He felt the engines and pumps thrum as the airship moved upward to give them enough altitude to get back to Castle Wulfenbach, and then Otilia gave the signal and Tarvek sucked in a breath and jumped. Just this one more time.

Gil did behave himself this time, but when he looked over and Tarvek turned his head and tried to grin back, Gil's smile fell away in favour of a worried expression. Tarvek bit the inside of his lip and made himself look straight ahead instead, concentrating on the hangar door. They were perfectly safe. Otilia was right there. It was no worse than balance tests at tower-height, not really.

He touched down inside the hangar slightly awkwardly, stumbling and being tugged back up by his blimp so that he wound up on his feet anyway. He shook himself and started unbuckling his harness even as he watched Gil make his own landing. Agatha zoomed in a bit too high and was caught by Barry Heterodyne, who had beaten them back, and then nearly tangled their harnesses up trying to hug him, her blimp nosing at his bigger one like a baby whale.

"Are you okay?" Gil asked quietly, coming up beside him with his glider still on. "I didn't think I'd worried you that bad."

"You didn't," Tarvek answered equally quietly, keeping a hold on his own harness as he took it off -- it would be embarrassing if he let go and it wound up on the ceiling of the hangar -- in order to pull the blimp down and let the gas out. "I just didn't like flying."

Gil looked bewildered. "But it was amazing."

"It was a long way down. And we didn't have...I suppose we did have gas bags, but they're really small, and they're just meant to make us fall slower. It wasn't like being in an airship at all." Tarvek bit his lip and waited for bewilderment to give way to teasing.

"I don't think you could fall fast enough to get hurt, though, even if you went all the way down," Gil said seriously instead. "And you can get altitude back if you aim for an updraft, the seagulls find them for you, and they go fast but they're easy to get out of."

Tarvek relaxed slightly. "I'd still rather not do it again," he said. "I know you enjoyed it." But Gil had already been obsessed with flying -- and now that he thought of it, did Tarvek really want a flying dragon anymore? He still wanted to make one to see if they could, but he didn't think he'd like riding it much.

"I thought it would be more fun to do extra training if you came too," said Gil. He was still holding on to his glider and hadn't even started undoing the harness, as if he didn't want to let go of it, but the final group of students was on the way back across and he sighed and began picking at a buckle. "But, you probably won't have to do it anyway. I think even when they evacuate a lab or two they hardly ever have to take the gliders."

Tarvek blinked at him. "Have you... been watching the adult safety drills?"

Gil grinned. "Just a few times."

Otilia bent down to help the youngest children out of their gliders, mostly to make sure they didn't let go of them in the process. Her own glider was off now, some of her feathers rumpled where the ropes of the harness had rubbed them, and the occasional metal gleam showing through the gaps. When she stood up after letting the last child out of her harness she shook them out, feathers not fluffing like a bird's but falling into place all the same. "I wonder if it would be possible to make these more functional?" she said, apparently addressing the Baron. "I believe it would have made things easier, especially when catching naughty children," she turned a hawklike gaze on Gil for a moment, and he ducked his head, looking a little abashed but not at all awed, before turning back to the Baron. "But I suppose it would be too hard to generate the lift necessary without a blimp?"

"Ah--" The Baron looked... flummoxed, Tarvek decided, which was a strange look on him. "It would be... challenging. Castle Heterodyne has an assortment of winged clanks with no airbags, but those are very lightly constructed. Flimsy." He hesitated. "On the other hand, your wings are proportionately much larger...."

Otilia spread one wing and ran a hand through her feathers. "They are, and not particularly light. I already have fine motor control over them, much finer than over the glider wings. I doubt they could be adapted for true flight, but living on an airship even gliding would be valuable."

She was serious about it. Tarvek wanted to say, but you can't, you're perfect. Wanting to improve a Muse was the height of pride...except it wasn't that, it was a Muse wanting to improve herself. Otilia was the Muse of Protection, of course she'd want to be able to fly when an airship crash would be the biggest threat to her charges. This wasn't what she'd been designed for...but it was what she was doing...she wouldn't be doing it forever, she was going to be his, and she shouldn't be asking the Baron...but right now did she belong to anyone at all?

"It's a little alarming to consider modifying them at all," said the Baron, which at least showed some proper feeling on the subject even if he was also pacing around Otilia looking analytical. "The silk would be simple enough -- having already been replaced once --"

Otilia gave a soft chiming laugh. "It was not the first time. Some of my feathers were replaced twice because someone had spilt wine on them, and several times because my creator wanted to adjust the colours."

"You'd need sheets to catch the air at all, of course. Or else much stiffer feathers." The Baron brushed aside some of the silken feathers near the base of her wings, examining the complex gears where they rooted into her back. "These joints... They look as if they should be able to support your weight suspended from your wings, though I would recommend gradually doing so as a test. I know you have an extensive range of motion. How well can you brace them against resistance?"

"I've used one to deflect a Jäger, before, but they didn't hold up well after the first time," said Otilia.

The Baron looked rather startled at this. Tarvek couldn't blame him. "Most things don't," the Baron said. "Perhaps, again, more gradual tests. From what I recall of the overall structure...." He looked thoughtful, now, and rather surprised again. "It's not ill designed for flight. But as Van Rijn evidently never equipped you with flightworthy feathers or suggested you could fly, I would mistrust the strength of the implementation to bear your full weight against air resistance. If you could deflect a Jäger once, the struts are likely to be sturdy enough, but the joints would probably need reinforcement." The Baron glanced back suddenly at Tarvek and Gil, a smile turning up just the corners of his mouth. "Like the elbow of a bat, perhaps."

The Lord Heterodyne had talked to the Baron about them? Tarvek wasn't quite sure what to think about that. Although Lord Heterodyne was Agatha's uncle, and the Baron's friend, so maybe it wasn't that surprising.

"Would you be able to reinforce them without adding much weight, do you think?" Otilia drew one wing in front of her, lowered so she could finger the joint at the apex. “Too much would compromise my balance." Her eyes flashed for a moment. "Although I have adjusted to greater changes, and less willingly."

The Baron followed the wing around and looked up at her. "I think so. There are lighter and stronger alloys now than anything Van Rijn had available. The challenge would lie in integrating any additional pieces into your sensor and control network, or if it proved necessary to replace any of the more delicate struts."

"I would like to try it," she said. "I believe you could return me to this condition, if it didn't work."

Tarvek bit his tongue hard. Everybody knew nobody could repair a Muse (but he hoped to be able to one day). Otilia appreciated their having put her back in the right body, but there hadn't been anything much physically wrong with it. (Except Baron Wulfenbach and Barry Heterodyne and Dr. Beetle had fixed her wings a little bit once already, apparently, so maybe he should just try to learn all he could from them so he had a better chance to put the lost ones back together when he grew up.) It made him feel a little ill to think the Mistress his father admired so much had done that -- she'd done a lot of damage to Europa too, but that had at least been meant for a purpose. Spoiling a Muse just to see if she could do it seemed so petty.

"It may be easier than you're imagining," said Barry, finally free of his blimp and joining Otilia and the Baron with Agatha tucked against his shoulder. "Unless Van Rijn insisted on making every piece himself," here he looked inquiringly at Otilia, as this was not unheard-of behaviour in a Spark, although Van Rijn's reputation hardly centred on it, "creating them to the needed specifications wouldn't be unprecedented."

"I'm afraid I don't know," said Otilia. "Not with other creations, certainly, but I was unable to observe his work on myself."

Barry grinned. "I'm trying to be encouraging. I think you overwhelmed him."

"I appreciate it," said Otilia. "Trust me, I would not ask for something I believed would leave me damaged."

"I know." The Baron bowed slightly to her. "I am honoured by your confidence. I'll show you some designs when I've had a chance to work on them."

"Thank you," said Otilia. "For at least considering it. For now I had better get the children back to the school."

She turned to usher them out of the hangar, counting them through the door. Tarvek hung back to the end of the line and then, as she turned to walk through the door with him after her class, latched onto her hand. He was holding it tighter than he had meant to -- he hadn't really meant to do that at all, but he always seemed too emotional around Otilia. She looked at him in surprise and then squeezed his hand gently.

"I assure you, the most I'm at risk of is losing some motor control in my wings. Control that was largely in aid of a graceful appearance. Although I can use them in a fight, it’s not my best strategy," she said.

Tarvek shook his head. "But you should be graceful. I mean, you are, you're perfect."

"Thank you," she said.

Tarvek looked ahead at the other children, some of them were glancing back and...some of them were Fifty Families, even if none of them were closely related to the tangled branches of his family. He wondered if they felt the way he did about this, at least a little. "I don't understand why you'd want to change." Even if he did, a little, when he could see how protecting them came in.

Otilia was very quiet for several steps, and he wondered if he'd offended her, and then when she spoke it was not loud, but loud enough for the other children to hear, and he had a feeling she wasn’t just talking to him anymore. "I was made to serve a purpose," she said. "And I was...glad to do so, or at least I could not be happy without doing so. But I was a work of art, and of science, and not a person in anyone's eyes. Lucrezia," a flash of green in her eyes, turning her alien and remote for a moment, "took that to its logical extreme. I expect a great many of your families were horrified when they heard what she had done. But how many were horrified only that she had desecrated a work of art? If another Storm King is ever found I will be his, and I will be glad of it as it is my nature to be. For now I intend to take advantage of being my own."

Tarvek swallowed and didn't meet his classmates' eyes. (Which was easy, because most of them stopped looking back about then.) She didn't entirely sound like she wanted to be glad about it. But he couldn't quite bring himself to ask her about that. "And they--" He stopped and tried to think. She looked down at him and was patient. "You think they're good enough to do it and won't stop thinking of you as a person any more than they would if they were... doing surgery on someone biological."

"The Baron has not treated me differently as a clank to he did as a construct. And he treated me very well as a construct," Otilia said. "The same goes for the Lord Heterodyne, although I did not know him as well."

"That's good," Tarvek said. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to do it. It would have been so strange to know her first and then find out she was a Muse. (Gil said she was a little bit different now, mostly happier and less growly.) Then he made himself say, "I hope it works."

"Thank you." She let go of his hand as they reached the school, but smiled at him. "Now, all of you have a short break before your next lesson, I believe."

Tarvek nodded and went to catch up with Agatha and Gil.

Chapter Text

Klaus had a new samovar and kept tinkering with it, an impulse Barry was valiantly resisting mostly because if they both got started, they'd probably spend the whole afternoon rebuilding it instead of getting on with the political planning. They’d already spent much of the morning on the design of Otilia’s wings. After several minutes he said lightly, "I didn't think it looked that complicated." Although it might be once Klaus got through with it. "Are you enjoying yourself or just procrastinating?"

"I'm nearly done." Klaus allowed it to produce enough hot water for two cups of tea and sat down. "Barry," he said, planting a finger on the map, "are you taking this one or shall I?"

Barry blinked and looked down at the little... nook Klaus had just identified in their borders, almost completely enclosed if you counted their newest grateful ally, and carefully put down his tea. Schallenburg. "Ah," he said. "I'm the one who's been procrastinating."

Schallenburg had been his mother's town.

"We're going to have to talk to them sooner or later," said Klaus.

"I know." Barry rubbed a hand over his face. "And I realise it probably would have been less awkward before we had them essentially surrounded."

"Hmm," said Klaus. "We're not going to threaten them. But if you're going to spend your time telling them they don't have to join up instead of talking them into it then I think I'd better take it."

"I--" Barry started to protest, then gave Klaus a wry look. "Let me think about that one."

"Procrastinating again?" Klaus asked lightly.

"Actually thinking," said Barry. "It's not as if I've balked at talking to anybody else our father fought with."

Klaus nodded. "I'll let you think, then."

Barry picked up his tea again absently and stopped with the cup at his lips. "What would you tell them?"

"The same as we've told every other town," said Klaus. "Or do you mean if I had your history with them?"

Barry shook his head. Rationally he knew there wasn't that much difference between Schallenburg and any other town they'd invited in. For that matter, he'd taken Jägers to defend towns they'd previously raided. And yet.... "It was a silly question," he said. "Although actually, if you have any advice...."

Klaus took a sip of his own tea, looking thoughtful. "I don't know. Remember you don't need to apologise for being born." He looked at Barry, eyebrows drawing together in concern, "I really can take it, if you'd rather."

"I know." And Klaus had pinpointed it. With anyone else Barry might regret things his relatives had done to them, but people made war and alliances by turns all the time and his existence didn't specifically depend on most of them. "Bill sent them a letter when he inherited," he said. "It mostly said he didn't make any further claim on their town but they could call on us for defence at need." Basically the same thing they'd said to a lot of towns and villages later. "We didn't really expect them to."

"It didn't occur to you to try and meet them?" said Klaus. "You were their relatives as much as Heterodynes."

"Yes," said Barry, "but we were Heterodynes."

"This is a new situation," said Klaus. "Not an extension of that one."

"It's always an extension," Barry said, then smiled ruefully. "But I wouldn't be urging everybody else to join if I didn't actually think it was a good idea."

"So remember that," said Klaus. "You're not there to hurt anyone."

"No." Barry closed his eyes. He might anyway, although it wasn't as if they needed a reminder that he existed. But -- Sparks or not, he seriously doubted the family that had produced his mother was likely to lose their heads entirely and attack him personally or start a war over a civil visit, so the worst plausible outcome was that they'd ask him to leave and maintain a small enclave with neutral diplomatic relations. "And I should have talked to them a long time ago. I'll go." He opened his eyes and smiled wryly. "But I think, this time, without the honour guard."

"That will be for the best all around," Klaus agreed.

Barry wasn't entirely sure if he had managed to leave his honour guard behind or not. He thought the Jägers were a little bit proud of him for having noticed he was being followed the first two times, but if they'd done it again they had beaten him this time. If they could hide from him, they could probably hide from everyone else, and he didn't think the visit would be improved by looking inexplicably skittish. (Actually, attempting to explain would probably be worse.)

He had definitely left the prominently sigiled airship behind and even parked his clank a few kilometres out and finished at a walk. It wasn't as if they didn't know he was coming -- he'd sent a letter in advance -- but after walking across a good half the continent with Agatha, it wasn't exactly a hardship, and it gave him time to think.

Schallenburg was a pretty town. Obviously not invincible, but not poorly defended either. The Schallens, like the Wulfenbachs, had moved into the area several centuries ago at the behest of a Hungarian king uneasy about raiders from the East; they had only married into the Spark a few generations ago, possibly on purpose, and had evidently not been one of Lucrezia's priority targets, though the walls had been recently reinforced. Very few of the buildings looked like they'd been built before, say, forty-five years ago. The family's symbol was a bell, and its shape appeared as often in actual bells as in carved or cast or painted sigils.

It didn't occur to him until he saw the first shop that they would get tourists, too.

It was nothing like the scale of tourism and memorabilia in Mechanicsburg, but once he knew to look he realised there were small, tasteful displays dotted along the main entry roads. Some were about him and Bill, and here, some were about Lady Agatha Schallen. Heroine-martyr, for killing her husband. The pictures of her were grave and flashing-eyed, and Barry looked at one for several seconds and tried to decide how he felt about that. Still about the same as when she'd done it, really. Shocked and relieved and doubly bereft, guilty in a muddled way and crystal-clear in determination to take the chance to make things better. Much less overwrought though.

The castle was offset from the centre of town and guarded a large bailey to which the entire population of the town could and had retreated in time of need, not that it necessarily did them much good. Barry explained himself to the guards and was shown to a parlour where he waited for approximately thirty seconds before a woman his own height came in. She wore bronze and was crowned with white braids, and in spite of the years she looked strikingly like her sister in the portraits outside. "Lady Schallen," he said, because he was not about to jump into calling her Aunt Gertrude.

"Lord Heterodyne," she said, studying him. "I had been wondering when we'd hear from you. Shall I call you that, or Barry?"

His eyebrows rose slightly. "Whichever best pleases you."

"Most of Europa seems to be on first-name terms with you when you're not present," she said. "It seems only fair that I should be. Won't you sit down?" She gestured him not to an armchair but to join her at a two-person desk, and laid on it first his letter and then -- Barry blinked -- what appeared to be a copy of an alliance treaty.

"Straight to business, then?"

"So far all your correspondence has been rather utilitarian."

Barry paused for a moment, and they studied each other. He said, "I confess I am torn between thinking I should apologise for not coming sooner, or coming at all."

"Don't do either," she said. Then, "Red fire. I wondered if I'd recognise you, in spite of all the pictures, but I'd have known you anywhere."

Barry blinked, a little taken aback by this, and the fervor in her voice. "I suppose the pictures aren't often very accurate, but...."

"You look just like her."

Oh. "Oh." That was overstating the case a bit, but... true, if not something he'd thought about much. He'd known he had the shape of her nose and the colour of her hair, but at fourteen and younger it hadn't occurred to him to look for the subtleties of facial bone structure, or that his build was more kin to her stockiness than Bill's classic muscles or their father's angularity. "Yes... I suppose I do."

"She'd be so proud of you," said Gertrude, and left him without words or breath to answer. Some moments later she added, "Barry? --The idea can't be that much of a shock."

Barry let out a soft huff of laughter and shook his head. "I try," he said. "We tried. But frankly, we had no idea what to expect of you and rather thought you might all have had enough of Heterodynes." And what would she say if he told her they'd loved their father, too?

"Of being raided, invaded, kidnapped, extorted, or threatened," she said, "yes, certainly. Though you probably noticed we didn't pursue the relationship either."

"We don't intend to threaten you regarding the Empire or alliance," said Barry. "If you choose to remain independent and neutral, you'll be left in peace. But I do believe your participation would benefit all involved."

"I didn't intend to imply you were threatening. Rather the opposite." Gertrude tapped at the papers, making them rustle. "I researched the treaties you'd offered everyone else in the area. I believe I've heard all your inspirational arguments secondhand by now, incidentally, although I'm sure the delivery suffered so you're welcome to make them again if you like. Besides, we've been on cordial terms with the Wulfenbachs since before we left Thuringia." She tapped a finger against her lips. "And I gather you still don't plan to contend with me for the authority to rule Schallen."

"Er," said Barry, feeling a twinge of conversational whiplash. "Why on Earth would I? You were her elder sister, correct?"

Gertrude raised her eyebrows. "And you're her son. Our brother died without issue." She didn't remind him it had been in battle. "A grandson has at least as good a claim as a daughter, but Bill did renounce his."

Barry's confusion cleared, and he fought down a sudden inappropriate urge to laugh and cleared his throat instead. "I'm sorry, we didn't exactly look into Schallenburg's rules of succession. Bill renounced any claim to inherit it from our father by right of conquest; I don't believe it ever crossed his mind that he could be considered to inherit it from our mother. In Mechanicsburg, Agatha--" He broke off when her eyebrows jumped, and floundered for a second. "Bill's daughter, Agatha, precedes me. She'll be the Heterodyne when she comes of age."

"I'd heard his daughter was named Agatha," Gertrude said after a moment. "It was something of a surprise. Is it... awkward, with Mechanicsburgers who knew them?"

"I suspect Bill named her partly to honour our mother and partly to make a point to Mechanicsburg of doing so," Barry said slowly, "but honestly, nobody's really commented. It got a lot more talk when he named his son Klaus, partly because people would bullheadedly take the wrong interpretation in adamant defiance of biology and basic arithmetic," at this point his aunt poorly suppressed a snicker, "although that wasn't Mechanicsburgers, generally." Anybody in Mechanicsburg who couldn't do arithmetic was still likely to take the word of the Heterodyne, the Castle, and the Jägers as definitive.

"Hm. Well," she said, "despite my best efforts I never managed any, so if you have a son with that swordsmith from Jibou he may inherit a town all the same."

Barry eyed her. "I do know you have daughters."

"Then you might know they married out. Farther off than you live. Trust me on this, you're ahead of both them and Agatha here."

He shook his head slightly. "Would you want that? A Heterodyne in Schallenburg after all?" Maybe for the Schallen bloodline, but....

Gertrude studied him for a moment, then said, "I think there is something you need to understand about your mother." She laid her hand over his on the desk and leaned forward, dark eyes full of fire. "Listen to me. She won."

Barry listened.

"My sister gave herself up for us, went through Hell for seventeen years and died for it, but she won. I don't mean killing her husband in the heart of his citadel. She won in you and your brother. She loved you fiercely; it shone in her letters. She may even have loved him a little, though God knows I couldn't. And you loved her back and you listened. It's her blood behind that trilobite now, her blood and her ideals. You are her victory."

It was... something he could imagine his mother saying, though it was probably wiser that she hadn't. It fit her, fit the family she'd come from. And it was a gift, and not one he could have brought himself to ask for. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I can't... exactly be surprised, but I couldn't exactly expect it of you either. It's a good way to think of it." And then found himself adding, "As... oddly as it sits with being more aware lately of being a Heterodyne."

Gertrude cocked an eyebrow at him. "That one seems a little hard to miss."

...Well, that could have gone worse. "I suppose that did sound bizarre." Barry thought briefly of the people who'd spoken of him or Bill inspiring them, or mentioned not quite having meant to confide all they did. It was disconcerting to find himself on the other side of both, even if his aunt was being gracious about it. He still wasn't sure about explaining, but she was waiting attentively for an answer. "In a way we were avoiding Mechanicsburg some of the time," he said at last. "Travelling everywhere, trying to fix other people's towns."

"Mm," said Gertrude. "You did come of such a long line of homebodies on that side."

She said it so drily Barry laughed in spite of the topic. "We could command changes in Mechanicsburg," he said, serious again, "but... that was because of previous Heterodynes, and we didn't try very hard to persuade people who'd loved them that almost everything they'd been doing was wrong." He dropped his eyes to where her hand still rested on his. "Since I got back, I've learned it was... a mistake to imagine the whole town was basically waiting for things to go back to normal."

"I don't think they can," said Gertrude. "I've been there."

Barry blinked. "When? Why?"

"Once to stand up with my sister at her wedding," she said, hand pressing down on his as if she thought it might try to get away. "I managed not to try to feed your father the bouquet. It was autumn crocus." Well. That shed some light on the choice of poison, seventeen years later. "And about twenty years ago when my youngest daughter nearly killed me."

"Ah--"

"When giving birth to her nearly killed me," Gertrude clarified. "It was a bit too urgent for a long trip, and anyway, the Master of Paris always irritated me."

Barry restrained himself from asking what Voltaire had done. "I didn't hear."

"I don't think you were home, and I did use an assumed name. I was fairly confident in the Great Hospital itself, but I wasn't sure about the rest of the town."

"I don't think anyone would have had the nerve to do anything," Barry said, "but I understand the impulse." He hoped the Castle wouldn't have tried anything.

"It was very different," she said. "The whole feel of the town. Perhaps the changes were by command, but the younger generation's grown up with them by now. They expect to see outsiders there as tourists because they're admiring and grateful, not slaves bringing tribute because they're terrified."

Barry hesitated and didn't say it might change back just as fast, with the wrong kind of Heterodyne again. That was his duty, part of it, to teach Agatha better than that. "Part of that is played up for the tourists," he said.

"I know. We do have some of our own. There are worse things for people to spend their time on."

"They do play up the horrors as well. And yet...." They were his, and mostly wanted to be in spite of the changes, as long as he was theirs too. "Now I've told the Castle I need it, and it started trying to introduce me to women who approved of what Bill and I tried to do, and I'm taking Jägers out to rescue towns and defend our allies."

"I heard about Taraclia," said Gertrude, "but I am not sure the casualty reports were plausible."

Barry grinned at that, fierce and proud, the clouded mood from immediately after the battle burnt off like mist. "Then they were probably accurate. It turns out the Jägers are willing to take It's not their fault, don't kill them unless you have to as a challenge."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Unexpected. And that is quite a challenge, against another army."

"You sound like Klaus," Barry observed. "It is. And it wouldn't work on a force they can't overwhelm. But it's a good option to have. And it's broadly what we used to ask of our travel companions."

Gertrude smiled faintly. "Does that mean you and a handful of companions tended to overwhelm people?"

Barry grinned at that. "Regularly. We relied on it, in fact. Though we avoided engaging whole armies if we didn't have to." He added, "It's very different, taking in an army of our own. But it's as necessary now as it would have been counterproductive then. And they're much happier, odd requests or not." He paused, thinking of bat sandwiches. They might prefer the occasional odd request. "I'm still getting used to that. Taking people into battle, asking them to take risks for my principles, who weren't either inspired by what Bill and I were trying to do or dragged in as defeated enemies."

"Ah, what?" Gertrude asked, startled. Barry gave her a puzzled look. She added, "You used to drag defeated enemies into battle with you?"

"Well, we had to keep an eye on them somehow," Barry said reasonably. "Some of them we could trust to behave themselves after we left, but ones who'd been mistreating their own people were--" He broke off and ran a hand back through his hair, grimacing. "Well, Klaus won that argument after a few mistakes. Bill and I were probably too used to Mechanicsburg, where people volunteer for the crazy experiments, and too optimistic for reasons I honestly can't explain--"

"Nobody in Mechanicsburg pretended they were going to do better?" Gertrude suggested, sounding unwillingly fascinated.

"...That probably didn't help," Barry said after a moment. Their father hadn't. They hadn't been naive in the way some people assumed, as if having ideals meant thinking everything was simple, but they'd been young and their experience outside Mechanicsburg had been limited. "Anyway, Klaus didn't think they should be left in charge whether they sincerely meant to change or not, and he was right. And there were others we thought might change, might learn better, but we couldn't trust them unwatched. So we took them with us."

"How did that generally go?" Gertrude sounded outright intrigued now. "Everyone knew a lot of different people travelled with you for a time, but it never occurred to me any of them weren't along altogether voluntarily."

"That's because it usually went fairly well. There were some exceptions, but most of them eventually found someplace new to settle down, where they could work and their neighbours could cope with them." He rested his chin in one hand. "Currently Klaus is settling them himself -- and not necessarily just the ones we'd have been able to take along before. The Duke of Taraclia is more or less a prisoner, but I'm not altogether sure he remembers that. Klaus gave him a lab, with minions strictly enjoined not to put up with being appropriated as experimental subjects. I'm not sure most Sparks really care about ruling more than a lab."

"An interesting solution," said Gertrude. "Not one that would work on Heterodynes."

Barry snorted. "No more than Valois's court. Then again, he's not trying that one with Sparks whose towns actually want them back."

Gertrude looked thoughtful. "If he's supplying laboratories to prisoners, maybe he should do as Valois did and offer them to Sparks who come voluntarily. Particularly ones whose homes don't want any Sparks at all."

"A refuge," Barry said. Sparks caused enough trouble accidentally as well as on purpose that in many towns and villages, the first hazard was breakthrough and the second was panicked or enraged neighbours, even if the nascent Spark hadn't actually done any harm. If they could offer safety, training, and resources to Sparks with the sense to flee that kind of situation....

"With your word behind it, they'd believe it is a refuge," said Gertrude. "Otherwise those of us who offer are generally suspected of seeking lesser Sparks as experimental subjects."

Barry laughed. "You do know little fascinates Klaus more than trying to figure out how the Spark works? Bill and I used to let him stick electrodes to us, when we were working somewhere he could actually take readings." He could remember Klaus muttering under his breath about harmonics and then almost invariably getting drawn in to revise their project. "Well... not that he couldn't be distracted from it. But I suppose I can vouch that it doesn't hurt."

Gertrude snorted. "If he wants to observe, I think they'll cope."

"It's a good idea. I'll bring it up to him when I get back and see how soon we can get it set up." Barry grinned at her suddenly and tapped the treaty draft she'd laid on the desk. "Is this purely reference material, or should I tell him you want to help?"

"I think we have more to discuss before I commit to anything specific," Gertrude said, amused. "Unless you want to accept my terms sight unseen."

She was proposing them, then. "I won't be quite that precipitous," he said, picking up the treaty to browse through. Gertrude watched him in silence until he finished, and flipped back to a previous page. "No Jägers?" he asked mildly.

She sighed, watching him. "You can see why."

"Yes. And I can't exactly blame you. But they are rather thoroughly integrated into the allied forces by now... and if, heaven forbid, you ever have trouble with wasps, I'd have to insist." Even if there was no agreement, he couldn't stand by for that. "They can't be infected."

Gertrude's eyebrows went up and her lips tightened. "I concede the point," she said after a moment, then more reluctantly, "And I have been reconsidering."

"I'm not proposing to have them turn up on social visits," Barry said. "Which I will make clear. I admit I didn't anticipate their turning up in Jibou, even on their best behaviour. Especially since I haven't made it there yet," he finished a little sheepishly.

"I believe even for Heterodynes it might be customary to visit your own girlfriend," Gertrude said, straight-faced. Her voice went a little dry as she added, "I suppose sending proxies isn't unusual either but it may be less friendly. Ah, what is their best behaviour?"

"No attacks, obviously; no deliberate intimidation--" Klaus insisted that their approach to putting people at their ease was the same as Barry's, and found it hilarious. "Treat people as their own shopkeeper relatives would want to be treated. Apparently they're good customers when they're actually paying for things." Buy instead of stealing, leave tips, pay for damages. (Not breaking things might be preferable, but Mechanicsburg heirlooms tended to be sturdy.)

"Yes, I imagine that would help." Gertrude shook her head slightly. "They have... shopkeeper relatives."

"It's not as if families who produce Jägers all just die out afterward," said Barry. "And a lot of Mechanicsburg is shops now. As I believe you noticed. Not that there isn't any shoplifting," and there was some pickpocketing and outright mugging, here and there, but he was doing his best to discourage that and it was a problem in any city. "But it's mostly kids, in which case their parents usually recompense the shopkeeper eventually."

He could remember their parents arguing about that, still. Their mother had found out he and Bill were participating and, unusually, taken it to their father first.

"I thought this was something even you would object to. Preying on your own people!"

"It's hardly preying, Agatha. Just children having a good time, getting some practice in."

"Practice. Indeed." Their mother had always been very firm on the idea that habits, practice, made future behaviour and shaped your character, and Barry had shifted uncomfortably. "And that makes up for the financial losses when somebody's trying to make a living?"

Barry had been listening at the door -- the Castle could have ratted him out but wasn't bothering -- and hadn't been able to see it but was fairly sure his father had rolled his eyes. "You don't understand Mechanicsburg. Their parents will usually make it up. And who d'you think pays if the shopkeeper can't catch anybody? They assume it's my boys because they're too good to get caught, and take it to Carson. No harm done to anybody who matters. Now don't fuss at them over it. Everything here is theirs anyway and they'll learn their responsibilities to the town in spite of you yet, so don't pretend that's what you're worried about."

Barry had slipped away at that point to tell Bill about the quarrel. They hadn't gone thieving again. Well, sort of. It had been too much fun to give up but they'd made a game of sneaking payment in for whatever they took. Their father had eventually caught them out and suspected their mother's involvement, but Bill had sworn she hadn't said anything to them about it (technically true) and boldly argued their responsibility to the town. In the end he'd just covered his eyes and let them go, and they'd heard him laughing afterward.

"Mechanicsburg is still an odd place," Gertrude muttered. "But if they'll be... forbearing, more so than I've ever asked of an army, out of obedience, if not on principle...."

"That is the principle," Barry said. "They swore to the House of Heterodyne. And I am... finally," he added a little wryly, "treating them as a Heterodyne is expected to treat Jägers. Asking them to do weird things probably falls under that heading. Asking them to use their increased abilities to accomplish what I want definitely does -- I'm not telling them to die to protect the opposing army, and I can fix almost anything else and they know it. They chose to take nine in ten chances of death to get this, for love of their Heterodynes and love of battle, and they stayed loyal even when we wouldn't let them fight." Well, except for Vole. "I'm not asking you to make friends with them. But you should probably know that they're making a lot of things possible militarily that wouldn't be otherwise, and some of that -- a lot of that -- is saving lives."

"They're old-fashioned," said Gertrude.

"Well, yes," Barry said. "They're old."

Gertrude laughed softly. "Indeed. And they are yours, and an obligation to treat the rest of the world right doesn't remove your obligation to your own." If she hadn't won him over before, Barry thought, she would have then. And there was a time he would have resented hearing it, but it might have done him good anyway. "Your Heterodyne ancestors were fearsome as much because of their virtues as their cruelty," she added pensively. "History is full of the creatively vicious. But the Heterodynes did take care of their own, which is more than many people manage -- many Sparks especially -- and that was the source of much of their strength."

"I've been learning that," said Barry. And there were other ways to look after your town and cultivate that reciprocal strength than raiding people. "And Mechanicsburg... looks after itself and its Heterodynes both. Expectations matter. Mechanicsburg's people don't expect Heterodynes to be restrained by a lot, but they do expect to be able to cope with us. At wildly varied levels of competence, at that. Habits matter," he added reflectively, thinking of his mother's insistence again. "That's part of Klaus's efforts to make breakthrough safer, when the students at his school start going through it."

"The idea of using Mechanicsburg as a model for safer breakthroughs is perhaps a little worrying."

"We're hoping for a better success rate than that, actually," Barry said wryly. "Since a fair number of Heterodynes did themselves in at one point or another. And more politic solutions than clapping unruly children in a cage."

"--I should hope so!"

Barry decided to let that one lie. "Donna's family seems to have a pretty good survival rate, so he's looking at their practices too. The main idea is to teach them in advance that being a Spark doesn't have to mean being entirely out of control or acting like the daftest Sparks in stories. That it doesn't mean you have to mistreat people. And to be supportive with useful labs and appropriate safety measures, of course."

"Which don't involve cages," said Gertrude.

"Not ideally."

"It's a good plan, and mostly what we've tried to do here. What Agatha tried to do with the two of you, though more for life than for breakthrough, and evidently succeeded." She looked at him, soft-eyed. "She did know she wasn't making it easy on you."

"It's worth it," Barry said quietly.

"You said thinking of yourself as her victory sat oddly with being aware you are a Heterodyne," Gertrude said slowly. "I think, instead, her victory would be less if you were not." She sat back and pulled the treaty to herself, from under his hand. "So. We will rewrite this together, and Schallenburg will ally with the Empire, and the House of Heterodyne will provide a Schallen heir." A smile. "And on that note, one more thing."

Barry arched an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Barry." She patted the back of his hand. "Visit your girlfriend."

Barry entered Jibou on foot as well, with some idea of not making a scene, only to have a twelve-year-old boy with features like Donna's look him up and down appraisingly before he could ask directions and ask, "Are you Barry Heterodyne?"

"Yes, I am. And you are?"

A grin split the boy's face. "Yves DuLac. Lance's son. You're looking for Aunt Donna. We wondered when you'd get here -- it's all been Jägers so far."

"Sorry," Barry said, trying not to laugh. "I've been ridiculously busy, but I'm here now."

"I'll show you where she works! C'mon."

By the time they reached Donna's forge, Barry was being led and followed by an entire procession of children and a few otherwise unoccupied adults. They all stopped dutifully outside the door, however, because as Yves explained, Aunt Donna was very strict about kids not coming in where they could get hurt. "But I expect you'll be okay," he added. "You go in more dangerous places all the time, don't you?"

"More hostile, certainly," Barry said, and went in.

The principle was sound, but he wasn't sure how anybody would have managed to get hurt at the moment, because Donna was not at the forge itself but at her desk, with several pages of Adam's handwriting displayed around her on clank-arms and a page of equations in front of her. She was absorbed enough that not only had she missed the crowd walking him to her door, but he managed to shut the door and come right up beside her before murmuring, "You did get the message that I was coming, didn't you?"

Donna jumped and then pushed back her chair and looked up at him, beaming. "Yes, but I didn't see the point in walking the floor while I waited." She got up to kiss him, and they stood in each other's arms for a moment. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too. Finally," he added with a rueful smile. "I'm sorry it took me so long to take you up on the invitation. How busy are you lately?"

Donna looked quizzically at him. "I have a couple more commissions from Jägers. Why?"

"I'm spending a lot of my time lately on diplomatic visits and was wondering if you'd consider taking some time away to join me on some. They're generally prepared to accommodate a companion, it's usually enjoyable even if Klaus finds it maddening, and it would give you a better idea what we'd be dealing with outside Mechanicsburg if we keep carrying on this way." He smiled at her. "As few or as many as you like."

"That... could be very nice," Donna said thoughtfully. "And very instructive. I'm honoured and I'll look forward to it."

Perfect. "Meanwhile, should I assume offering to take you out for a nice dinner in private tonight is a lost cause?"

"You must be joking. Dinner will be at my grandfather's house. Everyone will be there. Well, not literally, but close enough."

"Quite a lot of everyone is outside," Barry said, amused, "or at least they were a minute ago. I think I caught most of their names. And do I owe you an apology for suggesting you weren't serious about your brother being Lancelot?"

Donna quivered with laughter. "I didn't quite believe you about the Vermin Fair, so call it even."

"Your parents must be quite fond of Arthurian tales."

"They also can't resist a pun, and when they named us there weren't any Heterodyne Boys stories yet," she said, picking her head up off his shoulder. "Thank goodness. Who knows what they'd have called me a few years later. Although I should note that despite my involvement with swords, Lance and Ruxandra are very happy together, so we're fairly sure they aren't prophetic."

"Just as well. We already have Muses, and I'm not entirely sure how much they even like being prophetic sometimes." He stepped back from her just a little, hands on her shoulders. "On which note, I have a project for you, if you'll take it. Otilia wants to be able to fly."

Donna went still. "Oh my."

"Yes. Here, do you want to see our notes so far?"

"Of course. Here, let me make space." The letter-reader folded expeditiously out of the way and took her equations with it. "I assume you've talked to Adam already."

"You'll probably be getting another letter from him about it before long," Barry said, pulling a second chair over to her desk.

"Brilliant. I'm enjoying our correspondence, even if it leaves me feeling a little overspecialised." She shook her head. "I may be able to do unlikelier things with metal, but he keeps referring to developments in the biosciences I haven't even heard of."

"There's nothing wrong with focus," said Barry. "He and Lilith do make a point of keeping up with the scientific literature, and they were living in Beetleburg until recently, which probably helped. I'm still catching up myself."

"I have not been quite as busy as you for the past few years," Donna said drily. "On the other hand, I like being focussed."

She spread out the designs and speculation he handed her, and the matter of wings lasted them until her parents -- Viorel and Loredana -- turned up to remind them the dinner hour was approaching in time for them both to get cleaned up.

Dinner was good, the food as eclectic as the family supplying it, and the conversation lively and frequently interrogative. Barry didn't exactly charm everybody so much as most of them turned up charmed by default, although Donna's "old warlord" great-grandfather embarrassed everyone a bit by congratulating Barry on his political and personal conquests. Aside from that, the only really awkward moment was when Donna's Aunt Cerise -- Viorel's eldest sister -- gushed that she was so very happy for Donna and had been afraid she'd wasted too much of her life already.

"I'm ten years older than she is," Barry said mildly, while Donna evidently identified alarm bells in his tone and tried to kick him under the table. "I'm afraid to ask what you think I've been doing with mine."

"Oh! I mean -- that's hardly --"

"She's developed her skills enough to be helping modify one of the Muses, at Otilia's own request," Barry pointed out, then decided it was ungracious to leave Cerise spluttering and added, "Anyway, if she'd been in any more of a hurry I'd be out of luck here, so I'm hardly going to complain."

Donna ducked her head, smiling, and stopped trying to kick him.

"She's always like that," Donna told him later, when they'd settled on a sofa in her parlour and her adult relatives had supposedly rounded up all the attempted eavesdroppers among their offspring. "It's not that much of a bother...." She trailed off, then put her head on his shoulder. "But the defence was nice anyway. At least the last part."

Barry snorted and kissed the top of her head. "I don't plan to snipe at your relatives on a regular basis. But I hardly think you've been wasting your time."

"Neither do I. You didn't mind the horde of adoring fans, did you?"

A brief pause. "Would it sound egotistical if I said I'm used to it?"

Donna buried her face in her hands, laughing. "Somehow, not from you. I guess you would be." She snuggled in again. "I suppose you could tell I was starstruck when we met. I really have been hearing stories about you literally as long as I remember."

"Not too starstruck to distinguish between hearing the stories and getting to know me," Barry said. "Which I was a little worried about when the Castle started aiming tourists at me."

"You make us sound like some strange form of weapon," Donna said in amusement. "I think the Castle's involvement made it hard to miss that there was a difference."

"I can see that." He gave her a wry look. "You handle its 'involvement' well. That was always something I assumed would be, ah, difficult about bringing anyone home. Stories are one thing, getting to know each other something different, but courting someone with the idea of eventually asking her to live with Mechanicsburg and Castle Heterodyne? You've met it being cooperative."

"Mmm. I've taken shameless advantage of its interest in getting you married off, is what I've done," said Donna. "Although I have to confess... I really thought at first that it was trying to set up a one-night stand. And I only expected a chance to say hello!"

"It wouldn't have minded setting me up on one-night stands either," Barry admitted. "But I think it would prefer a more stable relationship." Castle Heterodyne would also be delighted if he started collecting concubines, as long as it could keep an eye on them, but he wasn't going that far to reassure it.

"So do I." Donna smiled. "Although I admit, one night would've been better than nothing."

"I'm flattered." Barry tilted his cheek against her head. "And this is better." He stayed there for a moment, pensive, and then said, "I took your advice."

"I assume you mean about something besides the squid, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

He chuckled. "I went to visit my mother's family. Well... my Aunt Gertrude, she's the only one living there now. Admittedly not until it had become politically necessary."

"Still good. I hope. How did it go?"

Barry breathed out into her hair. "Remarkably well. Not completely surprising... her sister taught us to be careful of holding grudges, but it's still...."

"Hard to assume," Donna offered.

"Yes." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm glad you're getting along with the Castle and the Jägers," he said. "I'm glad I'm getting along with them better myself. But... it would be nice to have one other person in Mechanicsburg who knew what my father did to my mother wasn't right." And that was a difficult thing to ask for, too.

After a little silence, Donna said, "I don't think everything you do is right just because of who you are. I admire you because you try to do everything right."

Barry sighed and pulled her closer. "And that's part of why I love you."

Chapter Text

Agatha latched on to Tarvek’s hand as soon as school ended for the day and tugged him around a corner. Tarvek considered protesting, mostly because Gil hadn’t come out yet and was going to wonder where they were, but then Agatha started talking. “We’re going to bake a cake,” she said.

“We are?” Oh, yes, it was Gil’s birthday tomorrow. “We’re not going to bake one in a lab, are we? That’s very unhygienic and I don’t want to poison Gil.”

Agatha giggled. “I don’t want to poison Gil, either. We’re going to Lilith’s.”

Lilith was their music teacher, as well as Judy from the Heterodyne Boys stories so it wasn’t surprising she’d be closer to Agatha. Tarvek had never met her outside class. “Does she know?”

“Not yet. But I’m allowed to drop in if school’s over for the day. I go there all the time.”

“Do they know you’re bringing a guest, this time?”

Agatha tugged him again. “Why would they mind you? You’re never any trouble.”

It was a strangely adult assessment from a girl half his age and a bit stinging. It wasn’t as if he wanted to be any trouble — he generally tried very hard not to be, since his family didn’t have much tolerance for trouble — but coming from Agatha… “Oh. Thank you.”

“Anyway, it’s important,” she added.

Tarvek wasn’t entirely sure about the relative importance of cake, at least in the minds of adults, but he gave in to Agatha’s excitement and caught up with her so she could stop trying to tow him the whole way. She grinned at him and talked about cake flavours all the way to Lilith’s door. Agatha knocked on it enthusiastically, the metal clattering under her fist, and soon the door was opened by Lilith. Agatha threw herself forward and was scooped up to hang contentedly around Lilith’s neck, while Tarvek offered a hand. Lilith shifted Agatha to one arm in order to shake it. “I hope Agatha inviting me was all right,” he said.

“I’m always glad to see Agatha’s friends,” said Lilith. “Why don’t you come in?”

“We need to make a cake,” said Agatha as the door closed behind them. “Urgently.”

“It’s Gil’s birthday tomorrow,” Tarvek explained, feeling that Agatha’s statement was missing something. He looked around the room. There was floral wallpaper. Nice but inexpensive wooden furniture. Pictures on the wall. A cuckoo clock. It was possibly the sort of place books meant when they described something as ‘cozy’ or ‘homey’. To someone raised in a palace it was completely new.

“Ah, so that’s it,” said Lilith, putting Agatha down. “You two go and wash your hands and I’ll get some recipe books down.”

They arrived back to find that Lilith had stacked a few recipe books on the table, brought in two sturdy looking stools so they could reach the counter, and produced two child sized aprons, leaving Tarvek mystified about why she’d had those.

“Are you going to want me to stay and help?” Lilith asked.

“We’ll be fine,” said Agatha, grabbing an apron. “We follow chemistry instructions all the time, it can’t be any harder.”

“We might need help getting the ingredients down,” Tarvek said, looking at the cupboards some way above both their heads.

“Pick a recipe and I’ll do that for you, then,” said Lilith, smiling.

They picked a recipe for sponge cake that didn’t look too hard — although Agatha was right, they followed instructions in chemistry often enough that they should have no trouble with this — and Lilith miraculously proved to have all the ingredients for it in her cupboards. “Try not to make too much of a mess,” she said, ruffling Agatha’s hair on the way out.

They set to work, Agatha softening the butter while Tarvek greased the baking tins. Agatha got a bit enthusiastic about creaming the ingredients together and wound up with sugar butter in her hair.

“I hope you never do that in a laboratory,” he said.

“Things in laboratories aren’t so hard to mix,” Agatha retorted. “Now we have to add the eggs.”

Her words proved to be prescient as well as descriptive. The recipe said to “beat well” after each bit of egg was added and the amount of beating it took to make even a little bit of egg disappear, as well as how much the cake mix seemed to be actively resisting, was phenomenal. “I’m tired of this,” Agatha announced, shoving the bowl at Tarvek when it was his turn again, and jumping down from her stool to open a cutlery drawer. “I’m going to make something else to do it.” Tarvek looked at the bowl, in which the egg was still not disappearing, and jumped down to join her.

They didn’t have any motors or even any cogs or magnets or anything, so their design had to work by weight and counterweight, and involved the entire contents of the cutlery drawer, several rubber bands, and a lot of string. But it mixed the eggs in beautifully.

After that they had to fold the flour in, which they managed without needing to invent anything else, and then they could put the cake in the cake tins to cook. When it was done Agatha scooped some cake mix off the side of the mixing bowl and licked her finger. Tarvek copied her. “I didn’t know cake tasted good raw,” he said, surprised. Agatha grinned at him, and quickly scooped some mix off his side before he could get to it.

They had nearly scraped the bowl clean and were both laughing when Lilith came in and said “What on Earth?”

Tarvek looked up at the room and realised it was full of dangling cutlery on loops of string. “We can take that down,” he said, quickly.

“No, no,” said Lilith, equally quickly. “Leave it. I have to take a photograph of this to send to Barry.”

“Is it that good?” asked Agatha, beaming.

“It’s…remarkable,” said Lilith. Tarvek realised suddenly that she was trying not to laugh and felt a rush of relief that that was the emotion she was suppressing behind carefully chosen words. “Now, why don’t you clean up and I’ll put dinner on?”

“I’m not sure we’re staying,” Tarvek began, thinking of Gil eating alone. Hopefully he would come back for dinner and not just stay vanished for the whole evening. Or maybe he should hope Gil would stay vanished, he knew Gil could steal from the kitchens. He told himself he was exaggerating, things weren’t that bad for Gil anymore, even with both his champions away.

“We have to stay,” said Agatha. “We haven’t put the filling in yet, or decorated it.”

Tarvek conceded and the two were on their way to the bathroom again when Agatha turned back and said anxiously, “Will you be able to cook with our egg beater there?”

“I’ve cooked in worse conditions,” said Lilith. “Run along.”

Adam arrived right before dinner and gave the kitchen a wondering look before offering them both a thumbs up. Tarvek was fairly sure he was trying not to laugh too. Dinner was delicious. Food on Castle Wulfenbach tended towards either the kind of unimaginative food made when there were a lot of people to serve at once, or the far too imaginative food that meant the older students had been allowed to cook. Agatha chattered through the whole meal, looking to Adam for a response as often as Lilith and apparently content with whatever he conveyed by expression or gestures. It was nice. Was this how people who weren’t nobility lived? Although Agatha was nobility, and Adam and Lilith weren’t her parents. They just liked her.

After dinner they washed up and then filled the cake with cream and jam and started making icing for it. “Is there any green food colouring?” Agatha asked.

Tarvek, who knew which poisonous substances were in which common food colourings and how much they could be increased to cover up a poisoning, said, “That has arsenic in it!” rather alarmed.

“Which is why we don’t have it,” said Lilith. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“White icing’s fine,” said Agatha. “Much better than poisoning Gil, anyway.”

They did have some red food colouring, which was cochineal and not poisonous (Tarvek checked), to write “Happy Birthday, Gil Holzfäller” in piped icing. Then Agatha used it to draw a lobster underneath, which sort of made sense since Gil had been very taken with a book on crustaceans lately, but still didn’t really seem like the kind of thing to put on a birthday cake.

“There,” said Agatha, in satisfaction. She looked up at Lilith, “Can we pick it up tomorrow afternoon? It would be a bit difficult to hide it at school.”

Tarvek thought he could hide a cake at school without too much difficulty, but Lilith had already agreed. “Now you’d better get back to the school,” she said.

Agatha nodded and then threw herself at Lilith for another hug. “Thank you, I had a lovely time,” she chirped.

“Thank you,” Tarvek echoed.

Outside it felt as if the world had somehow become ten times bigger. Even though they were still in the metal corridors and not the echoing emptiness of the places still being built. The scale of Castle Wulfenbach felt off after coming out of a place that could have been a cottage. Tarvek took Agatha’s hand and the two of them walked back to the school together, thinking of Gil’s face tomorrow when he found out he had a cake.

They'd made him a cake. They'd made him a cake. Neither Gil's inability to remember his previous birthdays nor Agatha's indignant little squeak of "You're sharing cake with people who are mean to you?" did anything to dampen the gleeful discovery that his friends had actually made him a cake to celebrate. (And he did share cake with people who were mean to him. None of them were always horrible -- well, almost none of them -- and Madame Otilia was standing at the table like a guardian angel so they all were at least nice about it that day. He spent some time trying to explain to Agatha that celebrations were supposed to be for everybody while Tarvek tried to tell her it was a good way to placate them or make them feel obligated to be polite in return.)

Gil wanted to do something nice for her birthday just a few months later, but his ideas so far extended to building her a clockwork duck -- he wasn't very happy with it yet, partly because he was trying to do it when she wasn't around, which didn't give him a lot of time -- and making another cake. He had found out from Tarvek that they'd made his in Lilith Clay's kitchen, but neither boy was quite sure if it would be appropriate for them to ask her.

Then all his planning went to pieces when Agatha ran back in from speaking to her Uncle Barry (Gil barely hid the duck in time) and breathlessly invited them to Mechanicsburg. "The whole town's having a party!" she said gleefully. "Uncle Barry said I could ask you and he already checked with Baron Wulfenbach and Prince Aaronev."

"The whole town?" said Gil. He knew Agatha was more important than him, so it made sense her birthday would be too, but he didn't think many people had parties that big even in their school.

"Uncle Barry says Mechanicsburg is very attached to its Heterodynes," she said. "I'm pretty sure he means figuratively."

"He'd have to," said Tarvek, clearly trying not to laugh. "The Heterodyne Boys travelled a lot and he still does."

"Oh, yes, that's a good point." Agatha looked relieved, then bounced in place. "You'll come, won't you? Please come!"

"Of course," said Gil.

"Of course," Tarvek echoed, a little more formally. "I'd be delighted."

Agatha beamed at both of them. "Yay! I think we're actually inviting everybody, but I wanted you two with me."

"I guess it's a big enough party for everyone," said Gil, still a little awed by the idea of a party the size of a town. "I'm glad we'll be with you. It doesn't sound like you'll have time to even see a lot of your guests."

"Well, we can probably look at each other," Agatha said contemplatively. "Uncle Barry says the tourists mostly don't expect conversations, they come all the same if we're away, and I'm meeting the townspeople in stages when I'm visiting home."

"That's a lot of people to meet," said Gil, distracted. "Do you have to know everyone in your town, too?" he asked Tarvek.

Tarvek shook his head. "I don't think most people meet all their subjects. And we don't get tourists wanting to look at us."

"It's okay," Agatha assured him. "Mechanicsburg is kind of weird."

"I knew that," said Tarvek, and then looked guilty. "Sorry?"

"For what? I said it," Agatha pointed out.

"Nothing has to bite you this time, does it?" Gil asked, thinking of the last time Agatha had mentioned her family being weird.

"What?!" Tarvek looked rather alarmed.

"I don't think so," said Agatha. "Uncle Barry would have mentioned it."

"But what bit you last time?" Tarvek asked, not looking reassured.

"A big clank that's part of Castle Heterodyne's chapel," Agatha explained, gesturing with her arms to indicate an oval that Gil assumed to be the face. "To do a blood test. It hurt but not as bad as letting a cut wire snap back." She held up her hand to the light, inspecting it. "I'd show you, but I can't really find where it was now."

"That doesn't sound like it bit you very hard, then," said Tarvek, relaxing.

"No," said Agatha. "It just checks to make sure it's really got a Heterodyne. Um, and if somebody lies about that it kills them."

"Oh, that's..." Tarvek thought about it for a minute. "My family might kill someone lying about their bloodline, but the architecture wouldn't do it for them."

Gil snorted and flopped onto his stomach. "You guys take this stuff way too seriously."

Tarvek frowned a little. "Inheritance is serious. Of property and especially responsibility." And then, before Gil could say anything else, "That doesn't mean you're any less our friend."

"Okay, fine, I know you care about it," said Gil, shooting Tarvek a smile to show there were no hard feelings. It wasn't as if anyone had made Tarvek be friends with him. "And I guess everyone in Mechanicsburg cares about it since they're having a party because of it. But biting and killing people and everything is still a bit much."

Tarvek relaxed a little. "The biting is, uh, weirder than I realised," he said, glancing cautiously at Agatha to see if she minded how he was changing the subject. "What's wrong with a syringe?"

"I don't think they'd been invented yet," said Gil.

"I'm pretty sure her ancestors could have invented a syringe if they could invent a biting clank!"

"You can't expect one family to think of everything," Gil said, to tease them, and Agatha started giggling.

They really did pretty much invite everybody; the whole school was going to come down for the day, with Madame Otilia. Agatha was okay with this. She'd written to Uncle Barry after Gil's birthday, about the cake and what Gil and Tarvek had said. He'd sent back a long letter about courtesy and fairness and generosity and not holding grudges and remembering that there was something good about most people, even if they had been taught badly or made bad decisions for other reasons, which all came down to, he agreed with Gil.

He'd tucked her against his side and talked it all through with her again before the invitation, like she might not remember, but it was nice to be able to ask questions right away. Talking was still easier than writing.

Anyway, everybody was coming the next day and she was sure they'd have lots of fun. But the important part was she got to bring Gil and Tarvek with her.

The evening before her birthday, Tarvek left Andy with Theo (who promised to feed him, pet him, and shut him in Tarvek's room during the group visit so he didn't get into the kitchen and eat all the beans again), and they got into an airship with Uncle Barry and Adam and Lilith and Baron Wulfenbach to go down to Mechanicsburg. She caught the boys giving the grownups funny nervous looks and since Tarvek was being very formal she ended up writing him the question instead of asking out loud. "Why are you looking at them like that?"

Tarvek glanced at the paper and looked a little sheepish, then shook his head and started drawing things to disguise it. "They're more likely to notice if we're writing instead of talking," he muttered. "And I just hadn't thought about travelling with Baron Wulfenbach."

Agatha blinked. "But he's been Uncle Barry's friend forever."

"Well, yes," murmured Tarvek. "But he's...really different in the stories."

"Oh." Agatha hadn't thought about it, but maybe for people who were used to Baron Wulfenbach being in charge of things and stern and everything, the idea of him having fun seemed like it was as fictional as a lot of the other things in the stories. "Well, yeah, but they really are friends."

"I didn't think he'd want to go to a birthday party, either," Tarvek added, still ducked over his sketches. "Even with a friend."

"He looks like he's having a good time now, though," Gil said softly.

Agatha glanced up; the grown-ups were talking quietly among themselves, but Uncle Barry was gesturing enthusiastically about something and Baron Wulfenbach was grinning. "Uncle Barry says he and my father tried to get him a birthday cake once," she said. "Well, they did. Only they had the cook at Castle Heterodyne make it and the candles looked like little people carrying torches."

"Is your birthday cake going to have a mob on it, then?" Gil asked, sounding rather intrigued by the prospect.

"I don't know." Agatha thought about this. "I'm not sure it's the same cook anymore. But if you'd like there to be, I could ask. I bet they've still got candles like that somewhere. Uncle Barry!" She sat up and called out, while Gil started to protest. He probably thought it would be troublesome. "Am I gonna have a mob on my birthday cake?"

"What?" Uncle Barry sounded completely confused.

Baron Wulfenbach leaned back in his seat, one hand curled over his mouth and eyes very bright, and his shoulders shook. Agatha wasn't sure why he didn't just laugh out loud. "I think she means the candles," he said, after a moment. He sounded like he wanted to laugh, too.

"The--? Oh." Uncle Barry blinked. "I hadn't planned on it. Do you want one?"

Agatha tilted her head. "It might be interesting. Do they really walk?"

"There are a lot of variations on walking candles," said Uncle Barry. "I'm not sure a mob strikes quite the right festive note, but I can get you a different kind. If you're sure you don't mind footprints in the frosting."

Agatha looked over at Gil and Tarvek. "Would you mind footprints?"

Both of them shook their heads, apparently not sure about talking now the Baron was part of the conversation.

"Footprints are okay," Agatha said happily.

Uncle Barry came over to kiss her on the top of her head. "Then footprints you'll have. Uh, walking candles." He shook his head on the way back to his seat. "Thanks for the translation, Klaus."

"When did you even tell her that story?" Baron Wulfenbach asked, still sounding amused. "And why?"

"I don't remember how it came up...."

Agatha flopped back down on the floor, giggling and triumphant.

It was dark by the time they landed, and several happy Jägers surrounded the airship and walked them to the Castle, which waited until they were indoors to boom, "Welcome home, my lady!" and then muttered to Uncle Barry, "There. Fine. No public announcement."

"It's getting close to Agatha's bedtime," Uncle Barry said, amused. "I told you, if you want her to sleep here you've got to actually let her sleep."

"Yes, yes...."

"Hi, Castle!" Agatha bounced on her toes. Sleeping was the last thing on her mind at the moment. "You remember Gil and this is Tarvek!"

"Ah. Another potential consort?" it purred.

"I'd be honoured," Tarvek said. Then, when Agatha gave him a rather startled look -- she was pretty sure they were all too young from what Uncle Barry had said, and she hadn't realised he knew what that meant, she and Gil hadn't until Uncle Barry told them -- continued with, "I meant if you want to. When we're older. I mean..." And then buried his face in his hands while Gil snorfled at him.

"Thank you," Agatha said, reaching up to pat his arm. She hadn't meant to embarrass him, although the Castle might have, and that seemed like the best answer she could come up with. "Um, Uncle Barry! Is Miss DuLac coming?" That might distract the Castle, since Uncle Barry was old enough for a consort.

Uncle Barry cleared his throat. "Yes, she is."

"Shall I prepare a bedroom for her, or will she be sharing yours?" the Castle asked.

"A separate one, please, and if you were thinking about letting anything in there to encourage her to join me, don't."

"Don't be absurd," the Castle huffed. "Besides, the nyar-spiders would defend her."

"Oh, of course," said Uncle Barry, sounding very entertained. "How silly of me to forget."

Gil and Tarvek were going to stay in Agatha’s bedroom, since it was big enough and they were only there for one night. In preparation for this the Castle had moved in a few extra four-poster beds, made of old, dark wood and decorated with skulls and gargoyles. Gil knelt on his to give the bedposts a dubious look, and then looked at the thick brocade hangings. "These seem more like tents than beds," he said.

"We can leave them tied back to sleep," Agatha said. She climbed onto hers and bounced on it. The mattresses here were squishier and bouncier than in Castle Wulfenbach, possibly because the grown-ups didn't want to encourage the students to bounce. "And this is great. I thought I'd have to come find you so we could explore!"

Tarvek looked dubious. "I know Castle Wulfenbach doesn't have many, but does this place have deathtraps?" He sounded like he was already pretty sure of the answer.

"Yes, lots," said the Castle.

"Yes," agreed Agatha, "but it can help us, too."

"Learning to navigate traps yourself is an important life skill," said the Castle.

"It was nicer than it pretended to be when it bit Agatha," said Gil. "And we stayed alone in a lab in it and it didn't do anything."

"I was not nice," protested the Castle, sounding sulky. "I was simply a little busy reintegrating. I will be sure to give you a proper tour this time. I have some lovely traps towards the Gate of Bones."

"Why are we exploring a homicidal building?" Tarvek asked.

"It won't kill us," Agatha said, eyeing the wall as sternly as she could. "And it's my house and I already told it I wanted to."

"...that really only raises another question," Tarvek muttered, but he didn't really sound like he was protesting anymore. "Can you at least get it to show us something other than death traps?"

"I am a death trap," said Castle Heterodyne with great dignity.

"But you've had people living in you for five hundred and eighty years," Agatha said. "Or five hundred eighty-one? You've got to have other interesting things in you."

"I do contain several laboratories, a collection of musical instruments, a lovely set of torture chambers, a nursery, kitchens, a seraglio and a storeroom of mostly deactivated clanks," said the Castle.

"Um, we can skip the torture chambers," Agatha said firmly. "The musical instruments sound nice. What's a seraglio?"

"A good place to keep consorts if you have enough of them," the Castle said.

Gil blinked and said, "Wait. I thought consorts were people you married? Don't you only do that once?"

"The Heterodynes have never seen any reason to limit themselves," the Castle said. It sighed. "Except for the previous generation. But I have high hopes of the one to come."

"Are you saying you want us both to marry Agatha?" Gil asked, and then ducked behind his fringe looking flustered.

"And are you going to greet all the boys who visit you that way?" Agatha added.

"Only the ones that seem to belong to you," said the Castle.

"Oookay." On the one hand, that sounded a little creepy. Gil and Tarvek were kind of hers, they were her friends anyway, but they weren't hers the same way Mechanicsburg was and all the other options she'd heard about were worrying. On the other hand it was hard to argue properly with someone when you weren't sure what they meant, and Castle Heterodyne might be nicer to them this way. "Maybe I should start warning them." She flopped down on the bed, propped on her elbows, and kicked her heels up. "What kind of deactivated clanks?"

"Mostly deactivated ones," said Gil, sounding a bit suspicious of that.

The Castle hummed. "Ones brought back from interesting battles."

War clanks. Agatha thought about that and decided regretfully that they were probably too interesting. "I don't think we have time for those in one night," she said sadly. Tarvek looked relieved.

"Maybe the musical instruments?" said Gil, looking like he wasn't particularly sorry to miss the war clanks either. "Or the labs. Gradok's was great."

"It was." Agatha perked up. "Hey, do you have any more kids' labs?"

"Several," said the Castle. "Is that where you'd like to go?"

"Yes, that sounds like fun." Agatha rolled off the bed, landing with a thump on her feet. "But Uncle Barry will probably come say good night so we'd better actually be in bed then."

They were, looking as innocent as possible, and then once her uncle had gone they waited a little while and slipped quietly out into the corridor.

Less than an hour later, Agatha was sitting on the edge of a rather complicated pit trap, drumming her heels against the wall beneath and telling herself as sternly as she could, which meant imagining Madame Otilia's voice from back when she'd been Von Pinn, that crying in frustration was not likely to help. The Castle hadn't let any of them actually get poked by the spikes, and it had let her find her way out, but it was blocking Gil and Tarvek. Agatha was tired and grubby and really mad at it, and there was brown on the tips of some of the spikes that might be poison and might be old blood, and once she got them out they were all going to have to have another bath.

"If you're going to be mean to my friends," she hissed at the Castle, "then I don't want to play with you."

"Being nice is outside my design parameters," said the Castle.

"Hmph." Agatha wasn't entirely sure if it was telling her the truth about that or not. She'd bet it could try. But apparently it didn't want to, any more than Madame Otilia wanted not to protect people, so that wasn't any help. She thumped one bare heel back against the wall again and tried something else. "That sounds very limiting."

"But I can be nasty in so many interesting ways."

"We were having fun up to now you know!" she whispered fiercely.

"I am still having fun," the Castle purred.

"I'm not," Agatha said sulkily. She peered down at Gil and Tarvek again. She didn't think she could get them out by herself, but.... She sighed. A grown-up probably could, and the Castle wouldn't be willing to hurt her uncle either. Agatha stood up. "Okay. We don't know enough about traps yet, so I guess that's as far as we get. If you won't let them out I'll have to go wake up Uncle Barry."

There was a reluctant grinding noise. "Oh, very well," said the Castle.

Agatha stopped and looked down again. Some of the downward-slanted spikes had withdrawn and Gil was scrambling up with Tarvek just past him, giving the slots for the spikes a wary look. Agatha moved sideways so they'd have room to come up, grinning. "Thank you, Castle." It had done what she wanted, so this was probably one of those times when you were supposed to be polite to somebody even if they hadn't been nice before. "Are you both okay?"

"Yes," Gil said. "I prefer Castle Wulfenbach. I've always liked that architecture only makes things difficult accidentally," he added, sounding disgruntled.

"Sorry," said Agatha, since Castle Heterodyne was unlikely to apologize and it seemed like somebody ought to.

"I'm all right," said Tarvek. "Were you really going to get your uncle?"

Agatha made a face at him. "Instead of leaving you there all night? Of course."

The Castle let them reach the lab they were looking for without much trouble, after that. It turned out not to be as interesting as Gradok's, as this Heterodyne hadn't broken through so early or liked dragons so much, or maybe just hadn't left very many inventions there.

Agatha was yawning before very long and Tarvek suggested they'd better go back or she wouldn't be able to enjoy her birthday properly. Gil scooped her up and Agatha blinked and shoved at him a little. "I can walk!"

"Sorry." He put her down again. "You looked really tired."

"Not that tired." She hugged him before they started back to her room. It felt like a long way this time, even without any more traps. She fell asleep without her bath after all -- the last thing she remembered was Gil and Tarvek picking her up and putting her on the bed.

Chapter Text

Agatha woke up to the Castle whispering in her ear. "Happy birthday, my lady!" it said happily.

Agatha peered at the clock and buried her head in the pillow. "It's early." Oops. Not polite. "But thank you."

"I believe you intended to bathe before your uncle observed you'd been exploring."

"Oh!" That woke her up, and she flung the blanket off. Gil and Tarvek didn't look grubby anymore, so they'd probably washed already. Agatha hurried into the bath and cleaned up, with the Castle's helpful inspections behind her ears and other places it said grown-ups knew to check because children couldn't see them.

By the time Agatha was clean, the boys were up too. The bedcurtains were very useful for dressing in private, although the formal clothes Tarvek had brought turned out to have an awful lot of buttons so he took a little longer. He was just finishing up when Uncle Barry arrived, with Baron Wulfenbach and Donna. Er, Miss DuLac. "Good morning." He held out a hand to Agatha. "Everybody ready to go?"

They seemed to have got away with it. Agatha beamed at him. "Yes!"

They walked down with Agatha holding Barry's hand and the two boys following a little behind, which put them closer to Baron Wulfenbach than either of them quite seemed to know what to do about. As they reached the door Agatha let go of Uncle Barry and grabbed their hands instead, one on each side, pulling them forward excitedly as the doors boomed open ahead of them.

"Announcing the Lady Heterodyne!" the Castle declared at its loudest and there was a deafening cheer. Agatha blinked. Mechanicsburg did have a lot of people in it, but not usually so many you couldn't see the streets. She smiled at them and let go of the boys to wave, prompting another cheer.

A dark haired boy about her own age, dressed in a black suit and wearing a silver trilobite at his neck, stepped forward and smiled at her, even as his eyebrows drew together in concentration. "Lady Heterodyne, it is my honour as your seneschal to welcome you to Mechanicsburg today," he said, very carefully and clearly, before going to one knee in a smooth practised motion. "Welcome home, Lady Heterodyne, and Happy Birthday."

"Thank you!" Agatha said, and everybody cheered again. Under the noise, she added in a whisper, "Vanamonde, right?"

He un-bowed his head. "Yes, my lady."

"You can call me Agatha," she told him. "When we're not being formal. You're gonna be my seneschal?"

He smiled brightly. "I'm Van when we're not being formal. And yeah, Grandfather tried to retire once already."

"Now you say 'Tremble before me!'" the Castle said in her ear, sounding excited about it.

"No, no!" Van looked fleetingly alarmed, then smiled again and added between his teeth as he stood up to wave, "We're not doing the Doom Bell until tonight. Are we?"

"Thank you, Vanamonde," Uncle Barry murmured. "That's right. That way the tourists can enjoy a lot of the celebration and still have time to start their journey this afternoon if they don't want to hear it." He glanced at Miss DuLac. "You can still go if you want...."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Yes," said Baron Wulfenbach. "But it won't actually harm you."

"That's what I thought." She smiled. "I think I'll stay."

"You'll get used to it," said the Castle, dismissively. "Now, I believe the parade is ready."

"I've heard about the Doom Bell," Tarvek said under his breath as they set off. "But how bad is it, really? I mean, what's it like?" He was looking at Gil, not Agatha.

"Sad," Gil said. "It's a weird way to celebrate. It brings up bad memories, but not very interesting ones, and it feels really weird, and everything shakes except the Heterodynes."

"You have boring bad memories?" Tarvek asked, sounding puzzled, but then a big black mechanical horse snorted loudly ahead of them and Uncle Barry swung Agatha up to a high platform at the front of a chariot, his hands steadying her as everybody else climbed in and the clank horses clopped off, stepping high and looking like they wanted to go faster.

Tarvek sat up straight as they went, as if the crowd might be inspecting his posture, looking at the crowd without really looking at them, but clearly not avoiding their gazes either. Gil shrank down, the way he did when he found anyone's attention on him in class, staring out at the crowd with fascination but looking like he wished he was invisible. Agatha squeezed his hand. "They're all pleased to see us," she whispered.

"They're all pleased to see you," Gil whispered back. The cheering got louder, which was impressive.

"They're glad you're here too," Agatha said positively. "I'm really glad you're here." She tried not to look worried, and squeezed his hand again before letting go to wave at another little girl in green. "Only not if you don't like it and you kind of don't look like you like it."

"I don't entirely blame him," Baron Wulfenbach murmured from slightly overhead. "I feel a bit ridiculous myself."

Agatha twisted around briefly to look at him. He didn't look like he felt silly. "But it's fun and everybody's happy."

"It's not that I don't like it, there's just a lot of people," said Gil, and made an effort to look a bit less defensive and smile back at the crowd.

"Well, yes," said Agatha. This was definitely true. "But that's okay if they like you."

"It can be workable even if they don't," said Uncle Barry, "but it isn't as much fun."

"True," said Baron Wulfenbach, sounding about as amused, "but, Barry, how would you know?"

The parade pulled up at a lot of tables covered in white cloth and dishes, just as Agatha was starting to get hungry. Adam and Lilith came up to them; Agatha jumped off the chariot and Adam caught her, grinning and shaking his head.

Breakfast was delicious. There were waffles with almond and marshmallow syrup, which Baron Wulfenbach seemed to like almost as much as she did, and bacon and eggs, and… for some reason a lot of people were eating snails, including Uncle Barry.

Gil gave the snails a deeply suspicious look, as if wondering what they were doing on a breakfast table, and carefully avoided them. Although you didn't have to be very careful not to be accidentally served snails, really.

"I doubt they're poisoned," Tarvek whispered to him, and got a rather alarmed look from Gil who did not become any less suspicious of the snails afterwards.

"And if they were poisonous to start with, they've been prepared so that they're not," said Baron Wulfenbach, helpfully, which made Tarvek look alarmed.

"Were any of these?" Agatha asked, eyeing the snails thoughtfully. Some of their shells did have bright colours, which in natural contexts often meant something was poisonous or trying to attract attention.

Uncle Barry swallowed a snail. "No."

Baron Wulfenbach eyed them doubtfully. "I thought the red ones--"

"They tend to eat poisonous things."

"Oh, that's so much better."

"The blue ones are toxic, but they're out of season," Uncle Barry offered helpfully.

"Oh, yes," said Baron Wulfenbach. "The ones that bite."

Lilith looked away, mouth twitching.

"You were bitten by a toxic snail?" Agatha asked, worried.

"Not that badly," Baron Wulfenbach said, "or Lilith wouldn't be giggling at me that much. Although I'm still not sure why Mechanicsburg decided they're a breakfast food."

Agatha did eat one breakfast snail, to be polite, and then they were off for a longer parade that wound all over town, and at midmorning a Heterodyne play, Race for the West Pole.

"Do we actually want to stay for this one?" she heard Lilith ask, softly enough that she probably wasn't meant to hear.

"I've been over the script for the performance," Uncle Barry said just as quietly. "Of course, the grand romance is still there, but the humour's much better."

So they settled in for what he had explained to Agatha was a very fictionalised account of how her parents realised they were interested in each other. Apparently it was very exciting and their friends teased them about it a lot, so Agatha wasn't quite sure which part was fictional. Aside from the West Pole itself, of course, since that was a contradiction in terms given the nature of planetary rotation. Anyway it was great fun.

Tarvek and Agatha were both looking at the stage, transfixed. Gil squirmed. It wasn’t that it wasn’t a good play — it was an excellent play — and it wasn’t as if he got to see plays very often. He was just restless. He could hear children running and shouting in the fairground behind them and it occurred to him that, unlike Castle Wulfenbach, Mechanicsburg was full of kids who weren’t important either. He didn’t want to abandon Agatha, of course, but the play was going to go on a while and she wouldn’t enjoy it any less if he wasn’t here…

He slid forwards out of his seat, holding his breath, and stayed crouched on the floor for a moment. Agatha didn’t look around. He grinned and ducked under his seat, slipping through its legs and scurrying on all fours down the aisle behind until he slipped out the side of the seating area. He stood up and dusted himself off, then, more cautiously now, made for the fair. He didn’t have any money for the sideshows or the booths, but he stared at everything, no longer in the centre of the crowd the way he had been with Agatha. It was a little scary, being surrounded by so many people, and now that he was out here where he could see them playing together he wasn’t sure he dared approach the other kids. He hesitated, scowling, by the wall of a booth selling sausages to watch a game of football being played with a newly won ball and not much regard for the rules.

One girl a little younger than him looked up, streaked with mud from a tackle and giggling as she clutched the ball. “Hey, you,” she called. “We’re one short. Want to play?”

Gil could feel himself beaming at her. “Sure.”

It wasn’t long before Gil was laughing and muddy as the rest of them, the play forgotten. He was good at this, good enough that someone had teased him about having Jägerblood and got a scathing, “Stupid, you know that doesn’t even make a difference,” from someone else, starting a good natured and not very serious quarrel. Gil didn’t mind. He didn’t think he was descended from any Jägers, but the way they said it it hadn’t been an insult.

He’d just scored another goal when someone shouted,”Gil!” and he looked up to see Tarvek standing right at the edge of the churned up mud their playing field had become, looking shocked.

Gil waved and dropped the ball. “I’ve got to go now,” he told the other kids. “Thanks for the game! It was great.” A few of the kids surprised him by trailing him curiously as he went over to Tarvek. “Hi! Did the play finish already?”

“No. If you come back now they might not notice you left,” Tarvek said, glancing back over his shoulder in the direction he’d come before turning to Gil again. “What were you thinking? You can’t just disappear like that, and look at you, you’re filthy.”

“If you don’t stop talking like an adult I’ll push you in as well,” said Gil, guiltily trying to wipe drying mud off his clothes with his hands. “I had fun.”

“Hey, Gil, who’s your bossy friend?” one of the kids who had followed them called. It got them a slightly flustered and predictably haughty look from Tarvek, which was unlikely to change their opinion.

“Oh, this is Tarvek,” said Gil. “He’s a Prince. And I really do have to go.”

Tarvek reached out as if to grab Gil’s arm and then hesitated because he was covered in mud. “You’re going to be in trouble,” he hissed.

“Iz hokay,” said a voice from above them and everyone looked around in complete confusion before spotting the Jäger lounging on top of the sausage booth. “Der Baron said Hy should follow.”

“He knew,” said Gil, feeling suddenly far more embarrassed and rather chagrined his sneakiness had failed. Tarvek looked mortified even though he hadn’t really done anything except try to get Gil out of trouble.

The Jäger jumped down and landed easily. “Der Baron is verra goot at dot. But now iz time for hyu keeds to get beck.”

As they walked away the girl who had first invited Gil to the game ran a few paces after them. “Hey! Were you the ones in the parade? Do you know the Lady Heterodyne?”

“Yeah,” Gil called back. “I know Agatha.”

“Tell her happy birthday from us!”

“I will!”

And then they were outside the fairground, being led by an amused looking Jäger, and Gil probably was going to be in trouble. But it was all worth it.

Agatha greeted Gil, mud caked and deeply embarrassed but unrepentant, with a cheerful, “Looks like you had fun.”

Gil responded with a slightly sheepish grin and said the children he’d been playing with had said to tell her Happy Birthday. Then everyone was whisked back to Castle Heterodyne so that Gil could have a bath and change into some clean clothes for lunch. Surprisingly Gil didn’t seem to be in trouble. Baron Wulfenbach said something stern about not wandering off, and that they had been going to see the fair after lunch anyway, but that appeared to be it.

Lunch was eaten in the town square as breakfast had been, and around the edges of the white clothed tables people in aprons seemed to always be showing up to replenish the food, or to make more on tables around the edges of the square or in nearby shops. Gil attacked it with a better appetite than he’d had at breakfast, not quite comfortable with the crowds but able to ignore them now. Or maybe just hungry from rolling around in the mud.

Their classmates were taking up a table of their own, near the edge of the square. Otilia, dressed for the occasion in a gown far more like the ones she had in murals, was getting admiring attention from the tourists herself. A lot of the little ones were clutching stuffed animals, while the older ones had balls, frisbees and yo-yos which they were attempting to play with while eating. Otilia’s end of the table was acquiring a pile of confiscated ones.

Theo stopped by their table just before the end of lunch to drop a book titled Fairytales of Mechanicsburg next to Agatha. “I saw it in a shop window just now,” he explained. “Happy Birthday!”

Agatha picked it up with a sunny smile. “Thank you!” she said, and then put it down to launch out of her chair and hug him.

A moment later Sleipnir was calling for Theo to join the class for a last trip around the fair -- they wouldn’t be staying for the evening meal or the Doom Bell -- and he left Agatha to finish her meal.

After lunch they were no longer the centre of anything official — which didn’t mean people no longer stared at Agatha, who continued to wave back whenever she caught them at it, but did mean that they weren’t being followed by a crowd when they arrived at the fair. The fair itself was the same as Tarvek’s impression of it when he’d come to look for Gil — a boisterous, noisy, slightly dirty place, smelling of burnt sugar, sausages and gingerbread. A mixture of mechanical rides — which he wanted to study far more than he wanted to ride — and games of skill and chance, along with the occasional fortuneteller or sideshow.

"Stay on the fairground," Barry told Agatha, "and remember the tricks in the games are part of the point."

"I know!" Agatha hugged her uncle and then raced off.

Tarvek managed not to yelp and took off after her only slightly later than Gil. "Why are we running? Are we supposed to be running?"

"Other kids are running," Gil pointed out. This was true. Other children weaved in and out of the crowd without apparently concerning anyone very much.

"I want to see everything before I pick something!" Agatha told them.

She changed her mind about that and slowed to a walk about halfway through, before Tarvek was tired at all. Possibly she needed endurance training? Or maybe it was just because she was only just five. Or maybe it was the bright colours at the throwing game.

Agatha's three attempts didn't knock anything over, which wasn't really surprising. Tarvek nudged Gil. "I brought money, do you want to both try?"

"I have some," Gil said, rather to Tarvek's surprise. He realised a moment later that one of the adults had probably made sure not to send Gil off with nothing, which was nice of them. "And yes, let's." He grinned. "I'll beat you."

"You will not!" Tarvek retorted, and they went up to the game.

It was a well rigged game, Tarvek had to admit. The targets wobbled tantalisingly if you didn't hit them just right and hard enough, and even bounced convincingly back up if you threw too hard. It took him four tries to knock one over, whereupon he took the opportunity to present Agatha with an oversized toy mimmoth that looked a little like Andy; Gil took five because it was his fourth that demonstrated the bouncing, and gave her a duck, fighting giggles. Tarvek saw Agatha's eyes go back to the targets and explained how it worked.

"I wanted to figure it out myself," Agatha said, "but thank you."

"Oh," he said, a little crestfallen, "sorry."

"It's okay!" She smiled, lighting up as if she had never been disappointed. "You were being nice and there are lots of games."

"You want to analyse the games, Lady Heterodyne?" It was the same girl who'd called after Gil earlier, still splotched with mud and grinning irrepressibly. "Need any extra minions to take data?"

Agatha tilted her head. "Ooh. Maybe so? Come on!"

The girl called a few other friends over, and Tarvek recognised them from the football game earlier too. So did Gil, who greeted them cheerfully and kept dropping back to talk to them, in between competing with Tarvek. It was a little odd to see Gil like that. It wasn't that he'd never seen Gil cheerful, brilliant, engaged in doing something and doing it well. It was that he'd never seen Gil like that around people who weren't him or Agatha.

That was before Agatha started handing out coins to all her new minions, so they could gather data for her, which led to them competing as well and discovering that he and Gil could throw better than any of them.

"I don't think there's any way you're related to Jägers," observed a slightly older boy, rather to Tarvek's bewilderment. "Whether it makes any difference or not."

"It doesn't," said the first girl, "and he could be, maybe, some of them might have relatives in Sturmhalten."

"Probably not marrying royalty though. Hey, do princes learn to throw javelins?"

"I've been taught to throw lots of things," Tarvek said. "But I think they were holding off on javelins until I'm older."

Between Tarvek, Gil and her minions Agatha was acquiring quite a pile of prizes as she figured out the games, and then acquiring more minions to carry them for her.

Tarvek was having more fun than he'd expected when the children from the football game first turned up. Agatha and Gil were both happy, and getting to show off a little was fun (and had evidently impressed the Mechanicsburg children enough that he was no longer just "Gil's bossy friend").

They whiled away most of the afternoon like this, with snacks in the middle, although everyone looked at Tarvek rather incredulously when he pointed out that Agatha was probably meant to eat dinner in public and shouldn't spoil her appetite too much. He added in a burst of inspiration that it would disappoint the chefs, and Agatha looked thoughtful and consented to eating only a nut-covered apple and some cheese (and feeding every other child in the area -- the food vendors definitely liked her) before going back to her analysis of carnival tricks.

Most of the game proprietors took the whole thing in stride, but some seemed a little unsettled by having Agatha observe them intently or send swarms of children around to take measurements and report observations from different angles. Tarvek supposed they weren't local. They didn't seem to mind too much, though, since Agatha's interest gave them pretty steady business -- especially toward the late afternoon, when the crowds started to thin.

"I didn't think they'd be clearing out this early," he remarked, a little puzzled.

"Ve're losing tourists," said a young woman leaning over her booth and watching them all rather fondly. Tarvek looked at her twice, but she wasn't a Jäger, she just had a stronger accent than most of the other Mechanicsburgers he'd heard talk. "Not everybody vants to hear the Doom Bell."

"Oh, of course," Tarvek said. "Thanks, I forgot."

"Hyu von't afterwards!"

Tarvek tried not to wince. "I'm sure I won't," he said politely. He just hoped he wouldn't embarrass himself. Still... even if he did, the day would probably have been worth it.

The sun looked red and bigger than at noon, squatting just at the top of Mechanicsburg's western wall, and Agatha was considering the effect when one of the Jägers came looking for them again. "Hyu oncle vants hyu back for dinner, Mistress. Hyu vants to go -- smells goot." He winked at her.

"Aww!" Johan, one of the littler boys (even younger than Agatha, he'd turned four yesterday) sounded disappointed. His sister shushed him.

Agatha looked around and handed him a soft toy octopus, which either pleased him or startled him into silence. "I do have to go," she said, at which point all the children carrying things for her crowded around and tried to hand them to her (or Gil or Tarvek) at once. "Ack! Stop!" When she had room to breathe again, she said hastily, "I think you should keep these. Most of these."

"But they were for you," objected Anja, who had first offered her minions.

"And you all won them," Agatha countered. "Anyway, I can't take them all to Castle Wulfenbach and Castle Heterodyne is full of weird things nobody's using anyway. Please?"

"Isn't that how it traditionally goes?" Tarvek asked. "You win things or... you know, when you work directly for your Heterodyne she makes sure you get your share."

To Agatha's relief, the other children accepted the argument and the toys. She kept Gil's duck and Tarvek's mimmoth, because those were special, and they followed the Jäger through the shadows to Uncle Barry. She got presents then too. Uncle Barry gave her a little trilobite necklace and a kit full of interesting specialised tools.

"You can actually do most things with a good standard set, of course," he said, "and it's best to be able to improvise, but it's nice to have the exact one when you can. I'll tell you what they're all for later."

Lilith and Adam gave her a soft toy clank that Lilith had sewn her own self. Agatha looked at it and then looked up at Lilith, astonished. "You were sewing this when I was there! I remember the brass-coloured fabric!"

Lilith chuckled and kissed her forehead. "So I was. It wasn't recognisable until a week or two ago."

"Her name is Princess Stompy Boots," Agatha announced, and Adam grinned.

“Are you naming ours?” Gil asked.

Agatha thought for a minute. “Mister Quackers,” she said. “And Nosey.” And then she let Mirela take the toys and toolkit up to her room so they wouldn't get messy, and Uncle Barry led them all to the dinner table.

Dinner was set out on the same long tables as lunch, but there was a different feeling about it now. More Jägers at the tables, rough accents and rougher laughter carrying in the slightly colder evening air, and less tourists. The tables weren’t covered with white tablecloths and ribbons, now, either, but simply bare wood. Bonfires had sprung up around the edges of the square, huge platters of hot food being lifted straight off them and onto the tables to be served. To one side someone was making six-foot sandwiches and carefully stacking them in a scrubbed alleyway. There was music, folk music Uncle Barry had said, fast and lively making Agatha’s toes tap before suddenly giving way to something high and plangent, tugging at her heart without her knowing why. Everything was shadows and red washed light, monster eyes gleaming suddenly red or green, laughter from the darkness.

People came over to where she and Uncle Barry were more now, too, to ask them to try a special type of food they’d cooked, to congratulate Agatha, to wink at Miss DuLac and say cheerful things to her in an undertone. It felt adult to be out here, now, even with people talking over her head. It felt exciting and it felt right.

Gil and Tarvek, one on either side of her, were tense and alert, bright eyed with the same excitement. Gil, oddly, seemed less nervous than he had earlier when the crowds were purely human, perhaps because he knew some of the children darting, giggling, around the square. He was half kneeling on his seat, eyes red in the firelight, taking everything in unselfconsciously. Tarvek, in the smoke and shadows of the evening, had dropped at least some of his formality and was watching an oven on legs walk around distributing hot chestnuts with delight.

After dinner the cake was brought out, seven layers and as big around as Agatha’s arms, and probably still not big enough for everyone to have a slice. Each layer had windows etched into the icing, as if people might be living inside the cake, and torchmen with candles paraded around them in circles. “That’s a lot more candles than my age,” she said, awed and trying to count them.

“For effry year to come, too,” said the woman serving the cake.

“…That’s still a lot of years,” said Agatha, attempting to count again and just winding up slightly dizzy.

“Ve can hope.”

“Oh! Thank you, then,” said Agatha, grinning up at her.

"Can you actually blow all of those out?" Gil asked. "Are you even supposed to?"

"I hope not!"

Uncle Barry leaned over to her. "Just tell them to stand down."

"...That sounds physiologically difficult," said Agatha, after trying to figure out how that related to standing up exactly.

The grown-ups all looked at each other, apparently trying not to laugh, and Agatha folded her arms and huffed at them a little, waiting for them to explain. She was a little startled when General Goomblast leaned over her shoulder. "Dot iz a military term," he said. "Chust try it."

Agatha shrugged and said "Stand down!" to the torchmen candles, as commandingly as she could, and watched in delight as they lowered their candles, the flames on their heads and shoulders dimming, and marched around each layer and down off the cake. General Goomblast hastily reached out and turned the big wheel it was sitting on so she could see the ramps between layers, which made the candles wind up in two different groups.

Miss DuLac reached out and picked up the nearest, holding it carefully below the fiery part and peering at it. When she saw Agatha looking she ducked her head sheepishly and set it back down.

"I don't mind," Agatha said, giggling at her. Uncle Barry had said she got the Castle's attention by inspecting one of the real torchmen. "You can have one if you want it."

"It doesn't work quite the same way as the real ones," Uncle Barry added, teasingly, "although closer than some." He got up to cut the cake, giving Agatha the first piece and a bigger one than she was expecting. She looked around in some concern and then spotted other cakes, less fancy but probably just as tasty, on other tables and relaxed. He kissed her on top of her head. "Generous girl," he said quietly. "Happy birthday, Sweetheart." He'd been talking to people from Mechanicsburg enough all day that it came out almost like "Sveethot."

Agatha leaned into him happily and then started eating, because apparently everybody else was supposed to wait for her. It was delicious cake, with lots of vanilla and several kinds of nuts, and she was halfway through her slice when Gil looked up and said, "Hey, the dragonflies!"

Agatha blinked and looked up as well. Gradok's little dragonfly clanks were now dragonfireflies, lit up and making patterns in the air, hearts and gears and things. Uncle Barry whistled softly, and they swarmed down over a pile of sparklers that lit up all together, and zipped off to distribute them. Agatha grabbed her sparkler right before the clank could plant it in her cake.

Gil swished his sparkler though the air like a fencing foil, still eating cake with the other hand. Tarvek was doodling with his, swirling letters, spirals, flowers, all fading before he could complete them so that they were half afterimage and half light.

The sparklers were just the start. After they'd had time to burn about halfway down and everybody had a good start on the cake, there were fireworks. People started running around bringing out displays, and Agatha clapped and nearly dropped her sparkler.

They were really pretty, sparkly ones and ones that looked like flowers, pictures and electrical ones and ones with actual fire. Agatha finished her cake in a hurry so she could pay more attention. The displays got bigger and more elaborate until they all stopped, for just a little bit -- it felt like everybody held their breath -- and then Castle Heterodyne itself let off a great big one that went on for whole minutes. At the end of it lightning crackled across the sky, followed by billows of white smoke and a bright multicoloured glow that made the whole sky look like sunrise.

The light died all at once, and then came up again with black-red flames burning at the very tips of all the towers and a rather hot-looking glow somehow coming up from the stones below her and Uncle Barry. "By order of the Lord Heterodyne," the Castle announced, sounding a bit sulky, "I advise all newcomers to the town to find seats immediately."

Uncle Barry stood up instead. He reached down for Agatha and hoisted her up to stand on his shoulder, and everybody started cheering, the Jägers loudest of all.

In the middle of it all the Doom Bell cut through the noise. Just like the first time, it seemed to open up a space all around and inside her, empty but like she could fill it up with anything she wanted, and everything around her trembled. It occurred to Agatha that the Castle hadn't reminded her to say anything about that, and then she saw Tarvek topple over in his chair and Gil grab him.

Miss DuLac was holding Uncle Barry's hand, but as Agatha started to scramble down she heard her say, "That's interesting," and she looked around her uncle just as Miss DuLac let go and then fell over too.

What he should have done, Barry thought resignedly, was arrange for Donna and Tarvek to be on the same side of him so he could keep an eye on both of them at once. Although on reflection he wasn't entirely sure that would have helped since he'd been bracing Agatha on his shoulder until she started trying to squirm free. He caught Donna before she could slide out of her chair, swung Agatha down to see to her friend, and exchanged a rueful look with Klaus who was getting up to go around to his students.

Gkika stepped out of the shadows and scooped Tarvek into her arms with a practiced motion, settling him against her shoulder, and then taking Gil's arm with her free hand. "Ve go inside zo hyu ken recover," she said.

Barry blinked. "Ah. Good idea." They'd probably appreciate a little privacy; for that matter, so would Klaus.

Agatha, he noticed, had somehow managed to seize Gil's free hand and one of Klaus's. Franz thumped into the square and waved before heading for the alley with his sandwiches. Barry lifted Donna into his arms and followed Gkika, only stopping to think once they were already walking in amidst cheerful Jägers that he had just agreed to take his girlfriend, his five-year-old niece, and two of her classmates into a Jäger bar that doubled as a brothel.

On the bright side, it was indoors, warm, and if not exactly private then full of people who actually liked everyone involved. (Although Barry had to admit that this was still a fairly new way for him to think of the Jägers.) He decided to go with it and took the chair he was offered, settling Donna on his lap while Klaus and Lilith mother-henned the children as soon as Gkika had let go of them.

Agatha followed Gkika over to the bar. "Do you make cocoa here?"

"For hyu, sveetie, ve do," she said, briskly setting some milk on to boil.

"Thank you. I think everybody needs some." Agatha clambered onto a stool with a slight assist from Vali and stood on it to watch the progress of the cocoa.

Tarvek started to stir in Lilith's lap, and Klaus got up from one knee and sat down before the boy opened his eyes. "The things Heterodynes do to our friends," Barry said apologetically.

He was actually more than half talking to Klaus, but Tarvek glanced up at him, looking miserably embarrassed and guilty, and then around. "Where's--"

Klaus looked around at that too in sharp alarm, as if Agatha could have actually gone missing while surrounded by Jägers, and Barry shook his head. "At the bar, getting--"

"Cocoa for effrybody," Gkika finished for him, deftly setting down several mugs as Agatha trotted up after her. By the colour and scent Klaus's and Donna's had been dosed with brandy.

Tarvek picked his up in both hands, gripping it tightly and still looking rather woozy. "Thanks. Sorry." He looked at Gil. "You didn't...?”

Gil shook his head before picking up his own cocoa, not meeting Tarvek's eyes.

Agatha leaned against the side of Tarvek's chair. "I'm sorry."

"Nearly everyone does pass out the first time," Barry said, hoping it would help at least a little.

Donna inhaled and shifted against his shoulder. "You don't say. Ugh. Is holding on to one of you supposed to help?"

Barry blinked. "Er, is it helping?"

"Not now, then! Not that it was a bad way to wake up." She sat up a bit more, then looked around, taking in the Jägers, the decor, and probably Mamma's girls. "Um... where are we?"

"Hyu iz at Mamma Gkika's, dollink," said Gkika, patting her on the shoulder. "Now drink op."

Donna looked up at her, blinking, and obediently picked up her cocoa. "That's very good, thank you," she said, sounding a little steadier after a swallow. "You must be General Gkika. It's nice to meet you."

Gkika gave her a dazzling grin. "Iz goot to meet hyu, too. My boyz haff been saying goot tings about hyu." She squeezed Donna's shoulder, claws lifted slightly away from it. "Now hyu chust stay here und relax for a leedle."

"They have excellent taste in weaponry," Donna said, with a glint in her eye that said the brag in the compliment was intentional and probably meant she was feeling better. She snuggled down against Barry's shoulder all the same. "Relaxing sounds like a good idea. So that's how you celebrate here, is it?"

"Ho yez," said Gkika, with far too much enthusiasm.

"Afraid so," Barry said.

Donna glanced at Gkika over the rim of her mug. "Hmm. You're being too nice to me for this to have disqualified me from dating your Heterodyne."

"Ho! If ve made dot a requirement ve'd be very short ov pipple dey could date. Ennyvay, iz not like he asked our permission."

"That would have just confused everybody," Barry said, amused. "I didn't know they were going to start visiting you, either."

"I make sharp things," Donna said. "It's the perfect excuse. Although I might have to try bellfounding again now."

Barry blinked at her. "You found that inspiring?"

Donna sat up a bit, one arm still around his neck, and waved her other hand -- with the mug in it, which Barry hastily took away and set down before the cocoa could go flying. "It was interesting, anyway. For one thing I think you were damping it somehow, even though I'm pretty sure you weren't humming?" She waited just long enough for him to shake his head, bemused. "Anyway, I wouldn't want to duplicate the particular effect -- I think it's reached its epitome there anyway -- but it should be possible to induce other moods by the same harmonic principles." She came down from the lower reaches of the madness place to add mischievously, "Possibly even ones other people would find celebratory."

Agatha was watching her wide-eyed. "I was worried about the rest of you," she said. "It felt good to me, though. Like I could do anything."

“That might explain quite a bit,” Klaus murmured.

"Maybe next time you should hold on to Tarvek," Gil suggested, thoughtlessly, making Tarvek look even more like he wanted to vanish.

"I was going to hold on to you," Barry told Donna, mock-severely. "I didn't know you were going to let go."

"I was investigating," Donna said primly, then pressed a hand to her forehead and picked up the cocoa again. "I'll know better next time. Seriously... all occasions?"

"Oh, yes," Barry said wryly. "It's widely agreed that Bill and I never have used it nearly enough. Formal and informal; births, deaths, victories, birthdays, weddings, really good moods...."

"Weddings!" Donna snorted into her mug. "Of course. If my reaction's normal, that must be fun for the bride."

"I'd cheer you up afterward," said Barry, before realising just what he'd said and where, as one of the Jägers at a nearby table hooted encouragement.

Donna raised her head from the cocoa and locked eyes with him. "Why, Barry. Was that a proposal?"

Barry stared at her for a moment, then pulled her close to rest her forehead against his. "That was not exactly how I meant to ask," he said. "Would you like to answer now or wait and I'll try again later?"

Donna blinked at him once, at very close range, and then set down her mug and collapsed against him again, laughing. "I'll wait if you had your heart set on a specific plan--"

"No specifics, sorry," Barry said, suddenly unable to stop grinning. "Just that this wasn't it."

"Then I'll go ahead and say yes." Donna quelled her laughter long enough to kiss him.

There was cheering, klepping and whistling from all around them. Klaus managed to stifle his own laughter long enough to say, "Congratulations."

Then the Castle's voice rang out, in the booming reverberations that meant it was speaking all over the town. "I am delighted to announce that the Lord Heterodyne is engaged!"

Now there was muffled cheering from outside the bar.

"Don't ring the bell again!" Barry said quickly, just in case the Castle was getting any further ideas.

Donna mostly smothered another laugh. "Thanks."

He smiled at her. "Anyway, I already feel like I could do anything."

Klaus stood up, giving Barry a fond and unguarded smile that Tarvek appeared to be recovered enough to notice, and still out of it enough to spend several moments visibly stunned by. "I think it's time the children were in bed," he said. "Lilith?"

"Yes, I think so." Lilith smiled at all of them and stood, bending far enough to keep Tarvek’s hand.

Agatha dodged Adam to run up and kiss both Barry and Donna on the cheek. "This was the best birthday," she said. "And I get an aunt!"

Barry chuckled and hugged her close. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Sleep well, Agatha."

"Good night!" She let herself be herded off after that, latched firmly to Tarvek and Gil as if she could retroactively ease the effects of the Doom Bell. She'd probably fling herself on Klaus at some point, and Barry smiled faintly at the thought.

For all Barry knew they actually could. Donna seemed to be making a pretty good recovery for the first time. He wrapped an arm around her waist and let the Jägers crowd around with congratulations.

Chapter Text

Months passed. Tarvek watched uneasily as Wulfenbach's Empire spread without any really significant opposition. The Baron and the Heterodyne even got help from Albia to deal with leftover revenants.

More student-hostages arrived, and more students were sent by enthusiastic allies. Dr. Sun Jen-djieh came up from Mechanicsburg to bring his granddaughters and immunise everybody against a startling variety of illnesses Tarvek had never thought to worry about, although he’d received Anevka's letters of complaint about some of them (slightly baked) and wasn't really sorry if he wasn't going to have them. The school outgrew its current quarters again and was moved to new, bigger ones, with individual rooms for everybody although Otilia said they might have roommates eventually. A few students opted to go ahead and share. (Tarvek considered asking if he could share with Gil. Having a room to himself all of a sudden reminded him of home, so he kept lying awake expecting some sort of awareness test and thinking.)

Between him and Agatha, even without booby traps the pranks on Gil had dropped to the manageable level nearly everybody played on each other, and at that point Gil could give as good as he got -- even if he tended to go for silly and totally harmless. But everybody was still very clear that any status Gil had came from his friends, because his family background was obviously too embarrassing to even admit. And Gil felt it.

Early one morning Gil burst into Tarvek's room, wild-eyed and uncharacteristically breathless, while Tarvek was hiding his notes. "We've got to talk to Agatha. Guess what I found."

Tarvek fastened the light fixture firmly shut and jumped down. "Knock, Gil," he said. He didn't really mind -- after a little cautious feeling out, Gil had helped him make the hiding place -- but he could be in trouble if somebody unfriendly noticed it. He still wasn't telling Agatha, even though he wasn't actually sure it if it would bother her that he told everything they learned to his father, or if she just accepted the Prince of Sturmhalten as an ally at face value. "Okay, let's go talk to Agatha."

They found Agatha talking to a couple of the new students. Gil almost literally snatched her away from them in excitement, and Agatha gave him a small frown before cheerfully waving goodbye to her new friends and letting him tug her into a corner. "I found out where they keep our records!" he said as soon as he could be sure no one was listening.

Agatha looked blankly at him. "The school ones? Don't we know everything in those anyway?"

"No, family ones," he said.

"Oh. But--" She stopped. "Um. Didn't Baron Wulfenbach tell you he didn't know about your family?"

"Well. Yes," Gil said, looking crestfallen. "But maybe he knows something?"

"Strictly speaking," said Tarvek, "didn't you once say he told you he couldn't tell you anything? It's not really the same thing." He'd always thought that was a little suspicious. And, well -- he thought he'd really like to see what the Baron thought he knew about his family.

Gil grinned. "If he couldn't tell me maybe I'm someone important after all," he said hopefully. "He wouldn't bother hiding it if my family had just been ordinary. I could be a...a Martian Prince or something."

"You don't look like a dragon," Agatha said, laughing. (Mars was inhabited by dragons. It was in all the stories. The Heterodyne Boys had gone there and fought them, according to the latest novel that had found its way into the school. Tarvek was surprised it had taken this long to come up.)

"Maybe I'm secretly a dragon," said Gil. "What do you think?" he asked Tarvek, presumably not referring the likelihood of him being a dragon.

"I think that'd be neat, you could be your own welding torch," Tarvek said. Gil made a face at him. "Okay, okay -- where is it and how closely guarded?"

They settled in to plot. It actually took a few days, and after the first excitement Tarvek insisted on discussing it only in their secret redoubt. But they analysed the patrols and got a decent idea of the type of lock -- combination, which the dragon-clank wouldn't help with, but they built a sound amplifier and Tarvek was pretty sure he could get through it with that. Judging from their experience with the locks everywhere else, Baron Wulfenbach's idea of securing an area didn't seem to involve any more booby traps than Gil's.

During the delay, Gil spun ever wilder fancies (and considering he started with "Martian prince" that was saying something), and Tarvek nursed a few of his own. Gil wasn't the Storm King, of course... but while Sturmhalten itself had been safe, even Tarvek's family had lost people in the Other's attacks. Maybe he had a cousin he could really like, who didn't think he was useless like Violetta did, or too sensitive like Tweedle said, or....

By the time they made their move, Agatha was the only one who wasn't fever-pitch excited. Gil was practically vibrating, to the point that Tarvek had to hush him three times before he could get the lock undone.

The room, when they pushed the door ajar and slipped into it, looked more like a library than anything else although a very small one and full of identical black books embossed with names. Gil grabbed a stepladder and started pushing it to the H section, while Tarvek quietly found the S section.

Agatha climbed up after Gil -- Tarvek thought it looked precarious, but it wasn't as if Gil would let her fall. It crossed his mind to wonder what kind of information on the Heterodynes the Baron would actually lock up, but he curled up to peer at the Sturmvoraus volume with one of their little lanterns. There were lights in the room, but he didn't want to turn those on, in case they were bright enough to show around the door.

He was absorbed in that, although he hadn't yet found anything really worrying, when Gil made a choked noise. Tarvek looked up just as the Holzfäller book slid from Gil's knees to the floor.

Gil rubbed an arm over his eyes, failing to hide the tears now leaving wet patches on his sleeve. Then, before Tarvek could quite form words to ask what had happened, he launched himself off the stepladder and halfway across the room, landing on all fours. He stumbled to his feet, more blind with tears than clumsy, and ran for the door.

"Gil!" They both whisper-shouted it. Tarvek lunged after him and was only just in time to throw all his weight against the heavy door and keep it from slamming. When he got his feet underneath him again and peered out through the crack, Gil was already gone.

Agatha squeezed under his arm to look. "Should we chase him?"

"Which way?" Tarvek bit his lip. Gil might go back to the school -- okay, not likely -- or to their redoubt -- only probably not if he was running away from them -- and if he went anywhere else, there was no way to find him short of Agatha asking a Jäger. Tarvek really didn't want to suggest that and doubted Gil would like it much. "We'd better find out what upset him." He picked up Gil's book and frowned. It was only half full. He paged back and found a fairly unremarkable family tree full of peasants and question marks (which probably reflected lost records of more peasants) and then turned to the beginning. Table of Contents. Discovery?

Tarvek flipped the page and started reading and -- "This can't be right."

Agatha looked at him in surprise. "Why not?"

"This is -- this is just the story about the mad sausagemaker. The one Theo told everybody?"

"Sleipnir told it before that," said Agatha.

"Oh, did she?" Tarvek thought it had been told since, too. He scowled at the page. "This says Gil was his son. But I've heard versions of that about at least eleven different villages. There's never a baby in it."

Agatha perched on one of the lower steps, pulling her knees up to her chin. "This could be the real version?"

"This doesn't make sense. The Baron takes in orphans from all kinds of disasters, but he doesn't raise them here. Gil's always getting picked on because he's the only one without an important family. And he was right before," Tarvek said fiercely. "If he wasn't important the Baron wouldn't be hiding it."

"Maybe he was just first and Baron Wulfenbach got attached to him?" Agatha asked. Tarvek looked at her, and Agatha bit her lip, possibly reflecting that Baron Wulfenbach did not really act very attached to Gil. "If he's related to somebody else, do you think we can find out for him?"

"I'm definitely going to try," said Tarvek, looking back at the Holzfäller book even though he doubted it could help.

"If you think that book's fake, where should we look?"

Tarvek chewed his lip and looked around. "Census records, maybe?" They probably wouldn't be very complete, but it was worth a try. He pulled down the first few volumes from the beginning of the Empire and started hunting.

Agatha curled beside him and leaned against his arm for a while, which made it a little hard to turn pages, and then sat up. "I'm going to go look for Gil."

"But--"

"I'll tell him we like him no matter what." Her eyes flashed. "And that you're trying to figure it out 'cause you don't believe the book."

Tarvek hesitated -- these points were both true, but he wasn't sure they didn't sound contradictory -- and in that moment Agatha was out the door too. Argh.

Tarvek wondered briefly if maybe he should just go back to the school. Where he would be safe and not in trouble. But... he wanted to know what the Baron was hiding about Gil. From Gil. And he'd said he would look.

He was still reading the census records when the door opened again, wide, letting in a flood of the soft night-lighting of the corridor. Tarvek looked up and opened his mouth to tell Agatha or Gil to close the door and then nearly fell over backward, heart pounding so hard his chest hurt. Too tall, that was an adult, he'd been caught, he --

“Come with me.”

Tarvek reshelved the books rather shakily and went with the guard to his doom.

Gil flung the door to the vault shut behind him and pelted down the hallway.

It had been a horrible idea. He should have expected this. He really was a nobody. No, he wasn't, he was a joke. The son of a Spark after all, yes. The kind of Spark who got stories told about him, even.

As an example of a really stupid way to die.

And he'd left the book, so Tarvek and Agatha would find out. They could probably even tell he'd been crying about it. He still was crying about it -- he could feel the chill of tears drying where they'd been driven backward from his eyes, but his eyes themselves felt too hot and he couldn't breathe properly. He was sniffling and his lungs kept hitching and it was making it hard to run.

Then he crashed into a person, who yelled and fell over but grabbed his arm, and Gil gulped and choked because if he'd wanted to cry in front of people he wouldn't have had to run, only he couldn't stop. The person picked them both up. "This is a restricted area," he said sternly, and Gil realised he was a guard. That was.... also bad. "You're --" The man stopped and sighed. "Just a kid," he muttered. "Look, you're not supposed to be here. I'm going to have to take you to the Baron."

Gil nodded since there wasn't really any point in protesting and held his breath to try and stop sobbing before the Baron saw him. This mostly succeeded in making him feel a little lightheaded.

The Baron's study had changed less than the school, even though it was also in a new place. The Baron stalked in within moments, still in a nightshirt, which only embarrassed Gil further. They'd had to get Baron Wulfenbach out of bed for this and he was... not having a lot of success not crying.

The Baron glared at them both. "What is going on?"

The guard swallowed and gave a succinct report. The Baron glowered a bit more and dismissed him, then turned to Gil. "Gil Holzfäller," he said, and paused. Gil sniffed. The Baron frowned harder, opened one of his desk drawers, and handed Gil a handkerchief. "Explain your behaviour."

"I --" Gil paused to snuffle into the handkerchief for a moment and also try to decide what to say as best his rather scattered thoughts allowed. He couldn't admit Agatha and Tarvek had been there, but was there any need to hide what he'd seen? They already knew he'd been in a restricted area. And right now he he hardly cared how much trouble he was in. "I found my records," he managed to blurt out before a hiccuping sob interrupted him. "About my -- my father."

The Baron looked startled, then went back to scowling. "I see." He stalked past Gil to the door and called the guard back, then said -- quietly enough Gil wasn't sure he was meant to hear it -- "Go to the vault with the student family records and bring anyone there, or in the vicinity, who doesn't belong there to me. Regardless of who it is."

"Yes, Herr Baron.”

The Baron returned to loom over Gil again. "Why were you looking?"

"I wanted to know," said Gil, into the handkerchief. "Everyone else knows who they are."

The Baron picked Gil up by the shoulders and put him on a chair, then went around the desk and sat down. "I don't suppose you considered there might be a reason not to know," he said irritably.

"I -- I thought --" He'd thought there might be reasons to hide it, but not reasons he shouldn't know. He hadn't thought it might be hidden to spare his feelings, or to stop the people who already thought he was nobody treating him worse. All his dreams of being a lost prince, or related to a legendary Spark seemed ridiculous now.

"Of course you did." The Baron leaned his forehead against the heel of one hand. "Never mind. I should have expected this."

"I'm sorry," said Gil quietly, and then with a spurt of bitterness, "It's not as if I'd ever tell anybody."

"I suppose you had the Sturmvoraus boy with you."

Gil looked down and pressed his lips together. There was no point in lying, but he wasn't going to give Tarvek up. It didn't matter anyway -- his past wasn't important, just horrible, and Tarvek wouldn't use that against him.

The Baron exhaled and then said, "Gilgamesh."

Gil looked up fast, because that wasn't his name -- was it? -- but it sounded familiar and... and he didn't know what to think about that.

The Baron looked weary. "You were never meant to see that story."

"I know," said Gil. He wondered if this was the lead up to punishing him for finding it.

The Baron's jaw clenched, and then he stood and leaned over the desk. "The book is a lie," he said grimly. "Your name is Gilgamesh. You are my son, and I have hidden that to keep you safe. There are a great many people who would like to see me dead, and would be even more interested in seeing any child of mine dead. Things have calmed down somewhat since Barry turned up, but it is not safe for you to be known as a tyrant's son. Which means that if you are so determined to investigate, then you had better be able to keep that secret--" His hand slapped down on the desk. "Even from Agatha, and especially from Tarvek Sturmvoraus!"

Gil stared. The memories of the Baron carrying him, comforting him, memories he'd hardly believed in, came flooding back, still hazy and vague but real. He had a father, an important one. But he still shrank back when the Baron's hand slammed down, even as he remembered arms wrapped around him on a night where something green and blue hung in the sky. There was no connection now, no way to move towards the Baron. Why did his safety even matter to the Baron, if the Baron made him safe by making sure they could never mean anything to each other? "...But Tarvek's nice," he muttered, too dazed to address any of the rest of it.

The Baron leaned heavily on the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other hand. "I do not particularly expect Tarvek to try to assassinate you," he said. "But what he knows, Prince Aaronev is likely to know. And the royalty of Europa are not impressed by a baron doing what they could or would not."

Gil looked away, knowing perfectly well that was true. It occurred to him for the first time that Tarvek had been spying -- that he'd been helping Tarvek spy -- on his father. "I won't tell anyone," he said, firmly, as if it might make up somehow for earlier being complicit in spying. "I promise." The fake story would be enough reason for Tarvek to understand if he never wanted to speak about this again.

The Baron sighed. Then he looked up at a knock on the door, and without straightening he still seemed to expand. "Enter." Gil hastily stuffed the handkerchief out of sight, even though Tarvek probably already knew.

"Prince Sturmvoraus, Herr Baron." The guard propelled a shaking Tarvek into the room. "That was all.”

The Baron waved him off again and came back around the desk, towering over both Gil and Tarvek. "Clearly I need to change the locks. And where does a prince of Sturmhalten learn breaking and entering?"

Tarvek scrunched down under his gaze and muttered something unintelligible about Smoke Knights, eyes seeking Gil anxiously even though his own terror.

Gil swallowed miserably. He might have been helping Tarvek spy earlier, but this had been all his own idea and he'd pulled Tarvek into it, and he wasn't sure which to feel more guilty about.

"Sit down," the Baron ordered. Tarvek scrambled into the chair next to Gil's as the Baron turned away to speak irritably with the guard.

Tarvek leaned over toward Gil, shielding his mouth with one hand and speaking barely above a breath. "Hey. I think there's more to you than they're saying. And I'm going to find out what."

Tarvek needed to shut up, now, before he landed both of them in trouble. It was going to be bad enough dealing with this with Tarvek trying to uncover the truth and thinking he was doing Gil a favour, without him going on about it where the Baron could hear. Gil tried to glare him into silence, the attempt to communicate made rather fiercer by real annoyance. If Tarvek hadn't been spying in the first place Gil would be allowed to trust him and this wouldn't be a mess.

"Look at me, not Holzfäller," the Baron demanded. Tarvek's eyes turned up to him as if magnetised. "I will not have you spying -- on me or your fellow students!"

Tarvek quailed back deeper into his collar. "I wasn't!" he said. Gil tried not to goggle at him. The guard had apparently found him still in the vault, apparently trying to investigate Gil's identity already.

"You were caught red-handed," the Baron snapped, looking incredulous.

Sweat broke out on Tarvek's face. "I -- I'm sorry. I mostly just wanted to see if I could get in. I was only there to look at what you had on my own family." He swallowed audibly. "I didn't mean any harm. I didn't think of it as spying. I'll never do anything like it again."

Suddenly Gil was really furious. Of course Tarvek was going to keep spying, and now Gil was going to be complicit in spying on his father for as long as it went on. Even if this time had been entirely Gil's own fault (and Tarvek really had gone for the Sturmvoraus book instead of joining Gil to look at Holzfäller) it was going to keep happening. Every time he would be faced with the choice of getting Tarvek into trouble or betraying the only family he had. Besides, he knew what Tarvek thought of the Empire -- he certainly wouldn't want Gil dead, but if he heard the Baron had an heir he'd probably think he shouldn't and Gil didn't like the thought of having his existence disapproved of. "Look behind the light fitting in his room," he said, flatly, and immediately after saying it was overwhelmed with both guilt and relief.

Tarvek twisted around, looking openly shocked, and the Baron stood up to his full height and also looked at Gil. "Indeed? I believe I will."

Agatha was getting very tired. She hadn't been able to sit still trying to read over Tarvek's shoulder while she thought about Gil crying, but she hadn't been able to find him either. Tarvek had been right. Gil knew the ship better and she didn't even know which way he went. She just hoped it hadn't been anywhere he could fall, because she didn't think he'd been able to see very much.

She stopped at the edge of a construction area, sighed, and then turned around and trudged back to the vault. At least Tarvek would be there and she could ask him if he found anything.

Tarvek wasn't there. The door was locked again and he didn't answer when she tried knocking on it. Agatha swallowed. She didn't think Tarvek would have gone back to the school without her. So he'd probably been caught and Tarvek was scared of getting caught.

Agatha went to look for a Jäger.

The first one she found on guard tilted his head and grinned when he first heard her, and then looked surprised when she went straight up to him. "Jorgi," she whispered, "what's going on?"

"Hyu iz lookink for hyu friends?" he asked, dropping his own voice. "Dey iz vit der Baron."

Agatha bit her lip. She didn't know where the Baron was now that he didn't work and sleep right next to the school. "Will you take me there, please? Or tell me how to get there if you're not supposed to leave?"

"Technically Hy iz under orders to bring in anyvun in restricted areas straight to him," said Jorgi, grinning. "Zo let's be goot, yah?" He swung her up into his arms and set off at a loping trot.

That made it easy. Agatha didn't argue about being carried, this time. As Jorgi turned a corner and slowed down, a door opened ahead of them to show Baron Wulfenbach, still looking back into the room, and she heard him say direly, "If this is true, Master Sturmvoraus, then our agreement regarding you may be at an end."

Agatha squirmed to get down and raced forward. "Herr Baron! You can't send him back!"

The Baron turned to look at her, eyebrows lowered forbiddingly. "And why not?"

Agatha skidded to a halt in spite of herself, heart beating wildly. Because Tarvek didn't like it there wasn't a reason not to punish him that way, probably, and anyway he only said he liked it better here to her and Gil. "Because I don't think you're going to expel me and I was doing the same thing as him, it wouldn't be fair."

"Are you telling me you have been spying on your fellow students? I rather doubt you've been reporting to Barry," said the Baron, sounding very adult and sarcastic.

Agatha clenched her fists. "We were together almost the whole time."

"And why did you think it was a good idea to break into a restricted section?" he asked.

Agatha frowned. "We were curious." She shot a look at Gil, not sure if she should explain that part.

"He knows what we were looking for," Gil said tiredly, in an undertone but not really as if he was trying to stop the Baron hearing.

"Yes," said the Baron. "I do. And I'm aware it would have been Holzfäller's idea. What I want to know is why you thought it was a good idea to help him break the rules."

"He's our friend." Agatha folded her arms. "He wanted to know what you wouldn't tell him about himself. We weren't going to hurt anything."

"The vault is, nonetheless, off limits," said the Baron. "And you will be dealt with. But I have reason to believe that Prince Sturmvoraus has been spying for a long time and this was not an isolated incident."

Agatha looked at Gil again, a little sorry to say this if it ended up meaning they had to stop this time, and then took a deep breath. "We explore a lot," she said, lifting her chin to look challengingly up at the Baron. "He's not hurting anything then either."

"If he is finding and reporting information to his father, then yes he is doing harm!" the Baron shouted, before looking away and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I believe Barry told you your enrollment was contingent on following the school rules. I shall leave dealing with you to him. I shall deal with Prince Sturmvoraus."

The Baron started walking, beckoning the boys to follow him; Agatha ran alongside, confused and indignant. "I thought Prince Aaronev was our ally!"

"Some allies are more to be trusted than others," the Baron said coldly, and then, almost to himself and with an odd note in his voice, "like some friends."

"If you're letting Uncle Barry decide what to do with me, maybe you should ask him about Tarvek, too." Agatha wasn't really sure that was a good idea. Uncle Barry had told her to follow the school rules. But as long as they didn't worry anybody she still didn't think exploring the dirigible hurt anything. Baron Wulfenbach hadn't been that upset about the music box. What was wrong with telling Prince Aaronev things?

"Barry is your guardian..." the Baron began and then stopped and sighed. "Fine. And when he agrees with me, will you trust he knows more about the situation than you do and accept it?"

Agatha frowned. She was sure Uncle Barry knew a lot more about a lot of things than she did, but he hadn't been here, so how could he know more about things she'd been here for and he hadn't? "If I tell him what I know, I guess he will," she reasoned after a moment. He might be upset with her, but she felt better about telling him things like that Tarvek would really miss his friends if he didn't get to go to the school anymore. "So yes."

Chapter Text

The cache of information was exactly where Gil had said it would be. Klaus confiscated it, explained to Otilia why he was disrupting the school at this hour, and left her to deal with putting the wayward children to bed. And hopefully keeping them there.

He honestly didn't mind a little exploring. He knew better than to expect scrupulous adherence to rules or restrained curiosity from the students he'd collected. And he'd known, in the back of his mind, that getting Jägers to report back to him about a Heterodyne breaking the rules was a hopeless cause. He had been utterly astonished to see Jorgi bringing her -- although he really shouldn't have been surprised she'd turned herself in, out of whatever odd mix of honour and scheming had taken place in her five-year-old mind.

He'd told Gil who he was immediately after finding out the boy was running all over the dirigible with Tarvek Sturmvoraus.

He'd told Gil who he was.

(It hadn't been anything like the way he'd intended to do it someday.)

Apparently all three children had been "exploring" his airship. And from even a cursory glance at Tarvek's notes, they'd been going farther afield than he had guessed.

Klaus pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose as if that might help with the headache. Well, he'd offered to consult Barry. He might as well share.

He sent his fastest ship and most enthusiastic pilot with a rather sharply worded summons -- he thought afterward that he probably should have been a little more circumspect. Barry probably wouldn't take offense, but Barry would have come regardless and it would actually look bad if anyone else got hold of a letter where he was practically barking orders at the Lord Heterodyne. And the fact that he was even worrying about this probably meant he had actually needed to sleep tonight. Spies were too much on his mind. Barry would probably burn it if he thought it could be a problem.

Klaus settled in with Tarvek's notes to determine just how much damage a seven-year-old had managed. Besides using his son and Bill's daughter.

Barry arrived only a few hours later, managing to startle Klaus when he knocked. Klaus was all the more surprised -- and, frankly, in the mood to appreciate almost any distraction that didn't involve a new crisis by that point -- to see that Barry was wearing a dressing gown and protective gloves and goggles. A wire frame with what looked like muffled bells on it swung from one hand.

"I wasn't in quite so much of a hurry you couldn't have stopped to get dressed," he said. He’d known he was interrupting a visit with Donna. He wasn’t really surprised they’d been working in the middle of the night, but it was mildly remarkable that they had evidently gone to bed first.

"You sounded like you were." Barry yawned, although that was the only sign of sleepiness -- he was brighter-eyed than Klaus currently felt. "And you haven't either. What in the world is going on?"

Klaus groaned. "The children around here are far too precocious," he said, which was heartfelt but not very informative.

"You may have selected them for that a bit," Barry said, not really unsympathetically. He set the bells on the desk and pulled a chair around to sit at the end of it, then added, "What did Agatha do?"

"She's probably the most innocent in this," said Klaus. "She, Gil and Tarvek Sturmvoraus have been exploring the ship, far more widely than I realised -- far more widely than I realised they could. They haven't even broken through yet, and they've picked half the locks on the ship. Agatha regards this as entirely harmless exploration. Sturmvoraus has been using it to gather information for his father."

He didn't often get to say anything that made Barry drop his jaw. It wasn't very satisfying this time. "Okay," Barry said after a moment. "I'm not surprised they didn't actually stay where they were supposed to be, but that does sound like a lot. If she's the most innocent, what exactly are you blaming Gil for?"

"Agatha's young enough to be oblivious to the politics of the situation. Even at eight, Gil isn't. And he knew where Sturmvoraus was hiding his notes -- he told me."

"Okay...." Barry rubbed his forehead. "Back up a bit. Or go forward, depending on how you look at it, I suppose. What happened tonight that led you to finding out about this?"

"They all broke into the student record room. Gil was intercepted, disconsolate, because he'd found the false backstory I'd set up for him." Klaus rested his forehead against his palm. "I told him the truth. So far Agatha and Sturmvoraus don't know it, I have no idea how long that will last if Sturmvoraus remains on this ship. He was intercepted later and Agatha turned herself in shortly afterwards. Agatha is insisting that I can't expel him for doing the same thing she did, but agreed to bow to your judgement." He looked up at Barry. "For Gil's safety, fair or not, I'm going to have to get him away from here."

"Technically I did tell Agatha she had to follow your rules to attend," Barry said wryly, "although I don't think any of us actually want her removed. It's good for her." A slight pause. "It's probably good for Tarvek, too. Do you really think Gil's likely to tell him?"

"I don't know. I really don't want to risk it."

Barry sighed. Klaus suspected he was wondering why Klaus had decided to tell Gil and create the risk, but didn't want to say so because he'd wanted Klaus to tell Gil in the first place. Klaus was wondering a bit himself, except... he knew. He'd rationalised it because it was obviously something Gil was worried enough about to get into trouble investigating further....

...But Gil might have been stopped by the false story. Only Klaus hadn't meant him to find out about it, certainly not that way, and he'd looked so utterly miserable.

"I suppose they've been separated for the night, then?" Barry asked.

Klaus dropped his head into his hand again. "Farther than their respective rooms? ...That would probably have been a good idea. Although I'm sure Otilia will be paying close attention."

Barry paused, then shoved the bells closer to him and unwrapped one of them. "Try that."

Klaus gave him a look, but he'd had Barry's inventions tested on him before and Barry had never tried it with ones that might be really harmful. He flicked the bell with his fingernail and it chimed sweetly, reminding him of a well made sleigh bell. It brought memories of snow, harmlessly pretty with warm layers and a house nearby, times when there was nothing to worry about and everything to enjoy, and left behind a sense of calm and content that made all present worries less overwhelming. "...Thank you," he said, giving the set of bells a very curious look.

"Would you believe that was inspired by the Doom Bell?" Barry asked, with a smile that suggested he wasn't personally immune to this one. "Donna and I are making an entire... ah... mood carillon, of sorts." He leaned forward, resting his chin on interlaced fingers. "You're right, Gil is old enough to have some idea of the politics," he said after a moment. "If he told you where Tarvek was hiding his notes, I rather doubt he's about to start telling Tarvek new secrets of his own. I'd guess the main risk is that he'd do it as an apology. From everything Agatha's said, I get the impression breaking up the friendship would be devastating for all three of them."

Klaus resolved to ask more about the mood carillon later, when the situation at hand was dealt with. "His desire to stay with them wasn't enough to stop him from spying. Or from drawing them into it as well. I should never have let them get attached," said Klaus. He shook his head, regrets wouldn't help the situation. "If he stays here he will continue to report to Aaronev. From a position of closeness to both Gil and Agatha. Agatha doesn't yet understand why we shouldn't simply tell our allies everything and I underestimated what a security leak the Jägers' attitude to her could create, since they won't stop her from going where she pleases."

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't consider it either." Barry glanced at the notes still visible under the bells' frame and shook his head. "Bill and I always loved finding out things we weren't exactly supposed to know," he said after a moment. "I'm not sure he'd have had to do much drawing. Although this puts a new cast on Agatha's saying Tarvek was always worried about getting in trouble."

"It does rather," said Klaus, drily.

Barry's mouth quirked. "The example was being nervous about going into the lab before they were dismissed from meals. I'm not quite sure what's going on there...." A thoughtful look. "But if you want me to offer an opinion on the case, I'd like to talk to the kids, first."

"Agatha was insisting on telling you the whole story, anyway," said Klaus. "Otherwise she's not sure you'd know enough to make a sound decision."

Barry's mouth twitched. "I see. That... actually sounds like she's not telling you everything."

"I'm not sure why, unless she thinks it would get him into more trouble rather than less," said Klaus. "In which case I'm not sure why she's so keen for you to know."

"No idea, but it should be an interesting conversation."

"Agatha."

Barry wasn't exactly going for either stern or forgiving yet, but he had a feeling the greeting had mostly come out puzzled, which definitely hadn't been in the plan. He had frequently wondered if children were less bewildering if you got them at the very beginning and could start getting to know them when all they needed was love and basic maintenance, and before they could ask questions or come to their own bizarre conclusions. Judging from Klaus's experience, apparently not.

Agatha hurled herself into his arms, which wasn't exactly the reaction he'd expected from someone who might be in trouble. He caught her automatically. "Uncle Barry." She buried her face in his shoulder. "Baron Wulfenbach says you should decide what to do about me and he said he'd ask you about Tarvek but he wants to send him away."

Barry patted her hair. "So he told me. He also said you wanted to talk to me."

Agatha nodded without lifting her head, so that he felt the movement against his shoulder. "We were only trying to find out about Gil's family -- he and Tarvek were really excited about it -- it wasn't anything to do with Prince Aaronev. And I still don't understand why he shouldn't know things anyway." She took a deep breath and raised her head slightly, then said, "And now Tarvek's in trouble for seeing other stuff too, but I was there for that as well so it's not fair if it's just him. I'll tell you all about it but it might be long."

"I'd appreciate that," Barry said seriously. "We can talk about Prince Aaronev more later, if you want, but the very short version is that sometimes you can work with people without trusting them about everything." He sat down against the wall so Agatha could lean on him or sit or walk wherever she wanted to. "For now, I do want to hear all about it before I decide anything."

Agatha sat down next to him and curled up against his shoulder, biting her lip thoughtfully. When she began, she started, unexpectedly, in Castle Heterodyne with an air of having decided to come clean about everything. It soon became clear how they'd managed to range through locked areas with impunity, and Agatha sounded rather regretful about the possibility of having the dragon clank confiscated, suggesting maybe he could just take its claws.

Most of the exploring they'd done wasn't recounted in any detail, and when it was, it wasn't the details of conversations they'd heard or important things they'd seen that had stuck with her. It was the corridors behind stained glass windows, half-finished projects in labs that they'd seen without touching, the huge boilers that supplied the laundry and showers and, with a sigh, their own little hideaway barely big enough for them. It was also Tarvek and Gil, things about them Agatha expressed more by describing their escapades than by explaining their feelings. The way they opened up when it was just the three of them, the way Gil would take the lead even though he accepted his position at the bottom when he was inside the school. Gil's pride in how well he knew the airship, Tarvek's fear of getting caught and desire to play where no one would see and judge. How much they meant to each other and to Agatha.

The explanation of the previous night was indignant, even aware that she was in trouble Agatha maintained Gil had a right to know what was recorded about him and that Tarvek had only been doing it to help him. She explained, as Klaus hadn't, what the book had said and added that Tarvek hadn't believed it, and finished off with turning herself in so she could help after both boys vanished. "And now," she finished, "they've been in their rooms all morning and they're not speaking to each other or even to me."

Barry hugged her closer again at that, chin on top of her head. She was so very much Bill's daughter. Headstrong and principled -- oh, they weren't fully formed principles, she was only just five, but fairness and loyalty and not wanting anybody to hurt weren't a bad start. And he'd found himself caught up in her tale and her version of things, and remembering explorations with Bill (and later Klaus) and keen singing moments of his own.

"You did the right thing at the end," he said after a moment. "Admitting what you'd done and standing up for them. I can tell you all care a lot about each other, and that's a good thing too." He sat back a little, holding her so he could see her. "I'll have to think about the dragon, but I will take the lockpicks. You put one over on me and Klaus that time, and I admit it was cleverly done, but it also shows you knew we wouldn't want you breaking into all those places."

"I thought if you didn't know you wouldn't worry," said Agatha.

Barry snorted involuntarily even though he was sure laughing at the situation was inappropriate on multiple levels. "No," he said, "but that doesn't mean there wasn't anything to worry about. I know you were careful not to get hurt, but you're all still inexperienced enough that you might not recognise a danger when you saw it. And disappearing when we don't know to look for you isn't actually better than disappearing when we do." He stopped to think for a moment. "And listen. There are topics you normally don't talk about because they're your friends' secrets, things you don't take and mess around with because they belong to someone else. Aren't there?"

Agatha nodded uncertainly. "I'm telling you things now about things Tarvek and Gil have done I normally wouldn't because you need to know."

"Right." Feeling some reassurance might be called for, he added, "And I'll be able to treat them more fairly because of that. But it does make sense that you don't announce those things to the whole school. The point I want to make, though, is that if you respect Klaus -- and I hope you do -- then part of that is respecting that he can limit the parts of his Castle he wants you roaming around in."

"I do like him," said Agatha, sounding reassuring in her turn. "I didn't think we were seeing anything that secret."

"For future reference," Barry said, "a lock is normally a sign that somebody doesn't want people just wandering in." He sighed. "And one of the reasons we don't want you just having the run of the place, again, is that there are things you don't have the experience to evaluate. I believe you that Tarvek is a good friend. I also believe that -- understandably -- he's also loyal to his father and is likely to do some things because Prince Aaronev asks him to."

Agatha shuffled her feet against the floor and frowned. "Is it very different from me telling you things?" she asked.

"For Tarvek... I think, it's different in some ways and not others." Barry wasn't sure if this was overcomplicated, but he didn't want to pretend it was simple to her. "I know you don't want to hurt anybody. It's possible Tarvek doesn't either, and I haven't talked to him yet, so I can't say I know what he was thinking. But you're telling me things that Gil and Tarvek already know you know, because you love them and you think I need to know so I can do the right thing. Right?" At Agatha's tiny nod, he went on, "Whether Tarvek's thinking of it this way or not, he's been surreptitiously collecting information that Aaronev could use to make things harder for me and Klaus, if he or his friends and allies want to interfere with what we're trying to do. He might not, but we don't know. And even if Tarvek didn't do anything that seemed very different from you and Gil, even if he meant to be doing the right thing by helping his father, Klaus isn't going to want to keep him here if it means Aaronev finding out all his secrets."

"I don't want to make things harder for you or Baron Wulfenbach," said Agatha, after giving this due consideration. "But I don't want Tarvek to go away. If I stop going with him he might not get as far, because the Jägers would catch him, but he's very intelligent. He might still get some places."

"I'll keep that in mind," Barry told her. Taking away the lockpicking dragon and the Jägers’ cooperation would certainly make a substantial difference. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I'm going to talk to him and Gil, too. But first...." A serious look. "Bring me the lockpicks."

Agatha ducked her head. "Yes, Uncle Barry," she said, and went to fetch them.

Barry left Agatha's room with a pocketful of lockpicks and paused for a moment before knocking at Gil's door. "Gil?" He listened for a second and heard nothing. "It's Barry Heterodyne. I'd like to talk to you."

The door opened and Gil looked up at him, scowling, wary and tired. "You're not really going to take Agatha away are you?" he asked, abruptly, hand still on the door knob.

Barry blinked. Gil looked entirely prepared to slam the door in his face if he said yes. Which... from some of the things Agatha had said, for that matter from his own observations, really wasn't that surprising. "I'd rather not," he said truthfully. "I think overall attending here is good for her. But she does need to learn a little more respect for boundaries. May I come in, or should we talk somewhere else?"

"You can come in," Gil said, letting go of the door and going to perch on the edge of his bed.

"Thank you." Barry shut the door firmly and sat on the floor again, across from Gil, and watched the slightly uncertain blink. "I'd like to hear your side of this," he said quietly. "And because it might bear on what you say... I do know who you are."

"Really?" Gil said, and then, clearly struggling with subterfuge, "I mean, did Agatha tell you what she found out, or..."

Barry clarified, "Klaus told me he had a son. I knew it had to be you from the way he went pale when he heard you'd gone missing."

"Oh." Gil looked a little awed, as if he still couldn't quite imagine the Baron caring about him personally. "What did you want to know?"

"Mm... to start with, I'd like you to tell me what you did and why."

"We broke into the record room to find out about my family. It was my idea. I left after I thought I'd found out." The bald, grudging sentences were a far cry from Agatha's voluble confession. "I ran into a guard and got taken to the Baron and he told me...you know."

"Yes." A wry smile. "Not his most practical choice of timing, was it?"

"I'm glad I know even if it's weird," said Gil, meeting his eyes. "I don't know if it will ever matter. Whether I'll just be hidden forever."

"I don't think he means it to be forever," Barry said. "I'm glad you know too, actually."

"I don't want it to be forever," said Gil, then, more quietly, "I can almost remember him now."

"...Almost?" Barry asked, gently. "He said he didn't think you did."

"I -- I wouldn't know it was him if he hadn't said, I don't think. But it was him, someone a lot bigger than me, and it felt...safe. He was holding me, and I guess now that I have to be a secret he can't anymore." Gil looked away abruptly, blinking. "It doesn't matter," he added, fiercely. "I hardly remember it anyway, and I went all this time without knowing."

"Of course it matters," Barry said, then more quietly, "I don't have any doubt he misses that too."

Gil sniffed, looking somewhere between doubtful and reassured, and said, "That's not what you came to ask me about, is it?"

Barry waggled a hand. "Not specifically. What happened after he told you?"

Gil sighed. "A guard brought Tarvek in. While the Baron wasn't listening he said he didn't believe the book and was going to find out who I really am. Then the Baron got mad at him for spying."

...Oh. "And you told him where Tarvek had hidden the information he collected."

Gil squirmed and nodded. "It was his own fault! I mean, it was true, and if I didn't tell I'd be helping him spy still because he'd still have the information to send home."

"Well, yes." Barry tilted his head. "And were you worried he really would keep looking for your background?"

"Of course he would if he said so," Gil answered.

"Well, I don't really know him. Some people your age don't have quite that much focus." Some people a lot older didn't have that much focus. "That is a bit of a complication."

Gil nodded, curling in on himself slightly.

Barry looked at him thoughtfully. "Agatha mentioned you weren't speaking to each other. Or her."

"Agatha's going to be mad at me if Tarvek gets sent away," Gil said. "And Tarvek's going to be mad at me already."

"I don't think Agatha's going to blame you," Barry said. "I suppose Tarvek might. Are you mad at him?"

"Yes." Gil scowled at his bedroom floor. "It's his fault and he's going to blame me for it."

"Setting aside Agatha's opinion, do you want him to leave? I am not," Barry added, "foisting the decision on you. But I'd like to know what you think. From what Agatha said, you've all been very close."

"It's ruined now anyway," said Gil, a little desperately. "He knows I expected him to get sent home when I said where his hiding place was. And it's not like he'd stop spying. I can't tell on him all the time."

"I can see where that would be awkward. It must have been a very uncomfortable position to be in already. Although he'd have somewhat less access to secrets if he stayed." Barry arched an eyebrow. "Partly because all of you will be a little more limited. I suggest you don't build any new lockpicks."

Gil blushed and ducked his head, but looked more relieved than anything that, even if Tarvek stayed, the responsibility for preventing him from seeing things would be taken out of Gil's hands. "Sorry," he muttered.

"I'm not here to make you feel bad about it," Barry said gently. "Obviously we don't want you to do it again, but that would be enough."

"I won't," said Gil. He drew his knees up against his chest and added, in a rush, "I don't mind Tarvek staying if he doesn't manage to do any spying, even if he's mad at me."

"I see," said Barry. "I'll remember that." He wanted to gather Gil up and hug him, himself. He did get up, a little more stiffly than the first time, and go rest a hand on Gil's shoulder. "I am going to try to do what's best for everyone." Or at least as many of them as possible.

Tarvek was last, mostly because Barry thought Aaronev's son was more likely than the other two to lie to him. He rapped on the door and, when it opened, was met by a pale upturned face that turned even paler as the blood drained out of it. Barry resisted, with difficulty, asking what on earth Tarvek thought he was going to do to him. "May I come in?"

"Yes, sir," said Tarvek, stepping out of the way and then hovering uncertainly by the wall.

Barry looked at him for a second. "Please sit down." He took the same spot on the floor against the wall as before, partly to see what Tarvek would do. "I'd like to hear your side of what's happened."

Tarvek pulled over a chair from the desk in the corner and sat down on it, with a quick glance at Barry as if to check that was all right. The midmoth Agatha had mentioned (Andy, short for Andronicus) came from its bed in the corner to sit by the chair. "Did you talk to Gil already?"

Barry propped one knee up and clasped his hands over it loosely. "Yes."

"I expect he already told you it was my fault," said Tarvek, hands clenched tightly in his lap. The midmoth’s trunk snaked up and curled around his wrist. "It's true. He and Agatha weren't doing anything wrong."

Okay, that he had not been expecting. "Weren't they? I understand Agatha was rather emphatic that you'd all been in it together."

"She didn't even understand what I was being accused of, she's too young," Tarvek said quickly.

"Gil's your own age," Barry pointed out, intrigued.

"He wasn't spying, though, he doesn't have anyone to spy for," said Tarvek. "He and Agatha are the only ones here that aren't."

Barry arched an eyebrow. "They seem to be how you got farther afield than the rest."

"They weren't doing it to find information. They just like exploring."

"I can believe that," Barry said. "Mostly. Why did you think breaking into the vault was a good idea?"

Tarvek was quiet for a moment. "I wanted to help Gil find out who he was."

"Was that all?" Barry asked neutrally.

"Yes," said Tarvek. "I wasn't doing any harm."

"You were breaking into a restricted area." Barry paused. "Again."

Tarvek pressed back against the back of his chair, eyes flicking up to the light fitting in his ceiling. "It really was just to find out about Gil," he insisted.

Barry glanced at the light as well, eyebrows rising. "That time, anyway?"

"Everyone sends information back to their parents," Tarvek said. "It's not really spying."

"I think you know better than that," Barry said. "I don't exactly blame you for trying it, but we can't let you continue. Somehow I don't think Aaronev would appreciate our trying to get into all the corners of Sturmhalten, either." He stopped and blinked, remembering suddenly. Aaronev's father might not have, either. Relations between Sturmhalten and Mechanicsburg had been odd since the first treaty was signed -- two fortresses whose armies couldn't break each other, and the Heterodynes at the time had certainly tried. Barry normally thought of Klaus as the first friend they'd made that they hadn't literally, well, made, but they had actually visited sort of cordially with the Sturmvorauses. Briefly. "--Come to think of it, maybe that's why Bill and I didn't get invited back after I was six."

Tarvek gaped at him. "You tried to spy on my grandfather?"

Barry's mouth quirked. "At the time, I don't think either of us really grasped the idea that there were places we weren't supposed to go. Long-term family failing, I'm afraid."

Tarvek blinked at him and then said, very quietly, "You said you can't let it continue. Does that mean you're sending me home?"

"I wanted to talk to all of you before I decided that." Barry considered him for a moment. "Do you think I should?"

Tarvek shook his head, hard. "I didn't do anything that bad."

"That's an interesting reaction to the idea of getting to go home." ...And not entirely unfamiliar, although Barry had never been in a position to be threatened with it, exactly.

Tarvek looked a bit uncertain. "It's more interesting here. Everyone's always busy at home, especially my father."

"I can't really argue with that one," Barry said. "The school is meant to be interesting. If, generally speaking, from the inside."

"It is. As well. I won't go places I'm not supposed to anymore." He fixed nervous, hopeful eyes on Barry.

"An easy promise to make," Barry said, not harshly. "When we're looking at you, and your father hasn't asked you for anything new."

Tarvek shrank down into his chair anyway, looking forlorn.

Barry rubbed his forehead. Seven was old enough for acting, but he still thought this was real. "It's not that I think it's the only thing you want," he said quietly. "I realise you'd miss your friends."

"Gil hates me anyway," said Tarvek and then looked surprised at himself. Not, Barry thought, at the sentiment so much as the fact that he'd voiced it to someone he barely knew.

"He does not," he said. "He's upset. He doesn't hate you."

"He tried to get me sent home. I might have done things I shouldn't, but I didn't do anything to him."

Barry thought for a moment about how to explain that one without reference to Gil's real identity. "Gil," he said slowly, "really hadn't thought of it as spying, or at least as a serious thing so far. And Klaus took him in when he had no one else. Right now, whatever you say about it, he feels responsible for essentially everything you've been doing."

Tarvek didn't look very reassured.

On review, Barry didn't exactly blame him. He shook his head. "That doesn't mean he hates you. He doesn't want to be faced with deciding between you and Klaus all the time. He doesn't actually want you gone."

"Did he say that?" Tarvek asked doubtfully.

"Yes," Barry said. "Even if you're mad at him, he says."

"I'm not," said Tarvek, looking up hopefully, eyes suspiciously bright behind his glasses. "At least, not if he does want me to stay."

"I heard a lot about the two of you from Agatha," Barry said. "It sounds like you've been good friends." Ulterior motives or not.

"They're brilliant," said Tarvek, and for the first time it didn't sound like he'd stopped to consider his answer, true or false, before saying it.

Barry smiled at him. "I'm inclined to agree." He sighed a little and stood up. "I had better go back and talk to Klaus," he said. "We'll let you know what we've decided afterward."

Tarvek stood up too, politely, and watched Barry leave.

Barry took a few more investigative detours before re-entering Klaus's office. Klaus looked up sharply. The frustration of the previous night had settled into a kind of weary strain. "You're not going to like it," Barry predicted. "I did find out how they were getting into everything, though. I'm starting to see why my grandfather decided to magnetise all the children in town."

"You're about to tell me that, despite all the reasons not to, you think I should keep Sturmvoraus here," said Klaus, accusingly. "So you can at least start by telling me how we can keep them out of locked rooms in future. Without getting unnecessarily Heterodyne in our solutions."

"Oh, that’s already been done. You know that dragon clank of Gradok's?" Barry sighed and set a handful of lockpicks on the desk. "These are the original claws."

"They smuggled a lockpicking dragon on board," said Klaus, burying his face in his palm but sounding a little impressed despite himself.

"I don't think ours need lessons in sneakiness," Barry said ruefully. "We might. On which note, I'm afraid Aaronev showed me how to beat the kind of lock you've got on that vault one afternoon when I was six."

"....and that explains how they got in there," said Klaus. "I'll install a new one."

"Yes." Barry looked down at the desk. "From a practical standpoint, confiscating the lockpicks... and building some better locks... should do quite a lot. So will alerting the Jägers that Tarvek is not to have the run of the dirigible, and yes," he added with a wry smile, "I got the Lady Heterodyne's agreement on that."

"So your answer is to limit his access to information," said Klaus. "But not his access to Gil."

"The problem is information. Gil he likes."

"Gil has that information," said Klaus. "And has to hide the fact that he has it, as well as what it is."

"True." Barry sighed again and sat down. "And I think you were right to tell him. But there is the sticky point that Tarvek does not believe your cover story and told Gil -- quite probably in an effort to make him feel better -- that he was going to find out the truth."

"And you're refusing to solve this situation by sending him back to Sturmhalten."

"I think," Barry said slowly, "that would make all three of them miserable and not necessarily help much. Tarvek's already suspicious. He claims it's boring at home; I don't think he's much happier there than Gil used to be at the school. He claims nearly all of the students are spying; he has to realise he managed a lot more of it than most, but on the other hand, expulsion is a distinctly odd punishment for someone you're calling a hostage, especially if it would be possible to simply restrict him instead. You might have better luck telling Gil to insist he doesn't want to investigate any further."

"Making Sturmvoraus happy is really not my priority here," snapped Klaus.

"You might have better luck putting him off the scent that way," Barry said, a little impatiently. "If he's actually bored at home, leaving him with time on his hands and an unsolved mystery is probably not your best bet. And I'd think making Gil happy is at least on your list."

"I could probably find something more convincing to put him off the trail with, given time and distance. Gil suddenly insisting he doesn't want to know his background would hardly be less suspicious," said Klaus. "I want Gil to be happy but not as much as I want him to be safe."

"I can understand that," Barry said after a moment. He'd have to say the same thing about Agatha. And yet.... "But there's more to well-being than avoiding risk."

"They're children. They'll get over being separated."

Barry inhaled slowly as his hand curled into a fist on the desk. "They will cope with it," he said, slowly and carefully, "if they must. But it will hurt them. Do you think they'll care less for being young?"

"I think they have plenty of time to make less dangerous friends," said Klaus, but he wasn't meeting Barry's eyes.

"I'm not sure who you've got in mind." Barry made his hand unclench and sat back. "Tarvek does care about them. And I'm pretty sure I've got him from 'Gil betrayed me out of nowhere after I tried to help and wants me gone' to 'Gil realised things were a lot more serious than he'd been thinking and felt used and guilty and conflicted'. Though even before that, he opened by telling me the whole thing was his fault."

That did give Klaus a moment's pause. "Loyalty to them, then, if not to me. I still doubt he'd place their interests above his family's."

"I'd certainly rather not ask him to," Barry said. And the Sturmvorauses had more family than he could keep track of easily. "But that doesn't mean we have to create extra conflict for Gil or Agatha either. And Aaronev...." He looked thoughtfully at Klaus. "Is our ally. Not the most confidence-inspiring one, between sending his child explicitly as a hostage and presumably asking him to spy. But for all his scheming we do logically have common interests."

"It's certainly in his interests to have Sturmhalten safe. But, whatever else I might say about him, he's done a fine job of that by himself. I'm not sure he sees himself as having any interest in the Empire beyond keeping it satisfied and at a distance so he can carry on the way he always has."

Barry shook his head. "Sturmhalten is a little like Mechanicsburg in one way," he said. "It can pull in like a turtle and hold more or less indefinitely against nearly all comers." Assaulting the walls wouldn't do much good. Getting inside first, or sufficient air superiority.... Barry honestly couldn’t imagine Sturmhalten repelling one of the Other’s rains of giant boulders. It might have benefitted from some lingering sentiment on Lucrezia’s part, he supposed, of the kind that had exiled Klaus and attacked both Wulfenbach and Mechanicsburg when her lovers weren’t home. Although that didn’t account for her son. "But for real prosperity they both tend to rely on trade and travel."

"Including with each other?" A lot of trade came to Mechanicsburg through Sturmhalten, since it held a major pass. It was one of the main reasons their relationship hadn't remained completely hostile for very long. "What are you suggesting? Logically Aaronev should want the Empire in place, although he's got no reason to be happy that I'm running it. He is a member of a family -- and is related to a large number of families -- with impressive pedigrees. In one sense they'd be more likely to object to Gil's existence than mine, since I'm sure they'd be happy to have me do the work of putting an Empire together if one of their children could conveniently inherit it."

"Oh, probably," Barry said. "I assume that's part of why he made a point of offering himself as ally before the question of vassalage could come up. Not that it did anybody much good with Valois." Of course, Valois had if anything had too many children -- and none with his vanished Heterodyne bride. It was to his credit that he'd acknowledged them, but it had complicated matters. Still, many of his erstwhile allies (including some who had been explicitly temporary allies) had tried to claim an Empire that had already been going to pieces before his death, and most had managed a wedding with some descendent or other along the way and been arguing precedence ever since. "But as it stands, he may not own it but he can reasonably consider himself to be influential. I'm not suggesting we tell him about Gil, but I think there are also political reasons not to send his son home in disgrace."

Klaus sighed. "That's true enough."

"There might also be pragmatic reasons as well as sentimental ones," said Barry, "to encourage his son liking Gil. And being grateful to you. Even, or especially, when he's already happier here than at home."

Klaus eyed him. "It's strange when you start sounding cynical."

"Sorry." Barry leaned back again and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Although we did try to point out practical benefits to doing the right thing when -- well, never mind." This was probably not the time to start reminiscing. "Anyway, weren't you hoping the students would learn to like each other? Working out their own hierarchy was probably inevitable, but still."

"I'm not sorry they like each other," said Klaus. "And this isn't intended to punish Sturmvoraus, even if that's inevitably how he'll take it. It's a matter of his presence becoming a liability."

"His presence is a risk," Barry said. "Sending him away is... not exactly unjust, even if Agatha thinks so. But it's not kind and I don't think it's necessary or wise."

"And I did agree to leave the decision up to you," said Klaus. "Even if I was not expecting you to decide against it."

Barry hadn't been going to remind Klaus of that unless he had to. "Well, I'd hoped to actually persuade you," he said. "But having heard out everyone involved...." He trailed off. "I should relay more of Agatha's stories. If nothing else, you might appreciate their impression of your Castle."

Klaus raised his eyebrows. "I thought she was telling you about how they'd broken into the vault, not everything she'd been doing since she last saw you."

"Oh, no," Barry said, suddenly grinning. "When Agatha decided I should know everything she did, she meant everything. Incidentally, your stained-glass windows look magnificent from the wrong side."

Klaus gave him a look that said his train of thought had been rather derailed and smiled grudgingly. "Good to know they're appreciated," he said drily.

Barry paused. "On a somewhat more relevant note, there is an ongoing effort to break down the more obnoxious aspects of the student hierarchy. I was glad to hear about it."

"By Agatha?"

"Agatha's precocious, but she's still five and may be mostly contributing a tendency to fly off the handle in righteous fury. I get the impression Theo is being a bit more organised about it." Barry paused for a beat. "As is Tarvek."

"...I realised he was ignoring the hierarchy by defending Gil. I didn't realise he was actively against it."

"Not exactly against it," Barry said. "Evidently he lectures on noblesse oblige. But using his status as a reason not to torment the other students is an improvement."

Klaus let out a rather startled laugh. "One of their princelings actually believes in the principles they claim."

"Enough to get rather heated about it, apparently," Barry said. "I have to admit I'm at a little bit of a loss there. Aaronev looks after his town, but I can't quite imagine him being fervent on the subject."

"He never was that I recall," said Klaus, thoughtfully. "Sending the boy home might not be the best way for him to hold on to those principles. Even if they're not quite the principles I was trying to instil, they're a great improvement on the value Sparks often place on their people." Which tended to be potential minions at best and raw materials at worst.

Well, Tarvek must have developed them somewhere, presumably at home, but Barry was hardly going to dispute the idea that the school was a better influence. "That's certainly true."

Klaus sighed. "All right," he said. "I'll let him stay for now, but I'll be keeping a closer eye on him -- on all three of them, really." He hesitated, searching for words. "Just our two feels like a volatile mixture. Adding another -- also from a line of powerful Sparks and with ulterior motives --"

"Well," Barry said after a moment, "I can't exactly argue with volatile. They seem to have been busy enough on their own. Tarvek may have made the most of it, but I'm pretty sure he joined their explorations, instead of proposing them. But I don't think keeping them isolated is... either desirable or actually practical."

"No," Klaus agreed, reluctantly. "Gil's been isolated enough as it is."

"I think he was planning to slam the door and refuse to speak to me if I'd said I was planning to withdraw Agatha from the school." Barry smiled wryly. "I'm not arguing against more supervision, either. And I am sorry about the dragon."

"I was there when they asked to bring the dragon aboard too," said Klaus. "At least you removed the flamethrower."

"It seemed like the logical thing to look for, in a dragon." Barry still felt he should have caught the claws. It had been a Heterodyne clank, after all. "We may be in trouble a few years from now. At least you'll probably have had practice monitoring student breakthroughs by the time they get around to it."

"That I'm not looking forward to," said Klaus. "One problem at a time."

"Fair enough," said Barry. "...Klaus? About Gil."

"Yes?" said Klaus, looking slightly apprehensive.

"Now that you've told him who you are to each other, you might see if you can find a chance to hug him."

"I might what?" Whatever Klaus had expected it hadn't been that.

"He misses you. And don't try to tell me you don't miss him too."

"He doesn't remember me."

"He says he almost does. And that's not really the point."

"He -- really?" Klaus looked, for a moment, both startled and vulnerable.

Maybe it was the point. "Yes." Barry opened a hand, eyes still on Klaus's. "I don't know, in detail, exactly what he remembers. Except for feeling safe when you held him."

"Oh," said Klaus, looking down, and continued, voice a little unsteady, "I'll talk to him."

"Good." Barry reached over to grip Klaus's arm, hard. "I think he'll appreciate that." It seemed like the natural next step to him, although Klaus's reluctance had him a little worried. "Klaus... what exactly are you worried about?"

Klaus looked up witheringly. "Seriously?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean. Talking to Gil is not going to put him in added danger. You have the perfect excuse for a private conference now anyway."

"And not a great deal to say to him that could possibly be relevant to his life as it is now."

"Klaus," Barry said, torn between exasperation for what Klaus was saying and sympathy for whatever uncertainty it seemed to be covering. "Practically the first thing he had to do after you told him was choose between you and his best friend. Do you really think showing him you love him isn't relevant?"

"I said I'd talk to him," said Klaus, moving away from the hand still on his arm.

Barry sighed and let go, leaning back. "I know. Are you going to tell me why that apparently scares you?" Maybe he shouldn't push. But he'd stopped pushing Bill, only partly because they'd said everything already and it hadn't helped, and maybe that hadn't helped either. Barry reined that line of thinking back in. Klaus was uneasy, not obsessed.

"He remembers...maybe one moment," said Klaus, reluctantly. "I remember six years. I can't treat him as if he remembered all of it."

Barry closed his eyes and sighed. He probably should have seen that. "You can't... blame him for not remembering, of course not. But that doesn't mean you can't treat him like you remember it."

"When I said it wasn't relevant..." Klaus trailed off and shook his head. "Things were very different in Skifander."

"I believe you," Barry murmured. "How do you mean?"

When Klaus continued it was in a clipped, detached manner, as if he was considering writing an anthropology text. "In Skifander women are the warriors. Once children are weaned they are raised by the men. Especially boys -- girls are more likely to spend time with female relatives, and being taken on as a zumil for sword training happens young."

"In other words," Barry said, trying not to sound too sympathetic because if Klaus had gone academic on him he probably needed the distance, "you were with him basically all the time."

"Yes," said Klaus. "Even if he had remembered, that would hardly be practical now."

"That wouldn't be practical now even if you weren't hiding him from anyone," Barry said. "You could still tell him."

"He can't miss what he never knew he had."

Barry rubbed a hand over his face. "...Yes, he can."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Klaus asked.

"It's possible, it's... easy to crave things you never had at all and aren't entirely sure are real." Barry looked away from him. "We didn't exactly build Punch and Judy using our parents as an example."

"...I'm sorry."

Barry shook his head slightly, though not in rejection, and met Klaus's eyes again. "Gil has you."

"Yes. He does." Klaus nodded. "I'll tell him. At least some of it."

"I'm glad." Barry stood and put a hand on Klaus's shoulder, searching for words for a moment before he said, "He's lucky to have you. Don't… don't imagine that's not true just because things aren't perfect."

"Things are a long way from perfect," said Klaus gruffly. "But...thank you."

Chapter Text

There didn't seem to be much point in making the children stew over the decision, particularly as Klaus himself wanted the matter closed. As soon as Barry left him, he sent for the Sturmvoraus boy.

Tarvek entered his study looking very much as if he'd been ill for a week -- grey around the lips, with bruise-blue circles under red-rimmed eyes. Klaus beckoned him close enough to check for artistic enhancement, but Tarvek's face was not only unadorned but scrubbed recently enough to be damp. They regarded each other in silence for a long moment before Klaus said, "I will not expel you."

Tarvek swallowed and had to try twice before he managed, "Thank you." He did not relax.

"Your movements will be more restricted, and not just because your lockpicks have been confiscated." Although in fairness they hadn't been Tarvek's lockpicks. "You will be watched, I suggest you remain where you are expected to be. I will not be so lenient a second time."

Tarvek watched him for a second longer, as if not realising he was finished, and then went... not limp, but less painfully rigid. "Thank you, Herr Baron."

Klaus eyed him. "Were you that eager to stay?"

Colour came back into Tarvek's face in a blush. "I... would rather, Herr Baron. And my father would have been disappointed in me."

"Knowing Aaronev, only because you were caught," said Klaus drily.

"Er," said Tarvek, then after an awkward moment apparently decided that he couldn't argue with a straight face that Prince Aaronev would disapprove of the spying. "That wouldn't impress him, Herr Baron."

"He probably won't approve of the decreased detail in your reports, either," said Klaus, aware he was needling the boy a bit.

Tarvek went red again. "He'll have to disapprove of that at more of a distance, if I'm here. Maybe he'll start asking you directly."

Klaus successfully fought the urge to laugh and less successfully fought sympathy. He remembered Bill, pale and unhappy, aiming a flamethrower at Castle Wulfenbach with his father standing over him. There was a limit to how much he could blame any child for obedience, and he wondered how much Tarvek would really mind having his spying curtailed. "I'd be surprised, but you never know," he said. "You should go back to class." Although it might have been more appropriate to send him to bed, he looked as if he hadn't slept the night before.

Tarvek inhaled as if he hadn't breathed properly the night before either, thanked him again, and fled. Klaus called after him to send Agatha.

--Agatha, on arrival, flung herself around the desk and nearly into his lap before he caught her and held her up at arm's length. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You let Tarvek stay," she said. "I was going to hug you."

"You are meant to be in trouble," said Klaus. "It's going to be very hard to scold you if you're hugging me."

Agatha frowned. "Is it? That's usually how Uncle Barry does it."

Klaus managed not to laugh with some effort. "And how seriously do you take the scolding when it happens like that?"

"We're always very serious then." Agatha certainly looked entirely serious, and completely unconcerned by being held in midair. "He said I'd been careless with your secrets, and that was wrong and I'm sorry. But I'd still like to hug you. Can we do that first and then you can put me down and scold?"

Klaus sighed and put her down on his lap, suddenly reminded of Zeetha although there was nothing particularly similar about the two girls. Zeetha had tended to take scoldings like a soldier, standing rigid until the point had been made and then sulking her way to admitting he was right. Hugs had been for other times. "There," he said.

Agatha flung her arms around his neck, and Klaus somewhat resignedly patted her on the back. "I'm glad he's staying. We mostly had to coax him out anyway." Klaus had his doubts about Tarvek's reluctance, but could hardly pretend that he'd instigated the wandering. And then Agatha slithered off his lap again and went around the desk, where she climbed into the chair Tarvek had used, looked unsatisfied, and stood up on it with her hands behind her back.

Oh dear. Now she really did look like Zeetha about to take a scolding. Zeetha had been copying the warrior women around her, he wondered idly who Agatha was imitating. "I'm sure Barry already told you that you shouldn't have been wandering so far. Some of the places you went were dangerous, all of them were places I reasonably expected to be private. And you did promise to stay where you were meant to be when you joined the school," he said.

Agatha lowered her eyes at that. "We were careful of the dangerous places," she said. "Gil's good at that and Tarvek says you don't put in many deathtraps. I know that doesn't help with the other parts."

Klaus wondered how many death traps Sturmhalten had, and how many were in places where they could catch a child wandering out of bounds. Of course, it was a very old castle, and maybe Aaronev hadn't been able to remove ones that were already there, but it certainly made it more believable that Tarvek had been reluctant. "You're too young to be making those kinds of decisions yourselves," Klaus said firmly.

Agatha sighed, not exactly sulkily but certainly not happily either. "Yes, Uncle Barry said we were all very inexperienced."

For a moment Klaus wondered whether, out of the three of them, Agatha was the one that ought to be punished. The other two had had a bad fright, at least, but Agatha seemed unfazed by any of it. Still, she had turned in her lockpicks, was unlikely to wander off without her companions, and had accepted that she was in the wrong with regards to everything but her own safety. Klaus really hoped that sense of invulnerability would have taken a few knocks by the time she broke through. "You are," he said. "And from now on all three of you will be watched more closely."

She did wince a little at that. "Yes, Herr Baron."

"You may go," he said. "And tell Gil I want to talk to him."

"Yes, Herr Baron." She jumped down from the chair, then pulled herself up by the edge of the desk to regard him a moment longer with big green eyes. "I'll keep my promises better," she said seriously, and then let herself down and went.

Klaus let himself smile when she was no longer there to see it, and then took a deep breath and tried to prepare what he was going to say to Gil.

It was a little bit longer before Gil came in, and not because he walked more slowly than Agatha. Klaus could hear footsteps well enough and knew perfectly well that his son was hesitating just out of sight in the hallway. He was -- really -- just about to go and get him when Gil let himself in, looking calmer than Tarvek (if not nearly so sanguine as Agatha) but deeply uncertain.

"I suppose you'll have heard that Tarvek is staying," said Klaus, telling himself that was something he needed to establish even as he felt he was avoiding the important things.

Gil swallowed. "Yes. And we'll be staying inside the school all the time."

"Yes," said Klaus. "You'll have your own room, now, so having to stay inside the school won't mean not being able to get away from people," he added, gently, because he did know what had prompted at least some of Gil's exploration.

Gil flushed, though not nearly so dramatically as Tarvek. "They don't take my books much anymore. Um, I mean--" He floundered to a halt there.

"That's good," Klaus said, then, feeling he was floundering as badly as Gil, "I'm sorry having no known family makes things hard for you, there. Being known as my son would have put you in real danger."

"I understand." Gil looked down. "And you didn't think I could keep it a secret."

"Not when you're so young, I always intended to tell you when you were older," said Klaus, aware of...not quite bending the truth, but avoiding the reasons he didn't want to have to explain for leaving Gil ignorant as well as those around him.

"I will, though," Gil said, looking up anxiously.

"I know. I do trust you to keep it a secret, perhaps I should have done so sooner." He looked at where Gil was standing in front of his desk, looking very small. "I expect you have questions," he said. Even if he didn't particularly want to explain Skifander to Gil (you have a twin, you used to be close, no, you won't ever see her again) Barry was right. Gil could miss things he didn't know about, and he deserved to know something about himself.

Gil looked up at him, and asked as if Klaus had reached in and ripped the words out, "Why can't I remember anything?"

Klaus closed his eyes because he should have known that would be the first question and he still hadn't been prepared for it. He swallowed. "Do you know what post-resurrection amnesia is?"

Gil looked rather startled. "Yes." After a second to absorb the implication, "I -- I died?"

Is there a good way to tell someone they were dead? Klaus tried to remember what his own mother had said to him after his resurrection, but he'd known, really, what it meant to wake up with stitching. The hard thing to hear had been that his brothers were dead for good. "Yes. There were...some bad people who killed you. After I brought you back I decided you'd be safer in Europa." He sighed. "That was before I knew...a lot of things, about what had happened here while I was gone."

Gil climbed into the chair almost absently, looking a little dazed. "We didn't think it was really Lethean brain worms," he said.

"That gives me some faith in your diagnostic ability," Klaus answered, feeling rather dazed himself.

"Agatha said they'd have come out my nose by now," Gil explained. "I'd never heard of them before." A pause. "I don't think. I -- where were we?"

"Skifander," said Klaus and then, because that really couldn't mean anything to Gil, "Mars."

Gil's eyes went wide. "That was Earth. In the sky. On the way back?"

"Almost certainly," said Klaus, feeling his heart skip a beat. "You remember that?"

"Y-yes. I don't think I could've made that up. Shouldn't I...." Gil looked unhappy. "Shouldn't I remember more than bits and pieces, though? I mean... afterward? Is something still wrong with me?"

"Revival can take it out of a person, especially a child," said Klaus. "So can space travel. It took you a while to recover, there's nothing wrong with you now."

"Oh." Gil looked immensely relieved. "Good." After a second he looked startled and added worriedly, "Um, I didn't mean to suggest you hadn't done it right, I just -- couldn't --"

"It was a reasonable question," said Klaus. He wondered whether to add that revivification was always risky and people shouldn't be offended at being asked about possible side effects, or whether that would just worry Gil more.

"Okay." Gil pulled his heels up on the edge of the chair, still looking a little stunned. "...Thank you for bringing me back."

"Gil..." Klaus had to swallow, helplessly, at the accidental stab of Gil's words. "I wanted you back. More than anything." He wasn't even sure Gil would believe him when he'd kept his distance ever since.

Gil looked up again, abruptly, hoping. "Really?"

"Yes." It was now or never and Barry would be disappointed if it was never. So would Zantabraxus, if she was in any position to ever hear about this. So would Klaus. "Come here."

Gil looked confused, and still hopeful, and rather like he'd have preferred to climb over the desk but he went sedately around it anyway.

Klaus picked him up, slowly and carefully, as if he was fragile (and he hadn't had any trouble simply scooping tiny Agatha up and dangling her in the air) and set him down on his lap. It felt so awkward to wrap his arms around Gil now, when it hadn't in the past (when a hug had as often as not been the method of choice for keeping Gil out of something he shouldn't be investigating, as well as for comfort, or just because he wanted one). "I've missed you," he admitted. "And would have missed you far worse if I hadn't revived you."

Gil, who had been sitting still and wide-eyed and disbelieving, made a slightly choked noise and then twisted a little and hugged back, face buried in Klaus's neck, clinging with startling strength and not at all as if he thought it was awkward anymore.

He'd missed this, Klaus admitted to himself. Gil small (although not as small as he had been) and warm and very definitely safe, with Klaus's arms between him and anything in the world that could hurt him. He relaxed, now that he knew Gil wasn't confused or resisting, and ran a hand through Gil's scruffy mop of hair. He was going to have to find a pretext for spending time with Gil, something that wouldn't make anyone suspicious.

"I might remember this," Gil said, rather muffled. "Feels familiar. I'd like to, anyway."

I'd like you to as well, Klaus thought. "Barry mentioned you'd said something to him about that."

Gil's face heated just a little against his neck. "Yes." A small hesitation. "He's easier to talk to than I thought."

"He always has been," said Klaus, fondly. "He does it on purpose -- he and Bill always believed in solving things by talking to people so they made sure to be good at it."

"Oh. That makes sense. It's probably a good thing to learn...." Gil trailed off and then asked, out of the blue, "What's my mother like? ...Or was? Is she okay?"

"She is remarkable woman, a strong Spark and a Queen," Klaus said, only hesitating for a moment. Maybe later he'd regret being forthcoming about this, but right now he was not in a good position to pretend he could maintain distance. "And I hope and trust she is fine, she's certainly well able to take care of herself."

Gil went alarmingly still. Didn't breathe for a few seconds. Klaus focused on the fact that he could definitely feel a heartbeat. After a moment Gil said, sounding rattled, "I really am a Martian prince?"

Klaus couldn't quite help a bark of laughter, although he wasn't sure it was funny, precisely. "Was that one of your guesses?" Either Gil had a wild imagination or he'd remembered something, after all.

Gil squirmed slightly. "It was my first guess. I didn't know why I thought of it." A little anxiously, he added, "I don't think they took it seriously. We just ended up kidding about whether I was a dragon."

They probably hadn't -- it was too ridiculous to seem true -- and while he would have preferred not to have the idea planted at all he doubted it was even going to be passed on. "I don't suppose it did any harm," he said.

"We're still trying to build a riding dragon," Gil said. "I don't think it's going to work until somebody breaks through, though." He sat up abruptly. "Oh. I probably am going to be a Spark!"

"It's never definite. But you're showing enough signs that you probably will be. You won't be breaking through for years yet, though." Thank goodness.

Gil made a face. "If we all grow for several more years first, it's gonna be even harder to make a riding dragon that can actually fly."

"But more impressive when you manage it," said Klaus, hiding a smile. "For now maybe you should work on something a little easier. Talking of which, it's about time you went back to class."

"I guess." Gil looked uncertain, then hugged him again and relaxed when Klaus hugged back. Instead of removing him immediately, presumably. "...I know I can't do this very often," he said. Then, "It's too late to pick up Agatha's habit of just grabbing people, isn't it."

"I'm afraid so," said Klaus. "But I'll spend time with you when I can."

Gil pulled back, looking surprised. "But you're busy. And I'm supposed to stay in the school."

"You're not supposed to leave the school without adult permission," Klaus corrected. "You're not being confined there permanently. And I am busy, so I can't promise it will be frequent, but not so busy I can't find time for you at all."

Gil did not look as if this filled him with confidence. "That would be nice. Thank you."

Klaus sighed. It didn't really fill him with confidence, either. "I won't go back to ignoring you again. I promise that. It was easier in Skifander when your mother was the one doing the ruling, but we'll have to do the best we can." It really wasn't fair to Gil to try and reforge this relationship when he could give him so little, now. But he'd have to trust that Barry was right and it wouldn't have been better to give him nothing.

"I'll try," said Gil, looking -- oddly -- a little more reassured. "I'm glad to know," he added suddenly. "That it's you. And what happened."

Responses like I'm glad you're not disappointed and I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner flitted through Klaus's mind, but they seemed wrong. Too much about his feelings rather than Gil's. "That's good to know," he said, instead, feeling it was a cop out.

Gil smiled at him, uncertain but luminous, and headed for class.

Tarvek crept into class, all too aware people could tell he’d been crying, and tried not to meet anyone’s eyes. Agatha and Gil were in their usual seats next to each other, Tarvek’s seat on the other side of Gil left open. He wondered whether to look around and see if there was a spare seat somewhere else, after last night, but if this was his last class on the airship…maybe he could say something to Gil? He swallowed and took his normal seat, Agatha looking up to smile at him across Gil, more fierce than happy. Gil hunched down into his seat, focussed on his text book completely. It wasn’t unusual, Gil being defensive in the classroom, but this time Gil’s hunching put a shoulder to Tarvek’s seat. Tarvek was the one being defended against. It wasn’t fair, he hadn’t hurt Gil. He sat down anyway, pulling out his own textbook, and scrunching down himself, feeling as if every eye in the classroom was on him.

Agatha reached across Gil to grab Tarvek's wrist tightly. Being five, in spite of the hard cushion that raised her to a comfortable height for writing she had to practically lie on the desk to do it. It made Tarvek feel better -- not much, but a little, mostly because she wanted to try. On the other hand, Gil scowled, slid deeper into his seat, and tried to hide from both of them.

"Ahem." Otilia gave them a pointed look, though she didn't seem really angry yet.

Agatha gave an exasperated huff and let go of Tarvek, only to ruffle Gil's hair before settling down and apparently turning her attention to the lesson. Between that and Gil's fierce concentration, Tarvek felt he certainly ought to be able to focus on it, but his thoughts skittered constantly off as if the ideas were slippery and got stuck on the Baron's anger and his father's imagined wrath and over and over and over again, on that awful look Gil had given him.

When he was called away to the Baron's office he wasn't sure whether to be terrified or relieved that at least he would know the worst. But the worst turned out to be better than he could have hoped. He wasn't even going to be punished, really, being forced to follow the school rules wasn't a punishment. He returned to the classroom feeling a little sick and shaky with relief, which mixed oddly with the dread that returned when Gil didn't even look up. He leant over Agatha's seat as he passed it and whispered, "He wants to see you now." Then, even quieter, because he didn't want Gil to hear it, not if Gil was going to be disappointed, but it was too wonderful not to tell Agatha who would care, "I'm staying."

Agatha practically lit up. She looked at Otilia, who nodded to excuse her, and then hurried out of the classroom looking entirely too happy for someone who was being reprimanded. Tarvek only hoped that wouldn't get her in worse trouble with the Baron.

Tarvek sat down and actually managed to concentrate long enough to write a few sentences, before glancing around to check people weren't paying attention to them and saying softly, "Gil?"

Gil didn't look up, but he bit his lips and then finally replied, almost inaudibly, "What?"

Tarvek blinked and let his eyes skitter away. "I'm sorry about the spying," he whispered. "I don't see why you're so upset about it. I didn't make you do anything. But I wouldn't have told you if I'd known it was going to be like this."

Gil finally looked at him, frustrated and incredulous and Tarvek had a fleeting thought of At least I'm not the only one but he really wanted it to stop. He kept his own eyes down this time, watching Gil in his peripheral vision until Gil said, "I never should have taken you anywhere."

"There were plenty of places we didn't even see anything. Not like that." The stained glass windows, their redoubt, the gym full of not-really-ice. "I thought it was fun." Did Gil really wish they'd never done any of those things?

"I still shouldn't've." Gil sniffed, and then looked even angrier.

"Why not? It wouldn't have been any different with anyone else." He looked around the room at all the children who also sent coded letters home (he'd read some of them) and weren't in any danger of being kicked off. "Or is that why you don't make friends, because you'd have to get rid of them for not living up to your standards?" He stopped, biting his lip hard, he hadn't meant that. "Sorry!" he didn't even bother to whisper it this time.

Gil raised his head again, looking as if he would like to murder Tarvek, and Otilia appeared by their desks, her great wings fanning up and out. "Quiet, please."

"Sorry, Madame Otilia," Tarvek said, curling over his textbook and feeling a bit like he'd deserve it if Gil did.

Gil echoed the apology, which was odd because he had never raised his voice, and turned a little toward Agatha's empty desk, writing furiously. A moment later, when Otilia was on the other side of the room, he whispered, "Nobody else pretended to care." The nib of his pen snapped, and Gil slapped a hand down on the shard of metal before it could fly off and hit anybody, smearing his hand with ink and a trickle of blood. Of course that got Otilia's attention, and by the time his hand was clean Agatha was coming back into the classroom, more somber than when she'd left but still unafraid, and she directed Gil in his turn to the Baron.

Tarvek resisted the urge to just bury his head in his arms and give up. He could apologise when Gil came back. Probably. If Gil would ever talk to him again.

Agatha tried patting him. Tarvek tried to smile at her and, judging by the concerned look he got, failed utterly.

Gil was gone for an alarmingly long time. But when he came back, he looked relieved, and he slid in between them almost as if nothing were wrong.

To Tarvek's frustration, Otilia kept them busy enough or paid the three of them too much attention to allow any further efforts at apology. But at the end of the lesson, Gil muttered, "I'm still mad at you. But I'm glad you're staying," and then, to complete Tarvek's bewilderment, he got away from them and spent the rest of the afternoon talking to Sleipnir.

Chapter Text

The same thing kept happening. Gil didn't exactly act angry, most of the time, but he didn't talk to Tarvek. He did talk to... to everyone else, and they were all surprised and some of them were cruel and most of them seemed to be more or less won over.

And Tarvek didn't quite know whom to talk to himself, except for Agatha, when everything was upside-down; and it wasn't that he wanted Gil to have a hard time with other people but he was starting to wonder if Gil had only spent time with him because of not thinking he had other options.

It only took a few days for it to wear on Tarvek. They’d nearly always worked together in classes, or sat together in ones where work wasn’t done in groups, and now he had to either move or put up with Gil ignoring him. At least Agatha still spoke to him. It was when it came back around to their weekly history class, the same lesson the Baron had called them out of, that Tarvek decided he just couldn’t face getting through the whole morning with Gil turned away from him, probably twisting around to exchange words or pass notes with the people behind him. He and Sleipnir had been throwing paper planes across the room the day before, every time the maths teacher’s back was turned (they wouldn’t have got away with it in one of Otilia’s classes). Tarvek sniffed, and curled back up on his bed, Andy snuggled comfortingly against his stomach. Maybe he could just stay like this? Otilia would have the class to teach, she wouldn’t come looking for him. Probably no one would mind that much that he wasn’t there.

Tarvek shut his eyes for just a bit, then opened them and watched the clock.

The lesson began.

Otilia didn't come.

Nobody came.

The clock ticked quietly along and Tarvek shut his eyes again, counting off seconds. Eventually the churning in his stomach quieted. Nobody was coming to get him. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be relieved or sorry. (He was supposed to be in class.)

He woke with a start, surprised he'd actually been to sleep but a little relieved because that might mean he'd been tired enough to have an excuse if anyone remarked on his absence. He hadn't ever felt nearly this tired when they were sneaking around, though, even in the night.

The lesson would be nearly over by now. Tarvek was beginning to feel nervous again, and Andy stirred and patted him with a soft trunk. He'd thought things might almost be okay after all, when the Baron had said he could stay. And then maybe again, when Gil said he was glad. Gil wasn't acting like it, though. Tarvek wasn't sure he could blame him.

All the clocks in the school were synchronised. Precisely one minute after the class ended, there was a sharp rap on Tarvek's door, metal on metal, and he gulped and went to open it.

Otilia loomed in the doorway, gazing down at him reproachfully, and then -- Tarvek swallowed hard -- with sympathy. One cool hand came down to rest on his head, gently. "You cannot allow sorrow to bring your life to a halt," she said. "I expect you to attend class from now on."

I fell asleep, Tarvek thought of saying. I'm sorry. I think I might be ill. He felt ill a lot of the time lately. Unsteady and queasy, and as if his eyes or nose might run. But he knew it was all emotion and not disease. At least, he was pretty sure. And Otilia knew it too. "Yes, Madame Otilia."

Otilia left, and Tarvek rubbed the back of his wrist across his eyes. He wasn't sure he precisely felt better for knowing he wasn't in trouble with her, or for her having cared enough to come and look after all, but it was something. He closed his door again and went back to sit on his bed. It was lunchtime now. He still didn't want to see anyone. He wasn't hungry, anyway.

For several minutes, nothing happened, except that Andy climbed up beside him. Tarvek petted the soft shaggy fur and took a moment to inspect his teeth to see if the tusks needed any attention.

Then there was a bump at his door and a clatter, not like knocking. It sounded like it was being kicked.

"Who's there?" he called, trying to work out why anyone would kick his door. If they wanted to get in they could just open it.

"Me," said Agatha's voice. "My hands are full. Let me in! Please," she added as an afterthought, not sounding any less imperious.

Tarvek slid off the bed and went to open the door. Agatha was the one person he wouldn't mind seeing right now, and he was a bit relieved that she had come, even if she should be having lunch.

Agatha did have lunch, as it turned out. She had his lunch too. Her hands were full of a tray almost too big for her, which probably had contributed to the demand in her voice, and she hurried through the door and set it down with a sigh of relief, then turned to him, hands on her hips. "Were you here all day?"

"All morning," Tarvek corrected defensively. "I fell asleep."

Agatha frowned at him. "You never skip class."

"You don't make a fuss when Gil does it."

"We go find him afterward. And ask what's the matter if we don't know." Agatha sighed and came over as suddenly as she'd come in, to hug him.

Tarvek hugged her back, hard. It helped, even if he wasn't sure she should be looking after him. She was only five. But he'd never thought it strange, really, that she looked after Gil. "Sorry," he muttered.

"I asked Gil to come with me," she said, mostly to his stomach. "He told me if you were hiding it probably meant you didn't want to see people and I said he was glad to see us anyway and he said you'd told him to make more friends and he was doing it."

"I didn't..." Tarvek trailed off and sniffed."That's actually nicer than what I said," he admitted miserably, wondering whether Agatha would be mad at him now too. "But I didn't mean I didn't want to be friends with him. I've been trying to apologise and he won't talk to me and he's forgiven everyone else who said mean things to him."

Agatha huffed but she didn't let go of him. "I don't know what you said, but I'd be very surprised if it was worse."

"I asked if he didn't make friends because he'd just get rid of them when they weren't good enough. I know it's not like that but it felt like that." It still did feel like that, like Gil had suddenly decided things Tarvek had been doing all along, things he'd known about, marked Tarvek as not worth his time.

Agatha let go with one arm and rubbed at the side of her face, somehow a weirdly adult gesture, and after a moment Tarvek thought she'd got it from visiting Lilith and then instead that he'd seen Barry Heterodyne do it, which might make it the most accurate thing in some of the books. "I don't know what Gil's problem is," she said with a sigh. "I mean, I sort of do. I don't think either of us thought about doing anything that would mess up what Baron Wulfenbach and Uncle Barry are trying to do. I didn't think it would be a problem for your father to know but Uncle Barry said it was kind of like telling other people your secrets or Gil's." She patted Tarvek's back. "But it's not like they're even all that mad at you now."

"Your uncle was really nice," he said. Barry Heterodyne had said Gil wanted him to stay even before Gil had said it himself. "You're not mad at me?" Even though that was possibly a stupid question when she was trying to reassure him, and had just said she didn't understand why Gil was mad at him.

"He's always really nice," Agatha said. "And I was a little bit, but not anymore." She looked up at him, golden eyebrows knitting, and added firmly, "And I was still your friend when I was."

"That's more than Gil is, then." He let go of her and smiled, trying to take the sting out of the bitterness behind that comment. "Thanks."

"He's--" Agatha stopped, scowling, as if she'd just realised she couldn't really speak for Gil. "He says he is. He still ought to be. I wish he'd answer questions anymore!"

"...he's being weird with you, too?" asked Tarvek, surprised. Obviously Gil was still talking to Agatha. He'd assumed things were the same for them as they'd always been.

"Kind of. He doesn't act like he doesn't want to talk to me, but there's something funny about it when he does, like he's not exactly comfortable." Agatha sighed. "We should eat lunch."

Tarvek considered saying he wasn't hungry, but now that he wouldn't have to go and eat with everyone else he kind of was. "Thanks for bringing it," he said, instead, going to sit down on the bed again.

“I thought if you didn't come to class you probably wouldn't come out and eat either."

Tarvek ducked his head slightly because, yes, there was no denying Agatha's observational skills there. "I'll come to class this afternoon," he said. Otilia had told him to, anyway.

"Good." Agatha picked at her food a little. "Should I start sitting in the middle?"

Tarvek winced and considered protesting that he didn't need protecting from Gil -- and Gil certainly didn't need protecting from him whatever he thought -- but it would be less depressing not to sit next to someone determinedly ignoring him. "It might help."

"Maybe I can do that then." After a few more bites, Agatha said, "Maybe I'll write to Uncle Barry. He might know what to do if you're having an argument with somebody who won't tell you what it's about."

"Oh. That could be good." It seems like a strangely specific thing to ask advice about, but Barry Heterodyne had been nice and didn't seem like he'd be offended at being asked. Tarvek took a few bites of his own food and was surprised to find that he felt better for it.

"He's doing a lot of politics lately," she added reflectively. "So it might be more likely."

It was so... accurate and frustrating and ridiculous, that Tarvek laughed for the first time in a week.

Gil was harder to get alone than he used to be. Agatha finally resorted to going up and asking him and Sleipnir and Theo all at once if she could talk to him please when they were done, which made it a little harder to say no.

He followed her to her room when the lab time ended, looking puzzled and a little worried. "What was that all about?"

Agatha turned around and looked up at him. "Why are you acting like you don't want to talk to Tarvek?"

"He can talk to me if he wants to. I'm not stopping him," said Gil, flushing slightly.

"That wasn't the question!"

"What if I don't want to talk to him, then?" said Gil. "I don't have to."

This was true but really not helpful. "I guess you don't, but then why don't you?"

"Why are you the one asking?"

Agatha sighed. "Because he thinks you don't want to talk to him!"

"So he sent you to find out for him?"

"No," Agatha said, "so he gave up trying and skipped class all morning." She didn't like this. If Gil was upset enough to hide it was usually because of someone she didn't mind being mad at.

Gil scowled, and it was a familiar expression, Gil going defensive at someone he didn't really want to fight but couldn't get away from. "Tarvek is not my problem. He's lucky he's even still here!"

Agatha stamped her foot. "So are we! I didn't want him to go, did you?" The last bit sort of slipped out, disbelieving.

"No! That's not what I meant." For a moment Gil looked almost panicked and then he glared at her. "He hasn't changed though. We found out more about stuff, but he knew all along. And you're still too young to understand."

Agatha was a little bit guiltily relieved at the first bit, because she hadn't wanted to think that, but she was frowning at him again almost right away. "I'm not. Uncle Barry explained everything."

"Then what do you think's going to happen? If it even looks like...you know the Baron wanted him kicked off, he'd just do it next time."

Maybe she didn't understand. At least, she didn't think she understood that. "You're not talking to him because you think he's gonna get expelled after all?"

"Not exactly. Probably not." Gil took a deep breath. "Just drop it."

"You're not making sense," Agatha protested. "And you're upsetting my friend but I can't be mad at you properly!"

"I thought I was your friend and now you want to be mad at me?" Gil demanded.

"That's why I can't!"

"You're not acting like you can't!"

"I don't want to be but you're making both possibilities very difficult!"

"You're making it pretty easy to get mad at you!"

Agatha huffed. "It's okay for you to be mad at your friends but not me?"

"It's not like I'm picking sides by being mad at you," said Gil.

"I want you both to be nice to each other!"

"But you're only being nice to him."

"I am not. I talk to you when you let me!"

"I let you talk to me now and you started yelling at me."

Agatha was starting to think she should have written to Uncle Barry first. "If I knew what Tarvek was doing to bother you I'd try to get him to stop."

"I don't want you to do anything about Tarvek. Just leave me alone about him." Gil shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away from her.

"I don't understand why you're taking it more personally than everybody else!" Agatha's shoulders slumped, but she fought down the urge to stamp her foot again. "You're acting like you're more mad at him than Baron Wulfenbach."

"I'm not mad, I'm..." Gil stopped and paced across the room. "We kind of helped him get in trouble, as well as helping him make it. This is safer."

Agatha stared at him. He wasn't acting like he didn't want to talk to her anymore, at least -- of course, he could just walk out of her room if he really wanted instead of turning his back, that was why she'd come here -- but he was still not making a lot of sense to her. "I think I'm getting more confused every time you try to explain," she said sadly, then added in mild alarm, "Um, that doesn't mean stop, please."

"I really can't explain," said Gil, sounding more frustrated than angry, now. "I probably shouldn't have said that. You won't get it, but..."

"But you think Tarvek would?" But what could he be not supposed to explain?

Gil suddenly slammed his hand into the wall next to her, looming over her. "Don't tell him. He'll be in worse trouble if he does."

Agatha jumped and clenched her fists, but her mind caught up before she could try to punch him in the stomach and she relaxed, a bit shocked at herself for even imagining it. Gil would never actually hurt her, and she wasn't sure why he was acting like he wanted her to think he might. "I wasn't going to tell him," she said, a little insulted. "You know I don't tell your secrets."

Gil stepped back, looking guilty and embarrassed and as if he was a bit confused at having done that himself. "I wasn't sure, when you're worried about him."

"I'm not sure telling him something that doesn't make sense would help even if it wasn't a secret," said Agatha, feeling grumpy. "But I won't tell him you have one, either."

"You can tell him I'm not mad at him," said Gil. "He probably won't believe it from you, either, but it is true."

Agatha sighed. That might be as good as it was going to get. "I believe you. Even if you are confusing." She hugged him. "I'm gonna sit in between you tomorrow, okay? You're both driving me crazy over there."

Gil hugged her back, letting his breath out as if he'd been holding it. "Okay," he said. "Thanks."

Agatha sighed and leaned on him for a little bit. "I miss doing stuff all together," she said. "But I'll tell him you're not mad, anyway."

Gil nodded and then let go. "We should get back," he said.

"Yeah, I guess." Agatha retied her ponytail and followed him out. When she played with her toys that night, Princess Stompy Boots mentioned how glad she was that Mister Quackers and Nosey were such good friends. Maybe a little too loud.

"Gil." Lilith Clay's voice caught him lingering over his notes in the music classroom. Gil had been less in a hurry to get to the free laboratory time lately -- even if he was making more friends now, it wasn't really the same as working comfortably with Agatha and Tarvek -- but he liked it here anyway. Sure, the students made a lot of mistakes, but with a good piano even the mistakes could be pretty.

He looked up. In his peripheral vision, he saw Agatha (and Tarvek) pause in the doorway on their way out. He glanced at Agatha, avoiding Tarvek's eyes, and waved her on as cheerfully as he could. "Yes, Mistress Clay?"

"You seem to be particularly fond of music." Before he could get up, she came over to his desk. "I've recommended to Madame Otilia and to the Baron that you take one-on-one lessons in practice and composition, and they've agreed. I hope you're interested."

"Thank you," said Gil, surprised at being singled out. "I mean, yes, I'm interested."

Lilith smiled at him warmly. "We're trying to add individual lessons for anyone who's interested. If it's enough, we may need more music teachers. But this should be a good start. Do you have some time now? If not, we can schedule it later."

"Now is good if you have time," Gil said. He didn't have anything specific planned and Lilith was really nice.

"Good. Let's go, then."

"Go?" Gil looked at the classroom instruments in confusion. Where did they need to go?

Lilith chuckled. "Somewhere quieter." It was true that the noise of the rest of the school did come through the walls, and sound went the other way just as well. Gil nodded and followed her out.

The room where she took him did contain a piano. It also contained the Baron, who stood up as they entered, towering. Gil goggled at him, mind going blank in surprise.

"Gilgamesh," said the Baron. "How have you been?"

"Uh," Gil said, trying to collect his wits. This was his father. Really. And he'd said he would make time to see Gil. "Okay." After a few seconds' frantic contemplation, he added, "How are you?"

"I have been fine." The Baron looked as much at a loss as Gil felt. "I'm told you have been making more friends lately."

"Oh. Yes." Gil rubbed the back of his neck. "It... seemed like a good idea." Somehow.

"It's good to know you're getting along better with your classmates."

Gil felt his shoulders slump. He was, but... not with the ones who mattered most. "Yes, sir."

"Klaus," said Lilith, startling Gil a bit. She was always suitably formal when speaking to the students, but of course, she was Judy from the stories -- well, the ones that really happened anyway -- and they'd been friends for a long time. "Gil." Her voice was kind but very firm. "If the two of you are just going to stand here and make awkward small talk otherwise, I will make you both play the piano."

The Baron caught Gil's incredulous look and surprised him by smiling. "I'm pretty sure she's serious."

"Um... we could do that?" Gil ventured. "Only, I'm sorry, I thought I was coming here for a piano lesson and now I don't know what to say."

"There wasn't much chance to give you advance warning," said the Baron, relaxing slightly. "I should have had a better idea of what to say myself. We can play if you like, music was never precisely my forté, but I think I remember how."

Somehow, that made Gil feel better, and he asked in something of a rush, "Can I hug you again first?" and caught a bizarrely... approving and triumphant little smile from Lilith.

The Baron smiled too. "Come here then."

Gil ran to him, not entirely sure why he was running -- for only a few steps, at that -- but it felt almost-familiar once he was doing it and he wanted that. The Baron inhaled sharply and caught him up, and that felt right too, confusing as it was. Gil sighed and relaxed for what felt like the first time in a week.

The Baron held Gil against his chest, one hand ruffling Gil's hair and murmured something in a language Gil almost knew -- then sighed and added in Romanian, sounding embarrassed in a way he hadn't in the other language but as if he felt it was unfair not to translate, "Love you, little one."

"Oh." Gil felt a rush of embarrassed delight, squirmed a little involuntarily and then tried to hold on harder to make up for it. "...Love you too." He looked up. "Can you teach me Skif -- Skifandrian? Again? Um, that didn't sound right."

"Skiff," said Lilith. "You just about had it the first time." A fond smile at both of them. "I'll leave you two alone for now."

"Yes, if you like," said the Baron, still sounding discomfitted. "I doubt you'll have a chance to use it, though."

"If you don't think it's a good idea...." Gil tried not to sound disappointed.

"No, I don't mind. It's just...that neither of us will be returning there." The Baron swallowed and gently put Gil down. "Nonetheless, if you want to learn we can always talk Skiff to each other."

Gil looked down. It probably wasn't rational to hope that relearning the language -- surely he'd been able to talk before? -- would help him remember anything. He did want to learn, but not if it made his father unhappy. "I'd like to know." He climbed onto the piano bench, looking at the keys a little blankly, and started practicing scales.

In spite of all the lessons and months in between it made him think of Agatha and the music box. He hit a false note and stopped, trying to catch his breath.

The Baron came to sit down beside him, looking down at him with concern. "What's wrong?"

"We were going to--" Gil stopped again. His voice sounded wrong. He had a father, he was seeing him, he still loved him, he was making friends, he was supposed to be happy!

"Who?" The Baron put a hand on his shoulder, letting it rest there.

"We were going to play the piano," Gil said, and then slid over and leaned into the Baron's side. The... his father folded an arm around him and Gil felt him looking down, looking worried. "I... I don't think I'm very good at this," he said after a moment. Then, painfully, "Maybe you shouldn't have told me after all."

"What is it you're not good at? Secrecy? You kept your own secrets from me well enough." There was no blame in his father's voice.

"That was when I wasn't talking to you!"

His father cleared his throat. "You do have a point. I'm sorry if knowing has made things more difficult for you," he said stiffly.

Gil sighed shakily. "I don't mean I don't want to know, not really. But I don't know how to talk to them anymore."

"Are they asking questions about it?"

"Not... exactly." Gil dared a glance upward, then looked at the keys again and started playing, a little randomly, whatever sounded good. "I don't know what to tell Tarvek. I mean, I -- I understand the spying generally was a bad thing but if he wants to know about me...." He shrugged awkwardly. "I think he might really mean it to help." A brief silence. "And Agatha wants to know why I'd be more offended than she is when Barry Heterodyne's her uncle."

"Would it help if I set up another fake identity, one you wouldn't mind them believing?"

"Um...." Gil wondered if there was any polite way to say this. "It's not just... I could live with them believing the pig story, but Tarvek thinks it's implausible."

"A more plausible story then?"

At least his father didn't seem offended. "That might help?" He didn't look forward to lying to them, but a lie they had already spotted problems with was even less appealing.

"I'll work on it. It might take a little while to come up with something." His father played a few notes, thoughtfully. "It wasn't my intention for this to come between you and your friends. If Agatha was a little older I'd consider telling her."

But Agatha was five and this was hard enough at eight. Gil echoed the notes on another octave, then shifted each up by a fifth. "Because her uncle knows anyway."

"Yes, mostly." The notes settled into an actual tune, played competently.

Gil listened for a few seconds watching his father's hands, then realised it was a song he knew and joined in. He missed a few notes -- he hadn't played it before, and his hands were smaller -- but he thought it wasn't bad for a first try. "Mostly?"

"I suppose I hope the alliance will last another generation. There's no reason it shouldn't."

Gil looked up, fingers still moving. "You don't sound very sure about that!" But it was Agatha.

"Her family has not, historically, been very reliable. She is being raised by Barry, and she already has a strong sense of justice. On the other hand she's still five, I can't foresee who she will grow up to become."

Gil frowned. "She's Agatha. She's kind of scary sometimes but she's really nice."

"I didn't intend to malign her. She's just young."

"...So'm I."

His father's playing faltered and then stopped. "True enough. But it's your secret, if anyone has the right to know...." He shook his head. "At this point I really am just concerned that she'd tell people. Nothing worse."

Gil hesitated, then leaned into him again. "Who else does know?" Barry Heterodyne, obviously. Lilith must.

"Barry, Punch and Judy. Castle Heterodyne -- which was not my idea. Otilia."

"Oh," said Gil, then, teasing just a little bit, "so you told your best friends."

That got him a startled huff, almost laughter. "When you've known yours for twenty years I won't object to you telling them."

Gil wrinkled his nose up and then grinned. "I was sort of hoping you'd admit it before I was that old."

"I will. When you've finished your education." He started playing again, softer, a more spritely tune, lagging slightly as if he found this one harder or was out of practice.

"Oh. ...Good." That seemed like a very long time away, but it was a specific thing to look forward to, and that was nice. "Why'd he tell Castle Heterodyne, anyway?"

"So he could tell it not to hurt you when you visited. Which was reasonable, but he could have ordered it not to hurt you without that." His father sighed. "I suppose he knows the wretched building better than I do."

"I guess." Gil considered worrying about this and decided he didn't really. He wasn't going to tell anyone, himself, but he couldn't think of any reason Castle Heterodyne would be upset about it.

After a little more playing, in which his father looked as if he was concentrating ferociously on something, but didn't sound like it was particularly on the piece, his father said, "You could tell them a modified version of the truth. Tarvek's family absolutely must not know that you are mine. But a Martian Prince sounds strange enough to be covered up and would have no bearing on Sturmvoraus politics."

Gil blinked, intrigued by this prospect. "I'm not sure they'd believe that either," he said. Tarvek might just conclude that Baron Wulfenbach made up really strange cover stories. "But -- oh. Can I tell them Barry Heterodyne does?"

His father's mouth twitched. "I'll even tell him to corroborate it if Agatha asks."

Gil grinned at that. "That should help."

"Yes." His father's fingers stilled on the keys, and his smile faded away leaving him looking almost grey. "It is not without risk. Communication with Skifander is rare and difficult, but we are living proof that it is possible. And there are people there who might even come here to harm you." His hand closed on Gil's shoulder. "It is not something Tarvek would feel duty bound to report to his family, it is something he could use against you in future if he chose to. Or that could cause danger for you if spread too carelessly. It's not so dangerous that I will stop you telling them if you wish, but be aware of what you are trusting them with."

Gil bit his lip. They hadn't taken it very seriously before, but then it had only been wild speculation; he hadn't been trying to tell them that Baron Wulfenbach said it (which might just make Tarvek more curious, if he thought it was another lie) or that Barry Heterodyne believed it. And his father looked so worried about it.

Although Gil really didn't think Tarvek wanted to hurt him. Well... he might now. But he probably didn't want to get him killed. By, um, assassins from Mars. Gil wasn't sure Tarvek would take that possibility very seriously either, actually.

"I'll think about it," he said. "Thank you."

"We can still come up with something else, if you'd rather not risk it." His father smiled slightly again, looking much better for it. "Or if you think this is too hopelessly implausible to solve the problem."

Gil leaned into him a little again. "Well, I believe you."

"Good to know," his father said, smiling down at him.

Gil listened to his father play for a little longer and then murmured, "This is nice."

"It is," his father agreed. "But I'm afraid our time's almost up."

"Oh." Gil swallowed. Maybe he shouldn't have wasted so much of it complaining. But it had... helped, maybe. And it occurred to him that nobody would expect him to have just one music lesson. His father might not come every time, but he might mean to come more than once. "Okay. How d'you say goodbye in Skiff?"

"Akaz," said his father, bending down to ruffle Gil's hair.

Gil stood up on the piano bench to hug him. "Akaz," he repeated.

His father held him close for a moment and sighed, and then left. Lilith came back in and Gil really did have a piano lesson... although she hugged him too, first. Gil wasn't completely sure why but he wasn't complaining.

He went back to the school feeling much calmer and trying not to think about how easy it would be to get through the interstices of the dirigible into his father’s office. Even the Jägers might not notice.

Agatha didn't tell Tarvek what Gil had said, of course. Even if she hadn't said she wouldn't, and even if Gil hadn't thought Tarvek could work it out, she knew Tarvek wouldn't be able to resist picking at a mystery. Secrets worked better if nobody thought she had any.

She did tell him, "Gil says he's not mad at you anymore but he doesn't think you'll believe it."

Tarvek looked across the room glumly. "I'd believe it if he acted like he wanted to be around me."

"He says he thinks we should stay apart because we helped you get in trouble."

Tarvek looked incredulous.

Agatha shrugged. "I didn't think that made much sense either."

Agatha still talked to just about everybody; she always did and she didn't see any reason to stop. She was getting worried about Tarvek, though, who had always said keeping up with one's connections was important (she wasn't sure why he thought he needed an excuse to make friends) but now kept withdrawing and, with Gil unavailable, apparently gave up on starting conversations with anybody else either. This just got worse when Gil started having private music lessons, even though a bit later they both did too.

It was a relief when Gil came over to them one day after Lilith took him off for a private music lesson, even if he looked kind of scowly. It wasn't a real scowl, not like when he was mad. More like he was thinking and being stubborn. "I want to tell you something," he said abruptly.

"That's new," said Tarvek.

Gil sat back on his heels and made a face at him. "Well, fine, I can just tell Agatha."

"You can tell both of us," Agatha said quickly. "Tarvek, be nice!"

"Fine," said Tarvek, folding his arms. "I'm listening."

Gil looked doubtful but then sighed. "Okay. I... um... the Baron actually told me who my family was but it's... really weird."

"You stopped talking to me for weeks because your family is weird?" said Tarvek, incredulously.

Gil glowered at him. "He said I actually am a Martian prince, okay?"

"And you believed him?"

"See, this is why I wasn't sure I should say anything," Gil grumbled. "He went travelling to someplace he'd been before with the Heterodyne Boys and missed the whole thing with the Other, and then kind of kidnapped me because people were trying to kill me. He said Barry would back him up about it, too."

Agatha blinked. "Um, do you want me to ask him, then?" It wasn't an unbelievable thing to have happened -- Uncle Barry had gone very quiet that one time she asked if she'd ever been to the moon, but he'd said yes -- but she wasn't sure why being from Mars should be a big secret.

"He was somewhere else during the Other's attacks," said Tarvek. "But Mars? I'll believe it if Lord Heterodyne says so."

"I don't think he was on Mars," Agatha pointed out. "But I don't think Baron Wulfenbach lies to him either."

"Everyone lies to people," said Tarvek. "About something, anyway. But I don't see why Lord Heterodyne would lie about this, and he could at least tell us he'd been to Mars before."

Gil sat back, folding up with his arms wrapped around his knees. "He said I shouldn't tell people. He said it was dangerous. I kind of thought it was mostly dangerous in case people thought I was crazy but he apparently thinks Mars might send assassins. I can't really see either of you getting in touch with Martian assassins though."

"Assassins from Mars," said Tarvek. "That just sounds like a Heterodyne Boys title. It doesn't sound real."

"I did tell you it sounded weird," Gil said grumpily.

"I won't tell anyone, because it sounds like complete nonsense," said Tarvek. "And you know I won't tell anyone."

Gil glared at him. "You don't believe me. Or you think I'm stupid for believing it."

"I don't know! I'm not about to believe just anything without evidence. And I still don't see why this would stop you talking to me!" said Tarvek, glaring back.

Gil huddled up a little more, looking mulish. "He saved my life and you were spying on him and it didn't sound like you were going to stop."

"Everyone's spying on him," said Tarvek, running a hand back through his hair frustratedly. "That's normal for hostages. All our families are spying on each other, too, you don't have to take it so personally."

"I'm not a hostage," said Gil. "Me spying on him is... it's dishonourable."

"I'm not sure you're exactly a hostage either," Agatha said to Tarvek. "Uncle Barry and Baron Wulfenbach didn't ask for you to be. Your father's supposed to be their ally."

"He offered me officially as a hostage when he proposed the treaty," Tarvek said stiffly.

Agatha shrugged. "Okay, but I'm not sure it counts when you could've just come to be a student like I did."

"It still counts," said Tarvek. "Even though my father suggested it, it's still the same conditions."

Agatha frowned. "What are the conditions, then?"

"Hostages are killed if their parents misbehave," said Tarvek, not sounding more than a little resigned to this.

Agatha looked at him in shock. "But that's awful! That can't be right, Uncle Barry wouldn't do that!"

"How did you think having control of people's children was meant to work?" Tarvek asked.

Agatha opened her mouth, then stopped and shut it and frowned. She didn't know, actually. "I hadn't thought about it that much. I'm going to have to ask Uncle Barry about that too. And I think I should go talk to Baron Wulfenbach." She stood up and brushed off her skirt; she'd been wearing her dresses more since they hadn't had anywhere to go climbing. "Excuse me, please."

"Agatha! You can't just go and tell the Baron you don't think he should have hostages!" said Tarvek, scrambling up as well.

"I know," Agatha said patiently, "I have to ask for permission and I think an appointment."

"That's not what I meant," said Tarvek, but he sounded less agitated about it. "I don't think you can get an appointment to talk to the Baron about political things when you're five."

"I don't see why not," said Agatha. "I'll go and ask Madame Otilia."

"I guess you could do that," said Tarvek, sounding like he didn't expect it to work.

"Of course I can." Agatha felt strange inside, calm and angry at the same time, a bright feeling but not very nice. She went out, leaving the boys talking in quiet uncertain tones, and waited until Otilia turned to her. "Madame Otilia. I need to make an appointment with Baron Wulfenbach, please, and have permission to leave the school to talk to him."

"What did you want to see him about?" Otilia asked.

Agatha frowned. "Tarvek says the conditions on being a hostage are that he'd kill them if their parents misbehave."

"Ah," said Otilia. "I will go and see when he's available."

"Thank you!" Agatha went back to wait with the boys, who had started a game of chess without seeming very enthusiastic, while Otilia stepped out.

A few minutes later she returned and stood over them, looking extra regal. "Baron Wulfenbach will see you."

"Oh good," Agatha said, jumping up.

Tarvek shot her an alarmed and rather stunned look. Gil looked less alarmed, but rather stunned himself.

"Um," said Gil. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course I'm sure," said Agatha. "Thank you, Madame Otilia."

Otilia walked her out of the school and all the way to the Baron's study, where she gave Agatha one of her most mysterious smiles and let her in. Baron Wulfenbach sat behind his desk, looking serious. Agatha stopped to look at him for a moment, eyebrows pinching together, and then said, "Thank you for seeing me, Herr Baron," and went around the desk to climb up and sit with him.

The Baron gave her a slightly disconcerted look. "There are other chairs in the room," he told her.

Agatha stopped and frowned at him. "Yes, but this is not that kind of conversation."

"I don't normally have any kind of conversation with people sitting on me," said the Baron. "What kind of conversation is it?"

Agatha sighed. "You don't actually spend very much time with children, do you?"

"Not lately, no," said the Baron. It was his turn to sigh, before scooping her up and depositing her on his lap. "Now, if that satisfies you, perhaps you'd care to tell me what you came to see me about?"

That was better. It was important for him to know she cared no matter what she was asking. Agatha leaned against him. "About the hostage students," she said. "Does it really mean you'd kill them if their parents did something bad?"

The Baron was very quiet for a long moment. "That is technically part of the agreement."

"But it's awful," Agatha said, then bit her lip. He had said technically. Uncle Barry said when you weren't talking about technology a lot of the time people used it to mean there was more to things. "I didn't think it could be right because you and Uncle Barry wouldn't do that."

"A lot of things in politics are awful," said the Baron. "But if their parents believe their children are at risk it stops them invading each other and more people getting killed."

"But...." She kind of wanted to turn her face against his shoulder, but she wasn't sure she did when he was the one being disturbing. She looked up at him again and wrapped one hand around his large thumb. "You wouldn't really...?" He hadn't exactly said either way. And she was sure Uncle Barry wouldn't go along with it but she didn't know Baron Wulfenbach quite as well, except that Uncle Barry cared about him a lot, and she didn't know if she was engaging in wishful thinking or something.

"Well," said the Baron and then stopped, seeming rather at a loss. "No," he admitted. "But if people think we will then they might stop invading each other."

Agatha looked up at him a little bit longer and then relaxed into the arm he'd looped around her. Once she'd got up here he didn't feel like he didn't know what to do with a child sitting on him. "Okay. Good."

"It would be best if you didn't tell the other children," he said.

Agatha hesitated. "Because they'd tell their parents and then they wouldn't be as scared to start fighting?"

"Exactly."

Agatha stopped to think for a minute. If that worked, maybe it was good, but it did bother her. And she did want to ask Uncle Barry about it too. But she didn't have to say right away. Tarvek didn't seem to have expected the Baron to listen to her anyway. But…. "Do people really think Uncle Barry would do that?"

"Possibly they don't think he could stop me doing it. The school was here before he arrived, as you know," said the Baron.

"He signed the treaties too, though." Maybe they thought he didn't think his friend meant it. This could get awfully confusing very fast. And Madame Otilia was closer and she'd certainly never let anyone-- Agatha blinked. "Um, did they not notice you put the Muse of Protection in charge of your hostages?"

The Baron shook slightly with suppressed laughter. "I don't think they considered the ramifications."

Agatha giggled, just a little bit, and leaned her head against his ribs. "I guess I should've. But I won't tell."

He stroked her hair absently. "Good girl. Now, you'd better get back to class."

"We were in free time right now," she told him, but she sat up and then slid down to the floor anyway. "But I guess you're busy. Thank you for seeing me right away."

"Otilia seemed to think it was important," he said.

"She's good at that," Agatha agreed.

"You're welcome, in any case."

Agatha smiled at him and left him to whatever adult things he was supposed to be doing. Otilia wasn't outside the door, but the nearest guard returned her smile and of course she knew her way back.

Chapter Text

Agatha came back from her interview with the Baron not in trouble and apparently satisfied, but not forthcoming about what had been said. Tarvek didn’t give much thought to it — hostage taking was the way of the world, and if Agatha had been reconciled to it then so much the better for her. She did write a long letter to Barry Heterodyne later that day, and, when she got a reply, showed him the part that confirmed that Barry Heterodyne had been to Mars and believed Gil was from there. It still left Tarvek mystified as to why that needed to be so secret — were people from Mars really likely to hear about Gil all the way from Europe? He wanted to investigate more, the whole thing just seemed slightly odd, but there wasn’t a way to investigate Mars from inside the school and he was afraid Gil would stop talking to him again if he mentioned it. Especially since he still wasn’t clear why Gil had thought he needed to the first time. It wasn’t as if Tarvek was going to tell anyone.

Gil for his part was still a little distant, grumpy that Tarvek hadn’t believed him and Tarvek, despite himself, wasn’t entirely happy with Gil either. It had always been so easy with the three of them, falling into exploring or inventing as if it was impossible to say or do the wrong thing around them. Only apparently it hadn’t been.

Then, a few days before Tarvek’s birthday, he got a letter from home suggesting that he invite Agatha to Sturmhalten for his birthday, and that he could bring that orphan she liked as well if he wished. It was hardly very gracious regarding Gil (Tarvek spent a few moments being indignant on his behalf) and Sturmhalten was…it was home, but it wasn’t a place Tarvek had ever enjoyed being much. But if it could just be the three of them for a day, maybe it would at least be a little like it had been? And it couldn’t really do any harm, his family just wanted to keep an eye on Agatha. They’d been allowed to visit Mechanicsburg for Agatha’s birthday, so surely it wouldn’t be forbidden. He made up his mind to ask.

"It won't be like Mechanicsburg," he began, as they puttered about with their riding dragon clank that evening. That wasn't as much fun as it used to be, either. Maybe they could take it with them.... Tarvek paused to try to imagine his father's reaction to that. Perhaps not.

"Most things aren't," said Gil. A little snarky but not really biting. "Were you going somewhere with that?"

Tarvek shook himself a little. "I was wondering if you'd like to come to Sturmhalten for my birthday. Only, it won't really be a party or anything." And he really hoped Agatha wouldn't expect to sneak off and explore Sturmhalten, he didn't want to imagine his father's reaction to that.

"Oh," said Agatha. "I was wondering too. That sounds nice." She gave Gil a look that was almost as hopeful as Tarvek felt.

Gil looked a little wary, but said, "I guess I can ask."

"I don't see why they'd say no, they let us visit Mechanicsburg," said Tarvek, not sure whether to relax now they'd said yes or expect something else to go wrong.

"That was really supervised," Gil said. "And before we got in trouble."

Tarvek sighed. "I liked it better when I was the only one worried about that."

The children wanted to visit Sturmhalten. Klaus controlled his immediate reaction to this and informed Agatha he would have to write to Barry. She insisted on doing so herself as well; Klaus imagined her letter was considerably friendlier.

Barry must have left as soon as he received the letters, because he turned up waiting in Klaus's office the next day. Klaus halted in the doorway and scowled at him. "How did you get in here without my knowing about it?"

"I assume you've been charging around too busy to be informed of anything short of an imminent threat," Barry said. "I'm just here to be shouted at in person."

"They want to go to Sturmhalten," said Klaus, as if Barry hadn't heard that twice over now.

"Yes." Barry left his spot against the wall and went to sit down; Klaus sighed and went to his desk, as standing in his own doorway glowering was a little ridiculous. Barry added, and it wasn't a rhetorical question, "Do you have a reason not to let them?"

"No," said Klaus, frustratedly. "Aaronev has nothing to gain by hurting Agatha, and I'm sure he doesn't know any reason he'd gain by hurting Gil. I'm still not happy about sending them into the stronghold of someone I can't trust."

"I don't blame you." Barry grimaced. "But they probably would be fine. Aaronev's not stupid." He considered briefly. "I suppose I could tell him about the portal."

"Red Fire, why do you think that would help?" said Klaus.

"Because then he'd know I have a way into Sturmhalten," Barry explained, "that he can't effectively defend."

"I think he'd just destroy it, if he really thought he couldn't set up effective traps on his end," said Klaus. Aaronev probably couldn't set up effective traps -- not against Barry -- but he might not realise that.

Barry looked rather startled by this suggestion. "It's too interesting to destroy," he protested, but then frowned. "Well, maybe not, if he already knew about it to study or was seriously planning to do something objectionable. Good point."

"I think we'd do better keeping that as a way in, if necessary. At least you'll be able to get to them quickly." He glared at Barry again. "Assuming I have to let them go."

"I don't actually think Aaronev intends to hurt either of them," said Barry. "He may think he's going to plant the idea of marrying Tarvek in Agatha's head, I suppose."

"I think Castle Heterodyne beat him to it," said Klaus, drily. "And I'm pretty sure Agatha can handle herself against hinting."

"I should hope so," Barry said. "I would almost be sorry not to hear her response if he brought it up."

"It would probably be startlingly tactful," said Klaus. Mostly because Tarvek would be present, and Agatha was careful of her friends' feelings.

"Likely," Barry said. "But it might also be a lot more direct than Aaronev thought he'd be getting. Incidentally, she wrote to me for advice on getting Gil and Tarvek to be sensible. I'm afraid I wasn't very much help."

"What on earth did you tell her?" Klaus asked, distracted and rather intrigued by this.

"Um--" Barry pushed a hand back through his hair. "That sometimes if people aren't actually trying to kill each other, you have to let them work out being upset between themselves."

"You actually included that qualification?" said Klaus. Admittedly, if it was advice Agatha was going to use in future, especially among Sparks, it might be worth bearing in mind. But still.

Barry blinked. "Well, yes. I wasn't sure if I should have added any other examples that might require intervention...."

"I don't think they really apply to the situation at hand," said Klaus.

"Well, no." At this point Barry just sounded confused. "That was the point."

"...at least she's well advised for the future," said Klaus, after a moment. "They're talking to each other again, by the way. I suppose you already heard that from her."

"Yes, but apparently still grumpy. Agatha thinks the invitation is Tarvek's attempt to make up for not believing the Martian prince story until I corroborated it."

"...Which means stopping Gil from going would look like a rejection," said Klaus. He felt like he ought to be in favour of driving a wedge between them. It had been easier to prioritise Gil's safety over his happiness when he hadn't been there to see him cry about it. "Especially without explanation."

"There is that. We could suggest that after all the times they sneaked off with him they shouldn't expect to be sent new places together, but it's still a rebuff."

Klaus nodded. "And you really don't think Aaronev is plotting anything beyond, possibly, matchmaking?"

"I'm sure he's plotting greater influence or ultimately control of Europe," Barry said easily, "but he's not likely to think he can get that by harassing our children."

Klaus let out a snort that was half laugh. "True enough," he said, feeling strangely relieved at having it stated like that.

"And in case of the unforeseen...." Barry looked thoughtful. "Have you made any more of those beacons?"

Gil was a little surprised and not completely sure whether to be pleased when he and Agatha both received permission for the visit. He suspected Tarvek of trying to get him away from the rest of the school and wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, and sometimes he didn't really get the idea Sturmhalten was a very nice place to visit. Then again, Mechanicsburg had been great, even if the Castle was weird.

His father found an excuse to see him beforehand. Not a very secretive one, either. Gil was called to his office (after Agatha and Tarvek, even) with the vague implication that he was going to be spoken to sternly about how he should appreciate being allowed to go anywhere after getting caught sneaking around. When he saw the Baron standing by his desk frowning, Gil rather wondered if that really was it.

"Gil," said the Baron. He held out something round and black. "I don't expect you to be in danger -- or I wouldn't be allowing this -- but in case anything happens."

Gil blinked and took it, turning it over in both hands. Easy to operate, there was one big red button, recessed to prevent accidents. And a little stub that looked like you could extend it. "What does it do?"

"It's a beacon. If you press the button it will activate, and let me know you're in trouble."

Gil looked up from it. "Oh. Thank you." A quick glance down. "Is it radio? Is this an antenna? Do I hold the button down or just push it once?"

"Yes. Yes. Just press it. Do not under any circumstances take it apart to study it, it's there for your protection," said the Baron.

"I wasn't going to!" Gil protested, although it was tempting.

"Keep it close," said the Baron, and then smiled at him, a smile that didn't look precisely fake but didn't look precisely happy either. "Try to have fun."

Gil looked up at him. "...You don't want me to go," he said, and then felt stupid about it because the Baron could have just said no.

The Baron hesitated and then surprised Gil by kneeling in front of him. Gil still had to look up, but not so far. "I'm not used to having you where I couldn't reach you easily if something happened." He gave Gil a wry look. "Or at least to knowing about it when you are. I'm sure you will be fine."

"Oh." Gil hesitated, and then stepped forward and reached up to put his arms around his father's neck. "I guess I don't usually think about being... um... accessible."

His father wrapped his own arms around Gil. "I noticed," he said. He let go and ruffled Gil's hair. "Don't worry about it. If I considered it a good enough reason to stop you going I would have."

"Okay. Thanks." Gil shoved the beacon deep in a pocket before he left, and made sure it was hidden there again on the morning of Tarvek's birthday, before they left for Sturmhalten.

It was a quiet ride. Just them and the pilot. It was weird thinking back to Agatha's birthday and how much fun they'd been having. And about the adults who'd been along and having fun too.

Somehow Gil had expected Sturmhalten to be like Castle Heterodyne, as the only ground based Castle he’d encountered. It wasn’t. It was more like Castle Wulfenbach, on the inside, at least the parts of Castle Wulfenbach that were finished. Castle Heterodyne was old and it wore all its age on the surface, bones and gargoyles and antiques. This place was new, no, it was a few centuries old, at least, but it didn’t display it. It was rather overwhelmingly decorated in gold and purple with the Sturmvoraus sigil displayed — indecisively, Gil felt — both with wings and without.

A man and a girl who had to be Tarvek’s father and sister were waiting for them in a parlour which was rather too large for a small gathering and had servants hanging around the edges of it. There was a small table with a jug of lemonade and biscuits set out, presumably to welcome them with. Gil wasn’t sure he’d dare to take one. This place seemed to demand etiquette and that had never been his best subject.

Prince Aaronev was looking at Agatha with a strangely besotted look. Gil supposed she was rather cute, and he’d seen her have that effect on adults occasionally. The Prince came forward to greet them and stopped to pat Tarvek’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, Tarvek.”

“Thank you, Father.” Tarvek sounded rather formal, and not as if he was very much at ease here, either.

Then the Prince moved on to Agatha, and smiled down at her. “Welcome back to Sturmhalten, Lady Agatha.”

"Thank you, Prince Aaronev!" Agatha said, with more enthusiasm than anyone else had managed so far. She sounded... mostly at ease, which she usually did, although Gil was fairly sure she wouldn't try to hug the Prince in the middle of all the formality. It had been weird enough when she'd started doing it to the Baron, but he'd been there with a friend and everything. "Hello, Princess Anevka. It's nice to see you again." She said this pretty convincingly even though one of the first things she'd told him about Sturmhalten was that she didn't think Anevka liked younger kids very much.

Anevka glided over -- and it really was gliding, she had to have practiced walking like that, Gil was sure no one did it naturally -- and patted Agatha on the head. "Likewise, I'm sure," she said.

Agatha's eyebrows pulled together a little. "Did people do that to you a lot when you were five?"

"You have no idea," said Anevka, giving Agatha a look as if she'd just noticed she was a person.

"That makes sense then, but I'd rather you don't, please. How have you been?" Agatha broke off here to add, "Oh, thank you," not to Anevka but to a servant who had just sort of flickered up to the girls and handed them little glasses of lemonade.

"Perfectly well," said Anevka. "And you?"

"I had a birthday too!" Agatha said happily. "There was a fair in Mechanicsburg and we got to go around and analyse all the games, and Uncle Barry got engaged. Tarvek says he doesn't think his will be quite as busy."

"Not even close," said Anevka. She put down her lemonade and glided across to hug Tarvek, "Not that I'm not glad to have my baby brother back for the day."

"I'm eight," Tarvek said, resignedly, but he did hug her back.

"I remember when you were her age. You were so cute."

"Thank you," said Tarvek. "I've been trying to get over it. Gil, would you like a biscuit?" This sounded almost normal, but Tarvek threw him a weirdly worried look when his father and sister couldn't see. Gil hoped this didn't mean there was anything strange about the biscuits.

Gil took a biscuit, it was crumbly and sugary, perfectly nice and not noticeably strange. The lemonade was good, too, and afterwards Tarvek was told he could show them around and brought them to a laboratory. It was a bit like the school one on Castle Wulfenbach -- smaller, but not by that much -- with stools and benches sized for children. "This is mine and Anevka's," Tarvek said, looking around it curiously. "She hasn't changed it much while I was away."

That seemed odd. The one at school changed a lot, even if you didn't count the school moving around when the Baron built bigger ones. "Do you usually change it more than that?" Gil asked. There weren't very many projects sitting out, either, although they looked kind of interesting. Maybe Anevka was like Tarvek and kept putting everything away.

"Not that much, but I thought she might have moved things. And sometimes our cousins use it," said Tarvek, not entirely informatively.

"Are we going to make something?" Agatha asked, climbing up on one of the stools to inspect the benchtop equipment.

"Ah, yes," said Tarvek. "There are chemicals in those cupboards, mechanical parts in those, tools over there, and half finished projects are in here." He pointed to two large cupboards. One of them was labelled "Anevka's projects. (Tweedle, if you hide a bear in here again you will get it back in pieces)."

"Would a bear fit?" Agatha asked doubtfully.

Tarvek laughed and held his hands up, indicating something about the size of a kitten. "Tweedle's would."

"Tweedle makes big mimmoths and little bears?" Gil asked, going over to have a look in the other cupboard. Probably they shouldn't mess with Anevka's without her, even without bears.

"He likes animals. More than he likes people, I think, although he can be nice. The bears sing." Tarvek came over to join Gil at the cupboard. It contained a lot of clockwork -- some of it even inside things. Including a little set of clockwork dolls that Tarvek looked a bit embarrassed about, now Gil was seeing them. "I was reading about the Muses," he said, as if that was an explanation.

"I'm not surprised," said Gil, feeling vaguely grouchy about Tarvek being embarrassed, as if Gil would be mean about the dolls even if they were maybe a little bit silly. He wondered if this Tweedle person knew anything about lobsters. "Do they work?"

"Not like Muses do, of course," said Tarvek, picking up one in a deep pink dress. "They're not even very complicated, just clockwork, really, if you wind this one up she dances. I made them a while ago."

"I didn't think you'd made them people," said Gil. "Even if you were Van Rijn I don't think they'd fit."

"Gil," said Agatha. "Tarvek. Come here, I have an idea! Ooh, could you bring the dolls?"

Agatha's idea turned out to involve making much weirder clockwork dolls, mostly in watchcases. She thought they could be useful, which Gil couldn't quite see considering their size, but trying to make tiny automata pick things up at least gave them something to concentrate on until lunch, and everything started to feel almost normal.

The morning had probably gone as well as Tarvek could have expected. It had the same nearly normal but off kilter feeling that working in the Castle Wulfenbach labs did now, only enhanced by the familiarity and strangeness of being home again after almost a year. At least Agatha had kept them all busy, she seemed to really like her little watch clanks.

Lunch was informal, which meant at a small table and with only half a dozen servants, who kept whisking in to refill Agatha's plate. She was eating as if they'd been climbing around all morning. Afterwards she excused herself politely but abstractedly, clearly eager to get back to her clanks. Tarvek had just followed her out of the room when Anevka called after him, "Tarvek, come here a moment."

Tarvek turned back. Gil looked questioningly over his shoulder, which made Tarvek feel hopeful even as he waved for Gil to go on. "Yes?"

"Father told you to bring her here, didn't he?" she said, nodding in the direction of the disappearing Agatha.

Tarvek blinked. "He said I could invite them," he replied guardedly. The letter had been rather encouraging, at least about Agatha.

"The Geisterdamen keep going on about her," said Anevka, patting her carefully styled hair with one hand. It was a studied gesture, but only because it was something she'd trained herself into instead of pulling locks out to wrap around her fingers when she was worried. "Their holy child. Seffie thinks they're going to kill her."

Tarvek couldn't help staring at her, but he tried to hide any other reaction. She could be pretending to be worried. She did that sometimes. The Geisterdamen were very strange, but this didn't seem to make sense. "Why would they do that?"

Anevka shrugged. "I don't know. I thought they worshipped her. Seffie's got strange ideas about them -- she won't visit anymore." She looked disgruntled about that. "Anyway, the Heterodyne Girl is meant to be marrying you, isn't she? So it's not like Father would help them kill her. But Seffie thinks they talk about her like a sacrifice."

"I thought Father was trying to help them get their mistress back," Tarvek said, very quietly indeed. "I can't see how killing Agatha would help, let alone doing anything to Seffie." On the other hand, Xerxsephnia had a keen sense of self-preservation. Everyone said so.

"Things have been a little creepy since they arrived. I've been glad to have you out of the way instead of underfoot and needing to be worried about," said Anevka. "I suppose you'll be gone again soon, and your friends with you."

"We're going back tomorrow," said Tarvek. It was nice of Anevka to worry, if she did, but unsettling for her to admit it.

Anevka nodded. "Run along and play while they're here, then," she said, turning away.

"Thanks," Tarvek said, now that it wasn't definitely about the worrying and she wouldn't take it back or something. She probably wanted him to be annoyed about being told to go play like a little kid. He kind of was, except he did want to go play with Gil and Agatha, and anyway he wasn't going to show he was annoyed if he could help it.

...But he wondered what the Geisterdamen could have done to make Seffie stay away.

Sturmhalten was so much more fun this time. Before, Anevka had really obviously wished she could stay instead of being sent off to make friends with Agatha, so after a short tour that had not involved going in any labs, Agatha had suggested they go back. Only, instead of just knocking on the door and going back in like Agatha expected, Anevka had gone around somewhere else and found a place to eavesdrop. And Agatha hadn't minded eavesdropping when it was part of exploring, even if Uncle Barry told her afterward that it hadn't been nice to Kl-- Baron Wulfenbach, but she had minded it a lot when they could have been inside with snacks instead of sitting somewhere too hot and uncomfortable where they couldn't ask questions.

Come to think of it, maybe it was like with Tarvek and not wanting to get in trouble. Anevka had been told to go somewhere else so she hadn't wanted to go back openly.

Anyway, this time she was with Gil and Tarvek and there was a lab. A really nice one, all to themselves. It could only have been better if they'd brought their riding dragon, because Agatha was so full of ideas all of a sudden that she could hardly decide what to do first. She'd turned around and around in the lab while the boys talked until suddenly she knew what to try: clanks that could help her do everything at once!

After lunch (which tasted better than anything ever) she almost ran down the corridors to get back to her new little clanks, Gil chasing her, and only noticed Tarvek was missing when she wanted to ask him for another of his clockwork dancers.

"Where'd he go?" she asked Gil.

"His sister called him back. Didn't you hear her?"

Agatha frowned and shook her head. "No... ooh, I bet I couldn't. I was trying to remember something and humming to myself!" It was a good hum, it felt nice in her throat and was a little bit like Uncle Barry's humming. She'd been missing that lately. He'd done it when she was very little, if they were alone somewhere safe. Castle Wulfenbach didn't hum anymore either, or it was damped out in the finished places, and she missed the vibrations from the unfinished parts.

"Uh-huh -- here he comes."

"There you are," Agatha said happily, seizing Tarvek's hand as he appeared in the doorway and towing him over to the cabinets. Even simple mechanisms like a hinge were interesting right now. Everything broke down in pieces for her when she looked at it, parts and planes, angles and axes and motions and how they could be different.

Tarvek let her have his old clanks, of course. Agatha ended up taking apart some of Anevka's as well. And by the end of the afternoon she'd discovered that humming like Uncle Barry helped her concentrate on one idea and shut out the boys' arguing over the little propeller she'd built and all the murmurs when people came to the door, and her little clanks could walk and lift things and follow simple verbal instructions.

She hated to leave for dinner, but she was really hungry again.

She told Anevka and Prince Aaronev all about it while they ate -- she had to remind herself a couple of times not to tell Tarvek and Gil because they'd been there -- and Prince Aaronev listened excitedly and asked her all the best questions and how she was feeling, and didn't scold when she forgot and talked with her mouth full. (Actually he forgot a couple of times too, but Agatha remembered to be polite and not say so either.)

"They do sound fascinating," Anevka broke in as the servants brought in little plates for dessert. "But perhaps we should give a moment to the festivities?"

Tarvek looked a bit surprised, as if he'd come close to forgetting it was his birthday, which distracted Agatha from the really good inventions she was thinking of long enough to feel guilty. Even though she thought he'd been enjoying building things, too. The servants seemed willing to take that as a cue -- perhaps because Prince Aaronev wasn't giving one -- because a moment later they had whisked in with a cake. It wasn't huge like Agatha's had been, which was just as well since they weren't sharing it with a whole town. It was plain white with a clockwork design in the icing. There was a package wrapped in gold tissue paper on the edge of the plate.

Tarvek picked it up rather carefully and looked questioningly at Anevka, who nodded. "Thank you," he said, easing the tissue paper apart gently in case whatever was inside was fragile.

It was a bronze rabbit, about as long as his hand, with a wind up key in its back. It looked old and well made, possibly Spark work, possibly just a carefully cast toy. Either way, Agatha really wanted a closer look at it. It was about the same size as the clanks she'd been making all afternoon, and she wanted to see what it could do.

"That's neat," Agatha said, peering at the hare. "A rabbit clank."

"It's a hare," Tarvek said. "See, the ears and hind legs are proportionately longer."

Agatha committed that to memory, and grinned at him when he looked as if he thought he might have offended her. "Can we see what it does when you wind it?"

"Let's see," said Tarvek, smiling as he turned the key.

The hare, when wound, hopped forward a few paces, bent its head as if grazing, twitched an ear and hopped on again. It was more or less what would be expected of a toy like this. He put a hand in front of it to stop it walking off the edge of the table and it suddenly stopped, ears going up in alarm, turned and bounded into the air. Gil caught it just before it landed in the cake and put it tentatively back on the table where it resumed hopping. "It's Spark work," Tarvek said, delighted, leaning forward, careful not to get too close and set it off again. "At least a minor Spark. It reacts. And it must have really strong springs in its legs."

"Yes." Agatha put a hand on the table, in the hare's path but at a distance, watching in fascination. "Was it hard to wind?"

"Not really. A little stiff, but I think it's pretty old." The hare stopped when it reached Agatha's hand, sat up and thumped its leg, then turned and hopped off again, more slowly now as its spring was starting to run down. "It probably only has a few reactions." Agatha nodded. Like his clockwork dancers then, and like her little clanks (which couldn't yet do anything close to everything). But real Spark work to play with, all the same, she wondered if she could take it apart with her cake fork? "We can look at its insides later, if you like?"

"Ooh. Yes, please." Agatha leaned on the table to watch it, chin in her hands, then remembered she'd been instructed to keep her elbows off the dining table and sat back, although her fists stayed clutched under her chin in delight.

"It won't bother your sister if you take her present apart?" Gil said, looking a little worried.

"It doesn't usually bother Anevka to take anything apart, unless it's hers and won't go back together when she wants it to," said Tarvek, but he looked across the table at Anevka. "You won't mind?"

"I picked it for that," said Anevka, looking pleased with herself. “I had a look myself when I cleaned the gunk out. The workings are quite interesting, and not too complicated. No buttons for you to worry about."

"I haven't had trouble with buttons since I was younger than Agatha," Tarvek said. "Uh. Did you happen to replace the gunk with anything else?"

Anevka smiled. "Out of practice?"

Tarvek sighed and looked at Agatha and Gil. "Gloves and goggles," he said firmly.

"But not tonight," Prince Aaronev said, unexpectedly. "Fascinating as I'm sure you'll find it, it's time for all of you to prepare for bed."

"Ohhh--" Agatha bit her lip hard. It had been a long dinner and she guessed it was late, but still. Well, it couldn't hurt to ask. "Couldn't we go back to the lab for just a little while?"

"I'm afraid not." Prince Aaronev looked and sounded shocked that she'd even suggested it, and Agatha felt embarrassed and then angry about having been. "Off with you all now, to be rested for the morning's travels."

She didn't know why they'd need that much rest or to start so early. It wasn't like Castle Wulfenbach was very far away right now. Maybe he thought they should arrive before the first lessons. But she'd thought she would have more time to-- "Oh, I will need to get my little clanks if we're leaving first thing--" Agatha began.

"In the morning!" said Prince Aaronev.

"Come on," Tarvek said a little nervously. "We'll get them before we leave."

The servants took over then and showed Agatha to a separate room from either of the boys, which was a little disappointing and Agatha wondered if it was on purpose to try to make sure they all slept instead of talking or sneaking out. The women also stayed around to help her wash and change, although they didn't answer very much when she talked to them, and they had barely left when somebody tapped on her door again.

"Yes?" She hauled it open -- huh, maybe there was a reason for the servants wanting to help with everything, the door didn't open as easily as the ones on Castle Wulfenbach. "Hello again, Prince Aaronev. Did you want to talk about my clanks some more?"

He bent down and smiled at her, with his eyes very bright. "Perhaps. But there are also some people here who have been very eager to see you again."

"Again?" Agatha asked in confusion, and was about to ask why and then Prince Aaronev stepped back so he wasn't filling the doorway and two Geisterdamen came in from the sides. "--Eotain! Shrdlu!" She had said it before she even remembered she wasn't supposed to say she knew them, but they were already here and Prince Aaronev already knew, and she remembered Uncle Barry had said they were bad but they'd always been nice to her and she flung herself at Shrdlu, who picked her up and they were both hugging her and the language came back even though she'd thought she was forgetting it. "I missed you so much!"

Chapter Text

"Hsst. Gil."

Gil woke up and lay very still and kept his eyes shut, though he couldn't keep them from tracking toward the heat and brightness of whatever lamp Tarvek was holding. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to admit he was awake but not sure either if he could fool Tarvek, after all the times they'd both pretended to sleep so they could sneak out.

Tarvek didn't seem to have noticed, though, because he kept trying. "Gil. Wake up. I think my father's taken Agatha."

Gil did open his eyes at that and sat right up. Tarvek jerked back just in time to keep him from bumping the glowing red light he held. Gil only then realised that the anxiety in Tarvek's voice made no sense. "She's already in his palace," he whispered back crossly. "Where else would he take her?"

Tarvek looked unhappy and somehow pale even in the red lamplight. "I don't know. But my cousin thinks the Geisterdamen want to sacrifice her."

"You're freaking out because your cousin thinks Agatha's about to be sacrificed by ghosts?" Gil scoffed.

"They're not ghosts!" Tarvek's voice rose for a moment and then he went quiet, breath shaky and a little fast. "They're from somewhere else, they -- my father invited them here."

Gil rubbed his eyes and looked at Tarvek again. "And you think he wants to sacrifice Agatha?" Tarvek seemed really seriously worried, but he was talking about ghost-women who weren't ghosts and Prince Aaronev going along with their plans for human sacrifice and okay, his father and Barry Heterodyne didn't really trust Prince Aaronev very much but that was about wanting to rule Europe, not... whatever this was. "Are you sure you didn't just have a really weird dream?"

"I'm serious!" Tarvek snapped. "Agatha's gone! Come see if she's in her room if you don't believe me!"

Gil remembered all at once that Tarvek had been mad at him, and suddenly the story not making sense... seemed to make sense. "Oh, sure." His hands curled into fists. "I'm going to come and get caught breaking into a girl's room in your house. And I bet you'll still be right beside me when I get caught."

Tarvek's eyes flashed. "Like you stayed with me?"

Gil went hot all over. He'd walked into that one. And he couldn't defend himself about not meaning to leave Tarvek to get caught alone because running off crying wasn't exactly better, and he couldn't tell the real reason he'd tried to get rid of Tarvek afterward or all the hiding it would be for nothing. "I got caught too," he muttered. "But I think you're just trying to get back at me." But what if Tarvek wasn't?

"I'm not," Tarvek said through clenched teeth. "Gil--" Gil had time to notice the lamp was shaking, and that meant so was Tarvek's hand, and then Tarvek said, "Please."

"Fine." Gil pushed back the covers and stood up, still feeling grumpy and a bit wary and ready for Tarvek to pull something. Even though he was starting to believe Tarvek was as scared as he seemed (and, okay, Tarvek had nightmares sometimes, but he didn't keep believing them after he woke up).

Tarvek took him out through a secret passage, then the corridors and a crack that might not be a secret passage or at least was never meant for adults, fast and dead silent, even more careful than when they'd been sneaking around Castle Wulfenbach. Then he took out... real lockpicks, better than the ones on Gradok's dragon, and insisted Gil keep watch while he broke into Agatha's room. Gil did, but he kept looking back at Tarvek part of the time and the rest wondering why, with all the guards they'd glimpsed earlier, there wasn't anybody closer to what ought to be Agatha's room.

The door swung open, a little, and Tarvek grabbed the doorknob and held it still before the hinges could make more than the tiniest squeak. They eased it open and slipped in.

Agatha wasn't there.

Her bag was, so Tarvek hadn't taken him to the wrong room. Her dress was folded on a chair. Princess Stompy Boots was on the bed. But no Agatha.

"She could have gone back to the lab," said Gil, trying hard to keep his voice steady. "She really wanted to carry on working." But she would have come to get them, wouldn't she?

"We can look there," Tarvek said unhappily. "I don't know what else to do."

"...I have a beacon," said Gil. "It's in my room." In his trouser pocket, still. "If you're really sure she's in danger..." Gil still wasn't, but she wasn't here. "We should bring it with us to the labs, and if she isn't there..."

Tarvek stared at him. "You... a what? To call -- you want to call the Baron?"

"Who else are we going to call if Agatha's really in danger?" Gil demanded. "It calls her uncle too."

Tarvek flinched. "Does she have one? Maybe she already used it? But -- why would they give you--?" He went suddenly still, looking at Gil harder.

"Maybe because they realised you wouldn't want to use one even when you think people are about to sacrifice Agatha?" Gil snapped, trying not to blush or squirm.

"I didn't think they'd give me one when I was going to my own house," Tarvek snapped back. "But -- fine. We'll go back and get it." Tarvek seemed even more tense on the way back to Gil's room, and once they were inside, he hissed, "Why didn't you bring it with you?"

"Because I was half asleep and not sure whether you'd had a nightmare," said Gil, frankly, pulling it out and holding it tightly, although careful not to press the button.

Tarvek sighed. "If you'd just believed me we'd be at the lab by now."

"We're not going to get there any faster for you standing around arguing with me," Gil said, still a bit too annoyed to apologise.

Tarvek opened his mouth, then shut it and bit his lip. "Fine. Come on then."

The lab was also unguarded. Well, why shouldn't it be, nobody was supposed to be in there and it was just a kids' lab. Nothing all that dangerous.

And it was dark and quiet, no Agatha.

Gil shut his eyes and, before Tarvek could say anything else, moved his thumb over and pushed the button, then pulled the antenna out.

Tarvek turned to him. "We should -- oh, you've done it." He swallowed and leaned over to peer at the beacon. "Is there any way to send more of a message?"

"I don't think so, it doesn't shut off." Gil blinked, lifting it and peering more closely, he'd been told not to take it apart but the signal was sent, even if they broke it now his father would come. "If we make it shut off and turn on again we could use military code."

"That shouldn't be too hard. If it turns on with a button it's probably a contact mechanism, right?" Tarvek handed him the red lamp and went to fetch tools. He let Gil have them when he reached out, and as Gil was prying the cover off, Tarvek whispered, "Gil. Who was the Queen of Skifander's consort?"

Gil jumped, tool nearly slipping. "Does it matter?" he whispered back, sharply.

"He did tell you," Tarvek breathed. Then, "Maybe. I guess not right now."

It would matter later, then, and Gil had known Tarvek would work it out if he let him get close. But not right now. "I've got the contact mechanism," Gil said, prying the spring back with a pair of needle-nosed pliers. "What do we send?" Something short, something to the point, something informative when everything Tarvek had said so far was vague and worrying.

"'Geisterdamen took Agatha'," Tarvek suggested.

"Will they know what Geisterdamen are?" Gil asked. "They're going to think we've gone mad if we say ghosts did it." But he couldn't think of anything better. Maybe they would know.

"Uh...." Tarvek hesitated, then caught his breath. "They might. The Lord Heterodyne might. If she's the Holy Child they talk about, then I -- I think he took her away from them."

Gil stared for a moment, and then started pinching and releasing the spring to send the message, concentrating on the code. He didn't understand anything, but if Barry Heterodyne had had to take Agatha from the Geisterdamen once then he could believe Agatha needed protecting from them. He ran through the message twice and then let the spring go, sending an uninterrupted signal again. "I've sent it," he said. "If she's...if they're really going to kill her we should go and find her. In case they don't get here in time." He wasn't sure what he thought he and Tarvek could do, but the answer couldn't be nothing. He pulled open Tarvek's cupboard and shoved the beacon to the back, where any guards looking in wouldn't see it. A number of tiny watchcase clanks turned and looked up at him.

Tarvek let out a breath, then shouldered in and started pulling things out and stuffing them in his pockets. Why or how his nightclothes had that many pockets Gil couldn't begin to imagine. Gil stayed crouched there, looking at the clanks.

"You're kind of in the way," Tarvek pointed out.

Gil shifted back a little and said, "Hey. We think Agatha's in trouble. You understand me? Come help Agatha."

"What are you--" Tarvek looked down just as three of the little clanks jumped down onto the floor. "...Okay. Let's go."

"Where do we look?" It was Tarvek's house.

Tarvek swallowed. "If they've taken her down where they live I'm not sure we can catch up. I don't know all the tunnels in the deep-down. But I think they were building something in the chapel."

Klaus was halfway through a meeting with Boris -- which meant being cajoled into signing things -- when his pocket started humming a high, piercing and completely unignorable note. Gil. He shoved the latest sheaf of paperwork aside with enough force it was still fluttering down when the note began to flicker on and off. "...He took it apart," Klaus muttered, even as most of his attention was on the message. Geisterdamen took Agatha.

How? he thought, as the message started to repeat. How had they found her, how did Gil know what they were? How long would it take them to decide to overwrite her mind with Lucrezia's?

Boris was looking a little wide eyed, he understood military code too even if he didn't know what Geisterdamen were. "Have my drop armour prepared," Klaus snapped at him, already striding out of the office. Boris hurried after him and then away to the dock. Klaus almost ran to the school and threw open the door to Otilia's room where she was reading a book. She looked up, eyes flaring green. The Muses had never been accused of being slow on the uptake.

"Who?" she asked.

"The Geisterdamen have Agatha. Gil sent the message," said Klaus. "I'm going down."

She stood, lifting her scabbard from its place by the wall. She didn't wear it while teaching, but it fitted against her back as if it was part of her, huge sword gleaming. "So am I."

He assembled other troops, barking orders, throwing the whole thing onto Boris's shoulders as soon as the drop armour was ready. Otilia was nowhere to be seen by then, but he didn't have time to wonder about it as he shut himself in, checked the views, signaled them to let him fall.

He did see her then, as he looked down. She'd simply jumped, trusting to her altered wings to carry her. They were folded now, in a sharp dive. Klaus turned his engines to maximum, plunging downward until the air fought him harder than they could accelerate.

He caught up to her. He held even with her for a few seconds, a twinge of anxiety touching him when he realised her wings had never been tested like this and she was... irreplaceable.

But then everyone was.

He passed her when she spread her wings and as he glanced up and back he had a view of her slowing to a safe speed to land, looking like an avenging angel bearing down on Sturmhalten.

Then his drop armour bulled into the ground.

Something was shrieking. Barry started to hum louder to block out the irritation and then stopped and snatched up the beacon receiver from the other workbench. "Castle, something's gone wrong. I'm going to Sturmhalten."

"Not by yourself," said the Castle firmly.

"First. I can break anything Aaronev put on his side of the portal." Barry grabbed the pack and belt he kept in this lab -- adventuring tools, you could call them. The beacon paused then, and he looked at it sharply, worried someone had broken it. It started spurting again, quick beeps in the military code Klaus had developed, and how the kids had picked that up....

Five letters in, and Barry felt time slow around him, his heart seize and red haze his thoughts and vision. "Alert the Jägers," he said. "All of them. The Geisterdamen have Agatha."

The Doom Bell rang, fast and sharp, almost more an alarm bell clatter than its normal solemn peals, emptinesses overlapping at the edge of Barry's mind. Afterwards the sky lit suddenly actinic blue, lightning arcing across the darkness. "Jägers to the Lord Heterodyne! Lady Agatha is in peril!" The Castle's voice boomed out across the town.

"The Cathedral," Barry snapped, already running now. "There's a portal. They'll know."

They did. Fast as he was moving there were already Jägers waiting for him at the portal when he arrived, more pouring into the room. No smiles here, no eagerness for the fun of battle, just bared teeth and anxious rage to match his. Barry slammed a hand against the controls and plunged into green light and not-space.

Aaronev's traps weren't very interesting at all.

The Geisterdamen took Agatha to the Sturmhalten palace's chapel, which was full of statues instead of skulls. Agatha was pretty sure this was more normal and it was definitely prettier and easier to walk in. More Geisterdamen filled the room, some she didn't know staying busy and others turning with brilliant smiles and tears in their eyes, and she had to hug them all. They sat with her and told her how much they'd missed her, how glad they were to find her again, and Agatha tried to tell them all about her friends and her work.

She was trying to describe her little clanks with gestures and looking around for something to build more of them when one said to another, "It's true, she has the divine touch. She has returned to us, and soon her lady mother will too."

"Tsst!" The second woman shushed her, and Agatha looked up and frowned. Her mother had not been very trustworthy if she'd become the Other. The Geisterdamen wanted her back?

"So deep in thought, Holy Child." Klazma Vrin came up, and the other Geisterdamen stepped aside for her. She picked up Agatha in her arms. "It's time to fulfill your destiny."

Agatha looked up at her in confusion. She'd been very little when she last heard the Geisterdamen’s language and was starting to realise she didn't know all the words. Vrin, to Agatha's surprise, frowned and repeated herself in Romanian. "I didn't know I had a destiny," Agatha said doubtfully. Except to be the Heterodyne, and she was in the wrong place for that, and anyway she wasn't sure it exactly counted.

Vrin set her in the big chair at the end of the chapel. "A child is never exactly the same as her mother," she said. "Less so with your people. But you will be close enough."

More Geisterdamen came up close around her, and their hands moved fast. Agatha squeaked in pain. "Don't pinch!" she said, and then looked down at her hands and found they'd fastened cuffs over her arms. Agatha jerked at them and felt her heart speed up. They'd chained her up. Why had they chained her up?

She pulled harder until the metal and leather dug into her skin. Prince Aaronev came up and patted her on the head, and Agatha tilted her head back and tried to bite him. He pulled his hand back, looking startled. "Everything will be just fine," he crooned. "Just a few minutes and we'll have your mother back!"

He stepped away to some controls and Agatha stared after him as Klazma Vrin pulled something like a big dish down onto her head. Things slowed down and everything divided into pieces in her vision again, separating until she could look at them clearly, and more thoughts flew in together.

They wanted her mother back.

Her mother was dead.

Her mother had moved Madame Otilia's mind around.

A child is never exactly the same as her mother but close enough.....

This machine was for... was for... Agatha could only make sense of pieces of it at a time, but she didn't have to understand the mechanism, she knew.

Uncle Barry had always told her to be quiet when there was danger but that was when people or creatures were looking for them.

Agatha sucked in a lungful of air and screamed as loud as she could.

The door flew open and Tarvek ran a few steps in, before stopping, eyes wide at the device she was in. Agatha stopped screaming more out of surprise than anything, gulping for breath, relief at seeing a friend quickly being replaced by horror. He looked so small surrounded by Geisterdamen.

"What are you doing to Agatha?" he asked. Aaronev didn't answer and one of the Geisterdamen reached for him. He ducked, running another few steps into the room. "Father!"

"Tarvek!" said Aaronev, as if he'd only just noticed him. He waved the Geisterdamen back. "It is a glorious day, soon our mistress will return to us!"

"I don't understand," Tarvek said, and Agatha wondered whether he was telling the truth. He sounded bewildered, but Agatha didn't think he could have missed what she'd seen. "What...what's going on? Why is Agatha tied up? I thought she was our guest?"

Aaronev turned away from her. "She was always intended as a vessel, for our Mistress to return," he said, as if it made perfect sense to kill Agatha for that, as if it wasn't completely horrible. He was even bending down to talk to Tarvek, looking serious the way Uncle Barry did when explaining something really important he wasn't sure she could understand. "I swore an oath to her, all our order did, and today I shall fulfil it.”

Agatha wondered whether to scream again, but the touch of metal against her wrist made her jump instead. She looked down to see one of her tiny clanks from earlier standing next to her bonds with a box knife and a determined expression.

"No!" Even if Tarvek was trying to be a distraction, the distress in his voice was very real. "Father, please, don't do this!"

She clenched her teeth and shut up her throat so she couldn't hum either. She didn't think they were going to hurt Tarvek, not with his father there, and they wouldn't be less likely to if some of them were paying attention to her. But the clank was working at the weakest point and if she could get away....

She turned her head to look at her other arm and as soon as the little clank had the first one free, she swept it down to work on her feet and undid the shackles on her other wrist by herself. She pushed away from the chair and landed on the floor in front of it with a thump, and Vrin shouted.

Then somebody snatched Agatha up off the floor and she yelped, but it wasn't one of them, it was Gil and she didn't know where he'd come from but he was running faster than she could.

There was a sound behind them, not really a bang so much as a whumph, and the air smelled like fireworks -- bringing back memories of Mechanicsburg that somehow made Agatha's eyes sting as much as the smoke -- and then Tarvek ran past them and swerved, beckoning. His nightclothes were torn over his shoulder, someone had grabbed at him.

Gil followed, Agatha holding onto him and trying to be as light as possible, and Tarvek stopped for a moment to work at the lock of a room and then pushed it open and pulled them through into an adult sized laboratory.

Agatha dropped out of Gil's arms and the boys started shoving furniture and storage cabinets over to the door. She climbed up and stood on one of the high stools to scan the workbenches.

Her eyes felt hot and her heart was beating too hard and it hurt. Her brain was full of angry white light and buzzing and she wanted Uncle Barry and the Jägers and the Doom Bell and she wanted to make things to show the Geisterdamen she wasn't the only one who'd made a mistake. She'd been happy to see them again and they wanted to kill her. She'd thought they loved her and they only wanted her to get her mother back.

She sniffed and wiped her wrist across her nose and kept on building things, but she was shaking all over.

Gil's hand closed around her arm. She hadn't heard him coming, but there he was on a stool next to her. "We sent a message, your Uncle and the Baron are coming," he said. "We just have to hold them off. What are we making?"

"A death ray," Agatha said. "But it isn't going together right. Maybe I should try a clockwork bomb instead."

Gil scrambled onto the table and looked at it, some of the same manic light coming into his eyes that she felt behind her own. "I think...if we try this here..."

Tarvek managed to balance one stool on another and climb both to reach a cupboard, and a moment later they were pelted with packets of cogs as he started throwing them anything they might be able to use.

Agatha's hands steadied a little, and Tarvek came down and scrambled up another stool to work shoulder-to-shoulder with them. Agatha started humming again, but it wasn't quite enough to shut out the banging from outside, or the scrape when the door started to move.

It slammed open, and a wheeled cabinet crashed into their stools. Agatha jumped for the workbench and Gil, already there, caught her arm while Tarvek started throwing things that whumphed into more smoke, filling up the lab and the hallway.

Agatha looked down at the death ray with watering eyes as Gil tugged at her. "Come on, we can hide in the smoke," he said.

It wasn't going together right. She'd got the power supply in and wound, but it was whining at a high pitch and she was pretty sure it was going to explode....

...Well, she'd been thinking about making a bomb. She grabbed it and jumped down with Gil, stumbling, and then slid it across the floor into the cloud of smoke.

There was a sound that was far too loud to be described as bang, and a blast of heat and light, screams behind them. They scrambled along on all fours, under one of the benches, eyes squeezed shut against the smoke. Footsteps came after them, fast and staccato. "They can't see through the smoke, but I don't think it's blinding them properly, their eyes are different, maybe..." Tarvek mumbled as if only half aware he was talking out loud, and then fell silent.

Hands, Tarvek's or Gil's but Agatha wasn't sure which, pushed her into a gap between edges -- maybe cupboards or the wall and the back of a bench -- and she kept crawling until she hit a wall and then opened her eyes, blinking hard, but the smoke was starting to clear. She was in a gap between two cupboards, Gil and Tarvek wedged in after her. White hands reached in after them and Tarvek smashed a vial of something against one, jerking his own hand back sharply. There was a hiss and a cry of rage and Agatha could see the skin blistering. But the Geister reached in for her again, even with blood trickling down her arm.

"Leave me alone!" Agatha yelled, and to her surprise the Geister pulled back.

"Klazma Vrin!" someone called, even as another set of arms reached in to try and pull her away. "The Holy Child's voice!"

"Yes," Vrin grated, "she is the child of the Lady. What did you expect?"

"Go away and leave me alone, all of you!" Agatha shouted in their own language.

"Go and get her, you idiots!" Vrin snarled.

Then a darker, thicker arm came at them, and Tarvek squeaked. Prince Aaronev's voice growled, "Get out of there, you little--" and Agatha heard a hand fall hard on his shoulder.

"Aaronev," Vrin said ominously, "you will not blaspheme the Holy Child."

"Do you want her out of there or not?" Aaronev demanded, and then apparently calmed down. "Fine. But I will get her out."

His hands reached down again and Gil threw himself backwards, almost squashing Agatha, to bite the side of one of them hard. Aaronev backhanded him into the wall and his mouth slid open as he fell against it half dazed for a moment, then Aaronev's hands closed around Agatha's ribs.

Agatha tried to kick but couldn't reach anything, and she clawed and bit until he shook her hard enough to hurt her neck, and then went still and tried to think. She came up with eight ways to break the machine on the way back into the chapel, but she couldn't reach any of them.

Aaronev held her down with both hands this time while Vrin grimly snapped the restraints back in place and Agatha screamed at her -- demanding, threatening, begging, and finally ran out of words and only wailed at them all.

Agatha trailed off into hiccuping sobs as she saw Tarvek and Gil at the edge of the room, held firmly by bruised Geisterdamen. That way she heard the whine of the machine as Aaronev activated it, grinning as eagerly as when he'd asked about her clanks. It almost sounded like it might blow up too. Agatha wished it would. It went higher and higher and made her teeth hurt and it was so stupid to worry about her teeth hurting when they were going to kill her and bring back her mother who hurt everybody.

People were yelling outside the door here too. Agatha started humming, as if she could make the machine not work by pushing the horrible noise it was making out of her head.

The door flew in and halfway across the room, and oven-heat washed over her as a blue-white spear of energy shot over her head and into the big oval piece of the engine. The Geisterdamen screamed. Agatha sat up as well as she could in the restraints. "Uncle Barry!"

He started forward. And a flood of more Geisterdamen crashed in through the doorway behind him.

Klaus charged into Sturmhalten, ignoring any attempts by guards or servants to stop him, only to find the corridors full of a battle already in progress. Jägers and Geisterdamen were everywhere; slightly ahead of him a Jäger swiped out a Geister's throat and then looked up at him, fangs bared and ears pinned back.

"Where is Barry?" Klaus snapped peremptorily.

"Dot vey," said the Jäger, twisting to kick a Geister in the stomach as he spoke, even as he nodded towards a corridor. Klaus punched one in the ribs before her sword could reach him. "Down."

Klaus ran, cutting a swathe of his own through the Geisterdamen, barking at Jägers to get out the way and tell him where Barry was, heading down. Until he reached an open doorway with the Geisters and Jägers tearing at each other a few metres back from it, inside he could see Barry's broad profile and the air smelled of smoke and ozone.

Inside was -- surreal. In spite of the raging battle it was impossible not to notice that it was a chapel filled with images of Lucrezia. Lucrezia with a sword, Lucrezia exalted, Lucrezia as Madonna, improbably demure; all still radiating power even though half the statues were overturned, broken and splashed with blood. There was an alcove full of slag in the vague shape of a chair. Beside it, Barry and a handful of Jägers were backed up against one of the overturned statues, lying across its niche, and behind them where the statue had stood Klaus could just see the three children. All he could see of Agatha was a tuft of hair. Gil caught sight of him (Gil was alive, safe -- well, not safe, but definitely alive and almost within reach) and looked glad enough to make Klaus's heart lift. He nudged his friends excitedly; Tarvek looked up, and there was no relief in his eyes.

Aaronev was across from them behind several of his guards and an electrified barricade, obviously hastily constructed, firing bolts of lightning at them that Barry was deflecting with an improvised rod. The Geisterdamen swarmed them, ignoring the lightning, clawing when disarmed, pulling their dead out of the way to keep attacking -- because Barry was not holding back. He had the lightning rod in one hand and a death ray in the other and there were more scorched or dismembered white corpses in the room than live fighters.

Barry spotted Klaus and a wave of energy flung back the Geisterdamen in front of him, giving Klaus space to race across and join them. The death ray issued a disappointing hiss when Barry pulled the trigger again, and he dropped it and unshipped another. Klaus saw movement near the floor and looked down to see Agatha hanging over the statue to haul the spent death ray back into the niche. Tears streaked the smoke staining her face, and the wildness in her eyes and the set of her jaw matched Barry's.

Barry shoved the lightning rod into Klaus's hand. "Watch the kids," he said, and then drew a sword and charged.

Klaus didn't quite see what happened, because the next thing the children did was send a wind-up device on wheels careening out from behind their defenders' ankles and it turned out to be a bomb. But when the air cleared, Aaronev's guards were down and Barry had dragged him out from behind his barricade and was shouting at him. "The Geisterdamen came to you, Wilhelm! How long were you working with her? Is this why Sturmhalten was spared? Because the whole time we were fighting and searching and hoping to save her you were helping her destroy Europa?"

Aaronev reached for something in his coat and Barry hit his arm with the hilt of the sword. Klaus heard bone crack. Aaronev went pale but didn't cry out. He said hoarsely, "Not destroy--"

Barry shook him. "Have you looked at it? Did you miss the rocks falling out of the sky, the revenants, the wars?"

"Unfortunate statistical extreme," Aaronev gasped. "The revenants were never supposed to be mindless."

"Are you listening to yourself? You supported that?" Barry threw him to the floor in revulsion. None of the Geisterdamen were going near the two of them, but some of them were breaking off their attack to watch. "You supported that. And you want to destroy Agatha to get her back."

"I love her." Aaronev got to his knees, wild-eyed. "We all loved her. Klaus understands." Klaus might have protested that he did not but Aaronev went on, "Bill would have understood. He would have helped."

"Bill KILLED HER!" Barry bellowed. "Because he knew there were more important things than having her if it meant people dying and enslaved and destroyed! Do you not understand that?"

"There is nothing more important," Aaronev whispered. "Nothing." The mad light of adoration in his eyes flickered then and he added, "And you don't kill people."

There were perhaps two seconds of near silence in the room, heavy with incredulity, and then Barry hauled Aaronev up by the throat. "Look around this room, Wilhelm," he said, and he wasn't shouting but the stone underfoot seemed to pick up the harmonics in his voice and tremble. His voice rose, then, like a volcano building to eruption. "Before I send you to whatever Hell my ancestors rule for TOUCHING MY NIECE!"

There was a clatter by Klaus's feet and he looked down to see Tarvek's half built clank on the floor, Tarvek staring across the room with huge eyes. He looked paralysed, like a wild animal in a beam light. Klaus strode across the room to grab the back of Barry's jacket and haul him back from Aaronev. "Are you seriously going to kill him in front of his son?" he asked, quietly.

Barry swung around with murder still in his eyes, and for a heartbeat Klaus was bracing himself to be hit. Then Barry looked past him and focussed, seeing the children and -- Klaus could only assume -- specifically Tarvek. He looked back at Aaronev and his empty hand curled into a fist. "No," he grated. "No, I suppose I'm not. You take him."

Barry stalked back the few steps to the children; one of the Geisterdamen remembered herself and lunged at them, and Barry picked her up and threw her against the far wall.

Klaus reached for Aaronev and a blur of lightning-crackled metal snatched him away.

"You have threatened the Heterodyne Girl," Otilia said, not to Klaus but to Aaronev. She drew her sword, standing over him like Justice, dress ripped from fighting her way here, feathers splashed with blood. "You have threatened my Master's kingdom with destruction, risked destroying his subjects' will, come close to making it unfit for anyone to claim." Aaronev tried to stand and she simply placed a foot on his chest before continuing. "You have both used and harmed children for the sake of your petty devotion." She lifted her sword. "As Muse of Protection I condemn you."

"Uh, Otilia--" Barry sounded rather startled.

Klaus found himself thinking, in rapt fascination, that he'd had no idea the Muses were authorised to execute people and then realised that, first, Otilia was not necessarily carrying out an expected or official function and second, as the sword rose, that it was likely to be challenging to stop her.

He was working out whether to catch her arm or try to haul her back bodily when Tarvek's voice broke through, shrill with anguish, "Stop, I'm the Storm King!"

Otilia turned her head, the rest of her body motionless, sword arrested in its fall. "You claim me? By what right?"

Tarvek stood up, hands outstretched. "Descent," he said shakily, "through my mother," which was probably a good thing to specify as the alternative was that there was a better claim yet for the man she was about to kill. Klaus wasn't quite sure what effect that would have on her, but he was fairly sure he didn't want to see it. "I'm not recognised yet, but I am his rightful heir." Tarvek's eyes darted to Klaus, then away to Otilia again, still painfully wide. "I was supposed to -- he said he wanted me to marry Agatha one day and bring peace to Europa. I didn't think he was going to try to hurt her." He swallowed hard. "But please don't kill him."

Otilia held still, eyes fixed on Tarvek as the green light slowly faded out of them. Then she turned away from Aaronev and went down on one knee, the tip of her sword resting on the ground, both hands folded on it, and wings folded against her back. "You are not yet my king, but until your claim is proven one way or the other I will accept it. Your father's life is spared."

Tarvek breathed out in a whoosh. Klaus stepped back toward Aaronev, before anything else could happen, and injected him with a strong sedative. "I have more troops coming," he said. "They can deal with the rest of the Geisterdamen. Let's get the children out of here."

Chapter Text

Tarvek almost couldn't take his eyes off Otilia, even when the Baron hoisted his father onto one shoulder. She stood, but didn't sheathe her sword, looking around. "They certainly should not be here," she said. "But where shall we go?"

"How fast are your troops getting here?" the Lord Heterodyne asked. He picked up Agatha in the same arm he'd been using to haul Tarvek's father around, and Tarvek tried not to shudder. "I'm not sure which direction is less of a fight. Are you going to have an airship on the ground by the time we get out, or should we head back to the portal?"

"There should be several airships on the ground," said the Baron. "Quarantine procedure."

"Ah. Right." The Lord Heterodyne frowned. "Anevka. We should get Anevka. Tarvek, where's her room?"

Anevka. She'd be hiding in her room, probably with a knife ready in case anyone did break in. If he told her it was safe she'd come out, but he was fairly sure it wasn't safe -- he'd just declared himself a rival to the Baron, they were going to kill him. But they wouldn't kill Anevka over that, they wouldn't need to, she wasn't claiming Europa. Unless they decided to just clean up all the loose ends, now they'd discovered what his father was doing. Otilia… Otilia would protect her, if he told her to, maybe, even if she'd only accepted him provisionally, but it was better not to risk it. If he took them to Anevka's room he could signal her to run, but she might be safer if he just didn't….

Tarvek blinked, realising he'd been staring and not answering. His thoughts were too slow, everything felt weird and broken and he had to pull it together like a jigsaw. But maybe not answering was the best thing he could do anyway.

"Tarvek?" The Baron dropped to one knee, which seemed improbable, and then reached for Tarvek's head with the hand that wasn't bracing his father and ran a hand through his hair in exploratory fashion, at which point Tarvek realised he'd only been getting within reach to check for injuries. "I don't feel anything," he added. "Are you hurt?"

Agatha said, in a very strange tone of voice -- a little too loud and flat and still ringing -- "He thinks you're going to kill him and his sister."

"Oh for..." the Baron began, and then sighed. "I am not going to kill you. Or her. I'm concerned about leaving a twelve year old girl in a war zone."

"He's really not," Agatha added, leaning down a little toward him, "but he said I wasn't supposed to tell you."

Tarvek looked at her in complete bewilderment. "But he only found out just now, how would you know what he's going to do about it?" He shouldn't be ignoring the Baron to talk to Agatha, but Agatha was trustworthy.

She gave the Baron a look that may have been meant for apologetic and then said, "When I asked him about the hostages, he said he wouldn't really hurt any of you but if the parents knew that they'd be more likely to start wars."

"Oh," said Tarvek. That made more sense, although he wasn't entirely sure the Baron had been telling the truth, much less whether it still applied. "I don't think my father cared very much."

"I'm sorry," said Agatha, even though she was the one his father had been trying to kill.

"Your father's misplaced priorities aside," said her uncle seriously, "you will not be harmed. Either for anything he's done or for apparently being the Storm King." He glanced upward. "If it helps, I'm pretty sure Otilia's not planning to let you out of her sight for a while."

"And you won't hurt Anevka?" he asked. He looked at Otilia. "You won't let them?"

"I will not let them," said Otilia. "Nor do I believe they would try."

"...I'll take you to her," Tarvek said, making up his mind.

The Baron looked at all of them and said, "I'll go with them. You take Agatha and Gil. I'll find you."

"Take some of the Jägers with you if the rest of your people aren't in the halls yet," said the Lord Heterodyne.

"I'll tell them you said so." The Baron stood up to pass Tarvek’s father to one of the Jägers, then looked down at Tarvek. "Lead on, then."

The halls were full of Geisterdamen and Jägers and...people. Not that the Jägers weren't people, or the Geisterdamen, just...he'd been expecting them. The sight of Sturmhalten guards with their throats slashed...the sight of servants and townspeople...they must have been ordered in by the Geisterdamen, why else would they be here? When the Baron shouted for Jägers to fall in with them Tarvek flinched back. One of them had blood smeared up his claws to the wrists.

The Baron tried demanding surrenders, then swore under his breath and looked down at Tarvek. "Will your people listen if you tell them to stand down?"

"No," said Tarvek. "They're..." He broke off for a moment, the Baron killed revenants, but they were about to die fighting Jägers anyway. "They're revenants. The Geisterdamen control them. But..." Earlier, wedged between cupboards, it had nearly worked. "They might listen to Agatha."

"Not supposed to be mindless," the Baron said. "Gotterdammerung." He added at a roar, "Take it easy on the townspeople if you can!" then grabbed one of the Jägers by the shoulder. "You. Go tell Barry. Find Agatha a loudspeaker if you can. Move!" He hoisted Tarvek left-handed and sped up, muttering, "As soon as we get out of here I am blanketing the entire town in C-gas."

Tarvek shuddered, although C-gas wouldn't kill anyone. It could be a lot worse. He just wondered what the Baron would do to them when they woke up. He wanted to close his eyes now he didn't need to see where he was going, except at junctions, but it would feel wrong. These were his people even if he'd never been able to do anything for them (even if he'd brought the people here who were killing them). It seemed as if he should at least watch.

"It's a knockout gas," the Baron snapped, as if Tarvek didn't know. Maybe he wasn't supposed to know that? He couldn't remember right now. "It's the best I can do."

They'd nearly reached Anevka's room when Agatha's voice rang out, sounding fierce, very determined, and more than a little annoyed at having to do this when she was already tired and probably wanted to build things. "Everyone from Sturmhalten stand down and stop attacking people, right now. Everyone. Oh, right, Uncle Barry. Geisterdamen too! Stop attacking people and put down your weapons." It sounded so much like her that it felt like a splash of normal reality in the middle of a horrible dream.

Their whole group slowed slightly, watching, and most of the fighting stopped. The townspeople looked relieved and mostly turned to run; a few threw themselves backward from the Jägers and just huddled. (The Jägers facing them grinned so hard Tarvek could see it from almost directly behind, but they backed off.) A few of the Geisterdamen shook their heads, blinking, and then shrieked and attacked anyway... it didn't go well for them. Tarvek finally let himself look away, for that.

"We're here," he said, and the Baron stopped.

"This door?" When Tarvek nodded, he knocked sharply.

There was, not surprisingly, no reply. "Anevka?" Tarvek called. "It's..." He stopped to swallow. "It's probably safer to come out than to stay in there, the Baron's here, but it's okay." Sort of. He hoped.

"The Baron?" Anevka asked, sharply. He could hear things being pulled away from the door, though.

Tarvek shut his eyes. "You were right to be suspicious. Seffie was right. The Geisterdamen did want to sacrifice Agatha." It might help, if they knew Anevka had suspected but not known, and warned him to keep alert. He made himself say, "Father was going to help. The Baron and the Lord Heterodyne came to rescue her. F-father's been taken prisoner but Otilia swears she won't let anybody hurt us."

Anevka opened the door. She'd got dressed, trousers and top in case she needed to climb to escape, hair pulled back in a braid, and he was pretty sure there was a knife up her sleeve. She looked at him, still being carried by the Baron, and at Otilia standing behind them with her blood splashed wings, and at the Jäger bodyguard. She looked young and bewildered and behind that he could see the calculation and behind that she really was scared, and confused, and angry although he wasn't sure yet at who. "I'm really in no danger?" she said to the Baron, voice soft.

"If you try to stab anyone you may suffer some slight bruising," the Baron replied, possibly having guessed at the knife himself, then shook his head. "Neither you nor your brother will be harmed."

Anevka's eyes narrowed slightly and she said, in something far more like her normal voice, "Thank you. And from the recent announcement I take it the Lady Heterodyne is still alive. What are you going to do with Father?"

The Baron grimaced and then said, "I don't know yet."

Anevka tossed her head. "Fine. I don't care anyway. Of all the stupid things to do, a Heterodyne visiting us and he tries to kill her!" She blinked hard and then stepped out of the room and looked up at Tarvek. "And I suppose he got you involved somehow, you look awful."

"I--" Tarvek swallowed. "She's my friend." He was so tired, he could barely think what was safe to say and what wasn't, but his mind wouldn't stop working anyway.

"It's been a long evening all around," said the Baron. "Let's go."

"Idiot," said Anevka, falling in beside them, looking around at the dead with a cold pinched face. "I'm not going to blame you if you stopped him. How do you think it would have gone for any of us if he'd succeeded?"

Tarvek swallowed and stopped to really think about that for the first time. Agatha would have been dead, of course. And the Mistress... and the Other would have been walking around in her body. Would anybody have been fooled? How good was the Other as an actress? How convincing could she possibly be when she'd last seen Agatha as a baby? The Lord Heterodyne would probably have noticed something and... Tarvek wasn't sure if he could get any madder, but he didn't want to see it if he could.

"I couldn't do very much," he said. "He didn't want to listen."

"He usually doesn't," said Anevka.

They hurried back through the castle again, Anevka stepping daintily clear of the blood, eyes cold and lips pressed firmly together. Otilia hovered over her, eyes scanning the corridors for threats, but they seemed to be almost empty, now, of anything but corpses and wounded Jägers — who smiled and waved them on, assuring the Baron that “ve heal qvick, und effrevun is underground”.

Outside the castle there were far fewer signs of fighting. The Geisterdamen really must have retreated down instead of out. There were Wulfenbach troops herding confused and frightened townsfolk into groups, but little sign of bloodshed.

Agatha's voice started echoing through the town again, this time coming from all directions from the airships that surrounded and hovered over Sturmhalten, which did not add a sense of normalcy. The Baron took them out the city gates and made directly for the nearest airship, where they found Agatha shouting into the public address system with the Lord Heterodyne standing over her giving her voice coaching so she didn't strain her throat, although Tarvek wasn't sure she was exactly staying on script.

"Stop fighting, stop fighting, I'm getting so tired of this, STOP FIGHTING!"

"A sentiment after my own heart," said the Baron, although he presumably didn't share the one that led Agatha to launch herself off the stool to hug Tarvek.

Tarvek held onto her gratefully. He could feel himself shivering, although he wasn't sure whether he was cold, or scared, or anything really. He just felt hollow.

Gil stopped stalking around the edge of the room and came over to hug them both, although he glanced up at the Baron first and Tarvek hoped desperately Gil wouldn't decide to tell what Tarvek had figured out. This was bad enough as it was. Gil caught Agatha as she and Tarvek both slipped somehow from exhaustion, and the Lord Heterodyne crouched down by them apologetically. "I'm afraid we still need you, Agatha," he said, sounding tired enough himself that it was hard to remember how frightening he'd been just a few minutes before.

"But I have to build..." Agatha frowned. "I have to...."

"Later," her uncle said gently. "This is the best way to stop them right now. I don't think it should be much longer. The Geisterdamen have apparently gone underground, and most of the townspeople aren't fighting without them to push it."

"Good," said Otilia. "Send her to bed as soon as possible. I will take the rest of the children to one now."

As Agatha climbed onto the chair, Gil squawked, and Tarvek tried to formulate an argument against this plan, a Jäger crashed in through the door, blood soaking his shoulder and something bloodied-white stuck into it. "Master Barry!" He pulled another white thing out of his knee and waved it, even as he staggered against a wall, and Tarvek recognised the object with a sick lurch as part of a slaver-wasp warrior. "Vasps all down de tunnels."

The Lord Heterodyne turned, and Tarvek decided he was scared of him again.

Wasps down the tunnels. It was a town full of revenants and Geisterdamen; of course there turned out to be wasps in the tunnels. Sick and furious, Barry yanked the remaining wasp-leg out of Gorb's shoulder and turned to Klaus. "All the Jägers. Gas masks. If this is where they're keeping them all...."

"How many would they have?" Klaus asked, even as he pulled over the radio to relay the order.

Barry shook his head. "I can't guess. But four hives are enough to overrun a town."

"They don't want to overrun a town," Anevka said grimly. "They meant to overrun Europa. They have a cavern in the deep tunnels."

Klaus swore and pulled the radio over. "All Jägers are to report for gas masks. Get them out of the tunnels. All burrowing squid are to be dropped in a three kilometer radius and go straight down. No gaps in the circle. Black level items one to ten need to be brought to me immediately." He put the radio down and turned to Barry. "That should collapse the tunnels, if we're lucky before any of them get through. You were already thinking poison gas?"

"They've got another army in every engine," Barry said. "Taking their air's our only chance short of destroying the city. Agatha--" He knelt by her stool. "Tell everyone to come out of the gates. I know you're tired, but this is important. It will save lives."

Agatha nodded, even as she looked longingly at the death ray he'd leant against the wall, and nearly upset her water cup reaching for it. Barry steadied it for her and Agatha drank, then leaned into the microphone again and started shouting.

Tarvek blinked and scrubbed a sleeve over his face. "You're poisoning them? But, the town..."

"We're getting people out first," said Klaus, grimly. "But if they've got enough wasps to control all of Europa we'll have to act fast, and we don't have time for half measures."

"But...isn't that better than being dead? They'd only be under Agatha's control," said Tarvek.

Barry bit back his first revolted reaction, because Tarvek was only a child and had grown up with this and it would not help to shake him. "Agatha does not need slaves," he said. "And Lucrezia may have had other plans for remaking herself."

Tarvek shivered and looked away at that. Otilia put a hand on his shoulder. "Come," she said. "You can't do anything more, here."

"But it's my town," he protested weakly, not sounding like he was quite sure what that should lead to himself.

Barry did sympathise with that feeling, actually, but part of his town was underground and fighting, and he'd finished checking his own mask and picking up his weapons again. Klaus and Otilia could deal with that one. He left the airship at a flat run, looking for the nearest entrance to the tunnels.

A message started to ring out around him -- Klaus's voice, Agatha must be getting a break, "Travellers staying in Sturmhalten. Hive engines have been discovered inside the town. You must leave now. People are outside the gates to direct you. Please exit in an orderly fashion and make sure any children you see are brought to the gates."

The nearest entrance turned out to be the sewers, and as soon as Barry was in Greb waved a man in overalls at him -- who looked fairly resigned to being waved about by the back of his harness, in the manner of someone who saw strange things every day and was seeing them now -- and declared, "Hyu got a spare gas mask for dis guy? He iz a verra useful plumber."

"Yeah, sure." He could only carry so many himself but more should be getting delivered. Barry helped get the mask on the man, handing off the rest as about another thirty Jägers from Greb’s squad clustered around. "We're clearing out of here as soon we can," he said. "What was so useful?"

"He knows der vay!" said Greb.

"I don't know my way around the whole deep-down," protested the plumber, "but I know the ways into it."

"Excellent." Barry's lips peeled back from his teeth in a grin that was not quite happy and probably a little too vicious for comfort, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Just as well the gas mask meant the plumber couldn't see it. "Klaus is trying to seal a ring around the city and evacuating as many people as possible. We--" He looked at Greb. "Are now trying to keep the Geisterdamen from making an all-out run for it before we can get them blocked off. When we get the signal, or the gas hits, get out."

They headed, at Barry's instruction, for the castle. The worst of the fighting would be there, where the Geisterdamen had been living, and there were already Jägers pouring in from above to stop them escaping into the town. If Barry and his cohort could come in and join the battle from underground entrances they'd have them surrounded. The Jägers clustered around Barry -- the gas masks were cutting off their sense of smell and without it they had less faith in their own ability to find a trail, but it wasn't diminishing their eagerness for the fight. Or their skill, as they proved by taking down a few toothy slime monsters almost casually on the way in.

The way led down, trapdoors and ladders and slippery stairs, and the Jägers threw themselves down all these things with reckless abandon, sometimes picking up the more cautious plumber when he wasn't fast enough. Barry raced too, hundreds of memories of secret passages and death trap ridden fortresses informing his instincts as he stepped.

They stopped. A wave of soft hissing shush ran backwards and following it silence, and Barry found himself grabbed and hauled to the front, pushed against a balcony to see, marching below them, Geisterdamen. Some on huge spider mounts, most walking, hive engines being pulled along between them. Dozens and dozens of hive engines. At his back the Jägers were silent and still, intent on him.

Barry turned around. "That has to be their main evacuation," he breathed, just loud enough for the sound to escape his gas mask. It had better be. If this turned out to only be a small fraction.... "New plan." He started pulling things out of his pockets and pack, passing grippers out to the Jägers and hastily rigging a few new sets. "These will grab the ceilings and walls. We get ahead of them from above, and find a place to make a stand." He took the plumber by the shoulder. "You... you tell us if you know of a good bottleneck out that way," he said in the man's ear, "and then get up to the open air and out of town as fast as you can."

The plumber gave him a very quick description of the tunnels ahead and where they narrowed and then eagerly ran. Behind them the Jägers were one by one jumping up and attaching themselves to the ceiling, masked heads tilting down to watch for the signal to go.

Barry finished the last few improvised grippers and clambered up the wall, freeing one hand to point. "Let's go."

The Geisterdamen weren't moving slowly, but they weren't very fast either, with their repulsive burdens. Probably they expected the battle nearer the palace to keep their enemies busy. Barry and his Jägers scurried along the ceiling above them and proved that, like most people, even underground and alert the Geisterdamen tended not to think to look up.

When the fastest Jägers started reporting back that they'd found a stretch ahead where there seemed to be only one path, Barry started planting remote-controlled bombs at the mouths of side tunnels. He’d entertained the hope to use them to block the main path instead of waiting for the squid, but there weren’t enough to do that and still keep them from scattering, and he didn’t know if there was another way out should they scatter.

By the time they overtook the head of the Geisterdamen column, the tunnel was a single broad path and they could feel the vibrations of the burrowing squid. Barry stopped just short of where the diggers should come down, gathered the Jägers, and waited until the Geisterdamen had nearly reached them.

He signaled and dropped, landing in a crouch and aiming his death ray at once. Thirty Jägers ranged behind him.

Some of the Geisterdamen screamed, and only some of it was rage, because they remembered him.

Barry bared his teeth behind his mask and set off the bombs.

The Geisterdamen near the front charged while others opened hive engines. These were ready faster than the ones Barry had fought after they dropped from the sky; the first soldiers came fast and the queens spewed forth their swarms without any preparatory song. If they'd opened all of them Barry's Jägers would have been overwhelmed instantly, but these were what they were protecting -- their Mistress's key to ruling Europa -- and they opened only five of the dozens they had, the slavers buzzing ineffectually against gas masks while the soldiers advanced. The Jägers held their ground, there weren't enough of them to both advance and block the tunnel so they waited for the enemy to come to them.

It was very much like the fight in Aaronev's chapel. A seemingly endless supply of Geisterdamen -- and now wasps, forgoing their shrill sickening song for all-out assault, slaver wings and claws battering his mask and head, warriors lunging, stabbing. A precious charge at his back that could not be forfeit, he wouldn't allow it, but now instead of Agatha and the other children it was all of Europa potentially lost if they were overrun. Klaus would try, but if they got away in secret, with this many engines....

Barry fired and fired, the Jägers clashed blade against blade with the Geisterdamen and ripped through wasp armour, and the Geisterdamen and wasps came at them, and died, and dragged the bodies back and away to attack again. Greb fell beside him, Stosh a little farther off. Barry roared wordless fury and hit a set of frequencies that stilled even the battle-noise around him, just for a second. Some of the Geisterdamen hesitated.

And in that moment, squid-blades sliced in from the ceiling behind them and churning earth thundered down to block the tunnel.

"Back up the tunnel," one of the Geisters called in her own language. "We hide the shk-mah." They knew. They could see the gas masks, they realised what that meant for them, but gas wouldn't kill the wasps still inside their hives. They had given their own lives up as lost, but if they could find a place to leave the hive engines for later retrieval they believed they might not have failed Lucrezia's charge. They were turning, even as the ones at the end threw themselves at the Jägers once again to cover the retreat.

The gas came down while they were still turning. Yellow-green and heavier than air, it seemed to creep along the tunnels like a living thing. They fell where it hit them, doubling over and sinking to the ground, clawing at their throats. The remaining wasps went down still faster, curling and convulsing with their legs drawn in like dying spiders. Some of the Jägers too slid down the walls, hands pressing at open wounds as the gas reached them. They were quiet about it, practical, simply trying to cover injuries, eyes still fixed on their dying enemies. The Jägers still standing, some with smaller wounds of their own that made them hiss as they moved, picked them up. Barry's own wounds were burning, but he bent down himself to hoist a Jäger onto his shoulders. The remaining Jägers turned to him and he realised, with a faint shock, that some of those being carried were dead not wounded.

Barry swallowed, once. Maybe he could fix that later too, at least for some of them, but this wasn't the place for either resurrection or mourning. "Out," he said, still muffled. "It'll have to be up through the gas."

"Ve go." They did, running into the gas until it swallowed them up into vague silhouettes. Barry followed, the gas blurring the tunnels around him. They used the grippers they were still wearing to swarm back onto the balcony, passing up the injured and the dead as they went. In the mist, sense of smell cut off, they lost track of which of them Barry was, and he was pulled towards the easiest route, had his injured burden lifted from him, and another pushed into his arms as soon as he was up, with the same rough camaraderie they used on each other.

Near the surface the gas thinned to a yellowish haze, and they entered the sewers to the hiss of it interacting with the sewage. There were monsters floating in it, belly up like dead fish. At the entrance there was machinery, people in full body suits pumping the gas down, and Barry and the Jägers pushed their way out into air contaminated by drifting wisps but not much more. The town was eerily empty, for which Barry could only be thankful. No visible corpses.

By the time they reached the edge of the town the gas had dissipated. He could see the camps, now, tents stamped with the Wulfenbach sigil set up at a safe distance beyond the walls. Airships closer in, as much to stop anyone going back as to cut off anyone coming out.

He headed for the airship nearest the position he'd left, unsure with the slightly fogged mask whether it was the same one or had replaced it. It might have Agatha on it, probably had Klaus, and either way it could get them to a lab....

The door opened and Klaus loomed out of it, which might or might not have been an effect of the fog. He took one look at the battered Jägers and said, "Everybody in, I'll take us up."

"We found what had better have been the bulk of them on their way out," Barry said, hoarse with weariness and shouting. He took off the mask and grimaced at the scent of the gas clinging to them, scanning his Jägers for triage. Healing, needed help later, urgent. Klaus's people were good, already wheeling in ice for the dead as the airship lifted, swaying. Barry dropped heavily to one knee to apply a self-pressurising bandage to an arterial wound. "We'll need to check back later. I counted more than a hundred hive engines. Agatha?"

Klaus pointed towards the microphone she'd been using earlier and once he had the Jägers stabilised, Barry stepped around the control panel. She, Gil and Tarvek were curled up in the corner, the boys clinging to each other in sleep while Agatha sprawled across their legs, both hands gripping a tiny brass death ray.

"She aims it at anyone who tries to move her," Klaus said. "Or who tries to move them."

"I'd apologise, but under the circumstances I'm not sure I can blame her." They were safe, anyway.

"I'm not sure I can, either," said Klaus.

Barry noticed several tiny objects scattered around her; when he bent down for a closer look, he realised a few were tiny walking clanks but most of them were bombs. He ran a hand over Agatha's hair, and she twitched slightly. "At least they're all right now."

"If feeling a little defensive," said Klaus. "She made all that herself. She was humming."

"Yes, she was making bombs in Aaronev's cha--" Barry's brain caught up with itself. "....She's five!"

"I'm sorry," said Klaus. "I've been working on ways to handle breakthrough, we'll get her through it."

Barry drew a long breath. She was unbelievably, ridiculously young for breakthrough, even considering Gradok, but the evidence was plain and might, come to think of it, have helped account for Aaronev losing his head. It just hadn't crossed his mind during the battle to wonder much about his five-year-old niece throwing bombs. This might say worrying things about him, on reflection, but the situation had certainly called for explosives. He squatted back down to inspect her death ray as closely as he could without disturbing her and didn't pet her hair this time. "Okay," he said. "It's... I'd really rather have avoided a traumatic breakthrough, but she's doing pretty well so far. Everything she's blown up has been headed toward an enemy at the time."

"Hopefully an absence of enemies will lead to a decrease in explosions, then," said Klaus.

"The only trouble there is if she doesn't mean something to explode she may be less likely to get away from it. At least the death ray seems to be stable when she's not using it, although...." Very, very delicately, without jarring it in her grip, Barry steadied the death ray and pried part of the exterior casing off, then removed two gears and a spring. It sparked hard enough to scorch his hand. "Ouch. I'd still let her sleep there, but it shouldn't fire now."

Klaus flew the ship in through the hatch and onto Castle Wulfenbach, landing it gently in the bay. "I'll stay here and watch them. You'd better see to your Jägers."

"Thanks." Barry hoisted the nearest of the fallen onto his shoulders while the rest began picking each other up. "When the others get back, send them on to me."

"Of course," said Klaus, and Barry headed out for the closest medical laboratory, half wishing they were in Castle Heterodyne. But Klaus built good labs and he'd put his foot down about supplying battledraught to Castle Wulfenbach. It would do.

Chapter Text

With Barry and the Jägers gone the ship seemed strangely empty. The children, when Klaus checked on them, were still sleeping the sleep of the thoroughly exhausted. What was he going to do with them? With Sturmvoraus really — currently almost grey and burrowed into Gil’s shoulder as if he could shut out the world that way — who was certainly going to be a political problem, but was also eight, barely, and Gil and Agatha’s best friend.

He was interrupted by the arrival of Boris, all four hands full of confiscated papers. “Thank you,” Klaus said. “From the palace?”

“Yes,” said Boris. “There’s more of it, but this seemed to be to do with Lucrezia and the Geisterdamen.”

“Have someone send in a desk,” said Klaus, not wanting to do paperwork on the control panel. He looked at the sleeping children. “And a blanket.”

Hours later he had found that, yes, the chair Barry had destroyed had been meant to download Lucrezia. The wasps had been the supply to use on Europa — there had also been a few experiments in producing new wasps, but none had produced anything yet, for which Klaus was thankful. The revenants really hadn’t been intended to be mindless and there might be any number left over from the Other’s attacks who weren’t, who had gone unnoticed. He was going to have to try to find and cure them. Hopefully without starting a panic, they were living normal lives, they didn’t need lynch mobs panicking about revenants. He rubbed a hand across the bridge of his nose. They’d won, he reminded himself. Lucrezia hadn’t returned, her Geisterdamen were dead, and the hive engines she’d meant to use to control Europa were being collected for a trip to the nearest volcano.

He moved on to the next lot of paperwork and found…well. It looked like Tarvek’s claim was true, but it took a while for Klaus to reach the part explaining why the genealogy was in with Lucrezia’s Spark work. Well, that was…considerably creepy, since Lucrezia had apparently decided to design her own future husband…but it didn’t look like the modifications would do any harm. It would probably disqualify the boy with the stricter of the Fifty Families, which could be useful. Klaus sighed and looked toward the sleeping children again. Tarvek had known he was descended from Valois. Had he known about this?

There was a soft tap at the ship's entrance, and Klaus glanced up to see Barry. There were dark circles under his eyes and he smelt strongly of disinfectant soap with a tinge of blood-scent still under it. He offered Klaus one of two large mugs of coffee, which Klaus didn't exactly need but wasn't going to refuse. "The Jägers are looked after. Your medics ran me out when I offered to help with anybody else. The kids haven't been awake?"

"Not yet," said Klaus, glancing towards them automatically. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do with them when they are." He tapped the paper. "Sturmvoraus's genealogy is here. He really is the Storm King -- or, more accurately, he's a descendant of Valois and could make an excellent claim. He was also born for the role, thanks to Lucrezia making sure of his suitability. From what this says I don't think he's the only one, either."

"I don't want to speculate what she planned to do with the extras," Barry said, leaning over the desk to read upside-down. Klaus flipped the papers around for him and Barry blinked, looking momentarily disoriented.

"No," Klaus agreed. "My problem for now is what to do with the original. I doubt he meant to challenge me for Europa like this -- a child and alone -- but 'I'm the Storm King' didn't come out of nowhere. If he were unaware of the ramifications, he wouldn't be so sure he'd signed his own death warrant."

"No. He meant to save his father." Barry sighed and glanced up. "Thank you for interrupting me."

"I don't blame you for wanting to," said Klaus. Aaronev. Who would have to be killed (which would not reassure Tarvek) or kept prisoner indefinitely, but at least Klaus was set up to do that with dangerous Sparks. Usually not ones who had once been friends and had recently tried to destroy his friend's niece. "I know why he did it now. But I'm sure he meant to challenge me one day, and he's not going to be a child forever."

Barry nodded and straightened from the desk to pace around the room, careful not to thump near the sleeping children. "They did this on purpose.” Some of the anger that had nearly been Aaronev’s end vibrated in his voice. “Supported Lucrezia, helped her -- even if she meant the revenants to be obedient people instead of turning them into mindless monsters, dropping rocks on all the most powerful Sparks she could find has to have been meant to cause chaos.” He scowled. “Maybe it was supposed to start later, and they didn't originally mean to maintain it for twenty years or so before introducing their Storm King saviour, but I think you interfered with their plans just by stopping the wars. I suppose after that they meant to let you settle things and then find a way to have him step in. Presumably as 'Agatha's' husband. My involvement probably looked like a chance to get things back on track for them." He bit back the bitterness, sighed, and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "And that wasn't Tarvek's fault. But it doesn't mean he'd give up the whole idea, and it doesn't mean he wouldn't try something in time."

"At the least he never knew what they intended for Agatha. And he fought for her rather than allowing it. He did know about the revenants, no question there, although you're right that he can hardly be blamed for their existence," said Klaus. What Barry said sounded all too likely as what Aaronev and Lucrezia had planned. "I'm not sure if it's more or less disturbing to think that Lucrezia had a purpose in what she did." The sheer amount of chaos had seemed insane; now, as the prelude to ruling, it seemed colder.

"Just a different kind." Barry looked over at them. "He probably knows about Gil now."

Klaus winced. "And if he does have ambitions of his own, Gil's in the way of them. Or will be."

"Certainly of a peaceful takeover. Not that he looks like he's thinking of Gil as an obstacle at the moment." Not with them clinging together, no. Barry stopped walking and was silent for a moment, then said slowly, "Klaus... how strongly are you set on Gil inheriting an Empire?"

Klaus raised his eyebrows. "What are you thinking?" Certainly he didn't like running an Empire much. It was tiresome, and mostly meant stopping people from killing each other who probably deserved the consequences of a war, if only their peasants did. But he'd never really considered leaving it to anyone other than Gil, who was his own blood and Zantabraxus's, and whom he could train for it. He barely trusted most of the Fifty Families and Great Houses with their own cities.

"I'm thinking that despite the appalling way they went about setting it up, the return of the Storm King makes a pretty good story and they probably have reason to think they can get the Fifty Families to go along with it. I'm thinking that apart from being habituated to mind control in a way that turns my stomach, Tarvek has principles and decent instincts. And we can hardly hand him back to Aaronev to raise at this point. Given his lack of enthusiasm for going home, I wonder how many of the conspirators' children would be just as glad for a strongly urged invitation to the school." Barry held out a hand, as if the idea were sitting on his palm. "So... co-opt the plan. Declare yourself regent for Valois's rightful heir, and train him as yours."

Sending Sturmvoraus to any of his actual relatives to raise probably came to the same thing as killing him, Klaus thought, looking at the genealogy. They were rivals for the same throne -- a throne none of them actually had, but that hadn't stopped certain of the Fifty Families killing over it for the last two hundred years. One way or another the boy was staying on Castle Wulfenbach, because what else could they do with him? As for the rest... "I don't need their notion of legitimacy," Klaus said. "And if I need a story I have you. Really, after...this, you'd put a Sturmvoraus on the throne?"

"Which side of blood inheritance are you arguing, exactly?" Barry asked. "After this, I'm still planning to hand over Mechanicsburg to Lucrezia's daughter. After the past several centuries you still decided to trust a couple of Heterodynes." A crooked smile that Klaus couldn't quite help returning. "We can do without the Fifty Families' games, yes, but it may be a more effective strategy to play them our way. In theory their notion of legitimacy is supposed to keep things more stable than having random people pop up and conquer things and then lose interest or blow themselves up or whatever. In practice, questionable, I realise." He stopped, looking at the children. "I'm talking about the Sturmvoraus who didn't plan the wasps, even if he was raised thinking they were normal. The one who risked his life and all that was in it to protect a friend and is clinging to your son like the last solid thing in the world. One major advantage to what I'm suggesting is that it doesn't set them against each other."

Klaus looked at the sleeping children, too. "I never meant to found a dynasty," he said. "When this started I wasn't thinking that far ahead. But I do trust Gil more for being my blood, as Agatha is yours and Bill’s, even if she's also Lucrezia's." But would Gil want an Empire, especially one he had to fight his friend for? Gil was a child. He wanted to be with his friends, he wanted to make things, he wanted to fly. Who knew what he would want in another decade? Tarvek wanted Europa already, Klaus suspected, but he had been raised to it. As Gil hadn't, as Klaus had chosen not to raise him. "I don't know that I'd wish the Empire on Gil. But neither can I put it in the hands of someone I don't trust." Could he trust Tarvek? If not now, then who he might become with time and training to learn better than his family had taught him?

"He cares," Barry said. "About his friends, family even if they don't all deserve it, his townspeople... and about doing the right thing. He believes in using power to protect people instead of bullying them. It's a start."

It was, and better than several among the Fifty Families. Klaus turned the plan over in his head, trying to consider it dispassionately. It would pre-empt the Fifty Families -- or at least the Valois branches of it who were in on this. The common folk, not in on plots and politics, would be overjoyed. A new Storm King, one found and endorsed by Barry Heterodyne (because that was how it would be reported). They'd be expecting peace and prosperity to arrive at any moment, and while the optimism would prove unfounded sometimes it was easier to start things in that direction when people were expecting them and willing to try.

"It might work," he said, uncertainly. Gil would no longer be inheriting an Empire, but he'd only had any idea he could for a few months, and...and he'd be safe. "I'd be able to acknowledge Gil. No one would want to kill him for Wulfenbach." A personal consideration like that should have no place in deciding the fate of Europa (but the decision to clean up Europa had been too much about the child he'd brought into it to begin with).

"Not likely, no." Barry probably didn't think the personal consideration was a problem. Mechanicsburg ran on a kind of feudal devotion, familial and acutely personal, even these past years when its Heterodynes hadn't been quite sure about that. Klaus didn't exactly think the argument about not setting the children against each other had been purely because of their eventual political power.

"I can't believe you're convincing me this could work," said Klaus.

"It's simultaneously a remarkable political opportunity and quite possibly the kindest we can be to everyone involved," said Barry. "I do think it could work."

Klaus shook his head. "And after he was spying for Aaronev. But I don't think I can separate them at this point -- not unless I want to get shot by Agatha -- and there's nowhere safe to send Tarvek anyway. Keeping him here, expecting it to fall apart when he grows up… At least your way has a chance of it turning out better."

"I wouldn't let her shoot you," Barry protested. "But... look, you can play to a crowd on the spot as well as anybody, but I think sometimes in trying to do what's right and necessary regardless of what people think, you underestimate the power of what they do think. Of expectations, and of a story coming true, of a little bit of real life working out the way people feel it's supposed to. It's not always a good thing -- it's part of what drives new Sparks to try taking over towns and mobs to go after them with torches. But it can be. And in this case I think a lot of people who don't want to go with us as it is will play along, for the time being, because they can see the advantage to that. As well as because they see this as a sort of concession, see Tarvek as one of theirs."

"I don't want to make concessions," said Klaus, and then snorted at himself because that wasn't an argument against. That was pride, not to want to even be seen as playing their games, and contained more than a hint of the desire to Show Them All as well.

"I admit to sharing a certain sense that we shouldn't have to," Barry said, "but we are talking about one -- apparent -- concession designed to put someone we think well of in charge, one that may just get more cooperation out of the Fifty than love, money, or bullets could buy for the next several years."

“Do we think well of him?" asked Klaus. "Yes, he's got better ideals than many in those families and he's attached to Gil and Agatha. But are you proposing this because he's got the right bloodline and is young enough that we can work with that, or do you really think well enough of him to want him in charge?"

"Mixed,” Barry admitted. “I wouldn't be bringing it up if it weren't for the bloodline and situation, but then a lot of the risks and advantages wouldn't be there either. I wouldn't want him in charge now. He's eight years old and has been raised with Aaronev's... poisonous obsession." Barry smiled wryly. "And yet he came up with the ideals anyway. That says a lot."

What did Klaus think of Tarvek? All along he'd been thinking of him in relation to Gil. Friend and threat. Trying to think of him... Nervous around Klaus, which didn't help, inclined to go quiet. Barry almost certainly knew him better. "Perhaps I should have wondered why he didn't want to go back home," Klaus said.

"I don't think we could plausibly have reasoned from 'reluctant to be sent home in disgrace' to 'Aaronev was complicit in the Other's attempt to destroy Europe', really." Barry sighed. "But maybe we should have given it more thought than that."

"Well, no," said Klaus. "But I never really thought of him much at all. Most of what I know is that he's scared of me and Aaronev was using him as a spy."

"Probably not unrelated points."

"Hah. No." Klaus stood up and started sorting the paperwork into piles, for something to do. "Maybe he'll relax now there's nothing left to hide. If he can believe I'm not about to kill him."

"That could take some doing," Barry said ruefully. "Which I realise I didn't help with."

Klaus clapped a hand on Barry's shoulder. "You didn't threaten him." Aaronev had deserved it. If Tarvek hadn't been watching, Klaus would probably have let Barry finish it. "You were protecting all three of them when I got there."

"When I came in, Agatha was in the damned chair and the Geisterdamen were holding him and Gil both back."

One of them had scratched Tarvek, at some point, the tear in his nightclothes was still visible. Even if Klaus's first thought was fury that they'd been holding Gil, that they'd probably hurt him… Aaronev had been right there. Klaus and Barry had charged in to protect their children. For someone with the blood of kings Tarvek was curiously abandoned by the world. All three of them were enough to make anyone feel protective right now. "It could work," he said, returning abruptly to Barry's plan. "Valois wasn't perfect, either. And you know well enough I'm not. Sometimes it just takes ideals and the will to see it through. He fought for Agatha, he put himself on the line for his father." Who hadn't deserved it. "He's not short of courage."

"No." Barry leaned back against the desk, looking over at them. "Probably best to decide before he wakes up."

"Yes." Suspense would be cruel at this point. "There are several good reasons to agree with you, and," he paused to let out a sigh, "I want it to work, which feels like a reason to be suspicious of it. It would let me acknowledge Gil, it would let me leave the Empire in the hands of someone who might even be able to get some support in holding it. It might even make people happy about being forced to be peaceful for once."

Barry chuckled wearily. "I suppose there's something to be said for added caution over things you want to believe, but don't overdo it."

Klaus grinned at him. "Point. And if I'm going to play Fifty Families games there's something to be said for making the winning move at the start." He dropped back into his own chair. "I'll do it. The advantages are worth it." He picked up his nearly cold coffee and took a gulp. "But Sturmvoraus is never going to believe it if he wakes up and we tell him we're going to crown him king."

"He might," Barry said, eyes narrowing. "I think he may be awake."

Tarvek froze, trying to force his breathing to stay even, aware of two pairs of eyes on him, and then gave up and opened his eyes, blinking as he felt around for his glasses. He still couldn't quite believe what he had overheard. Agatha mumbled a sleepy protest as he moved and he stroked her hair until she settled before sliding her onto Gil and standing up. The two adults at the desk looked impossibly large.

"So when did you come in?" the Lord Heterodyne asked mildly. He was leaning easily back against the desk, looking a lot more like he had when he'd come to ask about getting caught in the vault. Like he'd be easy to talk to.

"Something about acknowledging Gil, I think," Tarvek said, and then realised he'd just given them another reason to kill him if they decided to, if they hadn't really been going to acknowledge him or decided against it. "I won't tell anyone...if you don't, I mean, it won't matter if..." He stopped and swallowed. "You're really going to crown me?"

"Yes," said the Baron evenly, watching him. "And you're right, you knowing about Gil isn't a threat to him anymore."

Tarvek swallowed again and looked down at Gil. "It explains why he was so weird about everything," he said, half under his breath. He rubbed his forehead. "I wasn't awake for -- well, is everybody...?" He trailed off, not sure whether the closing word should be "dead", "okay" or "alive".

"The townspeople got out," said the Baron. "There were very few casualties." Tarvek thought it had looked like an awful lot of them even just in the palace, but it was something, that the evacuation had worked, that they weren't all killed by the gas. "They're camping outside the town until we can be sure the gas has dissipated. Your sister is asleep in the school. Aaronev is in custody."

Tarvek leaned back against the wall, gingerly, and resisted the temptation to just slide back down it and sit for a little while. He should stay on his feet. "That's... good. And I..." He was trying to decide whether to ask if he could see any of them, although he doubted Anevka wanted to be woken up and he wasn't sure he wanted to see his father, when he looked down and realised what was in Agatha's hand. "Did Agatha build a death ray after we got here?!"

"You just noticed, huh?" said the Lord Heterodyne. "I've disabled it. She probably won't be pleased."

"She...." Tarvek looked down, she was still sprawled across Gil and until recently him as well. Had she been protecting them? Or protecting him? But she hadn't thought the Baron would kill him, had she? "Who exactly was she thinking of using it on?"

"Whoever tried to move any of the three of you," said the Baron. "Otherwise we'd have put you all to bed hours ago."

"Oh." He smiled at Agatha, not sure whether to be touched or worried. Did she think he was in danger? Probably not if she was acting the same around Gil, certainly the Baron wouldn't hurt him.

"She's in breakthrough," said the Lord Heterodyne. "And was just attacked by people who used to look after her. I'm not surprised she's a little paranoid, although I hope it'll be better once she's fully awake." He smiled faintly. "Given her attitude toward you, please don't go anywhere. It would be a bad time for a tantrum."

"I won't," Tarvek said quickly. He wondered for a wild moment whether they'd decided not to kill him because they couldn't risk upsetting Agatha further right now...but he'd overheard them talking, it was a real plan, they weren't just pretending. Or if they were they'd set it up very carefully.

"Are you okay with joining her in the lab once she does wake up?"

"Oh, yes." They could work on the dragon, now that one of them was in breakthrough they might actually make it work. Gil would be thrilled. Suddenly his head was full of clockwork and wing joints, which was a lot nicer than the fear and confusion it had been full of a moment ago.

The Baron leaned forward in his seat, all at once intensely alert. "You were helping her build things last night, weren't you."

"Both of them were," said the Lord Heterodyne. "Klaus--"

"Tripling the blast shields," the Baron muttered.

"Yes," said Tarvek. "Oh. All of us?" They could definitely finish the dragon, then.

"It looks that way." The Baron looked like he couldn't decide how to feel about this. Eager and anxious. "...How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Better." It was easier to think about mechanical things than how unlikely it was that the Baron was really going to acknowledge him, or what would happen to his family, or remember Agatha strapped into that chair or the townspeople lying in the corridors with their throats slit. His mind shied away from that, into mechanical solutions. Giant shields for covering whole towns, and giant dragons with built in lockpicks and flamethrowers for rescuing people from prison and….

"You know, perhaps we'd better wake Agatha and Gil," said the Lord Heterodyne, coming over to kneel by the two of them. "Agatha, sweetheart?" He put a hand on her shoulder, and both Gil and Agatha woke with a gasp. Agatha lifted her death ray and Gil clutched at her, either protective or restraining, and looked around wildly until he saw Tarvek.

"Uncle Barry," said Agatha, slumping back and looking mostly relieved. "Are we okay now?"

"Yes. The fight's over, you and your friends are safe."

Agatha sighed and practically melted onto the floor, regardless of Gil's legs, then sat up again all at once. "I need a lab, please."

The Baron stood up and went over to the ship door. "That sounds like a good idea. You go ahead and I'll follow with blast shields."

As far as Gil could tell, everything was mostly okay now. Agatha hadn't shot his father and they were all going to a lab. Only they weren't going to the school, and he dropped back beside his father, who looked rather surprised. "Could we get our dragon?"

"Barry," his father called, and then threw the blast shields across for Barry Heterodyne to catch. "You carry on. I'm taking Gil to get their dragon."

"Ah. Yes, good idea." Barry stepped into Agatha and Tarvek's line of sight as they glanced back for him, and Gil followed his father off toward the school laboratory.

"How are you feeling?" his father asked, looking down at him as they walked.

"Pretty good," Gil said. "All kind of fizzy. Relieved. Ideas all over everywhere. Um...." He looked up and tried to think. Should he not be feeling good? He didn't know what had happened while he was out. "Barry Heterodyne got back okay. You're okay. It sounded like everybody was getting out. Did you find the hive engines and everything?"

"Barry did. And yes, everyone is okay," said his father, before adding, somehow sounding both excited and resigned, "You're also in breakthrough."

"Oh!" He really was going to be a Spark. Everybody else had seemed so sure about it, but he'd always wondered a little if he was going to disappoint them, even though he was pretty sure he could still work with Agatha regardless. "That's good, right?"

"...Yes. If not particularly safe. Including for the rest of us if we don't get Agatha distracted from death rays," said his father. He ruffled Gil's hair. "I'm sure you'll all be fine."

"I think the dragon will be good for that," Gil said. There was something he should tell his father, probably. "Um, I think Tarvek figured out... because I had the beacon. But we had to use it."

"Yes, he knows. And you did have to use the beacon. You did well sending a message with it too, I had no idea you'd learnt military code." Gil's hand was suddenly engulfed by his father's larger one and he looked up, surprised as much as pleased when they were in a corridor -- even if no one else was around -- and his father had put so much effort into hiding their connection.

"I know it was when we weren't supposed to be listening," he said, latching on firmly, "and I knew you'd come no matter what but it was too weird not to tell you what was going on."

"Information is valuable," said his father, distractedly. "Gil. There's something I need to tell you about our plans for the future -- mine and Barry's."

That definitely sounded interesting. "What is it? Do I do something in them?"

"Probably. That's up to you, but I can't imagine you won't. Do you remember Tarvek claiming to be the Storm King?"

"Yes." Vividly. Although Gil hadn't known what to say about it at the time. And... Gil remembered, too, almost as clearly, when Agatha asked if the Storm King was like Baron Wulfenbach and Tarvek had been indignant. He swallowed. "Agatha told him one time if the Storm King was around he obviously needed help and should work with you and her uncle," he said, "but we didn't know. Did you?" Was that why his father had been so worried about what Tarvek knew?

"No. He wouldn't have told us. Making that claim means making a claim for Europa. He really did expect us to kill him once we knew," his father said sombrely, then added, "In case you were wondering, we're not going to. What we're doing is something more like Agatha's plan."

"I didn't think you'd have known because he told you," Gil muttered. Tarvek liked telling people things, but he'd have told Gil and Agatha secrets sooner than the Baron. "...You're gonna work with him how?"

"The Storm King really does have a claim to Europa. At least in the eyes of a lot of its population. They'd be more willing to obey and work with an Empire run by a descendant of Valois, and the point of the Empire was always to stop people fighting. I'd continue to run it until Tarvek was old enough to do so himself." His father stopped, waiting for Gil's response.

Gil hesitated, looking up at him, and then said carefully, "Instead of me doing it... um... eventually." Not that he wanted to think about his father dying.

"Yes." His father's step faltered for a moment. "Did you want to rule Europa?"

Gil rubbed one ankle along the back of his other leg. "I was hoping it wouldn't be for a really long time?"

His father looked away and rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Thank you. This way I'm hoping I'll get to retire some time before dying."

"Um, that sounds nice?" He hadn't really thought about his father wanting to do something different. "I don't want you to die. I don't want Tarvek to die either. Um, I think he might be good at it, as long as it doesn't mean people not talking to him?"

"I don't think it would stop people talking to him?" said his father, sounding rather puzzled.

"I mean he isn't very good about not having people talk to him... um... at least he wasn't when I wasn't--" Gil stopped talking. "I think maybe my head is full of dragons right now and it's hard to be clear."

"Maybe we shouldn't be having this conversation while you're in breakthrough," said his father, smiling. "But you needed to hear it from me, I think. If you mean yourself and Agatha then one of the advantages of this is that none of the three of you will need to keep secrets from each other. I'm not trying to separate you." They reached the school, still quiet this early in the morning, and Otilia let them in. She'd changed clothes, and her wings were damp, the bloodstains fainter. His father opened the laboratory door and said, once they were inside, "And from my point of view, one of the main advantages is that I won't have to keep you secret at all."

Gil stopped and stared up at him. That swept the dragons right out of his thoughts. "Really?"

"Yes. With one of their own already in line to inherit Europa you won't be an obstacle anyone will feel the need to remove. I can acknowledge you as my son and heir to Wulfenbach."

...Acknowledge you as my son.... Gil launched himself upward, hauling on the hand he held for extra leverage, and his father caught him automatically and looked very startled at the hug before Gil buried his face against him. "That will be nice," Gil said, a little bit muffled by his father's collarbone.

His father hugged him back for a long moment. "Yes, it will be," he said softly, then lifted Gil away from him to put him down and pick up the dragon. "For now we'd better be getting back."

Gil raced around to pick up everything else he could think of that looked interesting or dragon-related and then came back to follow his father out the door. They were going to admit it and not have to keep it secret and see each other without sneaking around!

They arrived back at the lab to find Agatha and Tarvek working shoulder to shoulder, with blast shields deployed around them and Barry Heterodyne behind them reaching over to show them things. Gil raced over to see what they were working on and was somewhat alarmed to see it was another, slightly larger, death ray.

"Barry," said his father.

"I was showing them how to make sure it doesn't go off accidentally," Barry Heterodyne explained.

Gil's father put the dragon down on the lab bench in front of Agatha and Tarvek -- carefully not on top of anything they were building but also where they couldn't miss it -- and buried his face in his palm. "That's it. You're forbidden from helping with this."

"...why?"

"Because you had to ask that!" His father tugged Barry up by one arm.

"He's been very helpful," said Agatha, picking something up to add to her death ray.

Gil climbed up beside her. "Do we have to make death rays?" he asked. "We brought the dragon and I want to see if we can finish it, I'd rather fly than shoot at people, come on."

Tarvek looked up far enough to see the dragon and nearly pounced on it. "I still don't like flying," he said a little grumpily, taking pieces out. "You can fly it. But I think we can get it working now."

"You could fly it indoors," said Gil, even if that defeated the purpose a little bit. He grabbed the body and opened it up, he was sure there was a way to make the engine more efficient and reduce the weight.

"I hope you didn't think I'd let you fly it off the side of Castle Wulfenbach," his father said in disbelief.

Gil looked up at him in bewilderment. "Why not?"

"Well -- certainly not as a test."

Agatha peered into the clank's mouth. "I think it needs a flamethrower."

Gil tugged her away. "Priorities. It has to be able to fly first! Here, I brought the little one back for an example."

"That one used to have a flamethrower!" Agatha argued.

"We're on an airship! My father's airship! We don't need a flamethrower!" Wait, it might have been a little early to say that.

Agatha goggled at him. "Baron Wulfenbach's your father?"

"Yes," said Gil, shooting an apologetic look at his father in case he really hadn't been supposed to say it yet. "I don't think it has to be a secret anymore."

"All the secrets blew up," said Tarvek, with an unsettling sort of giggle.

"I was planning to make the announcement after the one about Tarvek," his father said, giving Tarvek a concerned look, "but that's fine."

"Are you okay?" Gil asked Tarvek. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you." He stopped, realising his father was listening, and carried on, "Well, not exactly, but I'm sorry I was worried enough about you finding out to stop talking to you and I won't do it again."

Tarvek looked at him in surprise. "That's a stupid way to keep a secret, acting like you have one," he said. "I didn't tell you everything either and Agatha never said she remembered anything about the Geisterdamen."

"They didn't exactly come up," said Agatha.

"You learnt their language first and never sounded like it at all!"

"Uncle Barry said not to speak it!"

"That's not what I meant," Tarvek said. "I guess it worked, I didn't figure it out until last night. I still can't believe he had a baby with the Queen of Mars."

"Skifander," said Gil. "It's not the whole planet."

"Now you're being pedantic."

"I am not, it's an important distinction, would you call Albia the Queen of Earth?!"

"Uh...." Tarvek frowned. "Okay, no."

"I didn't think so. Especially not if you're gonna be the Storm King."

Tarvek glanced nervously toward the two adults. "He says so."

"He wouldn't lie to you about it," Gil said indignantly.

Tarvek's eyes glittered. "No? How long did you know you were his?"

"That's different!" snapped Gil, feeling his brain go hot and bubbly. "He wasn't pretending he was going to help me or...or that I was important and then taking it away."

"No, he let you think you weren't! He let me think you weren't! I was afraid he was going to experiment on you!"

"You were what? Why would you even think that?" Gil demanded. "Even if I had been an orphan he'd never been mean to me!"

Tarvek clutched at his hair. "People do that! It's not safe to be a Spark without connections!"

"I had Agatha! She's a connection! I didn't need you to protect me from my father!"

"I didn't know he was your father!"

"You weren't meant to!"

"He wouldn't do that to anybody," Agatha said, trying to lean around Gil to reach the equipment on his end of the bench. "And don't hide the welder."

Gil handed her the welder and took a deep breath. "He never promised me anything he couldn't give, anyway. If he wasn't going to make you King he just wouldn't."

Tarvek opened his mouth and then went pale when the person they were talking about cleared his throat and said, "That's right."

Gil looked at him, but he didn't look angry, and then at Tarvek and...every variation of you don't have to be afraid of him seemed both unconvincing and really embarrassing to say in front of the person they were talking about. "No one's going to get hurt," he said firmly, and turned back to the dragon. "...Agatha, don't install the welder, I said we didn't need a flamethrower! Give it here."

Agatha frowned at him. "We might."

"What do you think we'll want to set on fire?" Gil demanded. He considered turning to Tarvek for backup, you could normally count on Tarvek to be against things like flamethrowers on airships, but he was being weird right now.

"I don't know! It's a good capability to have in reserve!" Agatha was starting to sound agitated again.

"I'm not sure we need a dragon that can weld things, though," Tarvek said thoughtfully. "Anyway, don't we need the welder to put it together?"

"Yes, thank you!" said Gil.

Agatha sighed. "I bet we could combine a flamethrower with a gas-based supplementary lifting system--"

"NO!" said both boys together. Out of the corner of his eye, Gil saw his father start forward and Agatha's uncle grab his arm to hold him back. To his relief, Tarvek then started explaining why they did not want to try to engineer that particular combination, and Gil got them back on the subject of wing structure, and after that they started really making progress.

Chapter Text

The children had settled down to concentrate on their clank dragon and didn't seem to be about to blow anything up, but you never knew. Klaus watched them intently. Barry did too, for a while, but he had to check in on the Jägers again, because nobody else was permitted to deal with the worst injuries, and eventually sleep.

Klaus did have other things to worry about as well. Boris kept trying to bring them to him. "Boris," Klaus said, forcing himself to focus on reading the latest set of orders before he signed them, "for your last... three sets of suggestions, I haven't changed anything." They had mostly involved the care of the people in the camps. The residents of Sturmhalten, who were terrified by being revealed as revenants, had been separated from the visitors, who were terrified of being surrounded by revenants. "I am authorising you to implement them without me. Go."

Boris looked appalled. "Herr Baron, I'm a librarian. I'm not--"

"You're organising everyone perfectly well and haven't even tried to put anyone on a shelf." Not even a twitch of a smile. Klaus supposed Boris was tired, but he was beginning to think the man really didn't have a sense of humour. Perhaps being forced to play the jester would wipe it out of anyone. "I am trying to keep an eye on three child Sparks in the midst of breakthrough. Would you prefer that task?"

Boris took a hurried step back. "I'll report in an hour, sir."

Klaus returned to his own post, muttering, "Good enough." He'd just as soon Sturmvoraus forgot he was there again.

It was definitely less than an hour when Boris returned again. "Herr Baron--"

"There's a crisis, isn't there."

Boris shrugged helplessly. "Not as such. Now that everyone who managed to sleep is waking up, I've had it announced that the wasps are dead, that the citizens of Sturmhalten will not be killed for being revenants and will be permitted to return home, and that our side only... ah... developed a method to counter the Geisterdamen's direct orders rather than for general use. That is correct, is it not?"

Klaus eyed him. "Yes. I suppose they'll probably be more reassured when you can get Barry to tell them, but that doesn't explain why you're here."

A sigh. "It seems the von Blitzengaards were in town for the winter and they insist on the right to speak with you directly."

Klaus rubbed a hand over his face. "At least they got out of the town." The combined threat of wasps and Teufel's poison had effectively got everyone moving. Klaus was not enthusiastic about answering a demand to speak with anybody, but it was possible he should go anyway. For one thing, Sturmvoraus credited his primary claim on the throne to his mother. Her younger sister had married the Count von Blitzengaard, and therefore, Hengst's son Martellus... probably called for personal investigation. "Fine. Get me Lilith and Adam Clay."

He met them at the door to the lab a few minutes later, and they peered past him into it. "This is what you're worried about?" Lilith murmured, looking at the children absorbed in their work.

"Agatha proposed introducing a gas buoyancy system and combining it with the fuel supply for a flamethrower."

Adam's eyebrows shot up. Lilith said, a little teasingly, "And she could be talked down from that? They are doing well."

Klaus rolled his eyes. "Why do I feel as if Barry and I should take that as a critique...."

"Heh. You're better than most." Lilith patted his shoulder. "We'll look after them, but do hurry back."

Klaus made another quick sweep through the laboratory for high-energy equipment before leaving, although he didn't have much confidence in this as a preventive measure, and headed for an outflier. Actual quarantine was frankly hopeless at this point, but he wasn't going to start ferrying potential revenants up to Castle Wulfenbach on purpose.

The camp was fairly orderly. There were no Jägers in sight, which probably kept everyone calmer. Klaus wasn't sure if Boris had chosen not to send any or simply hadn't had the option given their heavy involvement in the fighting last night. His own soldiers watched both the inner and outer perimeters and divided the visitors' camp from the Sturmhalten one. Guarding them from each other.

As he walked through the Sturmhalten residents' camp, a few people watched him in mute exhausted terror and most avoided his eyes. Klaus rubbed a hand over his face and wondered whether it would even be possible to reassure them, after they'd been driven into combat by Geisterdamen and then out of their homes. Barry had mostly eradicated the rumour that Klaus himself was secretly the Other, or in league with the Other, and had viciously attacked Europe in vengeance for lost love and then returned to pick up the pieces.... This probably wasn't going to help.

He found the von Blitzengaards' tent and stepped inside.

Young Martellus stood with his chin up and hands on his hips in the centre of it, and a sea of glowing-eyed Sparkhounds all sat up around him at once.

It occurred to Klaus that it was possible he should have brought in backup.

He held his composure and surveyed the tent slowly. A dozen Sparkhounds, which someone should really have mentioned to him, but might not have recognised. Various ages, all young, perhaps three adult. A girl of about twelve, presumably Xerxsephnia. No sign of their parents. He swept his eyes back up to Martellus and said mildly, "Are you under the impression you're threatening me?"

The boy's confidence faltered, just a little, but he puffed up more to make up for it. He opened his mouth, and a chorus of shrill voices started singing the Ride of the Valkyries.

Klaus looked involuntarily and incredulously toward the sound. Martellus stopped with his mouth open, turned a dull red, and lunged to clap a lid onto the large box sitting by Xerxsephnia's feet. This had very little effect, as the lid was full of air holes.

Klaus followed him over, stepping carefully between Sparkhound puppies with wagging tails, and lifted the lid against Martellus's efforts to hold it down. Several very tiny bears looked up at him and redoubled their volume at this evidence of interest. Klaus released the lid and looked at Martellus. "You were going to say?"

"I--" Martellus recovered slightly. "I demand an explanation for this outrage!"

"Which one?"

"What?"

"There seem to have been a considerable number," said Klaus, "prominent among them that Prince Aaronev proves to have conspired with the Other to fill his town with Geisterdamen, hive engines, and revenants. Barry and I are doing our best to remedy this situation without harming the innocent. I must admit I hope your father wasn't involved, but I'm rather concerned by his absence."

"You won't have him, you--!"

"What my brother means," Xerxsephnia said, and Martellus, remarkably, fell silent. "Is that we'd like a little more explanation of your countermeasures. Please."

Of his countermeasures? Not what he was going to do to those who had been involved? "I believe our short term countermeasures have been announced. In the long term we hope to develop a cure for revenants, but everyone should be able to return to the town once the poison dissipates. They've been leading normal lives, I see no reason to prevent them continuing." Except a town reliant on trade suddenly having a reputation for being full of revenants wasn't going to be able to go back to normal. He and Barry should be able to provide help, at least no one would starve, but he wasn't sure what would happen in the long term.

They both stared at him. Xerxsephnia looked suddenly very young in a way that reminded him of Anevka (when she'd opened the door, before he suggested she might mean to be dangerous). She wet her lips and said, "A cure?"

"We can't guarantee anything, but of course I'm going to have people work on it," Klaus began, and then stopped. He'd thought their father might be part of this conspiracy, that they were protecting him from justice. But not everyone in the Fifty Families was a Spark. "We're not planning to hurt any of the revenants," he said, more gently, even if her apparent vulnerability might be an act. "We had them commanded last night because the Geisterdamen were ordering them to their deaths. Without the need to counter that we won't be doing it again."

"If you can-- No one puts down that kind of power," said Martellus, scowling. Xerxsephnia looked at him and her lips thinned; Klaus, having received a number of shut up you tactless nitwit glares in his day, recognised the expression.

"The Lord Heterodyne wouldn't let me use it again if I wanted to," said Klaus. And Agatha would be very annoyed if it was asked of her for reasons other than lifesaving. "Besides which, half my army would rebel if I looked like I was making a habit of it. Whatever else you can say about Jägers they don't put up with mind control."

They both looked rather surprised at that. Possibly Mechanicsburg's distaste for the practice didn't exactly get around. Xerxsephnia cleared her throat. "That is encouraging," she said. "But, ah, in relation... so to speak... to Prince Aaronev, may I ask what you're doing with our cousins?"

"They're currently at the school," said Klaus. "Neither of them are being blamed for this, but I have reason to think they'll be safer with us for now than with their family."

"I'm rather fond of them, actually," Xerxsephnia said, sounding a bit shocked. A bit too shocked, given what Klaus knew of that family even under normal circumstances. Martellus nudged her slightly, and she sighed. "But I suppose you'll be investigating everyone, of course."

"Yes," said Klaus. "We're investigating the adults of your family. We are also extending an invitation to the children to join our school, which would include both of you if you're interested."

They blinked at him. "Invitation," Xerxsephnia said, sounding rather uncertain.

"Not as hostages," said Klaus. Because I have evidence that doesn't work with your family. Barry would be better at this, talking nervous people into seeing the advantages of an offer, and he wouldn't be fighting the urge to say it was an attempt to teach them better than some of their parents.

"I'm not sure the practical effect wouldn't be the same," Xerxsephnia said pensively, "but I can see where it would seem a little late in most cases."

"Seffie," said Martellus, in a low voice, "They're going to see us as compromised regardless."

She looked up at him sharply, then nodded.

Seffie. The last time Klaus had head that name mentioned it had been Tarvek talking to Anevka, it hadn't come to mind when he'd been called down to talk to Xerxsephnia, although he could have guessed it was her if he'd been thinking of it. "Xerxsephnia," he said. "You told your cousin you thought the Geisterdamen were a danger to Agatha Heterodyne, didn't you?" Which meant she hadn't known, any more than Anevka or Tarvek had, what the plan there had been.

Xerxsephnia swallowed. "I learned as much of their language as I could. The way they talked about their holy child... sounded like a sacrifice." Her mouth tightened. "And they talked, sometimes, like they wondered if someone else wouldn't do as well. I wanted to stay in Blitzengaard for the winter, but Father--" She bit the complaint off.

"Your father wanted to stay here?" Klaus asked sharply. Wanted to or been ordered to -- and if he had wanted to, then why would a revenant want to stay around those who could control him?

"They got to him," Martellus said, sullen and defiant, the information flung down like an unwanted prize. "I just knocked him over the head before he could go and fight."

"You won't take our word for it, of course," Xerxsephnia took over, "but not all of the family liked Uncle Aaronev's plans. Father was one of the ones working against the Other. But the rest can't possibly have known he was a revenant himself." She bit her lip. "Now they'll probably think I am, and they won't trust Martellus."

"Is this what you meant by being compromised?" asked Klaus. He wasn't entirely sure he believed her, but it was something to look into while investigating this mess, and he didn't disbelieve her. It wasn't implausible, it would just be something she'd probably say whether it was true or not.

She looked down. "Yes. Mostly. Anyone who was working with Prince Aaronev will probably have wanted us out of the way before we could talk to you. We've had a few assassins drop by already."

Klaus looked at the half grown Sparkhounds filling the tent. "Is that what the dogs are for?"

One of them stood, ears perking, and Martellus ruffled the top of its head. "They don't hurt," he said.

"I really think you'd better come up to the school, if I can convince you, and perhaps bring your father as well," Klaus said. "It sounds like you've been taking care of yourselves, but you're not safe here." He was going to have a word with his guards about letting assassins through.

"We did notice that," Xerxsephnia said ruefully. "Martellus?"

"We accept your word and the Lord Heterodyne's," he said formally. Then, with a grimace, "You're not going to want me to bring the dogs, are you?"

"On an airship?" Xerxsephnia said, making a face, as the Sparkhounds all simultaneously started whining.

...And then started talking. "Not go with Master?" "We go with Master!" "Go!" "Yes, we go!" "Master, we go, please?" "Please?" "Please?" "Please?" "Please?" "Please?" "Please?" "Please?"

"No," said Klaus firmly. They all crouched down at the tone and looked pleadingly at Martellus through glowing goggles. Talking Sparkhounds. Actually rather impressive, but potentially even worse to bring aboard than regular ones. Martellus would effectively have a private army. Agatha's the only student who gets one of those, he thought wryly.

"They're really young," Martellus said.

"I can find someone to take care of them." The Jägers probably would, they were also pack hunters and could have a lot of fun taking the Sparkhounds out to hunt the local mountains. "But while they sound unusually intelligent, I don't think I can enroll them all."

Martellus snorted and then sighed. "They wouldn't have room to run anyway."

It took some minor manoeuvring to get the von Blitzengaard children up to the school, mostly because for different reasons neither Martellus nor Klaus was willing to leave the Sparkhounds unattended and Klaus therefore had to send off for someone who could actually handle them. In the meantime Martellus gave away a little more about the extent of Mongfish involvement by explaining that Lucifer had distributed puppies to a variety of dubiously enthusiastic recipients, and he, Martellus, had gone around and collected them and was pretty sure his modifications would breed true, which was both fascinating and somewhat alarming.

Somewhat against his better judgement, Klaus relented on the box of operatic bears, after inspecting a randomly selected sample over the course of a highly indignant aria. He thought the school could probably cope with them, although he sternly told Martellus they could not be permitted to be disruptive, which finally made the boy look daunted.

When he did get them there, Anevka was awake. She and Seffie gasped and flung themselves melodramatically into each other's arms while Martellus rolled his eyes, but Klaus thought there might be some real feeling behind it. Klaus quietly told Otilia to call him if anybody appeared to have been poisoned, and left them to their reunion.

Klaus had quietly sent for food without quite taking his eyes off the children. Breakthrough was an obsessive time, but also one of heightened senses and appetites, and it wasn't too difficult to steer them toward the tempting smells. They were predictably ravenous, and just as predictably started drooping as the excitement of the work wore off and digestion kicked in.

Barry took Agatha's hand, and she perked up approximately halfway to look around. "Huh? Where're we going?"

"Bed. You can go back to the lab in the morning."

"But I--" She yawned. "...Okay. I need--" Her drowsy eyes suddenly went wide. "I left Princess Stompy Boots! I have to go back to Sturmhalten!"

"We can't do that--"

"We have to! I left her! I didn't mean to leave her and I have to get her back!"

"Agatha, the town is contaminated with--"

This was apparently the wrong tack for once, or perhaps there really wasn't a right one with a traumatised five-year-old in breakthrough. Agatha started wailing, pulled her hand away from Barry, and flung herself on the floor.

Barry sighed and sat down crosslegged on the floor in the heart of the noise, close enough to rest a hand on Agatha's back while she kicked and pounded on the floor. Klaus suspected he was cheating by heterodyning very quietly. Gil and Tarvek were wide awake again and looking anxiously at each other and Agatha as if they thought she might need repairs.

Klaus opened the door from their test hangar into the hallway. The guards outside looked just about as alarmed by the howling that emerged around him. "Go get Lilith Clay," he said. "It might help." He shut the door on them again and went back over to where the boys were conferring. "Don't look so worried," he said. "She is only five."

"But she's never done this before," said Gil, still sounding like he was talking about an invention.

"Oh yes she has," Barry said, although Klaus wasn't quite sure how he'd heard Gil over the screaming.

"You have, too," Klaus said. Of course Gil didn't remember. That probably wasn't one of the greater losses, which was part of why Klaus could enjoy being able to admit that he remembered it. Although it was probably completely unfair to be entertained by the dubious look Gil gave him.

"Should we get her other toys?" Tarvek asked, sounding rather uncertain about whether this would work.

Klaus wasn't really sure either. "It probably wouldn't hurt, but she might be fixated on that one. You two could go on to bed, however. You don't actually have to stay and listen."

Gil and Tarvek looked at each other, some agreement being reached there without words. "We'll go and get her toys," said Gil.

"Very well. ...Not by yourselves." Klaus gestured them toward the door and followed them out.

The boys had to be told they didn't actually need to run to Agatha's room, but were tired enough to slow down after the reminder. Once inside Gil grabbed a duck toy off the end of the bed. Tarvek picked a giant mimmoth up off the floor and then looked stricken. "Andy! I haven't been back to check on him, or anything, I was thinking about the dragon..."

"I'm sure he's fine," said Klaus, "but you can check on him while we're here." Klaus was inclined to think pets one liked as they were should probably be left in someone else's care during breakthrough, but a supervised visit should be safe enough.

Tarvek handed him the toy mimmoth and rushed to his own room. As soon as he got the door open, the midmoth inside (which really was about the size of the toy) galloped up to cavort around its master's knees, trumpeting happily.

Naturally, doors opened all up and down the corridor. Klaus was a little more surprised to hear the operatic bears again, although he probably shouldn't have been, and Martellus popped out into the hall next to him. "Hey! Andy!" he said, and then actually spotted Klaus, looked back into his room in alarm, and slammed the door. This muted the bears somewhat.

"Just quiet them down in time for everyone to go back to sleep," said Klaus. "I think it's hopeless at the moment."

"Tweedle," said Tarvek, sounding like he wasn't sure whether to be pleased or worried, although Andy happily ran up and wrapped his trunk around Martellus's wrist. "When did you get here?"

"This morning." Martellus (Tweedle?) patted the midmoth on the head. "Where were you all day, and how come the DuMedd boy thinks he runs this school?"

"Building a dragon clank. I've been breaking through," said Tarvek, like a flung gauntlet. It was almost certain his cousin hadn't broken through this young. "And if you're mad because Theo tried to get you to be nice, maybe you should actually try it."

Martellus looked skeptical. "You're eight."

"Where's Agatha?" Theo broke in. More concerned about his cousin, Klaus noted, than Martellus's opinion. Good for him. "Madame Otilia said she was all right, but--"

"Also in breakthrough," Klaus told him.

Theo gaped at him. "But she's five!"

"Yes. And rather upset about the whole situation. I assure you I've appreciated Gilgamesh and Tarvek both being somewhat calmer."

"Oh dear," Theo murmured. "Can we do anything?"

"This is ridiculous," said Martellus.

"It's not," said Tarvek. "We're building a clank dragon that can really fly and if that's not enough for you to believe I'm a Spark I can prove it." He started looking around appraisingly, which was a worrying sign in any Spark not actually in a lab, still more from one in breakthrough.

"A live dragon would have been more interesting," said Martellus, while everyone else except Gil, Theo, and Sleipnir edged subtly back a step.

"Agatha already has one of those," Tarvek said scornfully, as if building a superfluous live dragon were the most idiotic suggestion imaginable. Klaus firmly suppressed the impulse to point out that Franz didn't sing. "She had a flying clank dragon too, but not big enough for three people to ride."

"You and your clanks!" Martellus said. "I suppose I should be grateful it's not more of the damned wasps!"

"You knew about the wasps as much as I did! I didn't make them! I didn't have anything to do with it!" Tarvek's fists were clenched at his sides and under the anger there was a note of panic, as if he didn't quite believe it himself, perhaps, or as if he was afraid no one around him would.

"He helped us fight," Gil said loudly, glaring at Martellus. "He helped save Agatha."

"Well, that's a first," Martellus snapped.

"And what did you do about anything?" Tarvek shouted back. "Except make stupid bears and pretend you're better because you don't have to live with it."

“Some of us have been trying to stop your father's stupid plans, you little--"

Andy lifted his trunk. Martellus's mouth kept moving, but whatever he'd tried to call Tarvek was drowned out by a distressed "BweeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Tarvek stepped forward and picked Andy up, hugging him tightly and still glaring at Martellus. He murmured something to the midmoth, but it was drowned out by the continuing trumpet.

Klaus, at this point, decided enough was enough. He handed the toy mimmoth to Theo and reached over to grasp Andy's trunk between finger and thumb and clamp one palm over the end of it. The racket ended in a moist snort and cough, followed by Andy feeling over his hand as if it were some sort of new and unexpected entity. "I think you've done enough, thank you," Klaus told the midmoth blandly.

“I’ll put him to bed," Tarvek muttered, pulling away from Klaus and carrying the midmoth into his room.

"Maybe you should go to bed," Martellus said, scowling, as Tarvek came back out and shut the door. "You're brattier than usual even if you do think you're in breakthrough. Just don't expect you can make the rest of his plans work out either."

"I don't need his plans any more," said Tarvek, drawing himself up. "I have my own plans now, and yours won't be needed."

Martellus looked incredulous. "You're eight," he repeated. "And apparently out of your mind."

"He did tell you he was a Spark now," Klaus said.

Tarvek shot him a "you're not helping" look, which suggested he was too far into the madness place to remember to be scared, before turning back to Martellus. "You know I have the best claim," he said. "Baron Wulfenbach is supporting it and so is the Lord Heterodyne. The Fifty Families will accept it. I'm going to have the Lightning Throne before you even get close."

Martellus's jaw actually dropped, and he swung around to look at Klaus, shocked and questioning and wary, fists clenched. Klaus noted that the older boy hadn't been the one to make their argument explicit, as if he thought Klaus might not have found out that part of the conspiracy yet. Perhaps he'd expected Aaronev to be more careful with his notes.

This hadn't exactly been how he planned to make the announcement, himself, but it wasn't as if he should have expected a nascent Spark to be circumspect. "True," he said. "You should find yourself with considerable interest in your cousin's safety, von Blitzengaard. Given the disappointing political history of Valois's descendants, if anything happens to him you are the obvious suspect."

"Why are you supporting him?" Martellus demanded, ignoring the rest of it.

"According to your admittedly tangled genealogies, he does have the best claim," said Klaus. "It would be absurd to pretend nothing would ever come of it, which leaves me with the choice of supporting him," and teaching him something better than your family's plan to grind out whatever ethics he's managed to develop, he added silently, "or treating him as an enemy."

“You've never cared about who had the right to rule Europa before," Martellus said, and then apparently realised what he'd said and actually looked worried.

Klaus let himself smile faintly, and not nicely. "Nobody else seemed to be bothering," he said. "If your relatives had troubled themselves to make and enforce peace, I would have contented myself with rebuilding Wulfenbach."

"You can't possibly think--" Martellus began.

"Tweedle." Tarvek's voice was dead level now, and warning, and belonged to a Spark who'd done battle for his life and his friends already. "You can't think you're getting anywhere that way. Drop it."

Martellus looked over at his cousin, tired and red-eyed and now holding a soft toy mimmoth... and shut his mouth.

"I suggest everyone goes back to bed," said Klaus, looking around at their audience. He was going to have to make an official announcement soon and it probably still wouldn't beat the flurry of letters home. "And we'd better get back to Agatha."

Tarvek started and looked a bit guilty. Gil still beat him to Klaus's side.

When they returned to the hangar, Agatha was no longer on the floor but sobbing against Lilith's shoulder while Barry still sat on the floor beside them. "I don't want a new one," she said. "It's not the same."

"That's true," Lilith said, which prompted a fresh burst of tears. "But it might be the best we can do."

"...We brought your other toys?" Gil said, holding out a duck tentatively.

Agatha sniffed. "But Princess Stompy Boots is still gone."

"Agatha," Lilith said gently, "your friends are trying to help you feel better."

"But I don't."

Gil dropped the duck on Lilith's lap, next to Agatha, and retreated back to Klaus's side.

Lilith patted Agatha's back and smiled sympathetically at Gil. Tarvek went over and nudged Agatha with the toy mimmoth. "You could try feeling better," he said.

Agatha turned partway around to eye him. "Does that work?"

Tarvek frowned. "Only sometimes."

"I suspect everyone will feel better for some sleep," Klaus suggested.

Agatha looked at him doubtfully. "I guess we could try it," she said.

"Consider it an experiment," Barry suggested, managing not to sound like this was at all funny. Agatha looked slightly more interested.

"An excellent idea." Klaus ruffled Gil's hair, just because he could. "Back to the school, then." A wry look at Barry. "And hope they've had time to calm back down."

Tarvek dreamed restlessly about dragons and accusing dead eyes in the palace corridors, and woke up anxious to return to the clank. Otilia took one look at him and conducted him with Gil and Agatha out of the school and into the Baron's hands. Gil flung himself on the Baron, who actually grinned and then took them straight back to the lab with the dragon, where Tarvek could concentrate on the clank joints (thinking about Otilia's all the while) and forget for a little while how jumpy he felt.

Hours later Gil was tapping at his shoulder and calling his and Agatha's names until they both finally looked up, and then Gil pointed at the table. "Hey! Food?"

The food looked good and Tarvek felt suddenly weak around the knees and upper arms, realising he hadn't eaten yet and it was probably late for lunchtime. The Baron was standing by the table, and Tarvek swallowed hard and heard Gil sigh.

Agatha dived into a seat between Adam and Lilith, chattering at them the way she had at their house if faster paced and more frantic. She was hampered slightly by Lilith telling her not to talk with her mouth full, which meant the chatter came in little bursts, followed by her wolfing down a sandwich and starting up again. Gil took a seat next to the Baron, smiling up at him as easily as Agatha smiled at Adam and Tarvek tried not to feel like he needed to be wary of that now, too. It was Gil. Who had already chosen the Baron over Tarvek once (but Gil was the Baron’s son, any of Tarvek’s family who found out would have killed him, and he hadn’t known…he hadn’t known spying risked uncovering anything like that, but what had he thought he was looking for?).

He looked away, not sure he was hungry suddenly, but picked up a sandwich anyway and discovered on the first bite that neither nerves nor guilt were a match for the appetite of a Spark in breakthrough.

A short while later, as Agatha’s latest burst of speech died down, Gil swallowed a last bite of sandwich with what looked like an effort and said, "I think we're almost done!"

The Baron looked over at the dragon. "Already? It's only been a few days."

"Well," Gil said reasonably, "we've been working on it for months. We just had to rebuild it so it'd actually work."

The Baron grinned. "Ah. Yes. The finishing touches."

They were not, as it turned out, almost done. It seemed as if they should have been, but then the wings wouldn’t move in sync, and they had to strip half the chest mechanisms to get to the cogwheel that was out of alignment, and then they got that working, only to find they’d failed to reconnect a wire in the steering system after doing it and had to do half of it again, and then one of the joints in the tail went out of alignment testing the steering and they were halfway through fixing that when Tarvek’s vision started going blurry and his head felt heavy and he just rested it on his arms for a moment…

He half woke into a muzzy, dazed state where his brain was telling him something was happening but still too tired to really be sure what. He was being carried in someone’s arms, which hadn’t been a familiar sensation since he was much younger. He blinked his eyes open sleepily and looked up to find he was being carried by the Baron. It was enough for him to tense up, which made the Baron look down at him. “Ah, you’re awake.”

“What are you doing?” Tarvek asked, blearily.

“Putting you to bed,” said the Baron, continuing to stride along the corridor.

“But why?”

“Because you could hardly sleep on your workbench all night.”

“I mean…why you?” Tarvek clarified after a few minutes of trying to sort out why that answer wasn’t satisfying.

“I was there,” said the Baron. “Not much point in coming to the school to get someone else when I could just as easily bring you with me.” He pushed open the door to the school and walked through — it must be late, only a few of the older students were still up and they didn’t even look surprised. Oh. He’d probably carried Gil and Agatha through already. The door to Tarvek’s bedroom swung open and the Baron pulled the cover back with one hand and set Tarvek on it. Andy’s soft breathing could be heard from his nest. Tarvek let his eyes fall closed, and a moment later felt a gentle tugging as his shoes were taken off. He opened them again to see the Baron kneeling at the foot of his bed, setting a shoe on the floor.

The Baron’s lip twitched as Tarvek stared and Tarvek said, more muzzy than accusing, “You’re laughing at me.”

“A little,” said the Baron. “You look as if a kraken just crawled up from the deeps to put you to bed. I’m not quite so terrifying as I pretend to be, and I’ve put children to bed before.”

“But you rule Europa,” said Tarvek, flopping back down onto the pillow and staring at the ceiling. Bits of his brain were telling him to keep an eye on the Baron, but he didn’t feel like he was in danger. Just rather confused.

“One day you’ll have children of your own and since you’ll also be ruling Europa at the time I’m going to remind you you said that,” said the Baron, taking Tarvek’s other shoe off and pulling the covers up.

Tarvek yawned. “Will I?”

“With any luck. If you want a prophecy ask your Muses.”

“I don’t understand you at all.” It was meant to be a thought, not said aloud and plaintive.

The Baron’s hand reached down towards his face and Tarvek held his breath, feeling his heart thump sharply, before the Baron lifted his glasses off and folded them. “Not everyone wants power,” he said, pensively. “I didn’t.”

“But you took it.”

“I came back to Europa to find my home destroyed and decided it wasn’t going to happen again,” said the Baron.

“I understand that,” said Tarvek, turning his face into the pillow.

“Sturmhalten will be fine,” said the Baron, he was hovering over the bed, his shadow over Tarvek, and for a moment it seemed as if there might be something else, but he turned away. “Go to sleep. We’ll take care of it.”

Tarvek blinked, eyelids heavy, then let them fall closed and did as he was told. He didn’t have much choice.

The dragon took days, which was a little frustrating but also immense fun. In the end, Gil regarded the finished dragon with a mix of delight and disappointment. It was perfect, dark steel-blue with a flexible lobster-tail for steering, although they'd had to make the front claws small so they wouldn't weigh it down, and four big fanlike wings with just enough room for three seats between the pairs. But it was almost sunset. "We'll hardly have time to fly at all before dark today," he said. "Maybe if we put on lights?"

"The dark doesn't matter for today," his father said firmly. "Your test flight will be indoors." Tarvek, to Gil's further irritation, looked relieved. His father added, "I've had an area prepared for you already."

His father hoisted the dragon over one shoulder, which looked ridiculous and impressive at the same time -- it was big even with the wings folded, and as light as they'd been able to make it was still really heavy, and he'd picked it up before Gil considered telling him they had also made it able to walk.

They went to a hangar, and Gil looked longingly at the big doors before scanning the rest of the room. There was a balcony for maintenance on some of the taller outfliers, which they could maybe launch from if the dragon turned out to need a high start, and... there were foam and inflatable cushions all over the room.

His father put the dragon down. Tarvek and Agatha and her uncle swarmed over it, poking at things and making last-minute adjustments, and Gil took a step toward them and then stopped and looked up. "You don't think it's gonna work," he said accusingly.

"It may well work. But if it does the cushions won't stop it, and if it doesn't you'll need them," said his father levelly.

"It will," Gil said. "We'll show you."

"I'll look forward to it," said his father.

Gil frowned at him, feeling unsatisfied. It always sounded like Sparks in stories almost didn't mind being doubted because then they got to show everybody how wrong they were, but he thought it was kind of spoiling the fun. Then again those were mostly the bad Sparks, so maybe he wasn't supposed to like it. He'd like it if the dragon worked though. When the dragon worked. He went over to join Agatha and Tarvek, taking Barry's place as Barry went over to join his father, bouncing a little on the cushions.

"I appreciate the safety precautions," Barry said, sounding amused. Gil wasn't sure if he was laughing at him or his father. "I'm impressed that you managed to pad an entire hangar."

"I remember my breakthrough project," his father said, then under his breath and almost too soft to hear, "vaguely."

Gil looked over before he thought that almost too soft to hear for him was probably not meant to be heard, and said, "What do you mean, vaguely?" His stomach was flipping a little. Even with his memory problems, he couldn't imagine ever forgetting this.

His father looked rather taken aback for a moment and looked at Barry, before saying, "When I was in my teens an experiment went wrong and blew up." He pulled back his right sleeve to show a line of stitching. "My parents managed to repair the damage, but...well. Amnesia is a common side effect."

"...Oh." Gil swallowed. It hadn't occurred to him that his father might know what not remembering was like from inside, and for sort of the same reason. He looked down at the dragon. "Sorry I complained about the cushions."

His father stepped over and ruffled his hair. "It's all right. But taking precautions is never a bad idea, no matter how confident you are in your design."

"Okay." Gil looked up at him and saw that he was smiling, and managed to smile back. Tarvek was looking thoughtful instead of worried about the dragon. Gil climbed onto it -- he didn't really expect Tarvek to insist on the front seat and steering it, but he thought Agatha might, but she didn't -- and waited for the other two to get settled before activating the dragon clank.

Its little red eyes lit up, and he felt the motors thrum. All the wings fanned open and started beating. The cushions rippled under the force of the wind.

He leaned forward. The dragon ran a little way, smacked the floor with its tail, and launched into the air.

It wasn't quite like flying outside. Gil missed the wind currents, he missed the space; he imagined following the seagulls like this and pulled the dragon into a gently rising spiral, imagining it as a drawn out corkscrew each turn throwing them higher aloft. But they were flying, and without gasbags, on something they'd designed themselves. He let the last turn take them close up against one wall and then pulled the lever back and leant forward. The dragon obediently half-tucked its wings and swooped across the hangar.

"Gil!" Tarvek shouted.

Gil laughed. "It's on purpose!" he shouted back, feeling Tarvek grab his waist and then let go quickly as he realised that would interfere with the steering. Gil leant back and twisted the lever back and up, and the dragon spread its wings and banked just short of the wall, back claws scraping it slightly with a drawn out scratching sound as it sailed back into the centre of the room.

"Don't do that to the windows," his father called up to him, sounding cheerful again.

Agatha giggled behind him, and Gil spiraled back down. He came in for a slightly harder landing than intended, but the dragon's claws didn't puncture the cushions and the whole thing bounced up again a couple of times. Gil grinned up at his father. "So can we try it outside now?"

"Not at night," said his father, firmly. "Perhaps in daylight."

"Aww." Gil considered. "Tomorrow?" Tomorrow wouldn't be so bad.

"Tomorrow," his father agreed. "A short flight. Don't go shooting off across the sky."

"Maybe a longer one afterward?" Gil asked hopefully.

His father sighed, but he was almost smiling, too. "Maybe. Do you have a power gauge built in?"

"Yes!" Tarvek piped up. He climbed off the dragon and ducked around one of the front wings to point to the dial on its head, above the controls. "I made that."

"Good. It's remarkable work -- all of you -- but before you consider taking it outdoors, I think you should calibrate the gauge."

Gil looked at him quickly. "Does that mean more indoor flying?"

His father did smile then. "Yes. But when the power starts dropping off, fly low."

"I will." Gil grinned. "C'mon, Tarvek, get back on."

"I think I'll watch for a bit," Tarvek said. "Don't let Agatha fall off."

"I am not going to fall off," Agatha said indignantly. "I have a safety harness and hands."

"Yes," Tarvek said patiently, "but if you hold on to Gil he can't steer."

Gil leant forward and once again the dragon slapped its tail against the floor, spread its wings and launched.

Chapter Text

They tested the dragon outside, which was amazing, even if her uncle and the Baron hovered over them quite literally the whole time and they weren’t allowed to keep the dragon around to go flying any time they liked even after they’d proved it worked safely. Agatha built more little clanks who were very helpful, and more death rays, which Gil kept trying to distract her from. They’d separated a little bit, now, Gil was setting up a tank of something in a corner while Tarvek was attempting something Muse based. He’d tried to take one of her clanks apart to see how it worked when he realised how much some of them were thinking (it had kicked him, and he’d apologised to it), and then convinced her to help with his project, which did distract her from the deathrays, but then they’d fallen asleep and while Agatha was back to work this morning the whirl in her mind was a little bit clearer and she could maybe think about things that weren’t building. So when Uncle Barry said he wanted to talk to her she put her tools down without protest and handed her diagram to Tarvek with a few words of explanation before following him out.

He took her to his own room, where she hadn't been very often because when he visited Castle Wulfenbach he usually came to see her when he could and was busy the rest of the time, and then looked a little embarrassed and spent a minute tidying the workbench while she tried to see what he'd been working on. Some of it looked like a lamp. A little one, not like the big ones behind Baron Wulfenbach's fancy windows. Only it didn't have an obvious illuminating element so Agatha wasn't sure it was a real lamp.

"Agatha...." He sat down on the couch with her and looked at her seriously. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Agatha blinked at him. "I thought you wanted to talk."

Uncle Barry laughed a little bit, not like he was very happy, and rubbed a hand over his face. "Sorry, let me try that again. How are you feeling?"

Agatha thought about that. How was she feeling? "Like I want to build things and have lots of ideas, but I think you probably noticed that." Her fingers twitched. "Like if I build enough things I can keep the three of us safe. Only I don't think I really need to protect people from you, and not really from Baron Wulfenbach either, but it felt like just the three of us and Tarvek's scared of him still and he trusts me and I really --" She sniffed hard, eyes suddenly watering. "I really trusted Eotain and Shrdlu too, I thought they loved me!"

He pulled her into his lap all at once and held on to her like he had sometimes when they were travelling and they’d had to be quiet, tight like... like he thought somebody might try to take her away from him, she realised suddenly, and she sniffled again and started crying against his shoulder, and Uncle Barry put his chin on her head and eased up a little bit and then she felt like it was okay to make noise again.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he said. "I meant to keep you safer than this." He sighed shakily like he wanted to cry too. "It's hard to feel like you don't know who you can trust."

"I'm glad they're dead," Agatha sobbed. "I was so happy to see them and they only wanted me to...to get her...and I hope I blew them up."

Uncle Barry was quiet for a minute, petting her hair, and then said, "I'm still angry with them too. It's... not exactly a good thing to be glad if somebody's dead, but they were trying to kill you and you did the right thing fighting back. You and Gil and Tarvek all did really, really well." She could kind of feel him making a face, above her head, in the way his jaw and throat moved. "I think the trouble with the Geisterdamen was... they thought of you as part of your mother, instead of as yourself."

"I hate her too," said Agatha, fiercely. "She wanted them to do that, didn't she, to k-kill me so she could have my body?"

Another sigh, and then he said, "Yes. She... planned that. And she made wasps to get into people's heads and make it so they couldn't disobey her no matter how much they wanted to. And she killed a lot of other people."

Agatha was stunned out of crying for a moment by the sheer enormity of the stuff her mother had done and all the reasons there were to hate her. "At least I don't have to feel bad about hating her," she concluded. "Even if she is my mother. Everyone should hate her."

"Uh...." Uncle Barry petted her hair again. Agatha was starting to wonder if he did this when he couldn't decide what to say. "It's okay to be angry. Hating people isn't good for them or for you, if you let it take up a lot of your mind and feelings. But... if you've heard people talk about the Other... pretty much everybody does hate her, only they don't know it was her." He stopped for a moment again. "That's because at first your father and I thought somebody had kidnapped her, instead of that she'd gone away on her own. We didn't find out what really happened for a long time."

Agatha wondered if her father had felt the way she felt about Eotain and Shrdlu when he'd found her, someone he loved and thought he was going to rescue, and realised she had left deliberately and was horrible. Bill killed her! rang through her head in the vibrant tones she'd heard it shouted at Prince Aaronev and it was perversely satisfying that he had done what she had and killed the person who hurt him like that. "Thank you for taking me away from them," she whispered. "I didn't understand, but if you hadn't they probably would have done it and I'd never..." She gulped. Never have got to meet Gil and Tarvek, or Theo and her other classmates, or to...do things she hadn't done yet but was going to. "Never have got to really be me."

She felt a hot little drip slide into her hair, against her scalp, and realised Uncle Barry really was crying too. "That's why I did. I was afraid you were going to hate me for it because they did... take care of you, and think they cared about you. But I couldn't let them keep you."

"I didn't hate you even when I didn't understand," Agatha told him, wriggling closer to hug him as tightly as she could.

"I'm glad." He squeezed her back. "I was glad then, too."

Agatha held onto him silently for a minute. "You've always been really good to me," she said, and then sighed. "Prince Aaronev was horrible too, like my mother. I wouldn't have died for him if he was my father." Not that Tarvek had, really, but he'd thought he was about to.

"I'm pretty angry with Aaronev myself, too." Uncle Barry sighed again. "And I'm sorry I let him get hold of you. I didn't exactly trust him generally, but I didn't know he thought he could get anything he wanted by hurting you."

"I'm sort of seeing why people were mad at Tarvek for telling him things now," said Agatha, wearily. "I thought if people were on your side they were, but some people just want to get things from you." It was the sort of thing Tarvek said, sometimes. Their classmates tended to be nice to him because he was both a Prince and a Spark, the same way they treated Agatha nicely because she was a Heterodyne, but Agatha had just taken them liking her at face value and Tarvek had always acted like it was a calculation, like making friends was something you had to think about to do properly. It hurt to think he might have been right.

"That's true sometimes. It's best when you really care about each other, and... it's okay when people get along because they're better off than when they don't. It gets to be bad when people start thinking it doesn't matter what they do to other people at all as long as their favourite ones are okay."

Agatha thought about that hard and then nodded. "Prince Aaronev only cared about my mother, didn't he?"

Uncle Barry cuddled her closer. "I think that's true."

Agatha closed her eyes. "Tarvek still loves him, though."

Uncle Barry swallowed. "That's... also true. I--" He stopped there, for long enough that Agatha lifted her head to look at him, and then said, "I loved my father, too, I think, even though he also did a lot of very bad things."

Agatha paused to compare that to the way she felt about her mother. "I suppose it's different if you actually know them?" she said dubiously.

"That probably makes a difference."

"Did he care about you?" Agatha asked, after more consideration. "I know that's...like you said, about only caring about your favourites and not anyone else, but it's not like loving someone who just thinks you're..." She trailed off, not sure what Aaronev did think Tarvek was. "Useful, maybe, or just sort of convenient."

Uncle Barry bit his lip then, hard enough she thought he might actually hurt himself, and gave her a long look. But then he stopped the biting and said, "You're right, that definitely makes a difference, and... yes. I doubt he'd approve of what Bill and I ended up doing, and we certainly didn't approve of what he did to people who weren't from Mechanicsburg, but we were some of the people he did care about."

"I think you're better than a parent," Agatha said. "My mother was horrible, and Prince Aaronev, and I like Baron Wulfenbach but he mostly didn't do anything for Gil at all. Tarvek's right that he let him think he didn't matter. And your father doesn't sound good either, even if he at least cared about you."

Uncle Barry rubbed the back of his neck. "I can see your reasoning," he said, "and... ah, thank you. But you're working from a limited sample. I haven't told you about my mother, for example, and she was... she was very good. And Bill was good, even if he died before we could get you back. Klaus...." He smiled a little sadly. "I can't say I think he made all the best decisions, because we did argue about his telling Gil or not. But he was really afraid that people would try to kill Gil for being his son, and he... wasn't wrong to worry about that. And he thought it would be a hard secret for Gil to keep."

"He was right about that," Agatha admitted. "It's going to be a lot easier now we're not keeping secrets, although Tarvek's good at it...I never even knew he had any and he wasn't weird about it. I'm glad your mother was good. Everyone should have somebody good." Even if some people didn't.

"You're right, everyone should." Uncle Barry kissed the side of her head. "And it's good to have people you don't have to keep secrets from. I think Klaus will be a better father now he isn't trying to pretend not to be, too." He looked at her. "And Donna and I will be trying to have children, too. I don't think I'm likely to be a lot worse as a father than an uncle, do you?"

"No," said Agatha, quickly, and then rubbed an arm over her still damp eyes and smiled at him. "Do you think I'll be a good cousin?"

"I think you'll be a fantastic cousin." He smiled back at her. "You're a good friend and I think it involves a lot of the same things."

"Thank you," she said, giving him another quick hug before sliding off his lap. She was starting to want to get back to the others and see if Tarvek had got any further with the articulation yet, but she felt a lot better. She hadn't really realised she'd been feeling bad, with her head full of building stuff, but she didn't want to build death rays so much (well, maybe ones with really interesting design principles, but she didn't feel like she needed them to protect herself and her friends from the whole world).

Uncle Barry blinked at her and then stood up. "Ready to get back to the lab?"

"Uh-huh. Want to come see what we've been working on?"

He smiled and leaned down to squeeze her shoulder. "Of course."

Klaus had been fondly amused by Agatha's bleary-eyed threats to shoot him if he tried to put her and her friends to bed, even if he was fairly sure the miniature death ray would have at least been painful. But he was relieved nonetheless, and only in part for her sake, when she stopped obsessively trying to build weapons.

He hated leaving the children in the laboratories regardless of who else was watching them. He couldn't help feeling he had the best chance of heading off impending disaster, and he didn't want to miss anything.

But there were other tasks to be done, and some of them did require his attention, and not all of them could be done when Gil was asleep.

Barry had written the letters announcing Tarvek; Klaus had distributed them to all the fastest couriers and had the students' letters home held back until the next flights. And he announced Gil, to the school, which he thought was probably more than enough public attention. It certainly caused a great deal of consternation. Klaus watched like a hawk in case there were assassins after all, but he wasn't sure how much Gil noticed.

And then there was the unpleasant research topic of what Aaronev and his confederates had been up to. Klaus and Barry were taking that in turns, examining Aaronev's notes and the von Blitzengaards' claims and all the independent evidence they could muster.

As was becoming usual now that the prospect of explosions was a little less imminent, Klaus left their nascent Sparks in Adam and Lilith's care for the evening and went to his office, where Barry was reviewing their list of conspirators. Barry started to stand so Klaus could take over at the desk; Klaus waved him back down and took another chair. "We should probably stop and discuss this at some point in addition to alternating. I think the children are fairly stable at the moment. How are things?"

"Well...." Barry stared at the papers for a moment, not entirely focussed. "The Jägers who weren't killed too emphatically for me to bring back are recovering. I think you're right about the final list, here. I think Agatha's feeling a bit better. And I am very nearly too angry to see straight."

"It's certainly disturbing reading," said Klaus. He was angry himself, but in a people trying to screw Europa up again way. He was more dismayed at the scale of it than surprised at the selfishness and stupidity behind it. "Now we've got the final list we'd better decide what to do about them."

"The guardians of Europe," Barry said, with heavy irony. Many of the conspirators were from families who had once dedicated themselves to that, supposedly. Mostly against Bludtharst, of course. He picked up the list. "I've been giving that a lot of thought. It's probably best if I do most of it. I should be able to get to several before anyone realises what's going on...." A slight frown. "The Jägers won't like it, but they'll understand. They've got Agatha, anyway. Of course, if anything happens to me, you're her guardian."

Klaus looked at him in honest bewilderment. "Back up a bit. What are you talking about doing?"

Barry glanced up, looking equally puzzled. "How to kill them."

"...I think the first consideration might be whether to kill them," said Klaus, once he'd recovered from being stunned by the idea of Barry Heterodyne as an assassin. Mostly. Partly.

"Klaus! You know what they've been trying to do." Barry gestured over the rest of their papers. "At least, we know part of it, but I really think that's enough."

"I'm not trying to suggest they don't deserve it, although I'm certainly not used to you deciding on death as a first resort, but you're talking about some of the oldest and most stable princedoms in Europa. We don't need to solve one succession crisis to cause dozens of miniature ones."

"This is not exactly a first resort," Barry said irritably. "Stable? They set out to mind-control most of Europe. They did nothing to resolve the chaos after Lucrezia decided to drop boulders on most of the Great Houses, which I'd guess they thought was a grand idea because heaven forbid they have to cope with such a thing as a stable dynasty among the upstart Sparks. And they have to know we're on to them at this point. You used to tell me and Bill we were being too trusting but at least that was with people who could be more than halfway plausible about changing their ways!"

"I'm not proposing to trust them," Klaus snapped. "But stable, in the sense that they don't suddenly decide their people would look better with tentacles, or that their land needs a twenty foot gorilla rampaging through it. They mostly deal with things like crime and maintaining infrastructure, people would not be better off with no one doing it. Yes, they were willing to mind control their people, and I'm no happier about that than you are, but neither the idea nor the methods were theirs. If we take away the wasps then they have nothing to do it with, I don't think they're likely to start researching alternative mind control methods on their own initiative. Most of them will fall back into line quickly and pretend they had nothing to do with it if given a scrap of plausible deniability."

Barry sat back and stared at him. "I didn't expect you to argue about this," he said, sounding rather wounded. "I don't know why you think they wouldn't try alternative methods. It's not as if Lucrezia was the first. And you know I could get into most of their fortresses and out again, with or without portals. I even built an invisibility device."

"That's terrifying," said Klaus, without thinking. The worst thing about Barry as an assassin was that he'd be a terribly effective one. "We'd be keeping an eye on them, and they'd know it, and if they did start attempting alternative methods we'd kill them. Publicly, and with people knowing why. Tarvek does not need to start his reign with people thinking we assassinated his competition. Especially if they're right."

"They'll only be sneakier for knowing they're watched." Barry got up and started prowling the room, voice taking on the overtones whose absence had initially fooled Klaus into thinking he was clear-headed. "And I suppose that could be a problem, but I wasn't planning to get caught."

"If half the claimants to the throne of the Storm King and their backers mysteriously die they don't have to know it was you personally to start reaching conclusions," said Klaus.

Barry stopped and shut his eyes. "I was hoping to avoid outright war with them but you're right, that's a problem."

"Barry. If you don't stop thinking that the only options here are taking up a career in assassination or starting a war then I'm..." Klaus trailed off, not sure what he could do. Barry wasn't listening to him. Heterodynes had always been famously protective of their own people, and Bill and Barry hadn't so much changed that as expanded who it applied to. This felt rather like a larger scale, and soon to be disastrous, version of trying to talk Agatha out of waving a death ray at anyone who came near Tarvek or Gil. Which did give him an idea, actually. "...calling your aunt."

Barry opened his eyes again, this time looking rather disoriented. "What?"

"You're being really, worryingly Heterodyne about this. We are not starting a war -- which is incidentally what happens with either of your options, because succession in that family is a nightmare and they'd all start fighting over the places you'd left leaderless unless we stepped in and fought them -- and if you're not going to accept that from me I'm calling someone you might actually listen to," said Klaus.

"Most of them have heirs," Barry protested. "Obvious ones. I think. It can't be that complicated."

"Oh, yes it could," Klaus said direly. "Barry, you somehow overlooked that you were in line to inherit Schallenburg." Admittedly, Klaus hadn't really thought about it either -- Heterodynes were so very firmly associated with Mechanicsburg -- but he hadn't been surprised. "I'm not trusting you to evaluate the likelihood of a succession dispute."

"So you're going to call my aunt to have her tell me not to assassinate people."

"I admit that seems ridiculous, but you're the one making it necessary," said Klaus. "Unless you'd like to listen to me?"

Barry stared at him for a long moment and Klaus decided he did not like the look in his friend's eyes a few seconds before Barry said deliberately, "Go ahead. Given my mother's success, maybe she'll have some advice."

"Fine. Just don't do anything until then." Maybe he should ask Gil for advice on distracting overwrought Heterodynes. His ones had always been pretty stable before.

"I have to do something!" It came out raw, angry, and maybe Klaus was imagining that it was just a little pleading. Not for permission, but understanding.

Klaus rubbed a hand over his face. Barry had fixed all the Jägers as much as possible for now. It hadn't surprised Klaus that he would dive into that, he certainly wouldn't leave them waiting, but he hadn't realised it was Barry needing to fix something as much as empathy for the wounded. "Have you been in the madness place yourself since Sturmhalten?" he asked. Obviously not deeply, Klaus would like to think he would have noticed that, but he'd been focussed on the kids and Barry had been been...keeping a lid on it for them probably.

"Yes, of course I--" Barry paused. "You mean the whole time." He started pacing again. "Maybe. I should probably know."

Klaus shook his head. "Sometimes it's least obvious to the person in it. I wasn't paying attention." He really was going to have to find Barry something to do, something to fix. Well, there were always plenty of those. "Right now we need a way to identify revenants. We have no idea of the extent of this problem, and I really don't want to use Agatha for that." Having her command people and seeing if they obeyed was the obvious solution. It was also likely to be terrifying for people to have that triggered, upsetting for Agatha to do that to them, and terrible publicity to continually demonstrate that she could.

"I'd think not," Barry said, looking rather startled and sounding disturbed, which Klaus felt was an improvement over saying disturbing things as if they weren't alarming. "That's--" He gazed at the wall for a moment, humming. Klaus ordinarily found the drone pleasant, associated it with interesting work and solving problems, but over the past few days he'd discovered it could be a little unsettling from a five-year-old and he honestly wasn't sure what to expect Barry to say when he stopped this time. It turned out to be, "You're trying to distract me," followed by, "but there ought to be something biochemical -- I really hope it doesn't require a brain biopsy. Get me some wasp carcasses and ideally a revenant volunteer, assuming they can volunteer.... I'll see what I can do."

"I think they can," said Klaus. "Now that we know, they can talk about it. Some of them have asked for help." The ones brave or optimistic enough to think they might get that rather than death. "I'll look for one. The wasp carcasses won't be a problem."

Klaus was trying to distract him. But they did need a way to identify revenants. Both to limit the damage (that hadn't been nearly all the Geisterdamen, and he didn't know how they did their travelling, other than giant spiders) and to help them. If they could help them.

Identification was perhaps the most tractable problem. Barry had to admit Klaus's point about the reaction to a lot of mysterious deaths among Europa's royalty. He didn't want to start a war. Too many people would get hurt. But the idea of leaving them free, untouched and unrepentant....

They had agreed to making slaves, mindless or not. They had spent lives like copper pennies, burnt them like grass. Sometimes a villain did have to die, painful as it was to admit somebody was beyond hope or help, was too dangerous and too unwilling to change. If anyone deserved death it was these. Agatha shouldn't have had to fight for her life at five, the Jägers shouldn't have died under claw and sword, nobody should have their will stolen that way....

He should have known, he should have seen -- through Aaronev, through Lucrezia -- but he hadn't and there was nothing left but to stop them now.

But there were practical problems with that and at least this was something he could solve. The dead wasps and live revenants (he had more volunteers than he'd expected, including Hengst von Blitzengaard, a fussy-looking count who'd evidently convinced Aaronev he was completely under control while helping to coalesce the opposition to Lucrezia among the Knights of Jove) had provided enough samples to identify chemical markers, but the assay was neither quick nor easily portable.

He needed something biological. Ideally something that could also look after itself if actual wasps showed up. Of course, bees were the obvious solution. But even in Mechanicsburg bees tended to mind their own business and did not have a great deal of interest in being redirected by humans. They needed something bigger, in proportion to the wasps, and more responsive.... Humming fitfully, Barry made an adjustment to the vat where the new organs floated, then cycled the lighting gradually though the visual spectrum for analysis. He was on red when he heard voices.

"--Mostly seen him work on clanks," Donna was saying, as the door slid open and ruined his lighting. "Although," she added, "this is certainly very... biological."

"Barry," Klaus called, "Lady Schallen and Donna are here to see you."

Klaus really had called in his aunt. Fine, Barry would show him -- and it wasn't as if he didn't want to see any of them -- she'd probably agree with him. (And there was only a faint crawling suspicion that she wouldn't.) See that it was necessary and right, or the least wrong thing, anyway. But he was in the middle of something right now, and he drew his eyebrows together and kept humming, and hit the remote switch for the door so it slid shut behind them.

Gertrude said, "Can he actually hear us over that noise?"

"Probably," said Klaus. "But I don't think he's listening."

"That does seem likely." Gertrude's voice was slightly closer. "What is he working on? This does not exactly look like useful equipment for an assassination." Barry had to agree with her there, although he supposed venom harvest was a theoretical option.

"It's meant to be a way of detecting revenants," said Klaus. "It probably is, but I couldn't guess how."

"By scent," Barry said. "It's actually detectable in the breath, so we won't need tissue or brain samples. And yes, I can hear you."

"We got that," said Donna, coming over to look up at the vat. Barry glanced down at her; she looked good even lit from below in blood red, which was impressive. "Speaking of scent, this is not a lab that looks like it should smell like flowers and honey-caramel. Why does it?"

"Oh," he said. "They're mostly bees. I thought they should be able to handle wasps if they ran into any."

There was a slightly puzzled pause. "Don't wasps eat bees?" Donna ventured after a moment. "Or is that hornets?"

"Hornets eat a lot of things," Barry said absently. "Bees fight back."

"So," said Klaus. "Giant bees?"

"Yes. I've mixed them with dogs for respiratory and social reasons. I think I've got the organ design straightened out now, so I should be able to finish up the first larva and let it start pupating tonight."

Klaus had joined them to peer at the organ systems by this point. Now that he knew he was looking at a dog-bee meld, Barry expected he'd be able to sort out most of the readings for himself. This was apparently true, as the first thing he asked was, "Are bees not social enough?"

"Among themselves, sure, but they don't interact much with humans and tend to stick to defence, not go out looking for trouble."

"You don't talk to enough beekeepers," said Donna, sounding amused. "Honeybees raid. It's one of the ways to lose a weaker hive. But they don't tend to go after wasp nests, no."

Well. That was... more disheartening than it really should be, but probably didn't affect his plans much.

"Point about them not being trainable, though," said Klaus. "Having them sense revenants is more useful if we can get them to signal it rather than either ignore it as not important to them or outright attack."

"Right." Barry found himself rather grateful for being pulled back on topic. "Bees mostly tell things to other bees."

"It looks very impressive," said Gertrude. "Can you take a break? I believe we need to talk."

"Yes." He sighed and started to turn away, the hint of dread coming back. If Klaus had brought them, that might mean they agreed with Klaus about this. "I suppose Klaus filled you in--"

Gertrude hugged him.

Barry hugged back automatically and found himself relaxing before he could consciously reason why. His mother had held them close when there were things to talk through, a constant reminder that whatever else was being said, it was out of love and not rejection. (She had tended to argue with their father from across the room.) He'd found himself instinctively doing it with Agatha; he hadn't thought about her namesake learning it from her own parents but it did make sense. "So that's where she got it," he said, which didn't really follow.

"Yes," Gertrude said anyway. "It would probably have made more sense if I normally hugged you, but you looked like you needed it." A short pause. "Like you were bracing for entirely the wrong kind of argument, really."

"Possibly." Barry put his head down on her shoulder. Just for a moment. When had it begun to matter this much what his aunt thought of him? "This can't stand," he said.

"I fully believe you intend to do the right thing," said Gertrude. "It is not altogether clear to me why you think this is it."

"Klaus has to have told you what they did." He felt her shudder. "Worse than my father," he added, too bitterly. Not outside of reason, but emotionally counterproductive with her. She didn't let go of him. "They deserve to die. And I realise there are practical problems with killing or even imprisoning them, but we can't leave them as they are."

"Many people may deserve to die," Gertrude said slowly. "But mercy is better anyway, when the cost is not too high. Is it?"

"Sturmhalten's population is almost all revenants. And here we thought the Other had passed it by." He shook his head. "They remember it happening. They can feel it waiting to take them at the sound of the wrong voice. And they know their prince did it to them. We haven't personally checked the other towns yet, but Aaronev's records--" He broke off, feeling the fury in his throat and chest, choking him. He let her go and stepped back, but caught her hands. "Would you have them live under the ones who did this?"

"No," Gertrude said steadily. "Not ideally. But I think you will agree that nothing about this is ideal."

"You can say that again," Barry muttered.

"Then the cost of mercy is that their victims go unavenged and some remain under their hand."

"And that they might have further plans."

"They might. And might have drawn their heirs into them already," said Gertrude. Barry winced. "I think you will have to keep watch the same, either way. What is the price of removing them, dead or alive?"

Barry let out a pained sigh. "War, most likely, and undermining confidence in the Empire and Alliance. If we announce why -- about all of them -- I don't think even I could convince everyone of the real reason, no matter how much evidence we have. Doing it in secret would work a little better at first, but Klaus is right, people would notice. The only thing I can think of is spreading it out over years, and that just throws in the problems of leaving them in place as well."

"And who would you be," Donna murmured, sounding troubled, "after you spent years working out how to kill people in secret?"

He started to turn away, feeling sick at the thought and just as much so at the idea of giving up. "Does that matter?"

Gertrude's hands tightened on his, and he could have broken away but wasn't willing to. "That always matters."

Barry closed his eyes. "It could be worth it. But you don't think it would help anyway."

Gertrude sighed. "I think even with someone standing by to pick up the pieces, Europa does not need the chaos of losing half its Spark princes again."

Barry's eyes flew open and he did jerk his hands away, then. "That is not--" It was wholly unfair. That had evidently been part of Lucrezia's plan and her pawns', to break the power structure of the continent and then pick up the pieces, apparently fifteen or twenty years later after their designed heirs grew up and so many children didn’t. It was not remotely what he was trying to accomplish here.

...It was too close for comfort to what would happen. Even if they already had the power. (And these were the people he'd been counting on to support Tarvek out of calculation, before he realised how deeply they'd been embedded in Lucrezia's methods.)

"It is not the same," Gertrude said, "in detail or method or reason, but it is too close in effect. Don't, Barry."

He uncurled his fists and rested his hands, carefully, on the back of his abandoned chair. "What do you suggest, then?"

"What's our goal?" asked Donna. Barry looked up at her, and saw that Klaus and Gertrude had both turned too. Donna looked a little sheepish suddenly, and Barry could practically see her wondering if the our had been out of place when everyone else there ruled a town or something more. He caught her gaze and raised his eyebrows, waiting. Donna lifted her chin. "Actually, whether we can get it or not, what would be the ideal?"

"All the revenants found and cured," Barry said, "and all of them realise why they were wrong, never do anything like it again, and step down with a clearly named heir as soon as they can in an orderly fashion." He tried to keep the derision out of his voice. It wasn't at her. His ideal outcome might be completely unrealistic but it wasn't actually a bad place to start figuring out what they could accomplish.

"I'm working on the first part," said Klaus. He gestured at the vats. "Or you are. Remorse is too much to expect. I was willing to settle for good behaviour because they don't think they can get away with bad."

Barry exhaled slowly. "If we must. Can we really convince them they can't?"

"We'd better," said Klaus, steel in his voice. "Or I might yet come around to killing them. I hope they know that."

"I should think they'd expect it," said Gertrude. "They must know if you took Sturmhalten, you'd find the evidence."

"Some of it was moderately well hidden," Barry told her. Decoys and encryption. "They might think Aaronev was more careful than he was, or that our people weren't as good."

"I never intended to simply leave them alone," Klaus said irritably. "Proclaiming their guilt would essentially be a messier way to kill them, and we should take them by surprise so they can't hide any of her tech they still have, but I don't think we're going to get rid of everything without their noticing."

Barry stopped to consider that. It would be challenging, but it probably would get the point across. "Unsatisfying," he admitted, "but practical."

"Finally," Klaus muttered.

Barry rubbed a hand over his face. "I gather I've been a little hard to deal with." He was coming down from the madness place now, and not a nice part of it; his earlier plans seemed less feasible and more sickening than before, and he felt a little unsteady and more than a little guilty over alarming Klaus. "I'm sorry about that."

"I've seen worse," said Klaus. "If not, thankfully, from you."

Barry had seen worse, too, but he had the uneasy feeling he'd specifically seen the worse version of what he'd been doing, and followed it around for three years. "I'll try not to get too carried away again."

Gertrude looked at him with concern; Donna came over and took his hand. "We all do sometimes. Klaus was mostly worried that you seemed to be listening less than usual."

"I keep insisting that talking ought to work; I'm obligated to at least listen if somebody tries it on me." Barry sighed and looked over at his vat. "I should probably get out of the lab for a little while. --Actually, I should go check on the Jägers." Which was not actually getting away from Spark-work, but it was certainly a different atmosphere. "Want to come?"

Donna blinked. "Sure."

"Apparently what really works is hugging, but I don't think it would have helped if I'd tried it," said Klaus drily. "Have fun with the Jägers, they certainly are."

Barry rubbed a hand over his face and tried not to start laughing, because it would probably still be wild enough to worry everyone at this point if he did. "I'm not sure it would have had quite the same effect, but you'd certainly have had my attention," he said.

"Dare I ask what the Jägers are doing?" murmured Gertrude.

"Being extremely smug," answered Klaus. "As far as they're concerned they're all heroes right now. Also, since they didn't get to go to the hospital that is already also a bar they've been trying to remedy the situation with stolen alcohol."

"We couldn't have stopped the Geisterdamen without them, so I think they have a point," Barry said, amused in spite of himself. "Tell me later who I need to pay back."

Klaus laughed. "I don't think anyone grudges it to them at the moment, but I'll get a list."

"Thank you." Barry looked a bit wryly at his aunt. "And thank you for talking sense into me." However painfully. "I doubt you particularly want to be invited to this...."

"Not really," she said. "And if they're still under medical care, I didn't think I'd be permitted." An amused glance at Donna. "Then again I didn't think she would be either."

"If he has to do anything I can't see before the wedding," said Donna, straight-faced, "I'll turn my back."

Klaus was willing to entertain Gertrude for the time being, and Barry left the laboratory still hand in hand with Donna, not so much brooding less as brooding on a wider variety of topics. He paused in an empty corridor (still out of earshot of the Jägers' quarters) and turned to her, and she said, "Yes, that was unsettling, no, I'm not reconsidering anything, were you going to ask something else?"

Barry did laugh then, a little hoarsely. This did have him rattled. It was the first time it had occurred to him to worry that something about him personally would really put her off. "I still want to kill them," he said. "Only now I'm trying to remember the several ways that's... also a kind of loss." Personally, politically, and because even a deserved death was lost potential, and worth mourning.

Donna squeezed his hand. "To be honest, given what they've been doing, I think I'm relieved that you want to at least a little," she said. "Although the idea of your actually doing it is hair-raising. But you did stop and listen eventually."

"I suppose if I never got stuck on a bad idea, nobody would believe I'm a real Spark," Barry said wryly. "Fortunately my aunt seems to be good at handling me, even on short acquaintance." It made sense now that he could look at it. Her methods were the ones her sister had used and he'd consciously chosen.

"I get the idea on one meeting, myself, that your aunt has a practised knack for telling people what they need to hear."

"It's a useful skill." Barry hugged her close for a moment, eyes shut, and breathed in the smoke-scent that lingered in her hair, trying to remember what he'd been doing on previous visits outside the medical level. "I suspect I've been brooding too much at the Jägers."

Donna suggested, "I suspect they'll get over it if you cheer up."

"This might be as cheered up as I can get at the moment."

"Well, it's still an improvement."

"True enough." He unwrapped from her but kept her hand as they completed the walk and went in.

The Jägers were recovered enough that most of them were no longer in the hospital beds, instead sitting on them like benches or roughhousing around them -- the ones still wearing bandages meekly desisted and sat down when they saw Barry. There was a lot more beer in evidence than medicine. Wide grins widened further at the sight of Donna. "Kom in! Haff a beer!" she was greeted from a dozen sides at once.

Barry picked one of the bandaged ones partly at random to start checking, while Donna took the nearest chair and managed to accept a single bottle of the several thrust in her direction. "No ruining my work," he told Minsk, without any real severity behind the scolding. The bandage was dampened with sweat more than anything else this time; before long his only patients would be the ones who'd actually died. One of them was in a recovery tank but mostly conscious, which Barry suspected was incredibly boring. "This looks good, though."

"Yah, ve is all healink fine," said Minsk. "Ve leaf der hospital soon?"

Around Donna two groups of Jägers were vying for her attention, with a certain amount of shoving and a little bit of clawing -- those who had previously bought her swords and wanted to tell her all about how well they'd performed against the wasps, and a group of Jägers who had been in the final battle alongside Barry and wanted to tell her all the details of how awesome they had been.

Barry kept an eye on her for a moment -- Donna was smiling, and not in a nervous way, which would have been understandable in anyone surrounded by wrangling Jägers. She was also trying to listen to both groups at once, looking as pleased as any Spark at having her work praised (even though it was probably more common for her than the average Spark, as she made things other people actually wanted) but also eager to hear about the ones who'd been with him.

"Tired of being cooped up, huh? You'll all be out in another day or two," Barry said. "Well, almost." He tilted his head toward the revival equipment. "Good thing, too. I may need some of you to come help intimidate people."

That got the attention of even the groups around Donna. "Now dot sounds like fun," said Greb.

"More pipple vit vasps?" asked Dimo.

"It looks that way," Barry said, moving on to examine a formerly shattered tibia. Any Jägers who were still healing at this point had suffered wounds that would have killed or crippled an ordinary human without Spark intervention, and possibly required a revival even with help from someone like Sun. But they were healing cleanly, and in the case of bones the trick was to get complicated breaks set fast enough. "We're going to take those away from them. Preferably without giving anybody the chance to sic mind-controlled townspeople on us again."

"So, ve attack der masters?" said Greb.

"We scare the hell out of their masters and destroy the wasps," said Barry. "No gossip about their responsibility, though. The story is that we tracked down the Other's caches. We're not accusing them publicly unless they push things. Klaus and I need most of them alive." Muttered, not that any Jäger in the room wouldn't hear him, he couldn't quite help adding, "Unfortunately."

"Oh, ve is goot at scaring pipple," said Eugen. There were a lot of anticipatory grins.

Barry looked up at him and smiled grimly, showing teeth, which apparently caused somebody to decide he was done for the moment and hand him a beer. "I'm counting on it." And for once, that was a cheering thought.

Chapter Text

Agatha hadn't built any new death rays in almost a week, and Tarvek wasn't sure how he felt about that. It did seem immediately safer, but he'd sort of appreciated the protectiveness, even if it wasn't very practical. She was happier, though. That was good. And she was still helping with his new Muse (well, not exactly a Muse, but he was trying), as were her little clanks, which seemed to have forgiven him.

He wasn't sure what Gil was doing or why he himself was helping raid the kitchens for it. For the second time. But there was a vat making the whole lab smell of raspberries, and now he was in the space just the other side of a kitchen wall, where Gil was listening to the wall without benefit of instruments and peering through some minuscule gap in it, and where they were very definitely not supposed to be ever since they'd been caught in the vault. Tarvek supposed Baron Wulfenbach was unlikely to be keeping state secrets in the kitchens, but still.

"What are we doing here?" he hissed at Gil. Not that anybody was likely to hear them over all the clattering around that was going on in the kitchen.

Gil pressed his eyeball closer to the crack he was watching through.

"Well, at least let me have a look, then. Maybe I can--"

Gil flapped a hand at him imperiously and said, "Quiet."

Tarvek felt as if a hot wire snapped free inside his head. "You can't order me around just because your father's conquering Europe!"

"I ordered you around before I knew that," said Gil, attention still seeming mostly on the kitchen.

Tarvek reached out and hauled him away from the wall, savoring the look of sheer astonishment on Gil's face even as it made him even angrier. "Is that what it was? Did it cheer you up to have me and Agatha doing everything you said?"

"Why shouldn't you do what I say when it's my idea?" Gil hissed. "You never cared before. Or maybe Sparks without connections don't matter enough for you to take that seriously? Was it just safer to humour me, then?"

"You weren't even dangerous then!" Except for having terrible, tempting ideas like wandering around the airship and getting in trouble.

"So it was safer," said Gil, pulling back and pressing his hands against the wall behind him until his knuckles turned white. "Because you could just assume that once we were older I'd fall in line and do whatever you wanted, because you were the one with all the power. And you accused my father of picking up Sparks for his own ends."

"I was worried about you, you idiot!" And all right, yes, he’d thought he could take Gil home with him eventually but not like that, exactly.

Gil faltered for a moment, head dipping, and then levelled a glare at him. "I guess you know better now."

"Yeah." Tarvek slumped back against the other side of the space they'd crept into, glowering back. "I thought maybe you could just be my friend, not somebody else I had to fight with. Silly of me."

"I'm not fighting with you!" Gil snapped, and then rubbed a hand across his eyes. "Fine, I'm fighting with you because you're being really annoying, but what do you think I'm going to do? Duel you for Europa?"

"Don't be ridiculous, nobody's that open about it.” Everybody went to war, but they didn’t try to substitute single combat with the people they had to live with. Then again, Baron Wulfenbach didn’t do things normally once he’d conquered people. Actually he did some of them the way Valois had, but not all of them. “Except your father, I guess, so maybe, who knows!"

"Seriously?" said Gil. "I'm not duelling anyone for Europa. Right now I'm stealing a lobster and if you don't want to help you don't need to be here."

"I don't even know why you want a lobster!" Tarvek protested. He did not especially want to steal a lobster, but at this point there didn't seem to be much else to do. "Fine. If you'd let me see what's going on in the kitchen maybe there would be some point to my coming!"

Gil stepped back with a shrug and leant against the wall. "If you're not going to let me pay attention I guess you might as well."

Tarvek knelt by the aperture and peered through. Smoke Knight training. Distract... they'd have to wait for the cooks to be distracted, or split up. The rest was speed and stealth and-- "They're looking away from it! Go!"

Gil was up the wall and over the edge of it almost before Tarvek got the word out. Tarvek scrambled after him and joined Gil to haul the lobster off the countertop -- it was almost as big as either of them. He looked back at the wall they'd come from, calculating how to get back up there by the shelves with their burden and whether they could do it before anybody wanted the lobster. Then someone yelled, "Hey!" and Gil seized the whole lobster and just ran for the actual door. Tarvek bit back a yelp of frustration and chased him.

They ended up running full tilt through the corridors, passing the slippery lobster back and forth as it dripped and flailed its banded claws and tried to smack them both in the legs with its tail. They finally got back to the lab, and Gil heaved it into the vat with a splash. They sank down to the floor, overcome with giggles, and Tarvek laughed until he thought he'd choke and couldn't figure out why.

"No, seriously," he finally managed, interrupted by a hiccough, "why did you want a lobster?"

Gil grinned at him. "I'm making a friend."

Tarvek sat up and stopped laughing as if Gil had shut off a switch, and blurted, "Another one?"

"Well, yes," said Gil, looking puzzled. "What did you think?"

He hadn't had any idea what Gil wanted to do with a lobster, and the next second he desperately wished he hadn't said, "You're replacing me with a lobster?!"

Gil started laughing again, and tried to muffle it against his knees. "No. Do you have any idea --" He broke off to gulp down more giggles. "Don't be silly. Aren't you going to be friends with your Muse-thing?"

"I -- I guess, but --" He meant to make the clank a person, but so far she was still just an interesting (fascinating, baffling) mechanical problem. "The Muses surprised Van Rijn you know. I don't know what she'll be like. I don't even know if she'll like me."

Gil looked thoughtful. "I guess that's true with my lobster, too." He pulled himself to his feet and bent over the vat. "You can be pretty good at convincing people to like you, though," he added, sounding tense and no longer like he was feeling like laughing. "You got ordered to make friends with Agatha, didn't you?"

"Yes," said Tarvek. Then he scowled, suddenly defensive. "I thought he wanted me to marry her, not -- that."

"That's not what I meant. I never thought you'd hurt her. But you just...it was all just a plan or something and how do you think she'd feel if she knew?"

Tarvek stared at him, abruptly lost. "If she knew what, that there are political advantages to getting along with her? She does know that." They'd talked about that. He'd explained the relation between friendship and politics before... although... he wasn't sure, now he thought about it, that Agatha had exactly regarded this as anything more than some eccentric personal worldview. "It's not like I was pretending to like her!"

"She thought you liked her because she was her, not because she was useful!" Gil was still, sort of, keeping his voice down, although not as much as he had been when they'd been behind the wall in the kitchen. He turned sharply away from the vat to face Tarvek. "I thought you liked me, not...some unimportant Spark who might be kind of useful later or needed your protection. But I'm not sure there's even a difference with you now!"

"Of course I liked you! But you can't just like people without important things about them mattering!"

"You like me less now I'm not someone you can control."

"I wasn't trying to control you, you idiot, I wanted to keep you!" Tarvek felt hot all over with embarrassment and plunged ahead anyway, like running down a hill to keep from falling over. "When I thought you didn't have any other connections except Agatha, it meant I didn't always have to wait for them to be more important. When we got into the Vault I thought it would be nice if you turned out to be a relative, but I thought I could trust you, either way, and that's better than family."

Gil dropped down beside Tarvek again and hugged him hard enough to knock both of them over. "Sorry," he said. "Or, thanks? I guess I would have been glad to go with you when I didn't think I was anybody."

Tarvek struggled briefly to sit up again and then gave in and put his arms around Gil instead. "Oh, thanks a lot." He sighed and let his head fall back against the floor. "I wouldn't have told my father who you were. Would've stopped planning to tell you about the Storm King thing, though."

Gil flopped over sideways so he wasn't mostly on top of Tarvek. "I kind of had other things to do once I knew. Have," he said, almost apologetically. "When I've finished school. I wouldn't have told anyone about you being the Storm King if you had told me, either."

Tarvek suspected he'd have had to. The whole point had been to rule Europe, after all. But it was a nice sentiment. And Tarvek might have had to tell him, after all, so Gil would have a chance against everyone who'd want to kill him. "Are you really mad at me for having wanted you to work for me? I mean... even if we hadn't been friends you're brilliant."

"I was kind of mad at you for thinking you were rescuing me from being experimented on," said Gil. "It's just so..." He pulled a face. "Pathetic, really."

"It really happens to people," Tarvek said, feeling rather peeved. "Although I guess you're right and Agatha wouldn't have let it happen to you."

"Otilia wouldn't have let it happen to me," said Gil. "Or my father, or the Lord Heterodyne, they stop stuff like that."

Tarvek had calmed down enough to stop himself from pointing out that Gil's father was in fact one of the people whose intentions Tarvek had been rather worried about. And still was, just not toward Gil, probably. "Okay," he said instead. "Fine. I was just helping Agatha rescue you from annoying people. Not that you ended up needing that either, I guess."

"I appreciated that," said Gil. "Even if that was a bit pathetic too." He closed his eyes and threw an arm over his face. "I didn't really feel like...I mean, I know it was pity the first time you came after me...it wasn't with Agatha, she was just curious and nice...but then I got to show you stuff and if I was scared around people because I didn't know what to do with them when half the time it felt like they were right about everything being wrong with me you were scared of other stuff and I never felt like you were really above me even if you did. But being under your protection forever because I needed it when you didn't really need anything from me? That's pathetic, and you're acting so different now I just wonder if you saw me like that, or wanted to."

Tarvek tried not to tense up when Gil said he was afraid of things. It was true, and it wasn't unreasonable for Gil to have wanted to have a... counter-advantage, to know one of Tarvek's weak points. Even if it was uncomfortable to realise Gil had been thinking of it that way. "I was so mad at them," he said. "They were supposed to be learning to be good rulers and they were just... spoiling everything." Gil had let go of him, so Tarvek sat up, arms looping around his knees, and looked at Gil not looking at him. No, peeking from under his arm now, Tarvek could just see the glimmer of eyeball. "Maybe I wouldn't have needed you," he said. "But I... wanted a real friend. You've been acting different since you found out, you know."

Gil blushed. "I never wanted to care about their stupid bloodlines. But it was still easier to know I was secretly just as good as them if they found out."

"I meant you didn't act like you wanted me around anymore."

"Because I was trying to keep it secret and you're really good at finding them out," said Gil. "I thought if I didn't make it obvious I wasn't letting you find out you'd just get kicked off after all."

Tarvek eyed him. "It's not that I don't like having you say what you mean," he said, "but you have got to learn to lie better."

Gil moved his arm so Tarvek could see him roll his eyes. "And then you didn't believe me when I told you as much of the truth as I could anyway."

"One of the most important characteristics of a lie is that it's more plausible than the truth," said Tarvek. "Which really should have been easy in that case. I'm still having trouble believing you're from Mars. Let alone that your father apparently thinks I could get in touch with assassins there."

"Yeah, I don't think so either," said Gil, shrugging at the vagaries of parents. "If you wanted to assassinate me you wouldn't have to go to Mars to get it done, anyway."

"Er," said Tarvek. "No. You know not to eat things with green food colouring, right?"

Gil blinked at him slowly. "You'd assassinate me with green food colouring?"

"I wouldn't," Tarvek said patiently. "But it's a relatively easy way to disguise... do I need to teach you how not to get assassinated?"

Gil sat up. "...probably, yes," he said, after a moment's thought. "I was never important enough to assassinate before." He sighed, a little rueful. "And now you're looking after me again."

Tarvek dropped his face onto his arms. "I don't want you to die," he said, rather muffled. "I'd miss you. I should warn you, though, I don't know all the tricks yet. On the other hand my family probably wouldn't try to kill you now unless it was somebody who thought they could get the Baron to kill me and pick their candidate as heir instead."

"Your family is really worrying," said Gil.

"I know," said Tarvek. "You made a really nice change."

"I think anyone would," said Gil. "If you teach me what to look out for, maybe we can stop each other getting assassinated."

Tarvek turned his head and managed a smile. "That would be good."

“Hey, Tarvek.” Tarvek turned to see Seffie, in one of the one piece suits the Baron provided, hair pulled back into a braid, looking up from what had apparently been an animated conversation with Sleipnir. His cousins had started turning up, the Baron and the Lord Heterodyne had apparently decided to collect them, and Tarvek was wary but hadn’t spent much time in the school beyond sleeping lately. He paused, bracing himself, and she grinned. “Well done.”

“What?” he said.

“Getting the Baron to support you! No one else even thought to try it, although I guess circumstances forced your hand there. It’s the best chance we’ve had yet, I’m writing to Grandma about it when the Baron decides we can send letters again.”

“He’ll want to use me,” said Tarvek, quietly.

Seffie rolled her eyes at him. “Well, of course. But he’ll keep you alive for the next decade if you’re a good pawn, and by then you’ll have pieces of your own. Come on, I know you’re a kid but this is obvious.”

“Are you supporting me?” he asked incredulously. “Your brother…”

“This calls for some degree of subtlety,” said Seffie. “Or at least the ability to shut up and play nice. You dealt with him nicely, I’ll keep an eye on him until Grandma gets back to us.”

“Uh, wow,” said Sleipnir, grinning and leaning on Seffie’s shoulder. “You guys are really politically minded, huh? Am I going to be killed for listening in on secret plots here?”

“This isn’t secret,” said Tarvek. Like Seffie had said, it was obvious. He rubbed a hand over his head. “…Thanks, Seffie.”

“No problem. Keep up the good work.”

Gil was poking at his tank, which now smelt fishy in addition to raspberryish, when the Baron came into the lab. Gil looked up. The Baron scanned them all and said, "Actually, I need to speak with Tarvek."

Tarvek felt suddenly as if his whole abdomen was buzzing. Was he in trouble for helping Gil raid the kitchens? He left unhappily, trying to tell himself that didn't even make sense, and wound up in the Baron's office, sitting across the big desk from him.

The Baron didn't exactly look angry. Or even disapproving. Mostly just... grave and rather doubtful. Tarvek began to believe this wasn't about the kitchens a few seconds before the Baron said, "How much do you know about the conspiracy?"

Okay. That was much worse.

"Not much, sir," Tarvek said, which was...not exactly a lie, depending on what you defined as "much". He knew which people had visited and then spent hours in laboratories with his father. No one had actually told him anything though, he didn't know.

The Baron gave him a long look and then closed his eyes briefly, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. "That is not a particularly helpful response."

"I'm sorry." Tarvek fixed his gaze on the edge of the desk. "I don't know what you want from me." I don't know what you're going to do to them.

The Baron sighed. "A little cooperation, perhaps. Barry and I are reasonably confident we've identified which players are likely to be in possession of more of Lucrezia's technology. This is most likely a subject on which you should be kept up to date, if you're capable of focussing on politics now." He sounded as if he didn't like the idea. "But any evidence you could provide without first seeing our conclusions might be helpful."

Tarvek flicked his gaze up at the Baron nervously. That was somewhat reassuring. Even if he didn't want to, the Baron was willing to keep him informed of where dangers might lie and give him some chance of avoiding them. Which probably went the other way too, what they didn't know was capable of killing them too, that was the whole point of a conspiracy. He should be on the Baron and Lord Heterodyne's side, now, they were the ones supporting him politically. Only they were just using him. So had his family been. He took a breath. Okay, he needed to use them, too. It was like Seffie said. If they thought he was theirs they'd protect him until he was old enough to have power of his own (even if they tried to kill him then in order to make way for Gil). And if he was providing information he was useful to them, and could also control some of the information they got. "I really don't know much, it's not as if anyone told me. But I know some of the people who Father talked to." He could tell on some of the ones who had rival heirs, it would get them out of the way before they tried assassinating him (only he felt sort of sick now, they were still family).

"Oh, I can believe they didn't tell you," said the Baron. "I might believe you spent less time eavesdropping at home if Agatha hadn't complained about your sister doing it in lieu of simply asking to sit in on our negotiations." He slid a blank sheet of paper across the desk to Tarvek, who picked up a pen and tried to hold it lightly enough that his hand wouldn't shake, staring at the page. He still hadn't started writing yet when the Baron said, "Are you worried about them?"

Tarvek stared at the page, not sure if he was allowed to be. There were sides, and he couldn't be on everybody's. He sort of wished Agatha was here, because she was on his. "I just don't really know," he said, quietly. "Eavesdropping's not as easy as all that, and I know who spoke to my father but I don't know it was about...that."

The Baron leaned over the desk and plucked the pen out of his hand, then laid it down in front of him. "Not a fair question, perhaps. I suppose it speaks well of you if you are, but I couldn't precisely blame you if you're not." A rather weary sigh. "Now that he's calmed down somewhat, Barry is taking Jägers to destroy any wasps and explain the situation to Lucrezia's other assistants. If they cooperate, they will not be harmed and they will not be publicly accused."

"You're not going to kill them all?" Tarvek's voice was shaking slightly with relief.

The Baron rubbed a hand over his face. "Not unless they're spectacularly stupid about this, which I think and hope is unlikely."

"Probably not," said Tarvek, after thinking about it for a moment. "They'll want to hold onto the wasps, in case they can find a voice match, but most of them wouldn't die to do it. Some of them might take their vows to Lucrezia more seriously." He leant forward as a more alarming thought came to him. "They might try to kidnap Agatha, even if they don't have...even if they can't..." He swallowed. "She's a voice match and they might think they can make her say things she doesn't want to."

The Baron looked at him sharply. "To control the revenants regardless of Lucrezia," he said, sounding disgusted. "Of course. And anyone who was in Sturmhalten could tell them. We'll keep her more closely guarded."

Tarvek nodded. He'd been more worried about Agatha than the revenants, he'd hated to see them ordered to their deaths but didn't think anyone could make Agatha do that to people. "I can give you some names," he said. "As long as you're not going to kill them." He didn't have any reason not to want them stopped.

"We have more than enough problems without provoking a series of succession wars and destabilising most of the regions your family controls," the Baron said irritably. "Even if they thought that was a good way to prepare Europe for you."

"I don't think they were terribly well organised," said Tarvek. He chewed the end of the pen for a moment and then did write down some names, feeling confused and guilty about the ones it was an advantage to him to send people against, but they'd done the exact same things as the ones where it wasn’t. After considering his list for a moment he added a few more notes by names like took vow seriously, very interested in wasps and, uncertainly, likes Heterodyne Boys stories. Then he put the cap on the pen and shoved the paper over to the Baron with a feeling weirdly like turning a test paper in.

The Baron's eyebrows twitched upward, maybe around the time he got to that last note. "Thank you," he said. "I'll warn Barry about Snarlantz." He passed Tarvek another page, then, this one with twenty-six names that included all of Tarvek's list, and notes in both the Baron's handwriting and Barry Heterodyne's about what they thought was going on. "Not terribly organised?" Tarvek glanced up in time to catch a thoughtful look. "You don't think the chaos was planned?"

"Which chaos?" Tarvek asked. "If you mean the Other then I'm pretty sure Lucrezia planned it and did it all herself, anyway. If you mean this...I don't think they knew who they wanted to come out on top, or all wanted the same thing, and..." He stopped before saying most of them were being trained to kill each other, and that he had doubts about that as a good way to keep a group cohesive. He probably didn't want the Baron to know he was a trained assassin (semi-trained, maybe semi-hemi-trained, he was only eight, but he knew how to poison someone anyway).

"I suppose I could believe a lack of coordination rather than malice in the aftermath," the Baron said.

"I don't know," said Tarvek. "But they were attacking each other, so probably." People had attacked Sturmhalten too, even though it was one of the places not weakened by the Other's attacks and built as a fortress in the first place. Tarvek hadn't been old enough at the time to realise how stupid the attackers had been, although he didn't remember really being afraid they might get in either. It had just been a weird time when nothing from the outside came in.

"Mm. At the time I returned I may not have been paying much attention to the details."

Tarvek could believe that. Whatever anyone thought about the Baron's strategy, it had had a certain simplicity to it. Do Not Come Over Here. With enemies being defined as anyone who decided to ignore that. Not keeping an eye on what your enemies were actually doing wasn't the best idea though, in Tarvek's opinion.

The Baron evidently caught his expression, when he'd been trying not to have one, and snorted. "You look disapproving."

Tarvek shook his head quickly, trying not to look scared either although he couldn't help shrinking back from the desk slightly. "No, of course not. Sorry."

The Baron rolled his eyes. "I wasn't offended."

Tarvek gave him a dubious look, and then realised that wasn't better than looking disapproving, and looked at the ground instead.

"Tarvek...." The Baron said his name on a sigh. "You're not going to be punished for speaking up."

Tarvek wasn't quite sure he believed that. On the other hand he wasn't sure what the Baron would gain by telling him it was okay to say things and then punishing him anyway. "Do you care what I think?" he asked.

"Yes." The Baron folded his arms on the desk. "I would, generally speaking, much prefer to know what you are thinking."

Tarvek blinked. He hadn't really thought about generally rather than...well, politically, maybe. About this. As a general rule he never knew what anyone in his family was thinking, and it was much easier to deal with Agatha and Gil who were more obvious about it. Usually. And much harder to deal with Gil when he wasn't. "I was thinking that it's not a good idea to stop paying attention to what your enemies are doing," he said cautiously. "Even when you think you can make them stop and do what you want."

"Ah." A wry smile. "A fair point. Although I hadn't so much stopped as not started yet. I had to begin by re-establishing a defensible region within Wulfenbach."

"Oh, that makes sense. It's not as if you could keep an eye on anything from Mars," said Tarvek, relaxing. An explanation, and not an angry one, nor did the Baron seem to be concealing any anger.

"If I could have done that--" The Baron stopped and shook his head. "Well, never mind. At any rate...." He regarded Tarvek as if he were a mildly worrying puzzle. "I cannot train you if we don't talk to each other."

"You're training me?" It was perhaps not the most tactful way to phrase that, and Tarvek hurried on with, "Aren't we already learning, um, politics and stuff?" It was a school for the children of rulers, and he had been assuming the Baron would consider that enough. Certainly enough for a figurehead, although he seemed to at least respect Tarvek would need to know how to navigate current events for his own safety -- Tarvek clutched the paper with its names, crumpling it slightly -- and he didn't think the Baron was inclined to add the other sorts of training people in Tarvek's family got.

The Baron's eyebrows rose slightly. "Yes, and yes. The school curriculum provides a basis, but it's predominantly geared toward local rule with an awareness of the wider picture. You will need to concentrate on the latter." A slight grimace. "I hadn't planned to inflict it on Gil this soon, but given the circumstances, you'll need to be much more directly involved, starting now."

"I don't think information is something you inflict on people," said Tarvek, feeling a little stunned and uncertainly hopeful...it just seemed so unlikely, but the Baron was taking this seriously, taking him seriously.

The Baron's mouth twitched. "That probably depends on the information, but I meant the politics."

"...I never thought of that as inflicted on people, either," said Tarvek, although it would be truer to say he'd never thought of politics as a choice. It just...was, and if you weren't involved enough to be running it, that meant someone else was running you.

"You wouldn't, would you," the Baron said wryly. "Just as well."

"You didn't have to take over Europa," said Tarvek, and then blushed, startled at himself.

The Baron eyed him rather sourly. "I didn't do it for enjoyment. People were dying."

Tarvek shrank back, feeling rather thoroughly rebuked. He was used to people wanting to take over Europa -- and people with better right than a Wulfenbach -- but none of them had actually been able to. Even blaming that on the fact that the Baron had got there first -- he'd just come back from Mars and started with a tiny and already half-destroyed Barony, it wasn't as if he'd had a whole lot of advantages. He might not like politics, as he claimed, but he was certainly good at what he did. "Sorry, sir."

"Stop cringing," said the Baron. "If I were in the habit of blaming people for their parents' depredations I would never have spent twenty years following the Heterodynes around."

Tarvek did his best to straighten up and pull himself together, not particularly helped by the Baron's tone but distracted slightly by the comparison. He'd never really thought of...well, he had thought of the Heterodyne Boys as the products of a predatory line, of course, he'd been proud that his family had once been there to protect Europa from them. But he hadn't thought of it as recent. There were the Old Heterodynes and the Heterodyne Boys, and the fact that there must have been an Old Heterodyne right before the Heterodyne Boys got a bit lost. He wondered if it would be possible to talk to Barry Heterodyne about...about what to do when your family was evil? (They weren't, exactly, no, they were, if they'd meant to do that to Agatha, he didn't know anymore.) He wasn't sure he'd ever dare to try. "Sorry," he said again, not sure what else to say.

The Baron pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, as if the conversation might be giving him a headache, and then flattened his hands on the desk. "I want you both principled and competent. I should hope you'd expect the same of your regent."

Tarvek made himself breathe slowly. Okay. He would play the game. He had to. "I don't have any doubts about your competence, sir." Especially not considering the Baron had just bolted royal legitimacy onto his own reign for at least the next ten years.

The Baron arched an eyebrow. "Just about my principles?"

Tarvek managed not to pull back or look away, but couldn't stop himself blushing. The Baron's principles included taking over Europa illegitimately and generally not justifying it with more than the fact that he could. "No, sir."

The Baron rolled his eyes. "I'll meet with you again tomorrow morning. It's probably time to get you back to the lab." He glanced at the clock. "Or to pry the other two out of it. You should eat lunch somewhere that doesn't smell like... whatever Gil is doing."

"That would be good," said Tarvek. "He's still obsessed with lobsters."

"At least he isn't trying to attach them to anybody," said the Baron. "Maybe I'll keep seafood off your menu for a while."

Tarvek wondered whether this was because the smell of Gil's experiment could be taken to have put them all off it or in case Gil tried to do experiments on his dinner. Either way, when they went to lunch it included neither seafood nor jam and he was thankful for that.

It was after some thought that Tarvek decided maybe he should really talk to the Lord Heterodyne about family. He'd been nice before, even if he'd been rather terrifying in the chapel, and there really wasn't anyone else he could talk to. On the other hand the Lord Heterodyne was coming and going a lot and when he was on board he was often either talking to people or in a lab and too busy to be interrupted, or in his own rooms where Tarvek wasn't about to try and interrupt him. In the end Tarvek decided to take a leaf from Agatha's book and asked Otilia to make an appointment for him.

"What did you want to talk to him about?" Otilia asked. Tarvek looked down, because he was fairly sure he was making an appointment to ask a really impertinent question and also that Otilia wouldn't approve. The hand coming to rest on his head made him look up. "Never mind," said Otilia. "I shall ask. What you want to talk about can be between the two of you."

Tarvek spent the time until she returned wondering whether she hadn't questioned him because he was her Storm King now. Even if she mostly wasn't acting like it, and he wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed that she still treated him as one of her students. When she did return she told him, "The Lord Heterodyne says he will see you. Come with me."

That was disconcertingly fast, even though it wasn't actually any faster than when she'd made one for Agatha. She took him to the Lord Heterodyne's rooms after all, but at least he shouldn't be interrupting anything unexpectedly this way. Although when the door opened, the air smelled a little bit like honey and a little bit like Miss DuLac's perfume. "Come in," said the Lord Heterodyne. "Thank you, Otilia." He shut the door behind Tarvek and looked at him with complete attention. "What did you want to--"

At this point they were interrupted by a three-foot, six-legged, stripy creature with a great deal of fuzz racing up with its antenna waving. For some reason, the Lord Heterodyne had -- as the Baron explained -- decided the best approach to dealing with giant wasps involved bees. In order to make bees that were a) large enough to help without having internal difficulties and b) easier to train and get to respond to humans they had been crossed with dogs. The result was colloquially known as a beegle. Tarvek had never seen one before, but he assumed the correct response was to hold still and let it pat him with its antennae. It had mandibles but didn't seem to want to bite.

"I, um." Beegles were probably useful for a number of things, but they weren't proving good for Tarvek's train of thought. Especially when this one seemed to be trying to lick him with a proboscis. "Is it being friendly or does it think I have honey?"

The Lord Heterodyne grinned. "Friendly and inquisitive. She'd smell it if you had honey. She's been trying to groom me all day." He scooped it -- her -- up; the large compound eyes didn't move, but the antennae patted over his head and then he got licked too. "She's new. It helps to have them socialize with humans within the first few days." He carried the beegle over to a couch and gestured for Tarvek to sit. "What did you want to see me about?"

Tarvek sat down next to the Lord Heterodyne and looked down at his hands. "Is it okay if I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure, go ahead." Oddly casual, but not flippant. He didn't -- exactly -- sound guarded, but maybe a little surprised.

Tarvek didn't look up. He wasn't sure asking this was a good idea, but he wasn't sure what he'd say now if he didn't ask, and when the words came out they were quiet and rushed. "What do you do if your family is evil?"

"Oh. Tarvek...." The Lord Heterodyne swallowed audibly and then, to Tarvek's shock, put an arm around his shoulders and shifted him closer. The beegle spilled into Tarvek's lap. It was warm but much harder than a dog, probably because of the exoskeleton. "You try to do better," he said. "That sounds like a pat answer, I’m afraid, but I... don't mean to make it sound easy."

"I don't even know if I know what better is." Tarvek buried a hand in beegle-fuzz and resisted the urge to lean against the Lord Heterodyne. "I know some of it was wrong, a lot of it." He hadn't thought the wasps were that bad. People were meant to do what their lords said, the wasps were just a way to make sure of that, but the Lord Heterodyne had been so angry.

"I heard you've been arguing your principles to most of the school. And doing rather well at it."

"But I learnt those principles from them!" Tarvek said, gesturing wildly with the hand that wasn't clenched in beegle-fur. "They...they said we should take care of people below us and the wasps were just...just a way to make people behave, if we used them, to make them do what was for their own good."

The Lord Heterodyne stiffened -- Tarvek felt it in the arm still across his shoulders -- and then let out a slow breath and relaxed his muscles, though Tarvek suspected that was a very superficial relaxation. "I see. And was it?"

Tarvek shivered, seeing the corpses again with their slashed throats and dead eyes. "No," he whispered.

The Lord Heterodyne hugged him closer, which was confusing. "I don't actually believe it would be right anyway," he said. "People tend to have ideas of their own about what's good for them. Planning to take people's will away is usually not a good sign regarding anybody’s intent. And if they do start out meaning well, it's not likely to last."

"But the Baron tells people what to do. And people can still be ordered into battle without wasps. Only I guess they can run away if they were just told to." He remembered the townsfolk cowering in front of grinning, but not attacking, Jägers as soon as they'd been allowed to surrender.

"At least in theory. There's a difference between obeying out of loyalty, or respect for authority, or even fear and obeying because part of yourself has been turned against you and you have to. There's less of a difference, I admit, between the last two. Coercion is never ideal, but some methods of it are... dirtier than others."

Tarvek had obeyed his father out of fear before. It would have been a lot worse to not be able to disobey (to not be able to save Agatha, to be forced to help destroy her) and he had a moment of sick gratitude that wasps didn't work on Sparks. But if he didn't want it done to him, what made it okay to do to anyone else? "I don't want to use them. Not after that." It wouldn't have been up to him, anyway.

"Well, that's a relief." It wasn't said lightly.

"But everything I ever learnt was from people who would." Why was he apparently trying to convince the Lord Heterodyne he couldn't be trusted? Why was he having this conversation? Why did it involve being hugged? "You said I'd been arguing my principles well, you wouldn't have said that if you thought I was wrong about them." He looked up at the Lord Heterodyne, wondering if he was right about that.

"Plenty of people argue, and argue well, things I don't agree with," said the Lord Heterodyne. "But I did mean it favourably. It matters to you to do what's right and to convince other people they should too. I think your heart's in the right place. Taking responsibility and wanting to look after people are good things. You just shouldn't try to control them more tightly than you have to." He looked down at Tarvek and drew a long breath. "If it helps... being wrong about one thing doesn't mean someone's wrong about everything else."

"It does a bit." He relaxed, cautiously, into the Lord Heterodyne's arm. "When...when you were my age...did you get taught how to kill people? I don't mean like fighting lessons, although I guess that's not so different."

The Lord Heterodyne sighed a little. "Yes. That was, um, preferable to being instructed on how to torture prisoners."

"Oh." For some reason that was the point where Tarvek actually did relax, turning his face into the Lord Heterodyne's side. It was a weird sort of relief that he wasn't...corrupted, wrong, that other people had been taught even worse things and still been able to be good. "It was assassination with us."

"...Somehow I'm not exactly surprised." The Lord Heterodyne ruffled his hair lightly before snuggling him closer. "We'll do our best, obviously, but it's still likely to be useful to you to know what to look for."

"I'm not complaining about being taught how not to get assassinated," said Tarvek. He sighed. "I'm teaching Gil that part."

"That's... also probably going to be useful," the Lord Heterodyne said wryly. "Thank you."

Tarvek blinked up at him and then smiled. "I could teach Agatha but I don't think anyone wants to assassinate her."

"...I hope not, but we might revisit that at some point."

Tarvek nodded. He didn't think anyone was likely to find a reason for assassinating Agatha, but maybe when she was a bit older she should learn a few things just in case. Now that he'd had his question answered, as much as it probably could be, he suspected he should politely leave and let the Lord Heterodyne get on with whatever he'd been doing. Which had probably been important. Only it was nice here, he was warm and had a softly buzzing beegle on his lap, and he felt...safe. For the first time in weeks. Even if he wasn't sure this was a wise way to be feeling, around the Baron's closest ally, he still didn't want to go.

The Lord Heterodyne looked down at him for a moment and then said, "Do you want to stay a while? This is nice, and it's good for Banshee to get to know more people."

"Yes, please," said Tarvek. "Is that really okay?"

"Yes, of course." The beegle -- a part of Tarvek's mind was now trying to analyse how a hound's baying would come out of a rather insectoid mouth -- punctuated this assurance by dabbing him with its proboscis again. "I'm glad to have you."

Chapter Text

Klaus strode through the corridors with a deep sense of belated foreboding. Three of the teachers including Otilia had all sent him alarmed messages at once and he could see from here that the entire population of the school had jammed into the laboratory where he'd been trying to keep the child-Sparks' work confined.

He made it inside largely because he'd built the place with sliding doors rather than ones that opened inward. The room was filled with a nearly choking odor of raspberries and brine, and Gil was standing over his vat with, oddly, Martellus von Blitzengaard, engaged in an animated discussion about brain structure. Several other students were peering over or around them until Martellus muttered loudly that they should have shackled everyone to the walls, at which point the press receded slightly and got more in Klaus’s way. They were, at least, both wearing insulated boots.

Klaus forced his way between children as gently as possible until he reached Tarvek, who was balancing on the shade of a hanging lamp and frowning over the proceedings. "You look concerned," he remarked. Actually the boy looked poised to leap toward the experiment in progress. "What brought this on?"

Tarvek looked down at him. "Well," he said, "Gil went to check on his lobster during the study period and came back to demand Tweedle come help with the speech centres. I told him he should go, and then everybody came to see what's going on."

"The lobster has speech centres?" Klaus asked, wondering exactly how he'd missed that development. He'd been busy, yes, but -- Gil was making a talking lobster?

Tarvek shrugged. "He says he's making a friend."

"Any particular reason he wants to be friends with a lobster?"

Tarvek looked slightly pained. "I have no id--" He was interrupted by a loud bang as Gil slammed the vat shut and darted for the switch. "Oh, no!"

Klaus reached up and snatched Tarvek down from the lamp before he could actually jump in to... help, or un-throw the switch, or whatever he had in mind. He set Tarvek on the floor behind him and pushed forward as the charge built. Electrical discharges crackled around the circuitry, actinic light flaring until the room lights seemed dim.

He had almost reached Gil when the vat exploded. He grabbed his son and pulled him back and down, curling around him. The self-deploying blast shields deployed, slamming into place in time to break the shockwave and most of the shrapnel, but a fountain of fishy-smelling raspberry jam splashed over them, showering the room in red.

Gil wiggled free and ran forward to push the blast shields aside; he slipped in the muck and ended up nearly as covered in it as the creature floundering at its centre. He grabbed it by the hands -- no, claws -- and helped it up. "Hi!"

"Hiiii?" It blinked one large eye up at him and stood, swaying. It looked around. It said, "Owutmess."

Gil blinked and looked at Martellus.

Martellus wiped raspberry jam off his face. "You had to wake him up right as soon as we were done, it's going to take a while before he's any more intelligible than that."

Gil turned his attention back to his new construct. "Your name is Zoing," he said.

Zoing hugged him. Klaus wasn't sure how well this sentiment would hold up to the realisation of how ridiculous the name was, but he supposed it was a good start. And he'd fallen wildly in love with a woman who insisted on calling him Chump, so he really had very little room to talk.

"Well, I guess he does like you," Tarvek said. He was surprisingly unsplotched and was picking his way more carefully through the puddles.

"I think so," Gil said happily, swinging the former lobster around to meet the Storm King. "Zoing, this is Tarvek. He’s nice, you'll like him."

Zoing went in for another hug. Tarvek said "Ack," possibly more at being covered with raspberry jam than at being embraced by a lobster, but hugged him back.

Klaus stood, and Zoing let go of Tarvek in a hurry and backed up. "Heep!"

"It's okay!" Gil grabbed at Zoing, whose antennae managed to look distinctly skeptical. "That's my father. He's nice too."

"Er. Hello, Zoing," Klaus said and held out a hand, feeling ridiculous and wondering how you went about reassuring lobsters anyway.

Zoing inched forward (Gil beamed proudly at him), antennae twitching and tail trying to press into the floor or curl under him, and tentatively put a claw in Klaus's hand. "Hidad."

Klaus wondered when, precisely, he'd adopted a lobster. "Pleased to meet you," he said.

"Pleestoomeechu," Zoing echoed. At least he was a polite lobster.

Tarvek cleared his throat, obviously trying desperately not to laugh. "I'm really impressed, Gil, but do you think you could introduce him to a bath next? This is... very... sticky."

"Okay," Gil said amiably, then looked thoughtfully at Zoing and then up at Klaus. "I think salt water might be better...?"

"You can put salt in the bath if it will help, but I agree that a bath is called for," said Klaus. He looked around at the sticky audience. "And not just for him."

"Indeed," said Otilia, who looked rather less amused by the situation than Adam or Lilith, and might need new feathers again. She started herding the students out.

Adam finally released a very squirmy Agatha to race over and meet Zoing, whose antennae went straight up in shock at her precipitous approach. He then declared her "Prettygurl" and tried to pick her up and carry her with him as they walked out of the lab, much to both her consternation and Gil's.

Klaus paused by Adam and Lilith. Zoing seemed uninclined to rampage, so the children could probably sort out his attempt to make off with Agatha themselves. "Well," he said. "That could have gone worse."

"You've been working on the blast shields again," said Lilith.

"With those three breaking through of course I have," said Klaus.

"They're very good. And Zoing seems nice."

"Yes." Klaus frowned. "Did you know Gil was making an intelligent lobster?"

Lilith blinked. "Didn't you? I thought you were tracking his work. And that he'd have told you about it even if you weren't."

"I've been busy," said Klaus. Although he shouldn't have been too busy to keep track of Gil.

They both gave him a look. "Klaus...."

"It's not as if I haven't been talking to him," said Klaus, defensively. There had been a few Skiff lessons, and he'd talked about Gil's work with him back when they were working on the dragon. When it felt like he wasn't trying to do something with the Storm King-to-be and juggle half the Fifty Families besides.

"I know," Lilith said gently, "and I do realise you're busy, but you might want to do it a little more often." Then, teasing, "Of course, now you apparently need to make time to talk to Zoing as well."

Klaus gave her a very dry look.

"Moxana would like to see you privately," Otilia told Tarvek, "now that you're a little calmer. I told her about some of your work."

He'd been in and out of the separate lab where the Baron had put them a lot -- it smelled much better now that Zoing was finished -- but it was a shock to realise he'd barely talked to Moxana since announcing he was the Storm King. "Of course," Tarvek said. "Now?"

She gestured toward Moxana's room -- she had one in the school, since she was technically visiting Otilia and sort of a teacher -- and Tarvek knocked at the half-open door and waited for a soft chime from inside before going in and shutting it behind him.

Moxana's room was uniquely hers, tiny and elegant with bars in strategic locations that she could grasp to pull herself about, as for some reason Van Rijn had built her chair's wheels with no way for her to propel them. She was waiting next to the smaller guest chair -- child-sized rather than large and sturdy enough for Otilia -- and gestured Tarvek to seat himself.

He did, clasping his hands in his lap and looking at her curiously. "Sorry I didn't come and see you sooner," he said, although she could have asked for him if she'd wanted him.

Moxana reached over to pat his shoulder, her eyes looking kind even if she couldn't smile at him. She shuffled her deck without looking -- it was fatter than usual, and he was a little puzzled until she laid out a hand and he realised she'd mixed in a regular one with the Tarot. Three Muses and all four Sparks, all the kings and queens from both decks and on top of them all the Emperor.

"Four?" Him and Gil and Agatha, unless he couldn't be one of the Sparks and the Emperor, but who else? Oh, maybe, if one wasn't him... "Gil, Agatha, Barry Heterodyne and the Baron?"

Moxana paused, nodded with her head a little to one side, and then swept the entire two decks out across her board, somehow putting them all in order as she did, and dropped the Emperor on top of them. Tarvek was still hesitating over that one when she rested a book on top of them and drove all interpretation straight out of his head.

"That's..." He reached out for the RvR embossed cover reverently, touching it with the tips of his fingers. "Van Rijn's notes?" His voice squeaked slightly.

She nodded. And held it out to him.

He took it and clutched it to him, trembling slightly with excitement. It was really his, he could figure out how to build his Muse-clank properly now, he could... "I'll learn from it, I'll find your sisters...one day...I'll fix all of you, I swear." He didn't think he could promise her anything good enough to match what he'd just been given.

Moxana leaned forward -- she didn't do that often -- and touched her fingertips to his lips before cupping his cheek in an unexpectedly warm palm, from the rapid motion he supposed. She pulled back and laid her hands together in front of her face, as if in fealty or prayer, eyes shining softly.

"Thank you," Tarvek said, quietly, meeting her eyes.

Moxana's eyes brightened for a moment, and then she reached out and covered his hands on the book with hers for a moment, then tapped on the cover with the earlier set of four Sparks and pointed him to the door, somehow looking just the slightest bit amused. That message was fairly clear. Go and read them; I know you want to.

Tarvek grinned at her and stood up. "Thank you," he said again, more casually than before. "I'll treasure them." He didn't manage to make it to his room before he started reading, but only bumped into walls twice.

Agatha did try to be considerate, and so when Tarvek came veering out of Madame Moxana's room with his nose in a big book and disappeared into his room, she left him alone for almost a whole hour while she tried to concentrate on Sleipnir's notes, since the teachers had hinted she might think about starting up classwork again. She was just about to go finally ask what he was reading when Madame Otilia went and reminded him to meet with Baron Wulfenbach. Tarvek raced out a few minutes later, looking frazzled.

He came back just in time for dinner looking even more frazzled. Agatha was still hungry pretty much every time she saw food, so she was a little worried when Tarvek spent half the time poking at his. "Hey," she said, when she'd finished a bowl of very thick orange soup, "aren't you hungry? What did Baron Wulfenbach tell you?"

Tarvek stabbed a chunk of potato a bit too hard and it smooshed into two pieces on either side of his fork. "He didn't tell me anything. Well, he did, but that isn't the problem."

Agatha frowned. "If it's not bad news, what's the matter?"

Tarvek shut his eyes in a wince. "He kept asking me questions. And he'd obviously have answers in mind, but I didn't know them.”

Gil looked puzzled and a little concerned. "You don't get this upset if the teachers ask questions you don't know the answers to yet," he pointed out.

"Not that kind of question," Tarvek said glumly. "Opinion questions."

"Do they have right answers?" asked Gil.

Tarvek looked despairing. "Yes, but I can't work out what he thinks they are."

"I don't think they do," said Agatha. "That's why they're opinions."

"Unless they're weird Spark opinions, like thinking everyone should be part snake or that turnips should be carnivorous," said Gil. "But I know that's not what you mean."

"Those wouldn't be a problem," Tarvek said. "It's hard to get that far into the madness place without being obvious about it."

"So what is the problem?" asked Agatha.

"These are about political analysis!" Tarvek said, dropping his fork to clutch his hair until it was almost as wild as Gil's. This drew interested looks from farther down the table, so he smoothed his hair back down, sort of, and started pretending to eat again. "I mean, they're the reasoning and predictive kind of opinions. I think there's a right answer, and obviously he thinks there's a right answer, but even if I knew everything about the situation I'm not sure we'd come up with the same one."

Agatha patted his elbow. "So?"

"So I don't know what he wants me to say!"

"You could just say what you think and find out?" said Gil.

Tarvek looked pained. "That might be all right for you."

"It's not like I enjoy having him mad at me, either," said Gil. "But it can't be worse than worrying this much about it."

"I don't think he'd get mad," said Agatha. "He was fine with me asking about the hostages. If he thought you were wrong he'd probably just explain."

"You're different," said Tarvek. "He doesn't trust me. And he was angry already. Not at me, exactly, but he was already in a bad mood when I got there. And I'm not sure why, because he didn't say anything about my almost being late and it didn't sound like anything was going all that badly."

"I trust you," said Agatha. "I don't suppose it would help if I told him that?"

"Thanks," Tarvek said, "but I think he already knows, probably."

Agatha eyed him. "I guess it wouldn't," she concluded. "I trust him, too, and that doesn't seem to make you feel any better." She brightened as an idea suddenly struck her. “I know, we should come with you!”

Tarvek blinked. “What?”

Gil nodded, waving a soup spoon airily. "That makes sense. We could answer the questions you don't want to."

"And if he's in a bad mood to start out, I don't mind asking him why," Agatha added encouragingly. Then they'd know what was wrong and it might make Baron Wulfenbach feel better, too.

"I'm not sure...." Tarvek began, then stopped and looked at them both for a minute. "I never know what he's going to do when you two ask him things. Maybe it would help.” He started eating properly then, and Agatha exchanged a look with Gil and decided not to interrupt.

After he'd caught up with them Tarvek said, hushed, "I do have good news." He looked really excited about it, too.

"Are you going to tell us what it is?" Gil asked, a bit teasing.

"After dinner."

And on that point he would not budge no matter how many questions they asked him in how many different ways; he just ducked his head and grinned and obviously really enjoyed making them wonder. Agatha was almost curious enough to skip dessert, but Tarvek was having too much fun and didn't.

He actually supervised them both washing their hands before letting them in his room and showing them the notebook.

"Is that real?" Gil asked, staring at the name on it.

Tarvek ran a hand lovingly over the leather cover. "Moxana gave it to me."

"Oh," said Agatha. Nobody could know better than that. "Wow."

Tarvek opened the notebook to the table of contents, in meticulous flowy handwriting and mixed Latin and Dutch, and put it on the floor (after brushing away some midmoth fur and going to wash his hands again) so they could all read. Andy curled up next to him and only tried to turn the pages with his trunk once.

Klaus drew a long breath, told himself to ignore the incipient headache, and braced himself for another futile discussion with Tarvek Sturmvoraus. He was aware that this wasn't a very productive attitude, but it was a well supported prediction. It was obvious the boy could think. He already knew a fair amount of what Klaus was telling him. He had opinions. He'd just become ever more close-mouthed about them as the weeks wore on.

The door opened to admit Tarvek. Klaus rose formally, leaning over the desk, and then paused -- entirely forgetting what he'd been about to say -- as a metallic squeak issued from the corridor and Tarvek was followed in by Gilgamesh, Agatha, and the source of the squeak, Zoing pushing a small tea-cart with one sticky wheel.

"Gil?" he said, not quite sure what question to ask first.

"Hi!" Gil beamed at him. "Can we come too?"

"It may be a little late to ask that," said Tarvek.

Gil amended the question, undaunted. "Can we stay?"

Zoing pushed his cart up against the desk and began pouring tea and depositing sugar cubes into the cups. He peered up at Klaus from underneath a rather floppy hat and inquired, "Milkansugar?"

"Why is Zoing here?" Klaus asked.

"Company," Zoing said, unperturbed. “Helping. Brought tea.”

"Gil was coming so he wanted to, too," Agatha explained.

Klaus pinched the bridge of his nose. It did not make the situation seem less... anything. He eyed Tarvek. "Did you decide you needed a council already?"

"They offered to come," said Tarvek, not meeting his eyes. "Although I wouldn't object to their advice."

"You never object to anything lately," Klaus said wearily. He had considered proposing terrible ideas just to see if Tarvek would react, but he suspected Tarvek would believe he was serious and still not speak up. He had been brought up by Aaronev, after all. Maybe having his friends around would get him talking. "Very well. Your advisors may--"

Zoing bumped his hand insistently with a cup.

Klaus took it absently and sat down. "--Stay for tea," he finished drily. "If they must."

"He said you were in a bad mood," Agatha observed, standing on her chair to lean on the desk. (Tarvek visibly tried not to cringe.) "I think he was right. What's the matter?"

"We are going to discuss politics," Klaus told her. "It's rarely a pleasant topic." He eyed her a bit suspiciously. "And no, a hug will not help." These meetings were unlikely to be improved if Tarvek couldn't take him seriously. "Sit down."

Agatha sat, looking miffed, and Klaus tried to pick up where he'd left off a few days before.

Which proved impossible and made him almost appreciate the previous meetings. Gil and Agatha and even Zoing weren't oblivious to Europan politics, which after all tended to filter into the schoolchildren’s gossip. They had clearly paid attention in their lessons. They were making an effort to take an interest. But it was an effort to take an interest -- not that Klaus couldn't sympathise -- whereas even unwilling to express opinions, Tarvek had obviously dredged that gossip for every scrap of significance. And then, of course, he knew what they had tried to talk about before, and the other two did not.

They asked factual questions he'd already discussed with Tarvek. They made comments that were obviously uninformed by questions they hadn't known to ask. And all that might have been fine if Tarvek hadn't taken the excuse to keep quiet. The fifth time one of them asked Tarvek a question he could have answered at length and Tarvek demurred, "Actually, the Baron could probably explain that better," Klaus had had enough.

He stood up. “Out."

Everybody stopped and looked at him.

"Gilgamesh. Agatha. Zoing. Out. You are destroying the focus of this meeting. If you want to be filled in on the state of Europa's politics, we can do that another time."

They all looked stricken. Klaus thought for a moment he would have to remove them bodily, but after an uncertain look at Tarvek (really?) and his slightly frantic shooing gesture they got up to go. Zoing took off his hat, dropped two more lumps of sugar into each teacup, and shuffled sadly out last of all.

Klaus sat back down and regarded the sugar melting into already over-sweetened tea, and decided he definitely had a headache now.

He glanced up in surprise when Tarvek spoke. "Sorry about that. I should have told them not to come."

"I let them stay that long." And he certainly wasn't about to admit he'd half expected Agatha to defy him. Klaus rubbed his forehead. "You could have answered their questions yourself."

Tarvek looked down at his own teacup. "I thought it would be better if you did."

"Let's just start over," Klaus said, then, "Actually, no. Why don't you tell me how you would have answered them." Maybe it would have been useful to suggest that at the time.

Tarvek looked deeply unhappy about the prospect. Maybe it wouldn't.

There had to be some way to make this work. Klaus was going to find it if it killed them both.

Chapter Text

The latest cousin of Tarvek's to arrive was Lyuba van Bulen, a tall girl of almost fourteen with the same vivid red hair, whose eyes went very wide when Anevka brought her around and introduced her to Agatha. "I thought you were a rumour," she blurted.

Agatha blinked at her. "You didn't think I was real?"

Lyuba looked rather sheepish. "It just seemed so unlikely."

"She's been publicly known for almost a year now," said Anevka, lips thinning as if her cousin was embarrassing her.

"A lot of things are publicly known about the Heterodynes that aren't so," Lyuba shot back. "And my father has an odd sense of humour. It's not as if I've had much opportunity for independent verification!"

"It must be very frustrating not to be able to believe what your relatives tell you," Agatha said, trying to be polite, and they both looked at her pityingly. It stung, and Agatha tried not to grind her teeth.

"It must be very strange if you can," said Lyuba. She sounded wistful enough that Agatha forgave her a little bit.

"Uncle Barry is very reliable," she said. "The Castle does like to say strange things, though."

Lyuba looked slightly confused by this. Anevka towed them over to Seffie and Sleipnir to discuss clothes -- one of Sleipnir's friends from home had sent her several articles on textile development a few days ago, which Tarvek had immediately borrowed, and Anevka explained that one of the Sparks involved had van Bulen as a patron.

Agatha was trying to pay attention to what they said about clothing design, mostly because Tarvek would be interested if he weren't busy, when a beegle tried to run up her back. "Oof!"

She pitched forward into Seffie, who caught her automatically and addressed the beegle imperiously. "Down. Down! Where did you come from?"

"The Lord Heterodyne had some with him," Lyuba said, regarding it warily.

"I think this one's pretty young," said Agatha, turning around. The beegle buzzed her wings and put her nose in Agatha's face, and Agatha put her arms around the fuzzy thorax. "She won't listen to you if her training isn't finished and she probably wouldn't have snuck in here if it was."

"I shouldn't think your uncle would take untrained animals out in public," said Lyuba, sounding rather shocked. "Or that he'd want them listening to other people."

"It depends on what they're supposed to listen to." Tweedle had come over, probably drawn by the presence of something dog-like. "If they're only meant to fight wasps, they don't need to be able to jump on people who are telling them to stop."

"They're not mean," said Agatha, putting her hand on the beegle's mandible. The beegle wiggled a little and tried to comb her hair with a forelimb. "The young ones go out for practice. I want to go find her some honey or something."

The other girls didn't come; Tweedle followed her to the kitchen and got down the sugarcane juice while Agatha was hauling a stool over. Agatha sighed. "I wanted to pick something," she pointed out. And she'd suggested honey.

Tweedle frowned at the juice. "She won't drink this?"

"Of course she will." The beegle was already trying to investigate the juice, so Agatha took it from him and poured some in a saucer, then handed him the jug. The beegle tried to run up him, this time, and Tweedle hastily sealed it and put it away, then leaned against the counter as the beegle joined Agatha on the floor and began licking away at the saucer.

"I thought that one was full-size. Is she really still a puppy?"

"They don't start as puppies," Agatha said. "She used to be a larva. And then a pupa."

Tweedle wrinkled his nose. "That doesn't sound like much fun."

"The larvae are cute. Don't you like caterpillars?" They weren't very caterpillar-like, really. They were white and a bit squishy and you shouldn't pick them up. Puppies probably were more fun.

"I guess they're okay." Tweedle tried petting the beegle and looked startled when the proboscis came out to lick him. Agatha giggled at him a little. "So how's Lyuba doing in the contest for your favour?"

Agatha blinked. "She's okay...."

"Oh, don't look at me like that, we all know Cousin Tarvek's got it sewn up, especially now that you know he's the Storm King. If I say winning you over would be a coup for somebody I assure you it's strictly metaphorical."

"I don't see what his being Storm King has to do with it," Agatha said. "He's nice."

"He's clever," Tweedle said, as if this were a contradiction. "I don't think any of us were that careful that young. It even impresses Seffie."

"He's nice even when he isn't careful," said Agatha. "Even if he overthinks stuff sometimes."

Tweedle snorted. "You tell him that, he probably doesn't believe there's any such thing."

The beegle sipped the plate clean and started investigating the rest of the students' kitchen. Agatha tipped her head back without getting up off the floor. "You all act like it's so much work to make friends," she said. "Maybe you'd have more fun if you just tried actually liking people and stopped worrying about it so much."

"Maybe you have that luxury," he said, scowling. "Everybody knows they'd better like you no matter what."

"I'm not going to do anything to them if they don't!" Agatha said indignantly.

"You wouldn't have to," he snapped. "Just not do anything for them, fifteen years down the road. If they can make you like them or think they need you, they're set."

Agatha stood up. "Tarvek might make it sound like he thinks friends are all about politics," she said, "but I think he's really happy when he's with us."

"He ought to be," said Tweedle. "Look what it got him."

"You don't have to be jealous," Agatha said, feeling furious and sorry for him at the same time and very muddled. "You should just--" He should try being nice to people, but he was sometimes, and the frustrating thing about Tarvek's cousins and sister and sometimes even Tarvek was that they did make it sound like being nice to people was something you did mostly to get them to do what you wanted later. "Stay here and look after the beegle. Here girl, play with Tweedle."

"Wha--" Tweedle caught the beegle automatically as she jumped up and buzzed across the room to him. (Uncle Barry was working on scaling up their ability to fly, and had gone over all their dragon notes in the process.)

Agatha left him in the kitchen, relieved when he didn't follow her, and went to find Gil and Tarvek. She knew they really liked her, even if they were busy a lot lately. They were side-by-side in Gil's room poring over a notebook, and she flopped down next to them. "So whatcha doing?"

They exchanged a slightly worried look. "Studying how not to be assassinated," said Gil.

"Oh." Agatha looked at the notebook. The page did have an awful lot of poisons on it. "You don't think people will be happy about Tarvek being the Storm King?"

"Some people will be," said Tarvek. "Some won't. My family's probably not going to try anything, which is good, since there's a lot of them here now. But there's always somebody." He glanced at Gil. "And some people will try mostly out of spite. I don't want anybody hurting Gil to get to me. Or my regent for that matter."

"Oh. That would be horrible." Nobody should hurt them. Ever.

"I don't think anybody's going to think assassinating you is useful," Tarvek said, chewing on his pencil. "The last thing anybody with political sense wants is to get you and your uncle really mad, and somebody without political sense would probably be either pretty straightforward or really hard to predict."

"You're really reassuring," said Agatha, and Tarvek looked sheepish. She scooted over to hug him. "I don't feel like studying poisons right now but I'm glad you two aren't arguing again."

"Well," said Gil, "not very much, anyway."

She really was glad, but she didn't really want to think about assassins, either. "Tarvek, could I take Sleipnir her papers back? I think she'd like them to show Lyuba."

"Oh! Sure. They're in my nightstand. Mind the trapped lock."

"I know. The spikes should be at a 45-degree angle this time, right?"

Tarvek nodded, and Agatha went to retrieve Sleipnir's textile articles and drop them off with her, prompting squeals of delight and several invitations to stay and discuss them. She said she was tired, which was true, and went to her room for a nap only to discover she wasn't really sleepy. She was just tired on the inside and restless on the outside and she wanted to talk to somebody who... who really knew what they were talking about and hadn't learned how to treat people from somebody like Prince Aaronev. And a hug.

Agatha got up and put on her shoes, which she'd kicked across the room in frustration earlier, and stopped to think. Uncle Barry had stopped in to hug and kiss her quickly before Lyuba even got there, and said he was sorry not to stay longer but he was heading out again this evening. But Lilith and Adam weren't going anywhere, although Adam might be in the forge still.

She left her room again. Tweedle's bears were chirping a song she didn't know and the beegle had found Zoing, who was letting her try to groom him and feeding her sugar cubes out of the hoard in his coatsleeves. Agatha smiled and answered everybody who smiled or waved or called to her on her way out, mostly because it would bother them if she didn't, and was very relieved when she finally got to Lilith's door and knocked.

It slid open and Lilith looked down at her almost immediately. "Agatha! Come in. It's been a while since you visited."

"I've been very distracted lately," Agatha said solemnly, following her in, "and I got to see you more in the labs but now I wanted to talk to you so--" She stopped at the doorway to Lilith's sitting room, which had Baron Wulfenbach in it. Lilith sat down on the sofa, across from him, before looking back. "Am I interrupting?" Agatha added. She hadn't thought Lilith might be busy with another friend.

"You're very welcome to join us," Lilith said, and Agatha ran across and jumped onto the sofa with her, landing half in her lap and all the way there when Lilith caught her and pulled her in. "What did you want to talk about?"

Agatha wriggled into a comfortable spot, head on Lilith's shoulder. "Tarvek's cousins, kind of."

"What are they doing?" Baron Wulfenbach asked sharply, sitting up. Agatha and Lilith both looked at him in surprise, and he frowned. "If you want privacy, I can go, but if they're causing trouble in the school, that's something I should address."

"You don't need to go away," Agatha objected. "You were visiting first anyway."

He sat back and picked up his coffee, still looking alert. "Very well. What about Tarvek's cousins?"

"They're not doing anything bad, exactly," Agatha admitted, snuggling back down. "But when they're almost relaxed, some of them say the same kinds of things Tarvek does, about pretending to like people because it's useful and they might do you favours later and...." She turned her face to hide against Lilith's shoulder. "I don't know what to think about people anymore sometimes. Because I guess Prince Aaronev and the Geisterdamen really were like that."

"Oh, Agatha." Lilith squeezed her a little tighter. "...Some people are like that, yes. Not everybody. And not everyone who's been taught to think that way is actually malicious."

Agatha sighed and sat up a little. "He didn't say it was malicious. Just that it was what everybody really did."

"He?" Lilith frowned. "...Tarvek?"

"Tweedle. Tarvek thinks it's normal but he really does care, even if Prince Aaronev told him to pretend to." A thought struck her. "Everybody thinks he's supposed to marry me, do you think I should?"

Lilith cleared her throat. "I think you should wait until you're older and then decide whether you want to."

"That does sound like a reasonable approach," said Agatha, and glanced over in concern as Baron Wulfenbach coughed suddenly. He shook his head and sipped at his coffee again. "But about the other people," she added, "how do you tell?"

Lilith looked sympathetic. "It's hard when you don't feel you know whom you can trust, isn't it?"

"That's what Uncle Barry said," Agatha told her, sighing again, "but we didn't really talk about how to figure it out. Anyway, I know who I really trust, but I don't know how to decide about other people."

"Can I ask who you really trust?" the Baron asked, glancing at Lilith as if she might tell him off for interrupting.

"Uncle Barry and you two and Adam," Agatha said immediately, "and Gil and Tarvek and Aunt Donna," whom she'd kind of started thinking of as her aunt even though she wasn't married to Uncle Barry yet. "Madame Otilia -- and the other teachers, I guess -- and Theo... and Sleipnir and Z and Nick and a lot of the other kids are mostly nice even if they used to pick on Gil too much. Most everybody from Mechanicsburg, but not about as many things, because Uncle Barry says it's like with Castle Heterodyne where even if it likes me it doesn't always have very good judgement. And sometimes the Castle is really kind of a jerk." She stopped for a minute, feeling she'd forgotten somebody. "Oh, and Aunt Gertrude. I don't know her very well though."

The Baron looked at her. "I wish I had faith in nearly as many people."

That wasn't very encouraging, even if she guessed Mechanicsburg only counted secondhand for him. "But you know a lot of people I don't."

"Yes," he said doubtfully. "But I'm not friends with most of them."

"I'm not exactly friends with everybody in Mechanicsburg," said Agatha, "but we're supposed to look after each other anyway." She bit her lip for a second. "Who do you trust?"

"Barry," he said, promptly. "Adam and Lilith. Dr Sun. Boris. Possibly Gertrude and Donna, I don't know them that well but they seem sensible."

"You act like you trust Gertrude," Lilith murmured.

"I thought you trusted Madame Otilia," said Agatha. "And what about Gil?" And her and Tarvek and Theo? But especially Gil.

"Otilia is Tarvek's now," said Klaus. "As the Jägers are Barry's. It's not as simple as trusting or not trusting them. And, yes, I trust Gil. Although children are a little different."

Agatha shifted to sit back against Lilith and remembered to nudge her shoes off before drawing her heels up onto Lilith's knee. "You mostly don't trust people who are loyal to somebody else first?" she asked slowly.

"Not completely. It becomes a matter of trusting them conditionally on trusting that person. You know that if something happened to change that, they wouldn't be on your side." He ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose I'm sounding like Tarvek's relatives now? Politics does that, I'm afraid."

"A little. I was mostly thinking you sounded like Tarvek."

"Is that better?" he asked.

"Of course." Didn't he talk to Tarvek? "He doesn't make it sound like nothing's ever real."

"Good for him," Lilith said firmly. When Agatha turned so she could see her, Lilith was still looking at Baron Wulfenbach, but she looked down at Agatha after a second. "Some of them may think they're being helpful by telling you that people imitating good things, and good feelings, means there aren't any real ones. But they are wrong." She pursed her lips. "And some of them might be warning you to try to keep you from trusting people they see as rivals."

Agatha sighed. "This is complicated."

"Yes, I'm afraid it can be," said Lilith. "It's even more complicated because while some people will betray you, a lot of people learn to be trustworthy by being trusted." She looked at Baron Wulfenbach again, eyebrows going up a little. "Klaus is better at doing that for people than he makes it sound, actually."

The Baron shook his head slightly. "That's different again. Giving people what they want, seeing that their best interests coincide with yours. A lot of people can be trusted if you're their best hope of protection." He looked at Agatha and sighed. "I don't mean to make it sound so bleak. As I said, I don't trust many people completely, but the ones I do I would trust with anything. It's very much real."

Agatha looked between them. That... didn't exactly sound bleak. It sounded somewhere between how Tarvek and Uncle Barry talked sometimes, where you tried to make things better for people and you did hope they'd be nice back -- and to other people -- but it wasn't the only reason. It sounded like Lilith thought of it as a chance to help people be better and it made Baron Wulfenbach sad because sometimes they didn't have a lot of other options to start off with. "You're pickier than Lilith and Uncle Barry about what counts, aren't you? I don't think you'd've counted the Castle if you were me."

"Not even a little bit," he said.

Agatha shrugged. "I know it really likes me and doesn't want me to die," she said. "I don't think it's very sensible at all though sometimes. How did you decide?"

He frowned. "I'm not sure," he said, sounding annoyed at finding himself without a logical reason. "I suppose...people I could go to, no matter what had happened."

"Most of Klaus's list is people he's known a very long time," Lilith said, dropping a kiss on the top of Agatha's head. "I'm not sure he made a specific decision to trust us so much as we liked being around each other and it grew over time. There wasn't that much risk at stake, to begin with."

The Baron choked on his coffee. "Seriously?" he said, when he'd stopped spluttering. "We are talking about a couple of Heterodynes."

"You know they were never going to--" Lilith began indignantly, then stopped and covered her eyes with one hand. "No, I'm sorry, naturally you didn't know that at the time."

"This is another of those complicated parts, isn't it," said Agatha.

The Baron smiled, suddenly looking oddly younger. "Not really. I just liked them enough to take a chance," he said.

Agatha smiled back at him. Lilith sounded like she was smiling when she said, "It is worth taking a chance on people sometimes. Which you might -- if you're not being picky," she added, definitely teasing them a little, "call a sort of experimental trust. Although if you have the option, it's good to have somebody else you trust to keep an eye on things when you do that." She turned Agatha to face her and arched her eyebrows. "Which is one of several reasons it's a good idea for people to know where you are."

Agatha squirmed a little. "I haven't really gone sneaking around anywhere lately." Not since the vault. Obviously trying to hide from Prince Aaronev didn't count, especially since she hadn't really managed to be very sneaky at all. "And the Jägers usually knew before that anyway. But we're being good."

Lilith ruffled her hair. "I know. But we want you to understand why. It isn't arbitrary." A wry glance over Agatha at Baron Wulfenbach. "We've all had some alarming experiences losing track of each other, too."

“Uncle Barry said.” Agatha settled down against her again. “It’s not like I thought you wanted us to be bored.”

"My school is not that dull," the Baron muttered.

Agatha tried not to giggle. It would probably be rude. "But the rest of the Castle is interesting, and the finished parts for people to live in don't sound the same. But everything's been really interesting since we broke through anyway."

"Don't sound the same?" said the Baron, raising his eyebrows. "The hum of the engines?"

"Yes! And the way they made everything vibrate differently," Agatha said, sitting up. "I really liked it. It felt kind of like Uncle Barry really. I can do that myself anyway now, but it's different from feeling it from outside."

The Baron's lips twitched and then he said, "Interesting. I wonder if it's a Heterodyne quirk, or simply an association with a caretaker? Maybe I should ask Barry what he thinks of my airship engines."

"I like the different frequencies coming through things, but they are really loud up close," said Agatha.

"You were definitely not meant to be hearing them from that close," he said.

"I know," Agatha said with a sigh. "But they were really neat anyway." They'd probably be even better now, and she could shut out some of the noise! "Will you let me see them with permission sometime?"

"Yes, as long as you find an adult to take you there," he said.

Yes! "I was hoping you would, since you should be able to explain them even better than Gil."

"I am somewhat older than Gil," said the Baron. "You may have to wait a while if you want me to show you. I'm usually busy at present."

"I know," she said. "Maybe I'll ask somebody else first. But I'd really like it when you have time."

"You should invite Gil," Lilith said, sounding like she wanted to laugh. "And Tarvek and Zoing, of course."

"Yeah! They'd really like it too." Well... Tarvek would think the engines were interesting. She wasn't sure how much fun he'd actually have with the Baron.

Baron Wulfenbach eyed them both dubiously. "Well, Gil would."

“Tarvek would like the engines,” said Agatha. “I wish you two were getting along better.”

"So do I," said the Baron.

"It might help with that to spend time talking about something that isn't making you both miserable," said Lilith.

"I'm not sure there's anything he'd be happy to discuss with me," said the Baron. "But I'll bear that in mind."

Agatha kind of wanted to argue with that, but she couldn't really. "He's still scared of you," she said. "I'm trying to talk him out of it."

"Thank you for that."

"You're welcome." Agatha leaned back again. Lilith was solid and comfortable. "I'm not sure he really thinks he should pretend to like people or he'd try to do it with you. But I don’t know how to tell if somebody’s pretending that, either,” she added wistfully. “Is that complicated too?” Did everything have to be?

Lilith hugged her close. "People are complicated. I know you're not going to like to hear this, but it takes practice. It can't be as simple as listing a set of rules, because people could try to imitate those. But honestly? Most of the time, it's probably worth believing. Liking you doesn't necessarily make them reliable in every way -- you know that from Castle Heterodyne already." Agatha nodded at that. "You probably will get enough experience with flattery to learn to recognise it over time, but you're a very sweet girl and most people will probably either stop at being civil, or act as if they like you because they really do."

"If it helps," Baron Wulfenbach said wryly, "you're difficult not to like."

Agatha looked over at him, startled and not sure if she should feel hurt. "Were you trying?"

He spread his hands, looking like he was trying not to smile, which Agatha thought was usually a little silly. "Not with you, particularly," he said. "But before I met them, I was expecting your father and uncle to be simultaneously very charismatic and very dangerous to be around. I actually intended to avoid them."

"That didn't work very well, huh."

He definitely looked amused, even if he still wasn't quite smiling. "Not at all. They were... a little apologetic about people being frightened of them. I think they were getting a bit tired of it by that point, but still determined to talk to everyone who so much as made eye contact."

"And you did?" Agatha prompted, as if Theo were telling the story. She should ask Uncle Barry what happened later, too.

"Yes. And they turned out to be--" He gestured as if he might be able to find the right word in the air someplace. "Not just charming but considerate. And perhaps a little lonely at that moment. If I'd avoided them then, I might never have got a word in edgewise; by a week later they were surrounded half the time."

"I bet they'd have talked to you anyway. I try to talk to everybody some."

"He helped us find a place to stay," Lilith began, only for Baron Wulfenbach to start laughing. Agatha tried to figure out how in the world this was funny.

"I tried," the Baron said, seeing her confusion. "Only to discover someone had accidentally damaged the building where I was staying and it was not exactly livable."

"Barry suggested they could all help repair it," Lilith took up the story, "but the landlord was understandably a bit frustrated and said he'd rather abandon the place altogether and use the insurance to buy a house somewhere quieter than deal with Sparky amateur architects. So Bill asked if he'd like to sell it instead."

"Ooh," said Agatha, twisting around. "Did he make it talk?"

Lilith blinked down at her. "What? --Oh. No, he didn't give it a personality like Castle Heterodyne."

"I didn't think it would be exactly like," Agatha said.

"Hah. No, it wouldn't have been. But Castle Heterodyne is in something of a unique situation. Even if Bill had known exactly how to repeat the effect, I'm not sure it would have worked on a smaller lot and without the same kind of power supply."

"Maybe, maybe not," said Baron Wulfenbach, sounding interested. "It's been clearly demonstrated lately that enormous size isn't strictly necessary for a mechanical brain -- well, except perhaps--"

"--When you're making it out of bricks?" Lilith asked with a grin.

He grinned back a bit wryly. "That would make it tricky." He looked at Agatha. "Although they did opt to rebuild with room for everyone who'd previously been staying there, and with that many Sparks in one house, Bill said once or twice that he could see why Faustus decided the Castle needed a personality."

She giggled. "To keep an eye on them when they had impractical ideas?"

"It happens to every Spark now and then," the Baron said. "We've tried to steer you away from a few, but despite your lack of experience, you and your friends have been unusually sensible."

Agatha smiled at him, pleased. "I don't know if we were really trying to be.”

Baron Wulfenbach rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Even more impressive," he said.

"Klaus," Lilith said, laughing.

"I'm not joking!"

Agatha grinned and wriggled back against Lilith. This was good. Happy and comfortable with grown-ups who definitely really did like each other, even if Baron Wulfenbach did a lot of politics. Although there was something that would make it better. "Lilith? May I make some hot cocoa?"

Lilith set her on the floor and stood up to go to the kitchen with her. "Certainly. Klaus, do you want more coffee?"

He glanced into the mug a bit wistfully. "I should probably go--"

Lilith raised an eyebrow. "Mm. Appointment? No, then you wouldn't say probably."

He sighed. "No, but there's always something."

Agatha stopped in the kitchen doorway to watch them. Lilith said, "You're probably right -- you should go make some time for Gil."

The Baron eyed her. "Not exactly what I meant."

Lilith smiled at him in a way that pretty much said, yes, but it's what you should have meant.

"He was studying poisons with Tarvek when I left," Agatha volunteered.

Baron Wulfenbach gave her a slightly startled look. "Perhaps I'd better not interrupt."

"Klaus!" said Lilith. "Really?" She scooped Agatha up and said, not quite in her ear, "It's important to do things you should do even when you'd rather not, but some people are not very good at figuring out when something they want to do is also something they should do."

"I think you might be telling the wrong person that," Agatha told her.

Lilith smiled at her. "Well, you might need to know it eventually too."

The Baron followed them into the kitchen to leave his mug in the sink. "Thank you for the advice, Lilith," he said a little drily. "Agatha...." He stopped and gave her a long look. "Listen to your uncle about how to judge people's intentions, not Tarvek's cousins," he said finally. "Memorable as the occasional mistake might be, I'm not sure he actually makes nearly as many."

"Okay." Agatha leaned out of Lilith's arms for a hug. He stepped into range looking like he thought she might fall, even though Lilith would never drop her. No wonder he and Uncle Barry worried about their going across high places, if he got worried about this. "You too, okay?"

He stepped back looking like he might laugh again, around the eyes. "I'll keep that in mind."

Chapter Text

He hated this.

Tarvek left yet another meeting with the Baron and tried not to feel like he was fleeing back to the school. It was the Baron's school; he wasn't any safer there anyway.

He hated this, he hated this, he'd known it was too good to be true but he'd let himself half believe anyway. It was easy to believe anything around Barry Heterodyne, even that the Baron really meant to acknowledge him as the Storm King. Even that the Baron really cared what he thought.

Actually the Lord Heterodyne hadn't even been around for that last one, so he didn't really qualify as an excuse.

Tarvek made it through the doors, nodded politely to Otilia while trying not to look upset, and found himself stalking into Gil's room, which didn't make any sense at all.

Gil was flopped on the bed with a book. He'd left the door open; he didn't have to worry about people snatching them anymore. That was a good thing. It was. Gil never should have had to worry about that kind of thing in the first place, no matter who he was or wasn't; it was a good thing that he didn't now even if it was an example of why Gil didn't need Tarvek anymore. Tarvek was probably horrible for even thinking it.

Gil sat up, concerned. "What's the matter?"

"I'm not horrible," Tarvek blurted. He wasn't. He wasn't like the Baron had suggested about the Knights of Jove (like people used to whisper about the Baron); he didn't want people to have problems just so they'd need him around. Regardless of what Gil thought, he was pretty sure that was worse than needing to be rescued.

"Uh, no?" Gil said in understandable confusion. "Did somebody --" He stopped, apparently remembering Tarvek's schedule. "If my father told you that you're horrible at something, I don't think he really meant it," he said. "At least not hopelessly. I heard him call Barry Heterodyne a lackwit once."

Tarvek let out a laugh, sort of. It came out a rattly cracked sound and he stopped and swallowed hard when he heard himself because he suspected he was drifting into the madness place and tempting as it was he didn't want to be there. He had to think clearly and the Spark was good for technical problems but not so much for being sensible. "He didn't say anything like that."

"Oh. Well, good--"

Things had just got consistently worse ever since that first conversation where the Baron had asked him to name the conspirators. At that moment Tarvek wouldn't have believed it could get worse from there, but it actually hadn't been too bad overall. The Baron had told the truth about not killing them all. But since then... they could talk a little about Gil, or about Science, but politics?

The Baron kept calling him in for regular meetings about politics. And they kept getting worse. The Baron was always scowling. Always disapproving. Always goading. "He didn't have to."

Gil looked exasperated. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do if you make up bad things for him to think about you that he didn't say."

"People don't say half what they think," Tarvek pointed out. "He probably does think I'm horrible."

"He doesn't!" Gil said in frustration. "The whole point of making you Storm King was they thought you could be a good one!"

But it wasn't. The whole point of making him Storm King was the political coup. More to the point, avoiding the conspiracy's political coup. Tarvek found he still believed Barry Heterodyne meant what he'd said, but the Baron....

Right now, Tarvek was a political asset. But ten years from now...?

"What makes you think he really wants me to be Storm King?" The words spilt out. "I'm useful. For now." It was the same as with his father and the Order, only he'd had a better idea how to deal with them. They'd meant to use him but he'd been learning to handle them. His father didn't scowl harder if you just agreed with him. (But he'd even got that wrong, in the end, he hadn't thought his father meant to kill Agatha....) "Not if it meant he'd actually have to listen to me."

Gil huffed. "I told you, he wouldn't say that if he didn't mean it!"

Tarvek paced across the room. “I know he’s your father, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m his pawn.” He felt frantic, he’d just exchanged one puppeteer for another less predictable one. He shouldn’t be saying this to Gil, Gil was the worst person to say this to.

Gil looked up at him from where he was sitting on the bed, frowning, head lowered in what looked like challenge. “He doesn’t need a pawn.”

”He doesn’t need an heir.” Tarvek span on his heel to face Gil, who stiffened and then stood up from the bed, mouth pressed into a determined line.

“Fine,” he said. Tarvek thought he was about to storm out of the room, caught his breath and cursed himself for making Gil angry with him again. Instead Gil threw himself to his knees in one graceless movement and bowed his head. “I, Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, swear fealty to Tarvek Sturmvoraus, the Storm King.” He looked up, eyes fierce. “I will always be yours.”

It wasn’t a traditional oath, Gil had just…just made it up. Tarvek took a half a step back even as he reached out, hand hovering between them. “Gil…” he said helplessly. “Did you think about this?”

“I don’t need to think about it,” said Gil. “Do you?”

“No! I said I wanted you.” Tarvek closed his hand on Gil’s shoulder, gripping it more tightly than any ceremony would have called for. “I accept your fealty.”

A few heartbeats later Tarvek let go and Gil stood up, stretched and grinned. “Everything’s okay now, then,” he said, flopping back into place on the bed.

Klaus was a little disconcerted when Otilia showed up to make an appointment with him for Gil. He really couldn't drop everything for it -- she'd caught him walking out of his office for a diplomatic meeting -- and was half apologetic about that until she reminded him that Gil was in music lessons (with the entire class) for the next hour anyway.

He was more disconcerted when Gil opened with, "I know you're busy but it's about Tarvek, so you should listen."

Klaus stared at him. He'd been busy lately, yes, and frequently with Tarvek -- much to his own continued frustration, because nothing had broken the conviction he'd voiced to Barry that Tarvek had opinions and was apparently planning to implement them without saying anything first. But -- had he really left his son thinking he wouldn't hold still for anything else? "Should we start with the fact that I appear to have been neglecting you?"

Gil blinked and flung himself forward for a hug, with the abandon of someone who didn't doubt he'd be caught. "I missed you," he said, and then pulled back before Klaus was really ready. He let him go anyway. "But focus, please." Something in the cadence was Otilia's, there. Or... maybe Klaus's, though he couldn't remember saying it to Gil lately. Maybe once, during Skiff lessons. "I said it's important."

"I'm listening," he said.

Gil chewed his lip and went to haul one of the other chairs around the end of the desk, since he was still short enough the desk could get in the way of conversation. It scraped against the floor and Klaus winced and picked it up to help. Gil clambered into it. "He's kind of freaking out with the coronation coming up," he said. "About being a pawn."

"We'd have an easier time taking his opinions into account if he ever shared them," said Klaus. Possibly he should not be confiding his frustration with Gil's friend in Gil. But, on the other hand, Gil seemed to know what was going on with Tarvek better than Klaus did.

"He doesn't think you really want them!" Gil raked both hands back through his hair. "I told him you don't need a pawn, he said you don't need an heir. I'm not exactly sure what he thinks you're trying to do."

"I suppose he still regards you as my heir. Which you are, for the lands I have by inheritance, but that's different. Why he thinks I'd bother with this as a charade..." Potentially using Tarvek as a puppet would be worth doing, although it wasn't the kind of game Klaus preferred. Be his regent until he came of age, and the power behind the throne after that. But making it about Klaus not needing an heir meant he was worried about Gil and surely he didn't think Gil was intended to take over as the power behind the throne? "Does he think you know about whatever he thinks I'm planning?"

"I swore fealty to him," Gil said, rather astonishingly. He sounded both proud of himself and a little grumpy. "Anyway, he knows I wouldn't hurt him."

Technically Klaus was going to be swearing fealty at the coronation along with everyone else who was now part of Tarvek's kingdom and Gil was not yet in a position to swear anything but himself. So why would Gil swearing be what made a difference and why on Earth had he thought of that, anyway? "And that helped?"

"Yes," said Gil. "Well, kind of. He calmed down some, but he's still worried about you."

Klaus rubbed his forehead. All right, Gil's fealty couldn't really make a difference now -- unless it was simply a matter of Tarvek wanting assurance that Gil was on his side -- but what difference would it make in the future? If Klaus had been planning on Gil taking over as the power behind the throne, then having a direct assurance of Gil's loyalty could help, but Tarvek worrying about being manipulated by Gil was completely wrong. So, what else could he fear Klaus doing? If he didn't expect power to really be handed over to him, but Gil mattered...did he fear Klaus changing his mind once he was an adult and giving Europa to Gil after all? It still wasn't impossible, but it wouldn't be something Klaus planned on, and certainly wouldn't involve treating him as a puppet in the meantime. If he failed it wouldn't be because he hadn't been given a chance. But if he was so sure he wasn't being given a chance...what did he think he was if Klaus planned to hand Europa to Gil? A decoy? Oh, that made a rather sickening kind of sense. Especially when Klaus had used discovering him as a chance to bring Gil out into the open. "I think I see," he said.

"Oh, good." Gil sounded faintly uncertain about this, possibly because Klaus hadn't actually explained anything. Gil folded up one leg and rested his chin on his knee. "I don't think he expected his relatives to want him making decisions," he said. "I guess that makes sense, with all the wasps and things. Anyway, he doesn't think I know what I'm talking about with you so I figured I'd better talk to you." A very eight-year-old huff. "He'd probably worry about this, too."

"About being talked about?" Klaus asked.

"To you, yeah." Gil's other foot swung under the chair. "D'you think you can fix it?"

"I hope so," said Klaus, wondering how when Tarvek didn't believe anything he said, and then paused to consider. Gil was worried about this and, despite not knowing what was going on, had been able to guess at enough of Tarvek's thought processes to find a way to calm him down. "Maybe you can help. I suspect he's thinking of himself as a decoy, a way to draw attention away from you so that you can reach adulthood without worrying about assassins. You might know more than I do about what would convince him otherwise."

Gil looked rather shocked by this -- Klaus was sure it was ridiculous to feel relieved that his son was shocked by the idea that he'd use Tarvek as a human shield -- and then disgusted. "He would think that. Actually he thinks people might come after me to get to him, too. "

That was worrying, and Klaus had a moment of wondering whether revealing Gil had been premature before realising it would make no difference at all if people were going after him because he was Tarvek's friend. That one was out of Klaus's control. "A disturbing thought," said Klaus. "But I don't think we can do anything about what he thinks other people might do." Especially when he might be right.

"He's teaching me everything he knows about not getting assassinated," Gil assured him.

"That's helpful," said Klaus. "And I assure you we have guards in place to try to prevent either of you being assassinated."

"I figured." Gil looked thoughtful. "I don't know how to calm him down about you though. I know you've been asking him what he thinks because he thinks you're trying to trick him into telling you."

"I don't think asking counts as a trick," said Klaus.

"Tarvek's very confusing sometimes."

"I have to agree with that."

"Umm." Gil rocked back in the chair, looking at the ceiling as if it might have an idea. "Do you think Agatha's uncle could help?"

"That might be a good idea." Tarvek seemed to trust him more than he did Klaus, anyway. And Barry was better at complicated people than Klaus was. "I'll talk to him."

Gil nodded. And then added, a little wistfully, "Do you think you'll have more time after the coronation's over?"

"Yes," said Klaus firmly. "I'm sorry it's been taking so much. Even before the coronation, I'll try to make more time for you."

"That sounds nice." Gil slid off the chair. "I guess I should go. You're still busy and I'm supposed to teach Zoing to conduct for Tweedle's bears later."

There was a moment while Klaus boggled at that mental image, both bizarre and adorable. "I will talk to you later," he said when he'd recovered, more promise than dismissal.

One consequence of proclaiming Tarvek the Storm King was that people sent him a lot of gifts. These ran the gamut from useful to bizarre, symbolic to practical, and included everything from brightly coloured blocks evidently chosen by someone who thought Tarvek was three rather than eight, to gold and parcels of land. (Pietrosu Peak was going to be a headache to put back, but the power supply for the shrinker field was amazing.) Klaus and Barry, of course, were screening them all to make sure they weren't disguised assassination attempts.

So far the rate was approximately three percent. It was a stupid approach, but that rarely stopped a really enthusiastic Spark and it stopped irritated royalty only slightly more often.

It was a slightly smarter approach to booby-trap someone else's gift that had been sent in good faith. Barry spotted the subtle signs of rewrapping almost in time to yank Klaus out of the way of a spray of needles, but one still scored the taller man's cheekbone. Barry muttered under his breath and pulled him down to clamp a suction sampler over it. "That was probably poisoned."

"That may be all right." Klaus grimaced and detached the sampler, then fingered the cut. "I'm working on developing a tolerance to a variety of poisons.”

Barry looked at him skeptically and went to get the remaining needles out of the wall. "That's nice, Mithridates, but let's see about analysis and an antidote."

"Not arguing. I did say 'may'." Klaus started over to the chemical bench, but then the sound of footsteps stopped. Barry turned around, saw him looking faintly grey, and was back across the room holding his arm before he said, "Or maybe not."

"Okay," Barry said, taking the sampler. "Fast analysis."

It was a fast analysis -- they'd set up the workspace for that -- and Barry risked an accelerated synthesis because the alternative was worse. Fortunately the bomb calorimeter held, and Klaus accepted the injection and stopped looking so pale several heartbeats later. "I'll have to step up the desensitization, clearly," he said.

"Right," said Barry. "Sometimes I wonder if you'd actually be safer taking the Jägerdraught." Which was probably a bad idea, because he wouldn't put it past Klaus to take him seriously. "And that's not an offer."

"Interesting as it would be, I think my methods overall have better odds. Especially if I keep you or Sun nearby in case of mistakes." Klaus stretched and approached the package with renewed caution. "I should start the boys on it as well," he said abruptly. "I'm told Tarvek's worried enough to be teaching Gil avoidance techniques."

"He did say he was planning on it," Barry began, unwinding the ribbon carefully since it appeared to be a textile explosive.

Klaus extracted two more needle-throwers. Barry passed him the armoured container, and he carefully placed them inside. "And evidently he thinks I mean to kill him when he grows up."

Barry located and removed the detonator. "He what?" A pause. This suggested a distinct problem with Klaus’s plans. "And you expect to reassure him by administering small doses of poison?"

"Perhaps not to begin with," Klaus conceded, as they removed the rest of the wrappings to reveal a large wooden crate. "From what Gil's told me I suspect he thinks he's a decoy to allow Gil to grow up unharmed. Gil evidently solved part of the problem by swearing fealty to him -- I'm not sure why."

Barry thought about that for a minute. It felt right, but it wasn't as if Gil's devotion could necessarily counter anything Klaus might have in mind, so the sense of rightness needed more analysis than that. And it had to account for Tarvek being a child, of course -- a precocious child in the habit of thinking of politics and scheming, but still a child. "Something he didn't have to ask for," he said aloud, testing, then, "No. I think... he doesn't say it outright, but I think Tarvek's always waiting for something else to be more important to everybody than he is."

"So Gil decided to make it clear where his loyalties were going to lie," said Klaus, levering a nail out with a bit too much force.

Barry thought about Gil's misery over realising he'd helped Tarvek spy on his father. "Yes," he said deliberately, "because Gil has enough faith in you to know it's not actually a question of taking sides."

Klaus removed the next few nails rather less violently before answering. "The trick is to convince Tarvek of that."

"I think he's starting to be more comfortable with me," said Barry, "but that doesn't necessarily translate to assuming I know what I'm talking about. Although I will confidently vouch for both your nobler motives and your loathing of politics." He could understand hating the kind of politics that came with poisoned needles and mislabelled packages. Curiously, the identification on this one seemed to have been planted as well, and there was no trace of a pre-existing one. The crate seemed safe enough -- none of the nails had attacked them -- but also curiously anonymous. Barry pried the lid up. Ah. That was why. There was a body in the box.

Not a human one, not even organic. A Muse -- Zene, Music; the tangle of tarnished brass was on second glance her conglomeration of instruments, nearly intact -- but damaged enough the sender had apparently been too embarrassed to put his name to the gift.

"Oh," said Klaus, sounding both wondering and disapproving. He reached out and gently ran a hand over an arm joint. "I think I'm going to need a closer look at Otilia than I've asked for yet."

"For this, I think she'll agree to it." How much damage had been done to the mechanical brain? Even assuming they could repair it -- and Barry did assume that, they hardly ever ran into something Klaus couldn't eventually reverse-engineer, which both fascinated Castle Heterodyne and sometimes made it acutely nervous -- would the personality Otilia remembered be intact? It might. For all he knew she was still conscious in there.

Klaus nodded. "I'll ask her. I think I should try to fix this as soon as possible." He sounded sympathetic but also fascinated. For all working on the Muses made him nervous when so many had done more damage in trying, he was still a Spark with a fascinating problem in front of him.

Barry leaned on the edge of the crate, a smile tugging at his mouth. Possibly he should have mentioned this to Klaus when Agatha first told him, but he'd sort of assumed Gil had and it had seemed unkind to bring it back up when Klaus probably wouldn't think it fitting to ask. "You should also ask Tarvek to let you see Van Rijn's notebook."

"I what?" said Klaus, looking up sharply. "When did -- from one of the Muses?"

Barry grinned. "Evidently Moxana's been guarding them. I'd guess they mean to present them formally at the coronation, but Tarvek and Agatha got an early look and have been poring over them."

"I suppose he'd lend them for this. He couldn't possibly want her to stay broken until he's old enough to do it." Klaus didn't sound entirely sure of that.

"I shouldn't think so," said Barry. "As for old enough -- he's not making bad progress with the new one, last I heard. Maybe we should ask him to help."

"Not a bad idea," said Klaus. "His progress with the new one is remarkable, although the notes do explain some of that. And it would give us something to talk about that wouldn't alarm him. I can't blame him for being skittish, but at least I might get opinions on mechanics out of him."

"Aaronev was always harder to argue with than you were," Barry mused. "You might not change your mind but sometimes he didn't even seem to comprehend that he was being disagreed with."

"Sparks," said Klaus. "A lot of them are harder to argue with than brick walls."

"That," said Barry, "is only because Castle Heterodyne is mostly stone."

The Lord Heterodyne had told Tarvek he was having a lot of fun going around and convincing people there was really a new Storm King, considering how widely it was considered a plot device too implausible for Heterodyne plays. Tarvek was pretty sure the conspiracy had meant to work on that, but having Barry Heterodyne personally tell people it was true probably beat out opera revivals.

At any rate people believed it enough to have started sending him presents, which was really fun. He invited Agatha and Gil to go through them with him, and insisted they put on full protective gear just in case anybody had sent things because they didn't like the idea, although so far nothing had happened.

There were a lot of strange things, of course. A miniature giraffe was ambling around the school trying not to trip on Andy and eating enormous amounts of salad. There was a set of colourful blocks that Tarvek supposed must be meant to encourage him to have an heir as soon as he was old enough. There were inventions that probably didn't work and inventions that he rather hoped didn't work, which for lack of any better ideas Tarvek carefully stacked on one side of the package room and figured Baron Wulfenbach could work out storage.

Other items were chosen for their significance, symbolic value or being characteristic of the town that sent them. (Some of those were probably advertisements, in a way.) Some were valuable and only valuable. And some of them... some of them were beautiful.

Because in addition to the basically ceremonial and symbolic presents and the practical ones, the presents that suggested an overflow of enthusiasm and the "we've got to send him something" ones, there were any number of hopeful artists and artisans who aspired to royal patronage and sent (directly or through their own lord) their best creations. Extraordinary pieces of furniture, Spark-work inventions that were both practical and beautiful, paintings and mosaics, sculptures, sheet music, recordings, instruments.

Tarvek had taken off his gloves to run his hands over an extraordinary silk that couldn't decide whether to be amber or violet and Gil and Agatha were testing a marimba, still in full lab armour, when the Lord Heterodyne came in with the Baron and said, "We had a few questions and -- ah -- you know, we did go over these for traps already."

"Oh. Thank you," said Tarvek. His eyes flicked to the Baron's face, where there was a cut along one cheekbone. "I guess you found one."

"We found a few," said the Lord Heterodyne, going over to the marimba. "But they should be all right now. When you get to the shrunken mountain, though, be careful -- we're going to have to put that back."

"You also received a pair of cheetahs," said the Baron, "but we didn't repack those."

"What did you do with them?" Tarvek asked. Not that he wanted any cheetahs, but he'd like to know.

"They're in a room next to the Jägers' exercise track lapping up beef broth, since their first action was to try to eat us and their second was to collapse. I'd like to get them on the ground as soon as they recover from being shipped.” The Baron frowned. “Although I suppose they may not be suited to the winters here.”

"That sounds good. Maybe I should request people not send animals in crates if it's a long trip," said Tarvek.

"If it had occurred to me that they'd try it I would have already," the Baron said sourly. "It's not a pleasant way to travel. But that's not actually what we came to--" He stopped and tapped a large crate. "Perhaps you should open this one next."

Tarvek threw him a questioning look and went over to the crate. Considering the conversation that had followed on from he was rather worried, but he didn't hear anything moving inside, and from the Baron's response he probably wouldn't have repacked an animal. The lid hadn't been nailed down again, although it had been fitted back onto the top, so when Tarvek pulled it moved easily. Beneath lay... "Zene," he breathed. Her casing was loose, clockwork showing, like a block puzzle someone hadn't been able to do well enough to get back in the box. Half of it was missing from one leg. Gears spilled sideways from behind her faceplate. Her expression was serene, unreadable, and there was no light behind her eyes. A mangled set of instruments lay on her chest. She was beautiful and one of the saddest things Tarvek had ever seen.

"Barry tells me you have some of Van Rijn's notes," said the Baron.

Tarvek looked up sharply. He didn't want to share them, Moxana had given them to him, but he could already see he wasn't going to be able to fix Zene. Not yet. "Do you think you can fix her, if I let you see them?" he asked, and then wondered what had given him the idea that he had the power to let the Baron do anything. He hadn't even hidden them.

"I hope so. I was also planning to consult Otilia." Which was an interesting way to describe asking somebody for a look at their insides. The Baron's hand rested on the edge of the crate... or didn't rest, he wasn't gripping it hard enough to break anything but his fingers were whitened with the pressure.

Gil and Agatha abandoned the marimba at this point to come join them in staring into the box. Agatha's eyes filled with tears. Gil, looking deeply serious, tapped a cymbal with one fingernail, producing a soft pure chime that briefly filled the air with glory.

"And at the rate you've been going with your own projects, we thought you might have some insights," said the Lord Heterodyne on the tail end of that sound, so naturally that it took Tarvek a second to remember this was a surprising thing for an adult Spark to say to eight- and five-year-old children.

"Of course we'll help," said Agatha. A small ding behind her possibly marked another volunteer (the little clanks had been getting everywhere lately, and Tarvek briefly wondered what they thought of the Muses).

"Yes, of course," Tarvek echoed. There was no question that he'd help, although he wondered if he could do enough yet. He'd always wanted to find the Muses and fix them but he'd imagined it happening when he was an adult and old enough to know what he was doing. Like breaking through, like becoming king, everything was happening ten years too soon and even when it should have been a dream come true it felt like things were happening to him not because of him. But he was glad Zene wouldn't have to wait for him.

The Lord Heterodyne grinned fondly at Agatha; the Baron's expression eased minutely into a glimmer of amusement. Gil reached down, frowning, to twist two ends of a snapped wire together. At which Tarvek grabbed his wrist and the Baron said, "I think we should--"

"It looks just like one of the pictures, though," said Agatha. Tarvek had to admit it was familiar, it was just that there was the whole mess and he wouldn't have wanted to do anything suddenly, without analysing it all--

"It's only one of the lights," said Gil. He reached with his other hand to ting the cymbal again, and this time violet light flickered behind the eyes.

"Is she conscious?" the Baron asked, sounding appalled.

"They usually...I mean, Otilia's do that when she's emotional," said Tarvek. "I don't know...it could be the connection's permanent the way Gil's done it and there's not any control..." Or otherwise she certainly had reason to be feeling distressed.

The Lord Heterodyne leaned over the crate into what should be Zene's field of view. "We'll do our best to repair you," he said warmly. "Your Storm King's here, although as it's been a couple hundred years this is a different one. His name is Tarvek. You've also got a couple of Heterodynes around, but I promise we actually like him this time and aren't trying to destroy anything, and Klaus Wulfenbach is his regent and is extraordinarily good at analysing other people's inventions. Two of your sisters are living here and can come visit you if you like."

The light shivered a few seconds more and then dimmed to a faint but steady lavender, and the metal eyelids blinked once.

"Hello," said Tarvek. "I'm the Storm King now." He felt almost silly saying it to her, even though he hadn't telling the other Muses. It just seemed less relevant than whether there was anyone here who could fix her. He put a hand on hers, afraid to grip it in case he jarred anything else loose.

There was a grinding noise but no movement, and her eyes flashed distress again and then, slowly but distinctly, rolled. And then settled on him with a warmer light.

"Anybody else get the idea she'd like to start with being able to communicate better?" the Lord Heterodyne said wryly.

Chapter Text

Klaus carried Zene's crate to an appropriate laboratory, still half feeling he should apologise for packing her back up. Of course Barry had known what to say. Klaus was more skilled as a doctor, Jägers aside, but Barry was better with patients. If Klaus talked to them at all, he tended to over-describe what he was doing until the bolder ones asked him to stop.

Barry helped him set up, humming intermittently in a way that apparently distracted Zene, whose eyes kept turning in his direction and changing brightness. "You'll just have to get used to that," Klaus told her. "He does it all the time when he's working."

Gil, Agatha, and of course Tarvek flooded into the room then, followed almost immediately by Otilia and Moxana. Tarvek was clutching a large notebook bound in old leather, the large letters RvR visible on the back cover. Gil and Agatha were both carrying music boxes, one of their own making and one from Tarvek's heap of gifts.

Otilia walked forward as if a little stunned, wings dragging, and leaned over Zene mournfully. “I am sorry,” she said softly. “Would that I’d been able to shield you from this.”

"We're going to fix it," said Tarvek.

"Are you?" asked Otilia.

Klaus looked up at her, startled by the coolness in her voice. "That is the plan."

"I expect many Sparks have tried to repair the damage others have done over the years," said Otilia.

"They weren't us," Klaus heard himself say, and then reflected that this probably was too classically Sparky to be reassuring. He tried again. "And they had neither Van Rijn's notes nor your help." He hadn't even thought of consulting Moxana, not that he'd be likely to understand Moxana whether she agreed or not, but it hadn’t occurred to him that Otilia would object. "Would you have us leave her like this?"

Otilia bowed her head. "No. And you have a better chance than anyone."

Klaus raked a hand back through his hair. "Gil already reconnected her eyes," he said. They'd have to redo it -- it wasn't really spliced properly -- but it had allowed her communication of a sort. And she could obviously hear. Good thing they hadn't nailed the crate shut again.

"We can ask her," Barry said, then a little wryly, "Even if I told her, already. But she can understand us and has, I think, enough control to respond."

"She has enough control to roll her eyes at the noises you make when you're thinking," Klaus informed him.

"Ask her, then," said Otilia.

Klaus and Barry both turned back toward the broken Muse, only to find Tarvek clambering up to kneel on a stool beside the workbench. He shot Klaus a wary look and then bent over her. "Madame Zene--" He paused frowning, and then said, "Can you turn your eyes right first and then left? Your right and left," he added, evidently feeling this needed clarification. Four soft clicks. When Klaus came close enough to see her eyes they were focussed on Tarvek again, but evidently it had been a satisfactory response, because Tarvek went on, "Taking right to mean yes, are you willing to have us try to repair you?"

Zene's eyes turned firmly to her right, back to centre, and repeated. Twice.

Tarvek's mouth curled upward a little. "Emphatically?"

Yes again. Klaus rubbed his upper lip to hide a smile of his own.

"I shall leave it to your judgement, then," said Otilia to Zene.

Zene rolled her eyes toward Otilia, which with her currently limited facial movement might have been irritation or fondness or simply an effort to see her properly. Moxana, whom Otilia had left by the door, began shuffling her cards rather noisily. Klaus pinched the bridge of his nose and went to move her up by the workbench. "I'm sure she's glad to see you both, but we are going to need some room to work eventually, you know."

Moxana held up a picture of the Fool in full motley. Klaus interpreted this provisionally as Yes, silly.

"I guess you two had better look at the notebook," said Tarvek, with an odd mixture of authority and an unenthusiasm that fell somewhat short of petulance. He handed it to Barry, who laid it gently open at the end of a bench where he and Klaus could easily gather around it and began poring over the table of contents, heterodyning softly. Klaus joined him and let the droning buzz fill his ears and head, almost shutting out the chimes of the music box Gil was winding up.

Almost, but not quite. And he had spent some time focussed entirely on raising his children, once, and since then he had trained himself to process military code messages as urgent and pick them out of a noisy room -- so the staccato tapping interspersed with the children's voices going through the alphabet cut into his awareness. At first he analysed them with a fraction of his attention and pointed out to himself that the alphabet did not constitute urgent information, but after Agatha's quiet crow of triumph upon reaching 'Z', he reconsidered his level of interest and looked up.

Agatha was sitting on the workbench next to Zene's head. Gil and Tarvek were on stools on opposite sides of the bench, Tarvek staring at Zene's face as if enthralled and Gil peering into the mouth of one of her brass instruments. Otilia was watching over Agatha's head, with an air of holding her breath even though she didn't have to breathe.

There was a very faint click and then violet light flickered -- no, flashed, in a deliberate pattern, and Klaus took a few steps sideways to get the reflections off brass out of the way.

--a-l-k-a-g-a-i-n-I-d-o-n-t-k-n-o-w-h-o-w-M-o-x-a-n-a-p-u-t-s-u-p-w-i-t-h-t-h-i-s

Moxana serenely held up one of her tarot cards and then flashed it around to everyone else -- turning it directly toward Klaus at the end, without looking toward him at all. It was Patience. Otilia smiled, Agatha giggled, and Zene chose to communicate her opinion this time through an elaborate eyeroll.

Tarvek looked up to see where Moxana had pointed the card last, and the abrupt reserve and tension that came over his whole posture made Klaus sigh. Agatha and Gil, by contrast, followed his gaze and both beamed; Gil waved frantically for Klaus to come over and Agatha bounced where she sat. "She can talk to us now!" Agatha said, rather unnecessarily. "She remembered all the letters the first time."

Of course I did Zene signalled. And now I have many questions

"I can only imagine," said Klaus.

"You remember the Lord Heterodyne's explanation, I guess?" Tarvek put in.

Vividly since when are Heterodynes that friendly

Klaus coughed to hide a laugh. "It's a fairly recent development."

"Just since Uncle Barry and my daddy," Agatha said helpfully. "Wait, there was Gradok, maybe?"

I remember Gradok said Zene. And who is Klaus Wulfenbach The violet eyes settled on him again. There is a Storm King and there are Heterodynes and there is she paused, expressively, you.

Klaus took a moment to collect his thoughts. "I suppose it started when I came back from Mars --"

Zene's eyes widened and, with a rather alarming creak, the metal containing her painted eyebrows shifted upward. What

"Should I help?" Tarvek asked, looking earnestly helpful in a way that made Klaus suspect he was carefully not laughing.

"Perhaps that wasn't the best place to start," Klaus conceded. "I'll explain Mars later. But it meant I wasn't here when the Other attacked." Did she know about the Other? "There was a great deal of devastation, and people were attacking one another in the aftermath."

I believe I missed that but it sounds sadly normal

"The Other's attacks weren't," said Klaus. "The infighting, yes. But the attacks were beyond anything anyone had expected. Barry and his brother dealt with the Other, but hadn't yet returned when I did."

"So he decided to fix everything by taking over Europa," said Tarvek. "Then the Lord Heterodyne came back and started persuading everybody to go along with it instead of having to be conquered."

"Right, making alliances and everything," Gil put in, evidently feeling the description needed to be friendlier.

And you my little king Her eyelids lowered fractionally for a moment. Do they do this in your name

"Well, they didn't," said Tarvek, fidgeting. "They weren't meant to know about me until I was grown up and I'm not -- quite -- crowned yet."

Zene's eyes flickered for a moment instead of flashing and then resumed a more systematic pattern. Please explain more

"Um," Tarvek's gaze flitted around the audience and then returned to Zene. "How long ago did you...?"

1789 and there was rarely anything to hear A short pause. It was very dull and lonely

Tarvek bent over and brushed a hand against her forehead, as if pushing back non-existent hair. "It's been, not exactly a secret but people sort of stopped thinking it mattered, for a long time. Who had the right bloodline. So, I guess they could have found out quick enough who I was, but as long as they didn't know anyone was planning to do anything about it they wouldn't look, and the Baron didn't care anyway. Now it's...it's useful, because the Fifty Families will follow them if it's in my name. But they only just found out."

"I don't know about not thinking it mattered," Klaus said drily. "There were any number of succession wars over it, even if they got a bit lost in the shuffle of all the other wars."

"Hopefully there won't be any more of them," said Tarvek, sounding far too world weary for an eight year old.

Gil leaned across Zene to squeeze Tarvek's shoulder and the knot of instruments rocked against her. "Hopefully."

"Indeed," said Klaus. "I think we have a reasonable chance of toning them down for a while, at least, and while Valois was a man of impressive political and military skills otherwise, I think you'd have to be trying to leave the succession any less clear than he did."

"So that's the short version," said Tarvek. "The long version is really long, and I'll tell you that too. But not when you might have more questions about what's going on now."

Not when I'm listening? Klaus thought, but he supposed he shouldn't say things like that when Tarvek was already apparently convinced he was in mortal danger.

Zene took a moment to consider, then looked at Klaus again. Are you as good as the Lord Heterodyne claims

"Of course he is!" said Agatha.

"I have a talent for analysis and reconstruction," said Klaus. "I've worked on Otilia's wings, at her request."

Zene looked at Otilia.

Otilia nodded. "I would not have said he had the best chance, if it were not true. But if you objected, I would stand between you." She stopped. Looked at Klaus. Considered. "Would I have to?"

He clenched his jaw. He understood Lilith and Adam choosing to live with the errors Bill and Barry had made as children instead of risking their memories, their identities, in being reconstructed. But this, could he believe it was anything but the damage speaking to choose to stay as Zene was now? The words he finally found were, still tight between his teeth, "I have been in pieces myself."

Gil squeaked and then bit his lip, looking firmly at the knot of instruments.

"I appreciate the understanding," said Otilia. "You sympathise with constructs, since you are one, I am glad it still extends to me now. To all of us. But understand this." She stood very erect. "No one will touch my sisters against their will. Not while we are united."

And would you stop him if Tarvek said to let his regent see what he could make of us sister Zene flashed. I cannot serve my King like this

"Then that is your choice. My last king sent me away from you and this is the result. I will not be ordered to forsake those I should protect."

"No," said Tarvek. He slid away from the box and walked over to tentatively take one of Otilia's hands. "You won't be. I wouldn't."

She bowed her head to him. "I'm sorry. I expect too little of you, child."

"Why are we arguing about this when she said yes?" Agatha asked.

Klaus's mouth quirked. "Hypothetical questions can be important," he said, returning to the side of the workbench. "But perhaps it is time to return to more immediately practical ones."

Yes thank you would someone wind up that music box again it was pleasant

"Not exactly what I would have put in that category, but certainly," said Klaus, trying not to smile as he went to fulfill the request.

How are my instruments

"Er," said Klaus, looking back at the tangle of brass. Beetle's mural did depict Zene with a rather complicated one-Muse-band, so it probably was not actually the case that someone had tied all her instruments in knots around each other, but it didn't look very promising.

"Fixable," Gil said quickly.

Tarvek and Klaus both looked at him and, Klaus suspected, both tried not to look skeptical. "He's right," said Barry, rather startling Klaus, who hadn't noticed when he quit humming. "I don't think it's nearly as bad as it looks at first glance."

"Everything's there," said Gil. "I think it's even mostly supposed to be that shape."

"Gil," Tarvek said, sounding pained, "I don't think that sounds very reassuring."

I really wish I could laugh at you all now remarked Zene.

"I'd take their word about the instruments," Klaus told her. "I'm afraid that's not my area."

I would like to have those back but there are also other instruments and I can sing or at least I am meant to sing do not be distressed

"I'll fix them," said Gil, then cast an anxious glance at her. "If it's okay? I'm not as good at clanks as Agatha and Tarvek, but I'm pretty good with music."

You seem like a nice boy A brief pause. I do not remember Sparks being this young

Klaus swallowed another laugh. "Neither do I," he said feelingly. "It was a bit of a shock to have them break through this early."

I like your son

"Thank you, I--" He paused, scalp prickling. "When did we mention that?" It wasn't a secret anymore, but he didn't remember anybody saying that.

It is obvious, Zene told him.

“Obvious?” Klaus repeated.

“Tinka and Moxana knew without my saying anything,” Otilia said, smiling faintly.

Klaus sighed. But the Muses were meant to be able to see the future, he wasn't sure how obvious to them translated. "They could work out who Gil was but Tarvek was a surprise?" he asked.

"We see patterns," said Otilia. She looked at Moxana, who folded a hand out. “I was part of that one. We had no connections to predict Tarvek by."

Klaus rubbed a hand over his face. "Well... I appreciate their not mentioning it prematurely."

"We do not make a habit of plainly telling secrets," Otilia said, amused. "And we're rather fond of you both."

"Maybe you are," Klaus said, returning the faint smile. “I think Tinka regards me as a dubiously necessary evil.”

Otilia considered. "Well, we are all fond of Gil, at least."

"I thought you were supposed to be tactful," Tarvek said, sounding vaguely horrified. Then, apparently reconsidering based on extended acquaintance with Otilia, "At least a little bit."

"We were obligated... we were built to be indirect with our first King," said Otilia. "To hint, to guide, to teach, to give him every opportunity to work out our meaning for himself, to do everything but tell, for fear he would rely on us too much or that we would rule in his stead. It was intensely frustrating, and he resented us for it and resented the respect we did receive. It was painful to try to speak plainly, and more so the more we knew that he did not." She lifted her chin, wings shifting and spreading. "But we can also learn."

"Um," said Tarvek, looking slightly daunted by the prospect of an insubordinate psychic warrior, "good."

This should be interesting but is there a reason Tinka objects to Klaus Wulfenbach perhaps he took Europa without caring to seek a Storm King but let us be fair he is apparently giving it back

"Finding an heir with a better claim than average was no longer considered especially plausible," said Klaus. "And no, I didn't particularly care. If my family were inclined to cling to vanished kings we'd still be waiting for the Hungarians."

And yet you are his regent

"I wasn't particularly looking for a Storm King. I still found one," said Klaus.

"And by that point we were kind of attached to him," Barry put in cheerfully.

He does seem like a very sweet child which is a good start

Tarvek looked deeply uncertain about that assessment, but he didn't object.

"I'm somewhat more interested in how he'll grow up," Klaus said drily. "Or can you see that already as well?"

That will take a little longer A brief pause. I cannot smile mysteriously now please pretend I have

Klaus tried not to laugh and ended up clearing his throat rather loudly. “I might take that as a hint to get on with things.”

Zene’s eyelids half-lowered. I do not think you needed one

Repairing Zene was amazing, even if the damage was sad and the process involved even more time with the Baron. It also involved more time with the Lord Heterodyne and Agatha and Gil, and the Baron spent less time asking him alarming questions. Zene's sense of humour peeked out more and more often. When Agatha and Gil broke into the music room one night (they couldn't sleep) and connected all the instruments so you could play them together, Tarvek carefully piled the connected parts of Zene into Moxana's lap and wheeled them in, and of course they got caught then but Otilia didn't send them back to bed until the symphony was over.

Gil was delving ecstatically into the construction of musical instruments, and got Donna involved when she came in to measure Tarvek for a crown adapter.

"A what?" She'd made him a crown already, in his size. It was electrum and echoed the design of Valois's official crown without being very unwieldy or looking like an imitation. "And you already measured my head," he added, holding very still so as not to mess up her arcs.

"You're eight. You keep growing. But I don’t think the original Lightning Crown is going to fit you yet."

Tarvek stared at her and then whipped around to stare at the Baron. "You got it away from the Master of Paris?!"

"What, didn't you want it?"

"Of course I wanted it, but I thought he was," Tarvek gestured vaguely with both hands, "staying neutral. Or has he found a way not to make this look like he thinks I'm real?"

"It's very difficult to stay neutral around Barry," said the Baron. "I speak from some experience."

"You didn't try that hard," said Barry.

"Thanks," said Tarvek, to Barry this time, and then gave Donna an apologetic look and tried to get back into position for her. "...can I see it?"

"It's currently in Castle Heterodyne because Barry is critiquing my security procedures again, but yes." The Baron took off the high-magnification apparatus he'd been using to work on Zene's wiring. "Voltaire's position, by the way, is that you are Valois's heir but that unless you start fulfilling Valois's side of a rather complex web of treaties, which may be technically impossible as of the 1666 treaty let alone the destruction of several of the signatories, this places him under no particular obligation."

Tarvek absorbed this. "...But he sent the crown?"

"There would be obvious problems with my taking the diplomatic position that you are keeping me or Agatha from ravaging France," Barry said cheerfully, "but he has Paris under so much surveillance that he agreed to bet me I couldn't start from the northern gate and get into its room in the Louvre without being caught."

"That's amazing," said Gil.

Tarvek wondered about the soundness of basing diplomatic decisions on stupid bets with Heterodynes and then remembered the Red Cathedral and just nodded.

"He was furious," said Barry. "In a very understated way, but it was more chagrin than offence. I'd actually talked him down on the stakes because it wouldn't have been a good foundation, and I told him how I'd done it -- so I may be able to get a new treaty one of these days." He smiled at Zene a little ruefully. "And, ah, I'm afraid they're in worse shape than you were, so I honestly don't know how much we'll be able to do... but Mawu and Liza are being sent up for, effectively, medical reasons."

Six out of nine Muses, even if three of them were in terrible shape. "At least they'll be together," said Tarvek.

"That will certainly not make them worse," said Zene.

Tarvek thought a bit guiltily back to his own clank, currently rather neglected. She wasn't conscious yet and Zene was, so he could hardly neglect fixing Zene to work on her, besides he was learning a lot doing this. He wondered how the Muses would feel about her, whether it was presumptuous to make another like them, and whether she'd be okay if they didn't like her. It wasn't as if he was making her as part of a set, but none of the Muses seemed to like being alone. Otilia hadn't objected to her, though, so maybe it would be fine. She wasn't that similar to them in function either -- he was already stretching trying to make a living clank, he certainly couldn't begin to make one able to predict the future -- her function was gathering and recalling information, a much simpler task. If he waited until he'd fixed Mawu and Liza, though, he'd never get her done, and he didn't want to leave her half-built forever.

Donna had joined Gil in poking at the instruments by this point and Agatha and Barry had been distracted by them and both started humming again, in a really weird duet that always sounded like it was on the verge of clashing terribly. Zene looked over at them and then at Tarvek, with a deeply grave expression, and said, "I want a kazoo."

The Baron made an odd noise that Tarvek recognised after a moment as a smothered laugh. "They do sound a bit like -- But where did you hear about those?"

"Your son," said Zene. "He wants one too, by the way, if he hasn't asked you."

"I was going to ask when everyone was less busy," said Gil. He grinned. "I wasn't planning to imitate Agatha with one, either."

"You could try," Agatha said, giggling.

Once the kazoos arrived Zene played ridiculous buzzing, honking duets with Gil, although she had an easier time not breaking into giggles in the middle of it. Of course she was very good, and it was nice that she was having fun (she had a playfulness that was more like Tinka, in spite of her condition; Moxana's humour was more subtle and Otilia fond but very serious) but Tarvek admitted privately to himself that heterodyning was easier on the nerves.

Gil apparently decided Tarvek's nerves needed more toughening up, because the next day when he wasn't kazooing, he was arguing. About. Everything. He argued about political theory when it came up. He argued for the re-engineering of barnacles for hull maintenance. He argued for getting the newly broken-through Dr. Dominula to convert her army of giant wasps (and hadn't that worried everybody until they found out it was only paper wasps) to a stationery factory.

"After Barry's disappointed lecture I honestly think she'd cry if you suggested it," said the Baron, "and besides, the Jägers ate most of them. Gil--" He paused, giving Gil a look that suggested Tarvek was not the only one finding the conversation strange. "You have to be doing this on purpose. Are you practising for some sort of debate of the absurd or are you trying to convince Tarvek I don't turn into an ogre at the first sign of disagreement?"

Gil glanced at Tarvek and looked guilty.

Tarvek buried his face in his hands. "That's, um. Nice of you. But please stop it?"

"I don't think I can disagree with that one," the Baron said, not quite under his breath.

Gil ducked his head. "Sorry. I thought it might help."

"Well, it gave me something different to worry about," said Tarvek drily.

"You worry way too much," Gil sighed.

"Not usually about your sanity," Tarvek returned. "Didn't you ever worry about yourself?" he added, less sarcastically and without thinking about the Baron's presence. "When you thought you were an orphan and not under anyone's protection, didn't you ever wonder how you were going to survive?"

"I was under his anyway," Gil shot back.

"Yes, but...didn't you wonder why? Or how long for? Or anything?"

Gil raked both hands through his hair, making it even fluffier than normal. "I was kind of distracted! I--" He stopped, clammed up, and then apparently changed his mind again and went on. "I couldn't remember anything much and I didn't want to tell anybody. I was busy trying to catch up."

"You didn't tell me," said Tarvek, even though -- with all the other things Gil hadn't told him and he hadn't told Gil -- it was silly to feel betrayed about this one. But Gil had known it before he'd known its significance, he'd just hidden it because it was personal.

Gil frowned. "I didn't? I told you the Doom Bell didn't bring up anything interesting. But it wasn't bothering me as much by the time you got here."

Gil had said that, and he'd wondered what sort of bad memories would be boring, but he'd been distracted by the celebrations and hadn't thought about it again. Was that why Gil hadn't fainted, because he had fewer memories to be affected by? "You forgot?" It was better than being left out on purpose, but a little odd. "I couldn't have told, that you were having to catch up."

"I'd hope not. I was getting on better by then." Gil glanced at the Baron. "I finally found out why, he says I already got assassinated once."

"Could you please," said the Baron, "phrase that less like you're expecting it to happen repeatedly."

"Please," Tarvek agreed.

"I told him you're teaching me not to be," Gil said helpfully.

The Baron could hardly disapprove of that, Tarvek thought. "You probably shouldn't tell people you've been dead," he said. "Although you're not Fifty Families." And the Baron was revived, the Baron was a construct, which was still a little hard to get his head around.

Gil rolled his eyes. "Well, it bothered you not to know I didn't remember things. It's not like I'm planning to announce it at school."

"There's not really anyone to dispute Wulfenbach, anyway," said the Baron.

Tarvek nodded. "I didn't really mean you shouldn't tell me." And it wasn't as if Gil had been telling anyone else.

"I didn't know," said Agatha. "But I'm glad you found out what happened to your memories. I didn't know you wanted the Doom Bell to help with that."

"I just thought it might."

"It might be just as well it didn't." The Baron sounded a bit disturbed.

Tarvek peered at him thoughtfully. He rather shared that thought -- Agatha probably wouldn't, when it didn't do the same thing to her at all. Heterodynes were amazing but a bit strange, and Gil was just impossible, and for a moment he felt a strange kinship with the Baron as the two people in the room who actually worried about things like that. "I don't think they'd be the things you wanted to remember," he said.

Gil looked away for a moment. "Just then I wanted to remember anything."

Tarvek patted Gil's shoulder in tentative apology, but couldn't think of anything to say to that. Agatha's solution was to put down her tools carefully and fling her arms around Gil, which Tarvek supposed was as good as anything could be. Tarvek tried to get back to work, but he could tell the Baron was looking at him instead of moving and after several seconds his nerve failed and he looked up.

The Baron said, rather grimly, and quietly enough to be overlooked by people who were talking about things or humming, "Perhaps it would be best to have this out in the open as well. I know you don't trust me. Is there anything that would convince you I'm acting in good faith, or are we doomed to spend the next ten years or so like this?"

Tarvek shrank back against the workbench and resisted the rather humiliating desire to hide behind Gil. How was he meant to trust someone who could have him killed? "I don't know," he said. "Is it really...do you really mind? No one in my family would expect me to trust them."

"Your family--" The Baron broke off for a moment, evidently hunting for words, and then finished, "is not exactly an example I want to emulate under the circumstances. Besides, they all like politics.”

Tarvek choked back something that might almost have been a laugh, although a very nervous one. "Me neither, actually." Although he did like politics. When he didn't feel likely to be squashed by it, anyway.

"That's a relief," the Baron said drily. "I would rather not spend years trying to sort out what cross-purposes you might think we're working at. And I will grant I can be obstinate, but I don't expect you to agree with everything I say and I certainly don't want you to pretend you do and then go off and complicate things when I'm not looking. I do still argue with Barry, you know."

"It's not as if you could just kill him if you decided to," Tarvek blurted, stung by the unfairness of being blamed for being scared of someone dangerous. He tipped his head back and met the Baron's eyes because fine, he'd wanted to know what Tarvek was thinking. "You can't expect me to pretend you're not doing this because you know you could get rid of me if it doesn't work. I'll try to do what you want, so you don't have to, but I'm not stupid."

Gil gave a sort of choked-off squawk; in his peripheral vision Tarvek saw Barry put a hand on Gil's shoulder, and he glanced up and then went quiet, frowning. Agatha was big-eyed and looked troubled. Tarvek swallowed and kept his gaze firmly on the Baron. Ice-grey eyes and a stony expression and Tarvek felt his pulse beat hard in his throat because maybe he had gone too far, but it was true and he refused to look away or shrink back this time.

"I don't think you're stupid," the Baron said at last. "But perhaps I should have made this more explicit. I am doing this because so far as I can tell it stands the best chance of working out well for... nearly everyone. Not Lucrezia's co-conspirators, perhaps, but it is certainly going better for them than they deserve. For reasons both romantic and pragmatic you are likely to be able to get at least nominal cooperation from more people than I could, even with Barry's help. I am doing this because you want the job, and I don't, and if you can do it well then I will gladly step aside when the time comes. And I am doing it because I am not willing to make an enemy of an eight-year-old and my son's best friend."

"I knew about the cooperation part. That's what I'm for." The title, the bloodline, the story, it was why anyone needed him for this at all. But it didn't mean anyone needed him to have a say in it.

"You are not--" the Baron began, sounding exasperated again, and then stopped — his eyes flicked up to Barry — and looked back at Tarvek for a moment. "You are not just a tool," he said, the words still clipped but less harsh. "You possess an assortment of useful qualities, yes, but you are not the sum of what other people can do with them. Your relatives in particular."

Tarvek wasn't quite sure how to take this and ended up looking at Barry, too. Even though he knew perfectly well that they'd been friends forever and if he was afraid of the Baron then it didn't make sense to assume Barry Heterodyne wouldn't lie for him. But it was hard to believe anyway.

Barry smiled at him -- no, at both of them. "He does mean it," he said. "It won't necessarily be easy for either of you. He's pretty bullheaded and while he's absolutely sincere about wanting to know what you think, changing his mind is rather a lot harder. I might not be able to persuade him of much myself if we hadn't met when he was comparatively young and impressionable--"

That got a quiet giggle from Agatha, and the Baron snorted. "Barry, you were fourteen. Although I'm not sure if you were ever impressionable."

"I meant compared to now, not compared to me," Barry said, unperturbed, and returned his attention to Tarvek. "I admit there are hypothetical situations where we might be reluctant to have you running things, but since I know you, I don't think they're likely. If you can manage breakthrough at eight without losing your head much then ruling Europa probably won't do it either." A slightly rueful smile, and his gaze went back to the Baron as he added, "Although really, I think all of us need somebody who can dig their heels in when we've run off with a particularly bad idea."

Tarvek contemplated the implication of Barry Heterodyne running off with a terrible idea and Baron Wulfenbach stopping him. It was difficult to imagine. (It wasn't. Tarvek remembered his father lifted off his feet and Barry's hand drawing back with the sword in it. Although he wasn't entirely sure that had counted as a bad idea from anybody's perspective but Tarvek's own. His father was imprisoned now, and Tarvek realised with a jolt that he believed that without having asked to see him, lately.) "Herr Baron," he said, "why did you stop him from killing my father?"

He didn't look up until he'd finished speaking, and caught the Baron looking a little confused anyway. "It... didn't have to happen. At least not with you watching." Surprise and irritation washed over the Baron's expression at that point, and he snapped, "Oh, for heaven's sake -- it was not as a hostage against you."

Tarvek blinked at this unexpected suggestion and swallowed a sudden and inappropriate urge to giggle. "I didn't think so," he said. "I hadn't said anything yet."

"...Ah," said the Baron.

"Articulate as that wasn't," said Barry, "you're right, he stopped me to keep from hurting you any worse, and that was all."

Tarvek had never really thought the Baron would have another reason, at least not like that. He'd believed the Baron was pragmatic enough to kill him if he thought it necessary, but emotional manipulation wasn't his style at all. Was using a puppet, then? Or attempting to lull him into a false sense of security? "I don't...I don't think you'd try to manipulate me, but you're not giving orders either. I thought you might...simply not care." If Tarvek was simply a decoy, something to be used for now and discarded later. "Or be testing me." If he really was being given a chance, but with severe penalties for guessing wrong. "But not over that"

"...Good." The Baron rubbed his forehead. "I had been wondering how asking you what you thought qualified as trying to trick you into saying it," he muttered. Tarvek tried not to scowl at him; that made it sound silly, when most of the time if someone besides Gil and Agatha asked what he thought, it would be stupid or rude or at least very surprising to actually tell them. "Are those really the only possibilities you considered, orders or manipulation? I suppose I was testing, or at least pushing, to see if you'd speak up for yourself."

Tarvek frowned. "I don't like picking fights I can't win."

The Baron grimaced. "You can't spend your entire life pretending to let people walk over you; it ends up functionally equivalent to actually doing it. But I suppose I underestimated what you thought was at stake."

"It's a question of timing," said Tarvek. "There's no point in standing up for yourself when you'll just get stamped down harder for doing it. You need a power base first." Unless, rather unfairly, you were Klaus, because taking over Europa from the wrecked shell of your former town was totally a thing that could happen. He huffed. "Not everyone can do the things you can."

The Baron looked inexplicably confused. Barry said, "The ironic thing in all this is that he was brought up to stay out of continental politics. His parents were a little disconcerted when he took up with Heterodynes." He paused. "Admittedly, at first this was because they thought we might randomly decide to kill him, but I don't think that was all of it."

Tarvek felt a little off balance at that, he wasn't sure what point Barry was trying to make -- unless it was that the Baron's rise to power was really surprising, but he knew that. Agatha put her calibrator down and frowned. "That doesn't sound like a very nice thing to have your friend's parents think, just because of your family."

"Not really," said Barry, "but it was... understandable, at the time. They got over it after they met us." His mouth quirked. "Well, actually they invented a family emergency in case he needed an excuse to leave Beetleburg, and were very surprised and a little embarrassed when we showed up with him to see if we could help."

"They thought you'd taken him captive?" asked Gil. "How would you take someone captive at University?"

"I don't know, apparently they thought we might have all Beetleburg in our terrorised thrall." Barry stopped to consider this. "I'm not entirely sure that would have been impossible, considering the reactions we were getting when we first arrived. Klaus was no end of relief; we were sure we could make friends if we got a chance to actually talk to people, but they kept dodging."

Tarvek bit his lip, because in a moment he was going to start giggling helplessly, and it wasn't even really at what Barry was saying (which didn't sound a lot of fun, even if he was being lighthearted in his description of it). But...they'd started out with Gil arguing for complete nonsense, gone into the Baron not being happy with Tarvek avoiding arguing with him, and now they were talking about Barry as a teenager. Apparently even if the Baron was annoyed with Tarvek he wasn't annoyed enough to even stay on the subject.

"I had been planning to avoid them based on the family reputation," the Baron said easily. "Which did include their being alarmingly easy to like against one's better judgement, so it wasn't completely inapplicable."

"You don't seem to have rethought it," said Zene. "But I see what you mean. I wondered at myself for trusting in a Heterodyne even as he spoke, but it was so easy." She looked toward Tarvek, arm still outstretched untiring where Barry and Agatha had been working on it before they got sidetracked. "He and your Baron spoke of you over my crate," she said.

The Baron went very still for a moment, and then pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "That's how you knew about Gil," he said.

She smiled, head and eyelids turning down, mock-demure. "It would have been obvious anyway."

The Baron rolled his eyes. "As long as we're back on the topic. I don't want to harm you, whether you believe me or not. And I can think of few things more exasperating than not only constantly dealing with politics but doing it through a puppet king. Until I realised you were afraid for your life I was wondering whether you just intended to do everything behind my back or if they'd actually broken you of expressing yourself."

Tarvek gazed at the Baron solemnly, no longer feeling like laughing at the digressions. If he didn't want a tool...honesty was a dangerous gamble, but worth trying. "I never meant to stay just a tool," he said, "but it didn't seem like a good idea to let anyone know that. Not until I had a chance. I suppose I did intend to do everything behind their backs."

The Baron leaned on the edge of the workbench, looking at Tarvek, and the grey eyes were a little relieved and more than a little ruefully amused. "I suppose I can see why you wouldn't want to announce that their puppet king had his own plans."

"Yes," said Tarvek. And maybe it was the slight relief he'd seen, the realisation that the Baron was glad he wasn't a malleable puppet, maybe it was that he'd spent most of his life being obedient and quiet around adults and pretending to know less than he did, but he found himself carrying on in a sudden rush of desire to impress and just wanting to be seen. "I still do have plans. I can't do much with the adults yet, but the other kids...Tweedle's the hardest he thinks subtlety's the same as weakness so you have to face him head on and he's older. I didn't think that one through, but being mad at him might have been better. Anevka will back me, there's no advantage to her in switching allegiances, and Seffie's backing me now because it looks like I'm winning. She wrote to Grandma, so probably even the adults will at least not try to kill me for a while. And I made allies here," he added, smiling, "when at home we only meet other people in our family and everyone wants the same thing, and here there are people like Zulenna who really do only want to rule their own bit but they're Fifty Families and their approval can still matter. And I have Gil." He stopped, out of breath and a bit embarrassed, especially since he'd just announced that to not only the Baron but Barry -- who was less likely to think he was stupid but might not approve -- and Zene.

Gil beamed at him. The Baron's eyebrows were up a little, although actually he'd started smiling just a little at the mention of Gil as well. "You are going to be interesting to work with," he said. "I'm not sure how clear Barry was on your family's willingness to kill each other when he suggested they'd cooperate largely because you’re in a position they can't expect to step into." (He glanced at Barry, who shrugged slightly in a way Tarvek interpreted as "More or less.")

Tarvek smiled back at Gil and then nodded. "That was Seffie's reasoning," he said. Work with. He was a little awestruck at that, even if he did intend to rule Europa one day and even if he hadn't wanted to be a puppet.

"Reassuring in its way, I suppose." The Baron actually did look more relaxed. Tarvek didn't think that really had much to do with Seffie.

"I'm glad to have you two sorted out," Gil said, peering into the mouth of Zene's opheiclide. "But I still think I'm going to have a try at the barnacles sometime."

"You could have clockwork barnacles," Agatha suggested.

"They'd rust in seawater."

"I bet Miss Donna could fix that."

"I don't want clockwork barnacles," Gil said patiently.

"Well, why didn't you just say so?"

Tarvek caught the adults' fondly bemused expressions and finally let himself start giggling.

Chapter Text

Things got better with the suddenness of the sun coming out, which Tarvek supposed was a terrible metaphor for the Storm King to use but he didn't really care. The Baron still scowled a lot, but it no longer seemed to be at him. And if Tarvek could barely hear himself over his own heartbeat the first few times he voiced his own opinions, the Baron listened to him anyway. And then fired off more questions, and challenges, and Tarvek kept on answering back and eventually started feeling like he could breathe during the process.

(And when the Baron did run casually over his opinion almost like his father used to do, Tarvek sat up and made himself say, "You insisted you want to hear what I think. There isn't any point to this if you don't even bother to argue!" and the Baron actually stopped and looked chagrined.)

Granted, he wasn't sure "I realise it's important, that doesn't mean I have to like it" was supposed to come from the adult involved in the conversation, but the Baron's distaste for politics seemed to make him surprisingly willing to listen to an eight-year-old's advice on it. They didn't actually disagree as often as Tarvek might have guessed.

They had one day, and Tarvek was still riding high from being told grumpily, "I'm not sure that kind of reasoning should be less peculiar from you than Barry, but it was somehow more convincing," when the Baron walked back to the school with him because he was actually supposed to be meeting Barry there and they entered just in time to hear Anevka squeal.

Anevka did not normally squeal. Tarvek went over to find out what had happened, only to find the Baron looming after him with an expression that suggested he didn't realise Anevka would never have made that noise out of pain. "Anevka?" Tarvek asked. She waved her magazine at him, which made it difficult to distinguish anything except that it probably had to do with opera. "...Something good?"

Anevka looked up at the Baron behind him and cleared her throat to reply in a better modulated tone of voice. "They're putting on the Storm King opera in Vienna again. For the first time in years."

"Not that many years," said the Baron. "--Then again, I suppose it would have been before you were born."

Anevka glanced down at the magazine. “It was all part of the plan, of course, but that doesn’t change the artistic merit….”

The Baron snorted.

"Don't mind Klaus," said Barry, coming over. "He thinks Reichenbach's characterisation doesn't do justice to the historical figures. He has more of a sense of humour about Heterodyne plays. Who've they got playing the leads? Last time I saw it wasn't bad, except they both strained their voices during the Lover's Duet, and Andronicus kept squeaking through the third act."

"And that wasn't bad?" Anevka asked, sounding pained.

"Well, they could act. And Euphrosynia sounded more convincingly Sparky after the injury, if only for a few minutes. It was the last performance — I think they just got a little carried away."

Anevka pursed her lips and offered him the casting article. "Well, let's hope there aren't any similar accidents this time."

"I'm sure that would be preferable," Barry said, scanning the article before handing it back. "I take it you want to go?"

"I should certainly like to see it," she said. "I'm aware there may be other considerations."

Barry glanced up at the Baron. "Doesn't seem that infeasible."

"Taking our students on a school trip to the Opera doesn't sound infeasible?" said the Baron.

Barry regarded the room. By this point he had visited often enough that most of the students were nearly used to him, although Lyuba still looked a bit enthralled. (Tarvek sincerely hoped she didn't have a crush.) Most of them were not showing much interest in the conversation. "Well, I meant Anevka, specifically. I seriously doubt it would be all of them."

"We are not taking a random selection of students to the Opera on a whim, either. At least I'm not. Don't you have things you're meant to be doing too?"

"Yes, but if none of them are with people who'd be willing to meet up in Vienna, I'd be surprised," Barry said cheerfully.

"I suppose I can't stop you going to the Opera if you want to," said the Baron. "Or taking guests."

"But you don't like the idea." Barry looked alarmingly entertained. "Security concerns? One of us could always invite the Mechanikopera to perform -- they don't tour much, but it's happened. They'd probably want to wait a season though."

"I'm not that concerned about security. It's just silly," said the Baron. "A rather expensive bit of frivolity. And not that good a story."

Anevka closed her magazine, looking carefully blank.

Barry said, "I'll stick to inviting interested students this time, then," and she looked up at him quickly. "It's not the ideal show to put on in Mechanicsburg, even if the rest of their repertoire might go over well." He considered. "Although hearing the Jägermonster Chorus sung by actual Jägermonsters is... certainly an experience."

Tarvek, who had read over the lyrics to the Jägermonster Chorus several times to practice not blushing, was not sure he wanted that experience. "If it's not normally performed in Mechanicsburg," he said, which it wasn't, "when did they hear it?" The Heterodyne Boys hadn't generally taken the Jägers out with them at all, and he had trouble imagining the previous Heterodynes taking them to see an opera.

"Oh, a lot of them got around," Barry said, "before or after the transformation, and there was a rather brief production there once. And apparently it's really catchy."

"Thank you for the opportunity, Lord Heterodyne," Anevka said, before the Chorus could invade the conversation further. "I'll look forward to it with great anticipation." She glanced down at the page. "It should be of considerable cultural interest," she added hopefully. "They've made a great restoration effort and even found the original rollerskating giraffe."

Barry blinked. "Not to spoil the fun, but I seriously doubt that."

The Baron raised an eyebrow at him. "Let me guess. It's in your basement?"

"Attic," Barry said with a grin.

"With Castle Heterodyne the distinction is not always obvious," the Baron returned, smiling.

Tarvek leant over the magazine, eyebrows furrowing together as he studied the drawings. "I thought this was the original from--" He stopped and looked up. "Wait. There was a real one?"

"Oh! They probably did mean the original prop," said Barry, then suddenly offered them all a downright infectious grin. "Okay, this is definitely frivolous, but we're close enough it won't take that long, either. Come on, you've got to see this."

"I've got to see this, frivolous or not," said the Baron. "Why was there a real rollerskating giraffe?"

Barry waved in Agatha's direction, and she collected Gil and rushed over. "It was Ogglespoon's," Barry explained as he led them out and toward his own airship. "It's actually a really nice clank."

When they arrived in Mechanicsburg, Barry moored his airship to a tower instead of landing it properly. After a little coaxing, Castle Heterodyne built him a platform to stand on while he put Tarvek and Agatha in through the window. Gil launched himself off the airship; Tarvek's hands clamped down on his as soon as he caught the sill, and he glared as Gil dragged himself up grinning.

"Don't do that," Tarvek said.

"The platform was still there," said Gil. "It's not like I was going to fall."

Tarvek frowned at him. Then Barry turned on the lights, which gleamed off a beautiful white and gold clank... horse. With spiky wheels flanking each hoof, so it must be what Barry had been talking about, but it was hardly --

Tarvek took a second look at the gold-ridged neck. Agatha crouched down to wrap a hand around one fetlock and lift the foot, examining the joints. "It extends," Tarvek said, fascinated.

"Got it in one," said Barry. “Bill and I had more fun with this….”

"Could we ride on it?" Agatha asked, bouncing up onto her toes.

"Sure. Hop on and we'll take it down to a nice long hallway."

"Watch out it doesn't try to run away with you," Castle Heterodyne said a little snidely.

Anevka jumped a bit. "Does it have the mind to?" she asked the air.

Barry rolled his eyes and put Agatha on its back; she stood up, gripping the neck. "No. Here, I'll show you the controls on the way downstairs."

"It doesn't look built for stairs," the Baron said dubiously.

Barry grinned. "Just watch. Who else wants to ride?"

Tarvek looked thoughtful and then nodded decisively. "Yes, please," he said, holding his hands up to Barry to be helped on.

"And me," said Gil, not waiting to be lifted but just swarming up Klaus, who gave Barry a you'd better be right about this look before putting him on its back.

Anevka wavered slightly before holding reaching out and letting the Baron hand her up behind Gil. Barry walked them out the door to the top of the stairs, pointing out levers to an attentive Agatha while Tarvek and Gil peered around her, and then stood back.

The clank extended its forelegs several inches and picked its way gracefully down several steps before Agatha evidently decided she had the hang of it and sent it galloping down the spiral.

"Mistress," said the Castle. "Are you familiar with the term breakneck pace? I suggest slowing down."

"Please?" Tarvek added under his breath.

"I think it has a point!" Barry shouted after them.

"Aww...." Agatha sighed and tried to slow down; the clank lurched as if it might somersault forward, and Tarvek reached around Agatha to brace himself so they weren't all thrown against the neck. Agatha waggled the controls to pick up speed again. "We'll get off at the next landing!"

They did. The clank slewed sideways at full speed; an awfully solid door loomed up in front of them, then slammed open just as they careered through it into a long open hallway. Agatha slowed them down more gently, coming to a halt about halfway along. "Sorry," she said a little breathlessly. "Does anybody want to get down?”

"No," said Gil, "but can I have the next turn driving?"

"Only if you don't gallop it down more stairs," said Tarvek. "Otherwise I'm driving."

"It's a little tricky to brake on the way down," said Barry from the end of the hall, sounding rather calmer about the whole thing than Tarvek would have expected. "I probably should have gone over that."

"So this is what you and Bill did as children," said the Baron, sounding like he was trying to sound as unconcerned as Barry.

"She did a little better. We actually did take the clank head over heels a couple of times working out the controls, although probably the most exciting part was a sudden encounter with a rug."

"So this is why there are so few surviving Heterodynes."

"The Castle would probably have caught them if they'd actually tumbled badly."

"Probably?"

"I do my best," the Castle said cheerfully.

"Be more careful, though, all right?" Barry ruffled Agatha's hair. "When you've managed to alarm Castle Heterodyne you really do need to take a minute for risk assessment."

The children survived Ogglespoon’s giraffe, amazingly enough, and Barry -- of course -- ended up taking everyone who was remotely interested to the opera. A half-dozen of his upcoming appointments were moved to Vienna -- he'd only tried for two, but word had got out. Evidently Klaus was the only one who didn't think it was an amazing idea.

Klaus was waiting in the hangar when Barry's airship landed. The first passengers off were a couple of very smug Jägers who formally flanked the doorway, followed by some of the older students -- Theo grinned at him before leading the way back to the school, towing Sleipnir by the hand, and Klaus nodded to them. He managed not to smile at Martellus, who looked vaguely embarrassed about steering his drowsy sister.

Once most of the students were past, Gil shot out at high speed, hugged Klaus, and let go to keep bouncing up and down on his toes. "Had a good time?" Klaus asked, amused.

"It was great!"

"He did sit still for the opera," said Donna, emerging with a sound-asleep Agatha in her arms. Klaus blinked -- it wasn't unreasonable for her to be carrying Agatha, it just struck him as odd. "I think it was difficult."

Gil might have giggled.

Barry finally came out, carrying Tarvek and followed closely by Anevka. "Everybody was very well behaved,” he said. "Even Professor Ponglenoze. Here, can you--"

Klaus held out his arms automatically as Barry handed Tarvek off to him and immediately reclaimed Agatha. Tarvek opened his eyes and looked up in confusion.

"Barry's got Agatha,' said Klaus, deciding that was going to have to do for explanation. "Enjoy the opera?"

"Uh-huh." Tarvek's eyelids drifted shut for a moment, and his brow furrowed in concentration. "You don't mind?"

"You still worry too much," Gil remarked, after chinning himself on Klaus's arm to nearly reach Tarvek's eye-level.

"No one's forcing me to carry you," Klaus pointed out. Admittedly someone had to, but it wasn't as if he was the only person around. "We should get you and Agatha to bed." And Gil. But at the moment he had doubts that was feasible.

"Klaus has been complaining about stories where people make unfortunate vows at least since university," said Barry. "He doesn't actually take serious offence at other people enjoying them."

Anevka yawned and then tried to look as if she hadn’t. Gil dropped back to the floor and went back to bouncing. "I don't know why everybody else is so tired."

"Agatha is five and you're the only other person who took a nap this afternoon," Donna said in amusement. "Although I'm not sure that explains your energy level."

"I wasn't hoping that having gone to the opera you'd all have a horrible time," said Klaus, amused and rather puzzled that that was what Tarvek had thought he'd mind. Really, political opinions were one thing, but did Tarvek think he wasn't meant to have any preferences of his own? Tarvek blinked a couple more times and then evidently decided he was either reassured or too sleepy to care, because he put his head down against Klaus's shoulder and went limp.

"He was enthralled," said Barry, as they set off toward the school. Gil raced off ahead of them, then back from the first corner and off again. "It was really very well done." There was something a little off about his tone, and Klaus looked at him sharply and saw a wan tightness around his eyes.

"You don't look like you enjoyed it," Klaus said, quietly.

One of Barry's hands came up to curl around Agatha's head, and he glanced at Tarvek before speaking. "They did an excellent job of showing Valois self-destruct and some of his court trail him helplessly trying to pick up the pieces."

"Ah." Klaus had never really asked for the details of the search for Lucrezia or what had happened with Bill in the end. At first it had seemed too soon, and then there had been other things. But he'd heard some of it. "I'm sorry."

Barry shook his head slightly. "It was a good trip otherwise. Got most of what we asked for on the diplomatic side and a couple of good ideas...." He smiled, shadowed but real. "And a couple of composers insisted on telling me all about the plots they were working on. One of them's got a new Spark who manages to settle down from breakthrough and get the weather-control engine sorted out after her sister convinces her she still loves her. I told them it sounded wholesome and provocative."

"You're becoming a patron of the arts now? Getting a head start on acquiring a court?"

"It seemed like something to encourage. If they're any good at all they should be able to use that description to get an audience...." Barry considered. "Possibly a somewhat confused audience."

"Hm," said Klaus. "Potentially a Spark audience. Too many plays either treat Sparks as destined to be monsters or don't show the problems with breakthrough. The redemption story lines tend to --" He stopped abruptly. Most of the redemption story lines in current plays were Lucrezia in the various Heterodyne Boys ones.

Barry gave him a rueful look. "We could probably use a little more variety there, yes."

Klaus smiled a little, relieved Barry wasn't hurt by the reminder, especially when he'd already been thinking of Bill's obsession. "If your composer does produce his play, that's one I would take a school trip to." Not all their Sparks could be relied on to have easy breakthroughs. Something to tell them that, even if they didn't, they could come back from it could wind up being valuable to some.

"Sounds like a plan. Maybe I'll let him know that." A sudden grin. "Otilia might be able to attend that one without completely distracting everybody." Not that Otilia had particularly wanted to see Reichenbach's version of her King's career anyway.

"At least for plot related reasons," said Klaus.

"Not much more distracting than Barry was for this one?" Donna suggested.

Gil pelted up to them again, finally starting to look a little tired, as they reached the door to the school. It slid open before Klaus could reach for it to reveal Otilia herself. She held a quieting finger to her lips and stood back to let them in.

Klaus smiled at her and went through to get Tarvek to bed. The boy didn't wake up this time through having his shoes and glasses taken off, or being tucked in. He was smiling slightly in his sleep. Maybe the opera had been a good idea, if it had made their children happy, Klaus thought, turning the light out and heading back to see if Gil was ready to be tucked in yet.

She was finished. She was perfect.

Tarvek took off his glasses to scrub at bleary eyes. It had been building all the time he helped fix Zene, and then he'd been reading over Van Rijn's notes one more time before bed and fell asleep on them -- he'd bent a page, and might be horrified about that later -- but he woke up with understanding whole and bright in his mind, and he'd got Gil and Agatha awake, and he was pretty sure they'd all forgotten to go to class for a few days. It had been a lot like working on the dragon except without a terror in the back of his mind he was trying to forget.

Now he was anxious though. Half in a hurry and half what if, what if, what if -- had he done everything right, would the Muses mind, would she like him?

One of Agatha's little clanks dinged impatiently.

Tarvek rested one hand on her cheek, breathing hard. One brow-ridge and the eyebrow painted on it arched, the other swooped up at the end, giving her a quizzical expression even unactivated. She was ready.

He reached around to the back of her head, where the base of her skull would be, to flip the switch there, and slid the protective plate into place over it. Then put his hands on her shoulders and watched as her grey, glass eyes lit up slightly, mimicking the shine of light off a human eye but he knew this was lit from the inside, suddenly she looked alive.

She sat up with jerky, uncertain, movements, tipping her head from side to side to take in the room, before returning her gaze to him. It was a very steady look, but he couldn’t guess what thoughts might lie behind it. He felt examined but he wasn’t sure whether she was forming a judgement. Or whether he’d like it if she was. “How do you feel?” he asked.

She blinked, looking down at her own hands. “I don’t know,” she said. “Sorry.”

“That’s not…you don’t need to be sorry. You don’t need to figure it out yet.”

“I am meant to answer questions,” she said, a thread of uncertainty in her voice. Tarvek had a moment of being amazed that her voice could contain emotion, that he’d made it able to.

“Only once you’ve had time to gather the information for them. And that was a different kind of question.” He sat down on the bench, across from her. “It’s not always an easy one for anybody. Try this — are you in any pain?”

“No,” she said.

Agatha, having been watching from a short distance away, chimed in with, “Is there anything you want?”

Mnemosyne turned to look at her, the two of them regarding each other so earnestly that the fact Tarvek had copied Agatha’s proportions for Mnemosyne was suddenly visible as an unexpected likeness. “To learn everything,” she said.

"You don't think small," Gil said with a grin. Tarvek wasn't entirely sure whether he meant him or Mnemosyne. Possibly both. "Want us to bring you some books? I'm in the middle of some really good ones."

"You should come to the school!” said Agatha. "That's what it's for, getting started on learning everything."

"That would be nice," said Mnemosyne.

Tarvek wasn't entirely sure about taking her to the school. Mostly because he expected Otilia to be there and...he wasn't sure how that would go. Even if Otilia hadn't objected before, he was nervous about how she'd regard the finished result. On the other hand it was the first thing Mnemosyne had even come close to asking for. "We'll take you there," he said. "But maybe we should find you a dress first." She was a clank, but the Muses didn't walk around naked. He especially didn't want to introduce her to Otilia with no clothes on.

"I'll get one," said Agatha. She darted at the door and then whirled back around. "Do you like any colours yet?"

"Will I like colours later?" Mnemosyne asked.

"Maybe," said Gil. "I don't care but Tarvek gets very opinionated about them sometimes."

"Oh," said Mnemosyne, with an air of storing this information for later. "No, not yet."

"Okay. I'll be right back." Agatha dashed out the door and could be briefly seen starting down the corridor with one of the Jägers who'd been guarding the lab, gesturing animatedly.

Adam, who had been taking notes, didn't stop Agatha leaving, so Tarvek assumed she was allowed to go and get a dress. He did smile at Mnemosyne when she looked at him, though, and when she asked, "What is that?" he held the pad out to her. Which meant that by the time Agatha returned Mnemosyne was engrossed in the notes on her own creation and Tarvek was wondering whether he should show her Van Rijn's notes.

Agatha handed Tarvek the dress and went to read over Mnemosyne's shoulder while he shook it out and nearly dropped the underthings and long striped socks folded up inside. Not surprisingly, the dress was green, although the silvery-grey pattern almost matched parts of Mnemosyne's casing. He wasn't as sure about the socks, though, especially as Agatha hadn't also brought shoes.

"Mnemosyne," he called. "Come here a moment."

She put the notes down obediently and let him dress her -- it was like dressing a doll, or maybe a child. He smoothed it down once it was on and she looked at herself thoughtfully. "I can go places like this?"

"Yes," said Tarvek. "I'll have to ask the Baron where you're allowed to go, but I don't see why you won't be able to go where we do at least. Zoing does."

"Who is Zoing?" she asked.

"Gil's friend," said Tarvek. "Gil made him. He's a lobster."

"He used to be a lobster," Gil said. "He's really nice. I'll introduce you."

"Do you still want to go and see the school now?" Tarvek asked, holding a hand out to Mnemosyne.

She took it, folding her fingers around his awkwardly. "Yes, please."

Adam reclaimed his notes and walked them to the school while Mnemosyne looked around at everyone in the halls. Several people did double-takes; most of them who looked at her properly smiled.

Everybody in the common room looked up in surprise when they arrived, and Tarvek realised it was probably late afternoon. Otilia and Moxana were in conversation at the far edge of the room, and all his nerves came back in a rush and a flutter when they both looked over.

"Madame Otilia, Madame Moxana," he said, going over to them, aware of the whispering behind him. "I'd like to introduce Mnemosyne."

Moxana inclined her head and raised a hand in silent greeting, looking at Mnemosyne with interest; Otilia crouched down, wings arching above her head for balance. "Hello, Mnemosyne," she said. "So this is what our King did with the notes on our creation."

Adam waved the notes on Mnemosyne's creation with a faint smile.

"Hello, Madame Otilia," said Mnemosyne, looking up at her eagerly. "There are notes on your creation?"

"Moxana kept them safe for nearly two centuries, and gave them to Tarvek when she heard he was building you."

Mnemosyne looked at Tarvek. "Yes, you can read them," he said, making up his mind. He didn't think it could do any harm.

"Thank you," she said.

Moxana tilted her head, then extended a hand to Mnemosyne and, when she took it, interlaced their fingers. Mnemosyne's hands were a little bit big on her, because the delicate clockwork of her brain had been one thing but hands needed joints that couldn't all go inside a protective skull-like casing. Moxana's long graceful fingers still folded down the back of Mnemosyne's hands nearly all the way to her wrists.

Mnemosyne gazed at her, looking more curious than anything, as if sure Moxana was conveying something but unsure what.

Moxana looked back into her eyes for a long moment and then withdrew her hand and tapped the centre of Mnemosyne's palm with a forefinger. Mnemosyne turned her hand over and found the Sun card shining from it.

"Innocence, accomplishment, rationality and youth," Mnemosyne recited. She apparently had some knowledge of the tarot -- Tarvek really had no idea what he'd managed to give her knowledge of, he probably should, but at least some of the time he'd spent building her was a blur of remembered inspiration -- but it was clear she didn't really understand. Whatever was numinous about the Muses Tarvek had neither been able, nor really tried, to recreate.

"You," said Agatha, cheerfully. "She has specific cards to refer to all the Muses, but not for other people normally. Tarvek used to get a page card, but now he's a king."

"I'm not a Muse," said Mnemosyne.

Otilia put a hand on her shoulder, one wing spread slightly and falling about her. "We're not so different as that. You are family, of a sort."

Mnemosyne looked between the two Muses framing her and smiled, a little crooked smile. "That is kind of you."

Tarvek felt himself smiling, they liked her.

"She said she wanted to learn everything," said Gil. "We were just taking her to find some books, but she can come to lessons, can't she?"

"Yes," said Otilia, letting go of Mnemosyne's shoulder and stepping back. "She's welcome to."

"But there aren't any more of those until tomorrow," Agatha explained to Mnemosyne, "so we should go see the books."

The pile of books they presented Mnemosyne with were the ones they'd happened to have in their own rooms. Gil produced Machines That Shouldn't Work, a rather exasperated guide to interesting inventions, and Glassblowing with Hiccups. Agatha's were Composers of the Idyll Years and A History of Death Rays, Tarvek's own reading material was presently the practical Who's Who, What's What and Who Built What, guides to prominent Sparks and their creations. He and Mnemosyne might be in the next editions.

Mnemosyne looked at the books around her eagerly, but without preference. Rather than choose one she simply picked up the closest, Composers of the Idyll Years, and started reading.

She read quickly, and with great absorption, and she probably would have put the book down and been just as attentive to the next topic if they'd started talking to her again. But none of them were inclined to interrupt her, and after a few minutes first Agatha excused herself and then Gil tiptoed out.

(This did not actually seem to have any effect on whether they distracted her. Mnemosyne politely told them each goodbye without looking up.)

Tarvek stayed longer, just gazing at her while she read. She didn't seem disturbed by it, and he was still amazed. He'd made a person. She worked. She liked him and the Muses liked her and she was sitting there, in Agatha's dress, turning pages and drinking in knowledge and to all appearances completely happy.

Yes. Perfect.

The few hectic days of Mnemosyne’s creation seemed to mark the end of breakthrough, although all three Sparks had been calm enough at times before that it could have been considered ended already, and that simply a flight of inspiration. It wasn’t easy to measure these things, but it did, for Klaus, mark the point where he counted them as having completely survived breakthrough and breathed a little easier (while leaving the blast shields up).

Mnemosyne herself was fascinating. Klaus wished he could have seen more of her creation, but he’d read Adam’s very detailed notes, and observed the clank-girl herself, an attention she didn’t seem to find worrying or even very interesting. She had the height and proportions of a child (in fact she had the height and proportions of Agatha) and what was probably meant to be the doll-like beauty of the Muses. The inexperience of the designing Sparks showed though, her features were asymmetrical, her hands and feet large for her body, and she moved with mechanical gawkiness. There was something appealing about her anyway, though, as if in missing beauty they’d landed on cuteness.

Her mind, though, was a marvel, especially considering the youth of her creators. Designed to remember things her creators might want to know about, she didn’t just absorb knowledge but actively sought it out, he’d heard her creators had taken her to the school almost as soon as she was finished. Klaus gave her the run of the ship to see what she would do (all except for anything actively secret) and what she mostly did was watch and learn. She sat in on lessons and Otilia, who regarded her as a sort of cousin, made no objection.

She was quiet, respectful, neat, curious and remembered everything. Somehow it still surprised Klaus when he entered the Castle's main library and found her having a friendly conversation with Boris.

Somewhat unfortunately, Boris saw him at nearly the same time. "Excuse me, Mnemosyne," he said apologetically. "Herr Baron? Did you need something?"

"I can find my own reference materials, Boris," Klaus said with a faint smile. "Without interrupting what I imagine is a fascinating conversation." If perhaps only to the two of them.

"I was asking Miss Mnemosyne about her explorations," said Boris, taking off his glasses to clean them. He added a little stiffly, "You know I wouldn't allow that to interfere with my duties."

"You're off-duty, Boris," Klaus said patiently.

Boris put his glasses back on and rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, under the circumstances I would hardly be surprised if something came up."

"I'm not aware of any new emergencies. Amazingly enough." Klaus looked down at Mnemosyne. "Are you looking forward to the coronation?"

Mnemosyne blinked once. "Yes, Herr Baron. It hasn't happened yet."

Klaus rubbed his upper lip hard. He wasn't entirely sure whether it would hurt Mnemosyne's feelings to be laughed at, but it seemed better avoided. "Very true. That was idiomatic. I meant, do you expect to enjoy it?"

"Yes. It will be a new experience," she said.

"Some of those are more pleasant than others," Boris said wryly.

"Are they?" said Mnemosyne. "Which ones are less pleasant?"

Boris opened his mouth and then shut it again. Klaus said, "Ones involving loss, injury, or humiliation, often. But we're trying to avoid those at the coronation."

"Then you expect it to be a pleasant experience?" said Mnemosyne. "Will you enjoy it?"

Swearing fealty to Aaronev's son, to Gil's friend, was going to be... strange. But he had committed to the solution for a variety of solid reasons... not the least of which was that, despite Lucrezia, he was not without faith in the Heterodynes' optimism. "I'll be pleased if everything goes well," he said.

"If there is any way I can help with that, I will," said Mnemosyne.That was both unexpected and charming. Possibly she'd received her creator's sense of responsibility for managing things, although she had escaped his paranoia, possibly by a little too far. "Thank you," he said. "I think the best thing for you to help with will be to remember it clearly, which I'm sure you'll do. But if I think of something else, I'll ask you."

"I will remember it, Herr Baron," she said. "And you are welcome."

Chapter Text

The morning before the coronation the children had their dressing supervised by Otilia, who helped quite a bit with Tarvek’s somewhat complicated regalia. His clothes were white and gold, and he had been admonished not to risk getting them dirty, although it hardly needed saying. He had no intention of being anything less than pristine. Anevka, representing the other side of their family, was in red and dusky lavender with a geometry-defying version of the Sturmvoraus crest securing her coiffure. Agatha was wearing a dress of green crushed velvet, with a very full skirt that swished when she walked, to her delight. Otilia had stopped her from spinning around in the dressing room to see the skirt swirl around her. Gil was wearing dark teal, with a Wulfenbach sigil in gold at his throat. He was holding his head up mostly to show it off, but it did give him a strangely regal air.

Otilia left them to join the other Muses, who would be going a bit later than the main group, and get ready herself with strict instructions to stay in the dressing room and, if possible, stay still until the Baron and Barry Heterodyne came to collect them for the airship journey to the ground.

It was almost time to go. It seemed to have been almost time for an awfully long time. Where were the adults, anyway? And Agatha's cowlick was still standing up at the crown of her head. Tarvek nervously smoothed it down again.

It popped right back up, of course, and Agatha squawked. "Stop that!"

"Sorry!" Tarvek put his hands firmly behind his back. "It just... won't lie flat." He'd actually been growing his own hair out for the past few months in the hope of getting the foundation for a more dignified cut. It had kind of worked. Gil's was hopeless; he had apparently inherited the Baron's hair, which was suited for the classic madboy look and remained stubbornly fluffy even when oiled. Agatha's was actually very sleek except for that one bit, which Tarvek was currently finding highly distracting.

"I know. It's fine." Agatha frowned at him, then offered magnanimously, "But we can try to hold it down if you like. There's clips and things."

“Try this one.” Anevka, who had been sitting off to the side looking like an illustration of patience, picked out a barrette with little swirly malachites on it.

Tarvek bit his lip, then carefully smoothed down the cowlick (again) and fastened it to the rest of Agatha's hair with the barrette. There. That was--

--The barrette landed on the floor with a soft clatter as the cowlick sprang back up.

"Okay," said Gil, "how did you do that?"

"I didn't do anything," Agatha said.

Tarvek frowned and tried again, watching closely. He must have given it too much wiggle room, because the hairs just above the barrette had a definite springy curve to them that gradually grew, sliding free until they straightened out all at once. The barrette stayed where it was for a moment and then slithered gently down her hair until the hinge got hung up. The weight of the barrette swung down from that point, and Agatha yelped.

Tarvek freed the barrette and put it back in, and then another, smaller, one in front of it to hold down the springy curve. The tiny little bit in front of that started to grow, and Tarvek hastily put a small clip on that just as the barrette at the back sprang free. A moment later the two remaining clips slid out as well, as the cowlick triumphantly freed itself.

"Agatha, your hair is an escape artist," Gil said, laughing.

"Maybe if we tied it to something?" said Tarvek.

Anevka looked up again in some alarm at this. “Oh, dear.”

"I guess," Agatha said, starting to sound interested. She positioned herself between the mirrors to try to see what was going on. Tarvek gauged the angles and tried to stand where she could watch, but wasn’t sure it was working very well. "Do you mean with ribbon or the hair itself?"

"It would be better to calibrate the pressure correctly, but it seems to have a very narrow range of tolerance. If we actually tie the hair to the clip, it might both prevent sliding under low pressure and reinforce the clasp against springing open at high pressure," Tarvek began, warming to the subject.

“That’s never--” Anevka began.

"That sounds like we should start over and build something that works properly in the first place," Agatha pointed out. Anevka sighed and sat back.

"You do that.” Tarvek began combing her hair smooth again in preparation. “I'll try tying it in!"

Three minutes later, Gil was helping Agatha build a rather complicated hair clip and discussing the possibility of adding small balloons to alleviate the added weight. Tarvek had knotted the hair from her cowlick and two ribbons around five barrettes and was starting to feel frantic because it seemed as if every time he got part of it weighted down, it shifted the forces on some other piece of hair and allowed that to spring up. But he almost had it--

He saw the door open, in one of the mirrors, and Barry asked, "What in the world?"

"Um," said Tarvek, calming down and looking rather guiltily at Agatha's new hairstyle. It might be flatter, but it wasn't precisely an improvement.

"We were trying to build a new kind of hair clip," Agatha said cheerfully, then frowned as she moved her head. "Um, ow?"

Barry rubbed a hand over his mouth. "I think the prototype may need a little more development."

"It's not even symmetrical," Tarvek said sadly. And there were bits of hair that had got away from him popping out or crisscrossing the barrettes. Possibly he should have listened to Anevka, although she was being tactfully silent and not even visibly biting her tongue.

Barry sat down behind Agatha to start trying to pick the knots out. He had the ribbons loose and holding the uninvolved hair out of the way by the time there was another rap at the door, and Donna said, "What's keeping -- oh, I see."

Tarvek looked up at her sheepishly and was rather startled by her gown. The designer had opted for something between artistic dress and a sari, contrasting with the more structured fashions that prevailed in Paris and most of the Empire, and she was wearing soft flowing layers of sheer silk in brilliant pink and flame colours. Barry caught sight of her in the mirror and simply stared for a moment, looking gobsmacked.

After a moment he got up and turned around to take her hands. "You look amazing." He leaned in to kiss her decorously, then added ruefully, "How are you at untangling hair?"

"More experienced than you," Donna said, amused. Her own hair was half up in a knot -- secured by what looked like a thin dagger, and probably really was a sheathed one -- but flowed down from it over her shoulders. "Let me see."

"Personally," said the Baron, as Donna peered into Agatha's hair and started taking apart the second barrette, "I think this is getting worryingly reminiscent of what happened with Otilia's wings."

"I don't mind if you cut it out," Agatha said, starting to sound irritated.

"That's not really ideal here," said Barry.

"Oh, we'll have to cut some of it," Donna said calmly. "It shouldn't show much."

Tarvek asked, trying not to sound strained, "What happened to Otilia's wings?" They'd been fine last time he saw her!

"Barry and Dr Beetle managed to wrap themselves in several metres of silk," said the Baron, absently.

"But--" Tarvek began.

“I’m sure it can’t be recent,” Anevka said, lightly patting her own hair into place again as if it might have moved.

"It was before you came to the school," Barry said. Donna waved him out of the light and he stepped carefully around to her other side. "The fabric on her wings was rather damaged when we found her body, and we got a bit… entangled... trying to replace it."

"Fortunately Otilia herself seemed mostly amused," said the Baron. "How are you doing, Agatha?"

"It was more fun trying to build a new clip," Agatha said with a sigh. Gil poked at their attempt, and Tarvek grudgingly admitted that it was prettier than his ad hoc solution and might have worked rather well if they’d solved the weight problem.

"I'm almost done," said Donna. She extracted another one and a half barrettes, then snipped free the hairs that had tangled in the hinges. "There. You can hardly tell. Or did you want any of those in?"

"Maybe we'd better just leave it loose," Barry suggested, sounding mildly alarmed.

“It’s fine loose,” said Agatha, flicking it back over her shoulder. Her cowlick bounced up, Tarvek ignored it.

“Good,” said Barry, stroking her hair himself, more affectionately than to put it in order. “Because it’s time to go.”

Tarvek checked the clock one last time and drew a relieved breath. They weren't really late. The outflier to take them to the ground might make a slightly less stately descent, that was all, and everybody making the public entrance was together now. Barry wore nearly his usual brown, actually a very muted bronze, but of course several degrees more formal. He and Agatha would be pointedly in the audience, the Heterodynes offering the Storm King friendship and alliance partly by trying very hard not to steal the show. Right now he was standing between Agatha and Donna and looking immensely fond of everybody in the room.

The Baron, who played a somewhat larger role in the ceremony, was wearing the same deep teal as Gil along with a sweeping charcoal grey coat and loomed like a stormcloud rolling in over the ocean. “One last thing,” he said. He handed them daggers in ornamental sheaths, leather and gold with vines twining around their symbols. "These aren't toys," he said. "And the blades are poisoned. Don't draw them unless you have to, but if anyone does get close enough to grab you, stab them hard."

"What poison did you use?" Tarvek asked. His matched his boots perfectly, but it still felt strange to go openly armed.

"A new one," the Baron said, sounding like he was trying not to smile. "I'll go over the formula with you later." He ruffled Gil's hair, which would have exasperated Otilia but had in fact no observable effect. "Ready?"

Tarvek looked at Gil, who seemed as comfortable as ever and had gone from strangely regal to outright full of glee when he looked up at his father, and Agatha, who had the quickest temper of the three and somehow looked completely natural with the dagger at the side of her skirt. "Ready."

They could have gone straight to the palace by airship, but the entire point was for there to be a show. So they landed outside the city and took the carriage waiting for them. It was gold and white, pulled by four white horses in gold harness, and looked like it might turn into a pumpkin at midnight. Klaus was giving it a slightly dubious look that meant he considered it silly, too showy — and showy in the way that wasn’t his own personal version, which he denied having a flare for — but Tarvek looked enchanted.

Tarvek had pride of place, of course: the carriage was roofed but open, and constructed carefully to direct everyone's attention straight to his seat. The rest of them were visible but far enough back not to obscure him. (The designer had left room next to him for Gil and Agatha, but Barry was keeping Agatha on his lap. There were enough people trying to plan their wedding already. Anyway, considering the inheritance issues, honouring Anevka seemed only reasonable.)

"Klaus," Barry said under his breath as they paused for the city gate, "you already have a reputation as a grouch. Are you trying to add to it?"

"Yes," Klaus muttered.

Barry resisted the urge to clap a hand over his eyes. "I should have known," he hissed.

Klaus looked away from him, now clearly trying not to laugh, which might not make him look much less grumpy to anyone who didn't know him well but entertained Barry anyway.

The gates swung open and the crowd lining the streets sent up a shout.

Gil was sitting very straight and solemn, but he didn't try to hunch away from the crowd's gaze the way Barry remembered from Mechanicsburg. He kept his head up like he knew he belonged here, now, and maybe even the solemnity was more an attempt at what he thought the situation called for, because for a moment Barry saw him catch Donna's eye and both of them were trying not to grin.

The crowds here weren't the dignitaries who would be attending the coronation proper. Some of these were the people who lived here, most were somewhere between tourists and pilgrims. People who had taken time away from their farms and workshops, spent hard earned money to chase a little bit of a dream. People who believed, or wanted to, in everything the Storm King story promised. They cheered and waved, and pressed as close to the carriage as they could get and Tarvek waved back at them, bright eyed and awed, looking somewhere between happy and overwhelmed.

The expression reminded Barry a little -- maybe a lot -- of early days with Bill. When The Heterodynes are coming! had just stopped being something people cringed at, and the first time they'd realised people they'd never met were eager to see them. A connection he had stopped feeling with Mechanicsburg since the day he realised his mother was miserable. Intoxicating joy and exultant obligation.

The wind flung the spray from one of the many fountains across the road -- and the open carriage -- and Gil brushed droplets off his eyelashes. Tarvek barely seemed to notice. They'd dry quickly; the weather was warm for early spring and the sky was cloudless blue, perhaps not quite thematically appropriate for the Storm King but perfect for the people gathered outside.

The sun shimmered through the fountains and refracted from the Palace of Enlightenment ahead in a blaze of colour. (The palace, built as a place of welcome rather than a fortress, was nonetheless sturdier than it looked because it had also been built as a place to collect Sparks. Even so, it had been a near thing to get all the broken windows replaced in time.) The whole city was awash in rainbows you could touch, and everybody knew that meant hope.

Tarvek had been to see the Palace of Enlightenment once before. He knew all the history. Its construction, the Court and Sparks it had housed, the official Enlightened Laboratory Safety Procedures (a hobby of his father's -- of course, none of the main labs were in the Palace itself, but it was said they'd been posted everywhere anyway). Its languishing during the war and the period afterward when discontent and fracturing alliances had forced Valois to spend more time in Paris, where much of the traditional machinery of government had remained throughout his reign, mostly to avoid the excitement. The conflicts there that had budded in his absence and flourished after his death... who had left in a huff, fought there, tried to keep it for themselves, laid claims of inheritance, tried to loot it, carried off furnishings and artwork they might even have a claim on "to protect them"....

The Palace wasn't a fortress, but Valois hadn't been stupid, and the city's defences had been designed by more Sparks than Mechanicsburg's. It had also been passionately cared for and defended by the Knights of Jove. It had stayed standing. On the other hand, it had been the site of a lot of wrangling and a tempting target, and it had also been made largely of glass. So Tarvek was in a position to appreciate the restoration.

It was widely believed that Barry Heterodyne had scoured Europa to find the glassmakers. Tarvek could hear people whispering about it as they passed. Tarvek knew that the scouring had, in fact, consisted mostly of setting every glassmaker in Mechanicsburg to the job and asking the Baron and Lady Gertrude Schallen if they recommended anybody. They’d both had a list.

"I should tell them you--" Barry began.

"This was your idea," the Baron said under his breath. "Don't go arguing with them about the story now."

They got safely past the first few guests and found Seffie waiting for them in the first of the various chambers given over to preparation. She whisked Anevka off, “just for now, I’ll have her back to you for the ceremony”, and the two of them quickly put their heads together. The excited whispering was either some plan they were cooking up or a dissection of the fashions guests were wearing. Barry and Agatha left to find their place in the audience and, in Barry’s case, do the early socialising with guests.

Tarvek, Klaus and Gil, having shed most of their party, were let in to greet the Muses, who'd come more directly. Tinka was there, with Moxana, Otilia and Zene, Mnemosyne standing beside them. All of them turned to look as he entered the room and Tarvek was sorry to have missed their reunion, as well as Tinka meeting Mnemosyne. Then Tinka was across the room and falling into a court curtsey, skirts swirling out around her as she bent her knees. “My liege.”

“Tinka,” he breathed. She was so beautiful, so perfect. She tipped her head up out of its dip, blue eyes bright, and as she stood from her curtsey she somehow swept him up with her and twirled. I bet she didn’t do this with Valois, Tarvek thought, looking down at her face. How could she look giddy? The Muses’ expressiveness remained a mystery to him. He found himself laughing, sliding down in her arms to wrap his around her neck. “I’m going to find all your sisters and fix them,” he confided breathlessly. “I will, I’m learning already, I helped fix Zene and everyone will help fix the rest, and then you’ll all be together and with me and it will be perfect. I’m going to fix everything.”

“Yes,” said Tinka. “Yes, my King. It will be wonderful.”

When she put him down, Tarvek reached out for Mnemosyne, drawing her over by one hand. "You've already met Mnemosyne," he said, feeling he should introduce them anyway.

"Yes," said Tinka. "She's adorable."

"Tinka has been very kind," said Mnemosyne, looking up at him. "She has been telling me about the circus."

"Did you enjoy hearing about it?" Tarvek asked.

"Of course." Mnemosyne enjoyed hearing about everything. With a primary function of gathering information, she took a quiet pleasure in just about any experience or in hearing about it. Sometimes Tarvek worried that she didn't seem to have preferences, other times it was enough that she was happy. For now he hugged her against him, still too elated to really worry about anything. Mnemosyne was wonderful, and his in a way that even the Muses weren't.

"I'm glad you get on with them," he said.

That was all there was time for. Mnemosyne was left with the Muses, mostly because she was valuable enough to need the protection and even more vulnerable than they were. Gil and Tarvek were shunted to another small dressing room, told to take the chance to use the bathroom since it would be a long ceremony. Tarvek returned from that to find biscuits in the dressing room, probably for the same reason, and no sign of Gil. He was nibbling one not very enthusiastically (breakfast had been fairly recent) when Gil slipped back through the door, looking excited and grinning.

Gil grabbed Tarvek’s wrist and tugged and, when Tarvek opened his mouth to protest, clapped his hand over it and tugged harder. Tarvek gave in and followed — no one was meant to be collecting him for a little while yet, although he wondered how bad it would be to be late for his own coronation. Gil tugged him back to the door of the room the Muses were in, checking the corridor for servants or dignitaries first, and practically shoved Tarvek against the keyhole.

“— stayed on Castle Wulfenbach if I had known,” someone finished, in the slightly too perfect vocal inflections of a Muse.

A soft chiming. “As if I knew myself.” Otilia. “A sweet child, to answer your question. Overawed at being taught by a Muse — some of them are, although I suppose I know why he was now. He wants to repair our sisters, I suspect he feels like that about most of Valois’s legacy. Something to resurrect and repair. He romanticises it all, of course, but it’s not a terrible way to start.”

Oh, they were…talking about him. The Muses talked about their Kings behind their backs? Gil had crouched down against the door, ear pressed to the crack as Tarvek’s was to the keyhole, eyes bright with mischief.

“And as a King?” asked Tinka.

“He’s a child,” said Otilia. There was the sound of fabric rustling and Tarvek pictured her raising and lowering her wings in her version of a sigh. “…He’ll listen to us more than Valois did, I believe, but he’s not entirely unlike him. I said he was sweet, but he’s stubborn too. If he thinks our advice is something he has to follow, that we’re using him as a pawn — or a conduit for ruling through — I don’t think he’ll accept it. Even from us.”

Valois hadn’t listened to them? Tarvek knew he was blushing at hearing himself discussed, and he wasn’t sure whether he should feel flattered at that assessment, although he sort of did. A lot of people had thought they could use him as a pawn. It was nice that Otilia didn’t.

“And from the Baron?” asked Tinka.

“That will either bring more peace to Europa than I expected to see again, or destroy any chance of it and probably both of them,” said Otilia, and suddenly she sounded portentious, more like a Muse than Tarvek had ever heard her. He looked down at Gil and saw that his eyes had gone wide. “Moxana?”

A gentle chime, not the one that was Otilia’s laugh. Tarvek wondered if Moxana was showing a card, wondered which it was.

“Really?” Tinka said. “You think it’s all right then?” Tarvek let out the breath he’d been holding just as Gil did the same and they caught each other’s eyes and smiled at themselves. “And the Heterodyne Girl?”

“Really, one thing at a time,” protested Otilia. “She’s five.”

This time the chiming was laughter, and not from Otilia.

"Ahem." The throat-clearing managed to be quiet, stern, and a little bit incredulous all at once. Tarvek started a bit guiltily and looked around to find the Baron beckoning them away from the door. "There you are." Still quiet, even as they turned away, as if he didn't want to give away the eavesdropping to the Muses. "What was that all about?"

"They were talking about you two," Gil said irrepressibly.

Tarvek glanced backward as they approached a corner and had just time to think Brilliant, we got caught sneaking off to eavesdrop on people again before the Baron's hand descended on his shoulder and -- painlessly turned him to the side? Tarvek spent a few bewildered seconds sorting this out and then looked up. "I did know the wall was there."

"You didn't look it," the Baron said drily. "For all I know they might not mind your listening in. I should certainly think you can consult them openly if you choose, although at last check, Otilia explicitly preferred not to resume being an advisor."

"I didn't know you'd asked her to," said Tarvek in surprise.

"I didn't exactly. She'd just been able to resume her actual identity; Barry and I asked what she did want to do. But she was rather emphatic about it to Beetle."

"Maybe that's why she likes you," Tarvek said, which got him a curious look. "She sounded like Valois didn't listen to them much." He doubted it had occurred to Valois to ask if she'd like to do something different, especially if she hadn't had a chance to try it yet. It might not have occurred to him or the Baron if she'd always been doing the same thing, either.

"Did she." The Baron was silent for several steps and then asked, "What else did they say?"

Gil smothered a laugh, and the Baron shot him an annoyed look, but not very.

"About the two of us?" Tarvek asked, and waited for the short nod, because it was a little bit delightful to realise the Baron was curious over being talked about, too. "Otilia thinks it could either be great or a total disaster."

The Baron gave him a long look. "I admit, I was expecting something slightly less obvious."

Tarvek ducked his head, fighting not to smile. "Well, she asked Moxana. And apparently Moxana thinks we'll do all right."

The coronation took place in the grandest hall of the Palace, with rainbows glittering all over the audience. Cut-glass doors swung open at a touch and Tarvek looked at all of them, at the Muses and Mnemosyne arrayed waiting in front, and he strode down the centre of the hall while all the onlookers turned to watch.

Gil, the Baron and Anevka kept pace just behind him, flanked by six of the Knights of Jove.

"I need to pick an honour guard." Tarvek frowned. "Besides you," he added to the Baron. "It ought to be some of the Knights."

"Are there any of them you actually want to honour?" Barry said, which wasn't where Tarvek had expected that objection to come from.

"They didn't all want to work for Lucrezia," said Tarvek. "We can probably find at least half a dozen who didn't do any worse than go along with what they thought they had to."

Tarvek went straight ahead, looking up: Zene and Tinka were uncharacteristically still, but looking as if this were a captured instant; Moxana sat and Mnemosyne stood serenely; and Otilia's wings were spread as if to guard all of them. Her gown and her wings today were bright silver. He halted at the table that held the Lightning Crown, heart jarring in his chest with anticipation.

The Baron and Gil turned to stand well to his right side, Anevka to his left, at the ends of the dais.

Otilia spoke. "Long years ago, we were made for a King."

"He arose in a time of chaos," said Zene, "and raised from it harmony."

"Both by kindness and by force of arms he brought peace," continued Tinka, "to the lands of his birthright and beyond them." Tarvek saw, from the corner of his eye, the Baron glance sharply up at her.

"Andronicus Valois was the defender of Europa," Otilia resumed.

Zene. "But his heirs did not all continue in the legacy of peace."

"The line was lost." Tinka bowed her head.

"Through chance, through corruption, through fear of foes, for many years no clear heir stood above the rest," said Otilia.

Tinka's head came up then, blue eyes alight with unexpected mischief, and she stretched out her arms and raised them slowly, palms upward. "Until a conqueror and a Heterodyne found the child who had been hidden."

"Until the child himself uncovered the evils the Other had placed to subvert his town," Zene added.

"We gather to hail Tarvek Sturmvoraus as the heir of the Storm King," Otilia said, voice ringing, and together Zene and Tinka said, "Rejoice!"

The seven Popes came up and arrayed themselves on the other side of the table, in order of installation, between the crown and the throne. Tarvek knelt. They each blessed the crown -- more and more elaborately until the last, who laid a hand on the crown but looked into Tarvek's eyes and simply said, "May you reign wisely and long. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost."

They filed away and returned to their seats. Tarvek stood and went around the table, facing the people.

The crown glittered in front of him, light sparking off the electrum.

"By the grace of God and the voice of Europa--"

"Naturally everyone wants to crown you," said the Baron, sounding as if he had had more than enough of the subject before they started. "I assume you're not inclined to let any of your relatives do it."

"I'm not inclined to try to manage the rest of the Popes if one of them did," Barry put in drily. "I think that may be beyond my diplomatic skills."

The details of Andronicus Valois's coronation were less than helpful. The opera's ceremonial acclaim did represent, in highly condensed form, a reality in which Valois had been blessed by the Popes (there were only five then) and encouraged by the nervous rulers of several variously sized "empires". But Valois had reigned in Provence before he'd begun his campaigns and while the local bishop was actually quite nice and probably wouldn't make trouble over it, the point wasn't to proclaim Tarvek the king of France.

"Maybe Otilia," said Tarvek, but he was frowning. That didn't feel right.

"I'm not sure she'd like it." The Baron drummed his fingers on the desk. "And the logic seems oddly circular, although you could make a case for acknowledging rather than conferring."

"I recuse myself for weird historical implications," Barry said. "Honestly, I think Klaus is the obvious candidate."

"No," Tarvek said, almost before Barry had finished speaking. They both looked at him in surprise, and he bit his lip and met the Baron's eyes. "Sorry. But that's got the same problems as letting any of my family do it, only worse."

"I do not--" the Baron began, scowling.

"Want me as a puppet. Right." Tarvek tipped his chin up. "And if you crown me, on top of everything else, who's ever going to believe that? It's a little too true that you're making me Storm King, it's just going to be a mess if the symbolism is saying that instead of that I'm supposed to be."

"Do you have a suggestion?" asked Barry.

Tarvek took a deep breath. "I can do it myself."

The Baron leaned back in his chair. "Yes," he said, "I think you'll have to."

Tarvek inhaled, picked up the crown -- heavier than it looked, with all the openwork; much too light for the weight of a continent; it made his hands tingle -- and set it on his own head. "--I am the Storm King."

Chapter Text

Klaus watched Tarvek turn and mount to the throne. Fortunately, the Lightning Throne was more metaphorical than the crown and described only a position, not an actual chair. They had made a throne that didn't swamp their eight-year-old Storm King and raised it on carefully proportioned steps so that he'd be at least at eye level for everyone pledging to him.

His turn.

"I was never greatly impressed by the Storm King's legends or the hope to restore his heirs," said Klaus. The audience went still, as if they'd all held their breath at once. Possibly so had Tarvek. "Europa has had and lost any number of kings and emperors. It was after I found myself travelling with the source of new legends that I began to appreciate his actual history." A brief pause. "I must admit, I appreciated it more once I found myself trying to run more than a single town. I also better understood the wish that someone else would turn up and make everyone cooperate."

His gaze swept the assembled audience; all eyes were fixed on him. "I have never been much of a romantic. What I have believed in, the reason I once followed the Heterodyne Boys, is those who try to change things that need to be changed. Sometimes it seems as if the world can only be subdued and not improved," Sparks, the constant fighting, his broken hometown, "but there have always been those who believed otherwise." He turned and approached the throne. Tarvek looked small, and pale, and somehow bright, as if the hope and excitement of the day was shining through his skin. For a moment even Klaus could believe in the Storm King, even if it was only in this one partly of his own making. He went to one knee. "I, Klaus Wulfenbach, swear fealty to the Storm King. My lands, my people, are yours."

Tarvek's hands pressed his between them. "I accept your fealty and pledge my care and protection in turn," he said clearly. "I name you regent until I come of age--" And then he released Klaus's hands and put his own on Klaus's shoulders, and leaned forward to kiss his left cheek. "And I name you a Knight of the Loyal Order of the Knights of Jove, and first among the Council."

There was a ripple in the crowd behind him. This part was not a surprise to Klaus -- as the details of the Muses' introduction had been, particularly Tinka's oddly conciliatory teasing -- but he'd been as shocked as the rest were now when Tarvek first suggested it. Although it was certainly true that Aaronev could hardly hold the position anymore. "I accept both charge and honour," he said, then rose to take his place behind Tarvek's right shoulder for the rest of the ceremony.

Gil came to join him. Anevka pledged next, and stood at Tarvek's left, and then began the rather tedious part of the ceremony where everyone else came up to pledge fealty or affirm their support or continued alliance. This took all afternoon and into the evening, and the liveliest moment was when Barry and Agatha came up just after the last of the vassals, assuring everyone that the confederation they'd gathered and the support of the House of Heterodyne still held. Barry offered a firm handshake and a warm smile. For a moment Klaus was really worried that Agatha would fling herself on Tarvek and hug him -- in contravention of all protocol and to the delight of everyone who imagined that the fate of Europa depended on repeating Valois's failed alliance-marriage -- but evidently Barry had successfully persuaded her to stick to shaking hands.

The dazzle of sunlight shifted gradually to molten red-gold and eventually dimmed far enough to require artificial lighting. At the end of the ceremony they escorted Tarvek to four different illuminated balconies to let the crowds outside see him, whereupon he was again proclaimed Storm King by the slightly drunken voice of Europa.

Dinner was served -- more formally inside than out, of course, which had the benefit of constraining most of the guests by chains of etiquette not to importune Tarvek (or Klaus, for that matter) until there had been time to eat. Of course, at the reception the hordes descended... or tried to. Agatha got out ahead of them and flung her arms around Tarvek hard enough that he rocked back on his heels.

Klaus looked over at Barry. "So much for that plan."

Barry laughed ruefully. "We avoided implying a formal commitment. I won’t try to keep her from hugging her friends." Klaus glanced down to find that she had, in fact, transferred to Gil. A more serious smile, and Barry saluted him with his wineglass. "Well done."

Klaus allowed himself a small smile. "It's all gone remarkably well. I'll have to congratulate our security, too." This was being handled by Boris and the Jägers and, despite the fact that the Jägers had had a talking to by Barry beforehand, the fact that they were evidently cooperating was perhaps one of the more remarkable events of the evening.

Barry grinned. "They've been very effective. As demonstrated by the fact that the most conspicuous incident so far was one of the Polar Ice Lords trying to strike the woman pouring his drink." He paused, and Klaus frowned inquisitively. "Last I saw, Boris and General Goomblast were lecturing him on appropriate behaviour. It was an amazing sight."

Klaus's smile got a bit wider, and he helped himself to a glass of wine of his own. "To things working as planned," he suggested, tipping it to Barry, who obligingly clinked his against it.

Behind them a dance tune struck up and Klaus turned -- already knowing what he would see, but still surprised at music that sounded like it should come from a quartet. Zene was standing under a light, and despite the Muses' limited expressions she looked joyful. Tinka moved onto the dance floor alone, stepping with more than human grace, and for a while the crowd just stared at the Muses in awe. Then Tarvek stood up and, with a perfectly executed bow, invited Agatha to dance. Klaus shot a look at Barry as delighted “aaw”s rippled around the room and other couples moved onto the dance floor after the children.

Barry rubbed a hand across his forehead, looking torn between laughter and frustration. "Oh, well," he said finally. "Their choice. As informed as we could make it, anyway."

Agatha ended the dance with a beautifully executed curtsey, possibly because this was a good way of showing off her dress as much as because her etiquette lessons had stuck, and immediately ran off the dance floor to grab Gil and tug him onto it. Gil looked rather startled for a moment and then grinned down at her and followed her out, while Tarvek struck up a polite conversation with a princess back by the tables. "I should go and talk to people as well," said Klaus.

Barry nodded. "As should I, but first--" He turned and held out a hand to Donna. Klaus watched them go and indulged himself for approximately three seconds in imagining Zantabraxus there -- he determined he could picture her trying Europan dances, but not Europan dress -- before applying himself to political socialising.

Boris caught up to Klaus a little later, looking annoyed and unhappy and trying to look neutral. “What is it?” Klaus asked sharply.

Boris looked rather startled. “Nothing, Herr Baron. Everything is going well. We did have to keep a few assassins out of the coronation, but far less than we expected, and they don’t seem to have been backed by any of the major groups.”

Klaus raised his eyebrows. “Yet you look bothered by something.”

To his surprise Boris looked a little sheepish. “It is nothing to do with my duties, Herr Baron. I was surprised by the servants people chose to bring.”

The servants people had chosen to bring were, in many cases, well dressed constructs. It was a throwback, an affectation, a revival of something from Valois’s court. They were there to show off the means or abilities of those who could afford something so well made. They weren’t literally slaves — Klaus’s laws were clear on that — but Klaus still wrinkled his nose in vague distaste. They were also impossible to object to. People choosing to employ constructs was meant to be a good thing, they weren’t being ill treated, and on the face of it Boris was part of the same category. Which was why he was finding it disconcerting.

"It's a ridiculous way to show off," Klaus said, then added dubiously, "even if some of them seem to be enjoying themselves." The fact that Adam and Lilith weren't actually there to wait on Barry and Agatha had not prevented their taking the dance floor from serving as a cue to other people's servants or creations, and many of them did appear to be having a good time. Klaus and Boris shared a moment of mutual bafflement. Klaus liked parties well enough, but not this kind. He didn't think Boris liked any of them. "Hopefully over time we can move Tarvek's court beyond treating constructs as decorative accessories. I--"

A voice rang out, high and childish, sharp with indignation and with an undercurrent of harmonics that did not belong in a voice that young. Klaus whirled. “My father has not disowned me or taken my inheritance.” Gil was standing facing the Duke D'Omas, drawn up tall, which only made him a little above waist height, and rigid with anger. “I am heir to the Wulfenbach lands, as I always have been. Europa was never mine to inherit.” He lost some of the rigidity, undertones leaching out of his voice and leaving it disdainful as he looked away. “Anyway, Tarvek was my king first and I’m on his side, so I hope you don’t think you’re being clever.” He wheeled away and stalked over to Tarvek, who was looking somewhat embarrassed by this display of loyalty, but still squeezed Gil’s shoulder with a smile. Gil smiled back and shot a triumphant look at the Duke.

Seeing that Gil was stable -- neither tears nor a Sparky temper tantrum seemed imminent -- Klaus walked as softly as dress boots allowed up to the Duke D'Omas and clapped a slightly too heavy hand on his shoulder. He felt the jar as the man started and took some satisfaction in seeing the faint angry flush of blood when he turned. "Your Grace," he said, heavily ironic, "exactly what made you think it was a good idea to harass my son?"

The Duke's eyes narrowed. "Whatever you've convinced him of, you have decided to hand over the empire you conquered to a family who already proved they weren’t fit to hold it. He'll hear worse than anything I've said if you and the Sturmvoraus boy try to put every Spark with an independent holding under one of the Fifty."

"If you’re going to make assumptions about my politics," said Klaus icily, "you could try bringing them up with me and not Gilgamesh."

"It would certainly make more sense," said Barry levelly. Klaus looked automatically and sharply past him -- he'd been near the children a moment ago -- and saw the three of them in earnest conversation under Donna's and Boris's eyes. He also pinpointed several Jägers circulating nearby in the crowd. "Excuse me," Barry added, "but Klaus, Tarvek wanted to speak to you for a few minutes."

Klaus nodded to him and left, because the Duke D'Omas was about to find out how disappointed Barry was in him for picking on a child and you really couldn't beat that as a deterrent. "Tarvek?" he asked, approaching the children.

Tarvek glanced up, cleared his throat, and admitted a little sheepishly, "Mostly I thought if you punched him it would spoil Gil's exit."

"I do have some self control," said Klaus. "And I don't intend to let people think they can get at Gil with impunity, although he did make a rather nice exit."

"I told him he shouldn't let people get away with being mean to him," said Agatha, looking like she might burst with pride.

"After the three of you," said Donna, eyes sparkling as she looked over at Barry (still gravely holding forth), "I doubt there will be any question in the Duke's mind on the subject."

"One can hope," Klaus muttered, but the anger was lifting. The Duke D'Omas was starting to look chagrined and perhaps slightly hunted, and the company over here was reasonably pleasant in spite of the continuing stream of people coming to speak to Tarvek. Which, Klaus acknowledged with a sigh, probably meant he should be somewhere else making himself available to people he didn't actually want to talk to. Although courtesy to friends and the family thereof might justify a dance with Donna or Gertrude at some point. They were at least guaranteed not to suggest Gil needed a stepmother. "Gil?"

"Yes?" Gil looked up at him and his expression nearly jarred Klaus's train of thought off its tracks. Gil looked honestly happy, in spite of the Duke's needling, and adoring in a way that Klaus hadn't been expecting to see aimed at him instead of Tarvek.

He'd been about to say something reassuring, but it didn't look like Gil needed it. Whatever anyone else might imply about Gil's future, or Klaus's regard for his son, Gil had no doubts about either. "I need to go and talk to less congenial company," he said, instead. "Try to have fun." Surprisingly it looked like Gil would manage that.

Even more surprisingly, Klaus found himself spending less of the evening irritated than he would have predicted. People he actually knew and liked managed to intersect his path periodically, one or two at a time; it took a few suspiciously regular intervals and a Jäger before he realised Barry had probably engineered this.

Neither Tarvek's relatives -- who did have incentive to behave themselves at this point -- nor the Polar Ice Lords caused any overt trouble. Klaus spotted one of the latter talking to Martellus, about hunting going by the hand gestures, while Gil ended up animatedly quizzing several at once about dragons. There were signs of belligerence at one point, but while Klaus was still on his way across the room, Barry was between two of them. Smiling, as he'd been smiling all evening, but hard-edged this time in a way that said you don't want to start being uncivilised here.

...It was nice not to be the only one doing that.

When they were done with the Ice Lords he automatically checked for the children. Agatha was perched on one of the chairs at the edge of the room, kicking her feet, as Tarvek handed her a glass of strawberry-apple juice and then plopped down, looking just a little tired himself. Gil passed him a plate of cheese and crackers. Klaus spotted Maxim and Otilia ending a dance near them -- all right, that was unexpected, and he was rather sorry he'd missed most of it -- and dutifully began one himself with the nearest partner. Royalty, unfortunately, who didn't look best pleased to be asked but would probably have taken it as a slight if he hadn't.

"You are the cutest little thing," announced a woman whose Valois-red hair was beginning to silver. "Are you going to marry the Storm King one day?"

Klaus stiffened and formulated an excuse to his dance partner.

"Maybe!" Agatha said cheerfully, in a voice that must have carried clear across half the room in spite of the crowd. "But Uncle Barry wants everybody to know the political cooperation doesn't depend on that, in case we don't want to."

Not quite how Barry had planned to convey the information, Klaus thought, suppressing a smile. But probably rather effective. And very much in the family style, all the same.

This byplay distracted him from the request to exchange partners, which he did with a certain abstracted relief, until he felt a metal hand in his and looked down to find Tinka. "Well," he said. "This is a surprise."

"Not to me," Tinka said airily, as he stretched his arm out to let her spin.

"I should think not," he said in amusement. "You did it."

"True. Though you'd be surprised, sometimes, how little difference that makes." She smiled up at him. "It is good to have our King back."

Klaus reflected that he had been working toward this for months and was still surprised by it in odd moments. "Point taken. Is that why you're being nice to me?"

She looked up, amused. "You are direct."

"Not nearly as often as I'd prefer."

"I think Valois might have liked you," she said, which made him wonder what in the world Otilia had been telling her. Her eyes gleamed brighter for a second. "At least part of the time."

"Mutual, I wouldn't doubt," Klaus said, fighting not to laugh.

Her eyes flashed again. “He claimed not to be a romantic, too.”

Klaus’s eyebrows rose. “I take it you disagree?” She only smiled mysteriously, and they ended the dance as Zene's music halted. He bowed to Tinka and glanced over her shoulder, where Otilia was taking the opportunity to shepherd the children out. Even Gil was yawning. "Mm. I had best start encouraging people not too directly to leave."

The farewells took a while -- a number of people took the chance a polite goodbye offered to bring up one last thing with him and Barry. Even some of the ones who didn't took a while to gush, but, to his own surprise, Klaus found he had more sympathy with those who simply didn't want the night to end. Outside the sounds of the party in the streets were ongoing, muted by the lower numbers as people drifted to bed but made louder by alcohol, so that voices rang out with the sharp clarity of lone bird calls. Eventually there were only a few guests left and Klaus selfishly left Barry to see them off and went to see where the children were.

He found them in an ante-chamber curled up together on a scroll backed sofa. It looked as if the three of them had been sitting next to each other, with Tarvek in the middle, and then all flopped over on top of Gil. Now they were a tangle of rumpled finery and dangling limbs, smiling in their sleep. Otilia stood at one end of the sofa with an air of being willing to stay there all night — perfectly content with all her chicks safely in one nest.