Agatha H. and the Airship City

dressed.”

Wooster smiled. “Of course not, Miss. There should be a package containing clothing and toilet articles from your home on the dresser. I shall wait until you are ready.”

Agatha glanced at the dresser. There was nothing there. She quickly surveyed the room. It was about six meters square, and contained two beds, separated by a nightstand, two tall armoires and two dressers. The side she had awoken in was bare, but the other had obvious signs of an occupant. Portraits of aristocratic-looking people and an impressive castle adorned one wall. A rack of fencing foils were hung with a display of awards. An ornate family crest was displayed over the bed, which was covered with a sumptuous quilt. The other dresser was covered with a tasteful array of books and knickknacks.

She turned back towards Wooster. “There’s no package there. I don’t see it anywhere.”

A mild look of consternation flitted across Ardsley’s face. “If I may, Miss?”

Agatha pulled back the door and hid behind it as the man stepped into the room. He quickly scanned the room, stepped around the bed, and opened the armoire. Empty. He bent down and looked under the beds. Nothing. With obvious reluctance he opened the other armoire. It was neatly stacked with clothing and other items, but nothing that could be called a package, and he closed the door without disturbing anything within.

“My apologies, Miss Clay, it appears that your clothing has been… temporarily misplaced. If you will excuse me.” With that he backed out, closing the door as he went.

Less then a minute later there was a soft knock and a redheaded girl poked her head in. She spoke with a faint Irish accent. “Hello. I’m Sleipnir O’Hara. Mr. Wooster here says that you be needing some clothes.”

She stepped into the room. She was wearing a mechanic’s work suit, with a toolbelt around her waist; kneepads, wristbands and a pair of goggles pulled up onto her head completed her outfit. She had an embroidered Chinese robe over her arm. “Your Mr. Wooster reckons that we’re about the same size, so you can borrow something of mine.”

Agatha smiled. “That would be very kind. I’m Agatha Clay.”

As Sleipnir and Agatha shook hands, Sleipnir’s nose wrinkled. “Hm. I’m thinking before we get you dressed, a trip to the showers.”

Agatha looked blank. “What’s a ‘showers’?”

“It’s a kind of bathing system, but without a tub.”

“Oh.” Agatha looked down at herself and flushed with embarrassment. “Need one, do I?”

Sleipnir waved her hand before her nose. “Oh yes.” She handed Agatha the robe. “Here. We’re not all as relaxed about being in our unmentionables as you are. Are you from England, then?”

Agatha reddened down to her chest. “No! I—”

Sleipnir interrupted her. “Whatever you do, don’t let the Von Pinn see you like that.”

“The who?” The two headed out the door, and Agatha’s question went unanswered as a swarm of young children, ranging in age from six to twelve swarmed around her.

“Hey! It’s the new girl! She’s awake!”

“Hello, new girl!”

“She’s stinky.”

“She’s the one who came out naked and you missed it!”

“You’re lying!”

The room itself was long, lined with doors leading to, Agatha assumed, apartments similar to the one she had awoken in. The walls between the rooms were covered in bulletin boards filled with drawings, letters, strange looking objects such as leaves, insects or bizarre tribal masks.

Dividing the room was a large sunken area, which contained the long tables she had seen earlier. Several dark-clothed servants were quietly clearing the plates, aided by what appeared to be older children.

Sleipnir made shooing motions. “Oy! Clear off, you rigger rats! And I’d better not see any of you hanging around the showers or I’ll—”The threat was left unsaid, but the smaller children nodded seriously, except for a slightly older boy who spoke up defiantly. “Or you’ll what? Feed us to the gargoyles?”

Sleipnir leaned in close to him. “Or I’ll tell the Von Pinn that you were peeking into the showers, you dirty little sod.”

Instantly the boy went pale and bolted from the room. Agatha and Sleipnir went down the hall and into a locker room.

“What’s with all the kids?” Agatha asked as she undressed.

Sleipnir leaned against a locker. “They’re students.” Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Hostages, really. You’re one too, you know. We’re mostly the children of the various Great Houses in the Baron’s territory. We’re all supposed to be learning about science and how to administer properly and such. Of course we all know we’re really here to keep our folks in line. So your fella won’t be doing anything stupid because himself ‘s got you safe and snug.”

Agatha paused and considered how much concerns for her safety would be likely to check… at this point Agatha realized that she didn’t even know the man’s name. “That’s a great comfort.” She reached for the robe, but Sleipnir stopped her. “You’ll not be needing that yet. Now come on.”

Sleipnir ushered Agatha into a large, tiled room. A complex brass boiler system hissed quietly in the corner. Agatha felt exposed, and vainly tried to cover herself with her hands while Sleipnir threw a switch and turned a large wheel valve. She then gently pushed Agatha under a large sunflower-shaped nozzle in the ceiling. “Brace yourself,” she warned, and pulled a hanging cord. A cascade of water poured from the nozzle. Agatha screamed in shock as the water hit her, then realized, to her amazement, that the water was warm! To a person who had lived her whole life boiling bathwater on the kitchen stove, this was luxury indeed.

Sleipnir chuckled at her reaction. “When you’re done, I should have some clothing for you,” and she exited.

For several minutes Agatha forgot her predicament and just let the water cascade over her. After a moment she noticed a small metal table in the middle of the room. On it were racks containing bottles, which were labeled as containing shampoo and various hair oils, as well as bars of soap. Agatha selected one and examined it. Even the soap here was different, transparent, and it smelled like oranges. A far cry indeed from the stuff that Agatha helped Lilith boil up out of ashes, lye and lard from the rendering plant. The very oddity of the mundane object in her hand helped Agatha begin to think clearly. She began to lather up her hair.

When Agatha emerged, her skin glowing red, vigorously toweling herself off, Sleipnir was rummaging around inside a locker. Turning around with a few outfits hung over her arm, she critically eyed Agatha and frowned.

“I was afraid of that. I may be the closest match to you sizewise, but you’re a bit larger than me, especially in the chest.”

Agatha sighed. Sleipnir’s next words surprised her. “I wish I looked as good as you.” She turned back and rooted deeper within the locker and turned back while holding up a red leather overall. “There’s a few things we can adjust a bit when we’ve got the time, but for now, it’s this or nothing.” She shook out the outfit. “Luckily this has always been a bit loose on me.”

It was not loose on Agatha. Indeed in several places it took a bit of shoehorning to get all of her inside it, but eventually they got the final buttons buttoned.

“It’s… tight.”

Sleipnir nodded. “It most certainly is that. The good news is that as it’s leather, it’ll stretch out a bit once you get moving.”

“At the moment, I’m more worried about breathing.”

“Overrated.”

Agatha caught sight of herself in a large mirror. Her face went as red as her outfit. “I can’t wear this!” She turned and looked at her backside, which the outfit revealed all too well. “I mean—look at this!”

Sleipnir shrugged. “it’s a bit tight, but I said it’ll stretch—” A realization struck her. “Have you ever worn trousers before?”

“Well… no.”

Sleipnir nodded. “You’ll get used to it. Here no one expects you to be daft enough to work inside the big