Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

CHAPTER 13

There was an explosion of movement, and Lars leapt forward. With a sweep of his arm, Agatha was thrown to the side, the Baron’s blade slicing a few stray strands of hair from her head. She tumbled from the wagon, everything around her a blur. She realized she was clutched in Maxim’s arms, but the Jäger wasn’t looking at her.

Towering overhead was the Baron, sword dripping gore. He kicked aside a body at his feet. “Damn fool,” he muttered. His eyes locked on Agatha’s. “Kill the girl!” he roared. “Kill her companions, if you must. Kill them all!”

Maxim dropped Agatha to her feet, and with a hiss, pulled a slim rapier from its scabbard and with three strokes, cleared a space around them. “Time to fight!” he sang out.

Klaus made to leap, and a glittering flash of green and blue exploded before him as Zeetha attacked screaming. Klaus barely parried in time, and with an oath, leapt backwards to avoid the slicing Quata’aras.

Agatha darted forward and knelt at Lars’ side. All of her medical knowledge delivered the same terrible answer. Lars’ eyes opened and gazed at her blankly. “Agatha?”

“Don’t move!” Agatha said desperately. She shucked her jacket and tried to tear off a strip. The heavy fabric stubbornly refused to tear. She whimpered in frustration.

Lars gently patted her hand. “It’s amazing,” he whispered. “I never even guessed. But it’s so... so perfect.”

“Lars, stop moving!”

His head fell back and he gave a ghastly smile. “Oh, that’ll happen soon enough.”

“NO!” Agatha gasped. “No, you’re just in shock! I can—”

Lars cupped her chin. “It’s okay, I can even promise I won’t panic afterwards.” He chuckled, and a bead of blood welled up between his lips.

Agatha wanted to scream at the helplessness she felt. “I don’t have any instruments,” she said, “I can’t—”

“Shh.” Lars feebly tried to move his hand. Agatha clasped it in her own. “’S probably for the best,” Lars whispered. “A Heterodyne girl and... and an ordinary guy like me... probably lucky I lasted as long as I...”

Agatha waited for Lars to finish, and then saw that he had.

Around her the battle raged. The three Jägers ringed her with a shield of carnage. Always on the move, they mowed through soldiers. Never slaying, but leaving a trail of wounded who tied up even more troops.

On the roof of one of the wagons lay Ardsley Wooster, who had taken out one of the snipers and was busy finishing off the rest with their comrade’s own rifle.

And at the center of the fight, drawing almost everyone’s eye, were the Baron and Zeetha. Both were terribly fast. The Baron swung his greatsword with a deceptive ease that sent it screaming through the air. Zeetha couldn’t hope to block its unstoppable force, but she danced between the strokes and at times seemed to fly. Klaus’ coat was sliced in dozens of places, and not all of the blood that covered him was from Lars.

But fury and speed would not hold up in the long run against superior numbers. Even now the troops facing the Jägers were falling back and beginning to fire at them from a distance. From the surrounding wagons, a line of the tall brass fighting clanks strode forth. In unison, they raised their machine-cannons and fired a quick burst into the air. The human soldiers began to pull back. A bullet punched through Maxim’s side, eliciting a howl of annoyance.

Klaus suddenly threw his sword at Zeetha. The green-haired girl dodged, and with a roar, Klaus tackled her and slammed her to the ground.

She began to bring her swords up and felt a knife at her throat. “Ni tok,” the Baron snarled. The warriors last decision: Honorable surrender or death. She looked up into his face. “Ni tok!” he repeated. The knife pressed deeper.

Agatha leaned in and for the last time, gave Lars a kiss. “You were anything but ordinary,” she whispered.

Wooster surveyed the battle. Not good. He aimed his rifle at the Baron. He couldn’t kill him. The political ramifications of the Baron dying at the hands of a British operative would greatly displease Her Majesty, but wounding him—

A gun barrel poked against the back of his head. The fact that he was familiar enough with the sensation probably meant that he should get a new line of work. He was also rather impressed at his own calm. This evaporated when he heard the voice of the gun’s owner.

“Please, try to resist.” Bangladesh DuPree said hopefully. Wooster froze.

After it became evident that he was not going to resist, she sighed in disappointment. “Klaus always knows where the party is, but they’re always so dull.”

She raised her voice. “You are surrounded! Surrender and die!”

“I believe, Wooster said carefully, “It’s supposed to be ‘surrender or die.’”

Bangladesh cocked her pistol. “Dull, dull, dull.”

Agatha slowly folded Lars’ hands together on his chest. “Ordinary.” She whispered. “But I am a Heterodyne!” She stood up and screamed. “SHOWTIME!”

The fighting paused. Bangladesh poked her gun against Wooster’s head. “What is she trying—?”

With a groan, the wagon Bangladesh and Wooster were standing on began to tilt sideways. With a squawk, they lost their footing and slid off the roof, tumbling to the ground.

They stumbled to their feet, trying to avoid the wagon that appeared to be about to crash back upon them. They heard shouts from the other soldiers. Drowning these out were a series of snappings and grindings. All around them, all of the circus wagons were shuddering and warping. Wheels bent and slammed to the ground. Roofs broke and unfolded. Chassis’ rearranged themselves, joints sliding into new positions. Springs and slats re-organized themselves into new configurations.

Klaus stared at the nearest wagon as it wrenched itself up upon two extended fenders, spoked wheels unfolded like flowers into crude hands at the end of their axles. From the under-carriage, a single great eye ground open, and with a whine, focused upon him. A shudder went through the giant clank, and it took a ponderous step towards him, shaking the earth.

“Clanks!” Klaus roared. All around him, the wagon clanks began sweeping their metal arms back and forth, scything down the human troops too slow to run.

A quartet of Wulfenbach trooper clanks strode forward, purposefully lowering their great machine-cannons. Klaus pointed to the nearest wagon-clank. “Crossfire!” he ordered.

Immediately the four opened fire. Their bullets chewed away at the wooden structure and sent metal bits flying. Within thirty seconds, the ponderous clank had been reduced to fragments.

A Sergeant grinned at the Baron. “Haw! These things have no defenses!”

But Klaus was staring at the pile of rubble. It was shifting, heaving...

“There’s something wrong here—”

Suddenly the rubble disgorged hundreds of miniscule clanks, none of them taller than thirty centimeters. They darted forward and then fanned out. Several dozen of them scurried towards the trooper clanks. The larger clanks seemed to be at a loss as to what to do. One went as far as to fire several rounds into a particularly slow specimen, but the rest easily converged around the larger clank’s feet.

Several of the machines then began tossing their fellows at the trooper clanks. The small devices flew though the air and clung to the troopers with a magnetic “clang!” Before the clanks could react, the smaller machines detonated, blowing the troopers into fragments, which whistled through the Baron’s forces.

Klaus picked himself up in time to see another lumbering wagon clank explode into a cloud of smaller clanks, which charged into the lines of soldiers.

He looked around wildly. The girl. The Heterodyne girl. Where had she gone? It was then that he became aware of the music that overlay the noise of battle.

Bangladesh DuPree and Ardsley Wooster stood side-by-side, their mouths hanging open in shock at the scene of chaos before them. They both remembered at the same time who they were standing next to.

Bangladesh raised her gun, but Wooster simply punched her in the face, and then ran away, which Bangladesh considered, in some undefined way, to be cheating.

“All right!” She roared. “I’m going to kill somebody, and I’m not picky about who or what it is!” A rumbling from behind caused Bangladesh to turn about and stare.

The newly repurposed merry-go-round focused its attention on her, took a step forward, activated its calliope, and began to spin.

Everywhere, Wulfenbach troops found themselves fighting clanks that minutes ago had been inanimate objects. The organized, by-the-numbers rifle volleys that had broken armies across all of Europa began to dissolve into random, panicky, free fire.

“All troops fall back!” Klaus roared above the din.

“Fall back to where?” a trooper shouted back. “We’re surrounded!

” Another trooper pointed skywards. “Incoming cavalry!”

With a crash, a Hoomhoffer[75] slammed to the ground, crushing a phalanx of steadily advancing water barrels.

Several more thudded to earth and urged on by their mahouts, began to simply bulldoze their way through some of the encircling wagon clanks.

With a ragged cheer, the Wulfenbach troops rallied, and began a break-out action. Klaus took charge, and began directing the troops’ fire.

“Don’t shoot to destroy the clanks,” he ordered. “Shoot to disable them. Concentrate fire on their legs!”

After several minutes, it was obvious that this strategy was working. Several of the lumbering wagon-clanks fell to the ground and began to clumsily drag themselves forward.

Suddenly, over the roar of battle, the ever-present music changed.

“Of course!” Klaus realized. “The music! She’s directing the actions of the clanks through the music!” He paused and shook his head. “That’s brilliant. I’ve got to remember that.”

“Is ‘brilliant’ the same as ‘trouble’?” asked a corporal who’d served with the Baron before.

“It is that,” Klaus acknowledged with a grim smile, “We’ve got to find that girl and stop her before—”

There was a deep boom of sound, and one of the Hoomhoffers disappeared.

A scream from the mahout drew every eye upwards. Above the fray, the Baba Yaga flapped its enormous pinions as it dragged the Hoomhoffer skyward, clutched in its great metal claws.

The troops on the ground swung their rifles up and began firing, just as the flying wagon swooped about and launched the captive insect toward the ranks of its fellows. The Hoomhoffer screamed in from above, its torn wings buzzing ineffectually, and smashed into two others of the tank-like creatures, crushing one and sending the other flying for several dozen meters. When it tumbled to a stop, it lay twitching, stunned.

With another loop, the Baba Yaga prepared to swoop down for another victim.

“The Hooms are scattering!” The corporal reported. An explosion sent shrapnel screaming through the air. “And that was the last of our clanks! We can’t penetrate the enemy lines to find this girl, those friggin’ little bomb things are everywhere!”

Klaus grit his teeth. I underestimated her, he realized. “Drummers,” he roared. “Sound Full Retreat!”

The soldiers looked at each other in astonishment. Full Retreat? One of the drummers had a panicky moment before he could even remember how to play it.

They hesitated. A furious lieutenant kicked a wooden chest, which extruded a set of mechanical legs and began to pursue him, its lid snapping at him. That did it. The drums boomed out the unfamiliar refrain. With a step, then another, then several speeding up into a run, part of the greatest army that Europa had ever seen, took to its heels.

Klaus loped up next to a Captain. “Have them form up on the other side of that wall!” He pointed.

“Not that great a defensive position, sir!” the Captain opined, eyes glancing up at the still circling wagon.

Klaus reached into his coat as he ran and produced an elaborate flare gun. He spun several wheels, aimed upwards and fired three times.

Overhead, various explosions bloomed in a variety of colors.

“I’ve called for reinforcements!” he said loudly. “Once they arrive they’ll carpet-bomb the area, but we have to keep these clanks contained!”

This cheered the troops that heard it, and they ran with a renewed purpose.

In a small clearing near-by, the circus troupe, as well as the soldiers who were guarding them, stared at the wall of trees that separated them from the various shouts, gunfire, music and explosions that filled the air.

A trooper gripped his rifle tighter and muttered. “What the hell is going on over there?”

A seasoned campaigner who sported a prosthetic brass nose tried to maintain an air of detachment. “That’s Spark stuff. You manage to steer clear of it—you’ll live longer.”

The trooper looked resolute. “But they might need us.”

This got him a mechanical sounding snort. “Oh? So you think you’re smarter than the Baron?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

“Well, he’s the one who told us to guard these mooks. So just do your job.” This advice was accompanied by a metallic “click.”

Suddenly the two soldiers realized that they were shackled to each other. As they stared at this, two more clicks caused them to turn, or rather to try to do so. They then discovered that their other arms were attached to nearby trees. Shouts of alarm from around the camp revealed that the other sentries were discovering similar constraints.

“What’s going on?” the old soldier shouted. “How is this possible?”

A burst of fire and a plume of smoke revealed Master Payne standing before them. “A good magician never reveals how a trick is done,” he intoned ominously. “An evil magician never leaves any evidence that there was a trick in the first place.” He leaned in menacingly. “So which am I going to be today?”

The two soldiers stared at him and then dropped their weapons and huddled on the ground with their eyes firmly shut. “Good!” they screamed.

Abner shook his head admiringly as the troupe slipped past the prostrate guards. “That is such a great act.”

The Countess looked at him in confusion. “Act? What act?”

At the keyboard of the Silverodian, Agatha directed the clanks through her music. Strange notes spun away into the air and swirled around her.

“Agatha!” Zeetha stood at her elbow and yelled over the music. “The Baron’s troops are withdrawing!” She pointed back towards Balan’s Gap. “But there are airships heading this way! Your clanks can’t fight them all! We’ve got to get out of here while we have the chance!”

Agatha waved her away. “You go!”

Zeetha blinked. “What?”

Agatha looked at her and Zeetha shivered at the expression on her face. “You go,” Agatha said patiently, as one would to a child. “Get everyone away from here. Lars was a good person. He tried to help me. He cared about me. And for that, he’s dead.

“He’s dead, and I can’t even try to fix it. Not out here, with nothing to work with—and the Baron is trying to kill all my friends, and—and there’s other things... things wrong with my head. So you go, and I’ll stay here and stop the Baron.”

She turned back to her keyboards and the façade of calm reasonableness shattered as a maniacal grin smeared itself across her face. “I’ll crush his whole army right here. Right now! And then he won’t be able to hurt anyone else I care about. No one will. No one will ever hurt anyone else I love ever again or else I’ll—”

And that was when Agatha’s head exploded.

At least, that was what it felt like. Her vision went white. Well, actually, a sort of creamy, custard-like off white. She tasted an unexpected hint of lemon, and began to realize that it was, in fact, custard that was now dripping down her face.

Taki leaned in and scrutinized her. “So. How d’ye feel?”

Agatha considered this question. The answer surprised her. “Um... Pretty calm, actually.”

Taki pumped his fist and twirled in place. “Yes!” He shouted. “Extra butter! Less nutmeg! I am a genius! Take that Brillat-Savarin[76]!”

A wave of water hit Agatha in the face, cleaning the remnants of the calming pie away. Taki whirled to face Ognian and Krosp, who held an empty bucket. “She was fine, you idiots! Now she’ll—”

Agatha raised a dripping finger. “No, no... still calm.”

Taki blinked. “Really? Um...”

Klaus Wulfenbach appeared from around a smoking wagon. In his hands he carried one of the great trooper clank’s machine cannons. “There you are!” He swung the cannon up and fired. “DIE!”

Agatha took stock as hundreds of bullets screamed past her. “Astonishingly, still calm.”

“Get DOWN!” Taki shrieked as he jerked Agatha back behind the bulk of the Silverodian.

Huddled down, Agatha saw the organ begin to come apart as it was chewed up by the stream of bullets. She turned to the cowering cook. “Got a calming pie for him?”

Taki considered this. “I don’t think I could bake one big enough.”

At this moment, there was a small explosion, and the underlying base notes that had been filling the air stopped dead.

Agatha’s eyes calmly narrowed. “Uh oh.”

Taki rolled his one eye at her in alarm. “What?”

“Well, I was using the organ to control all the wagon clanks. Without the music to guide them, I don’t know what they’ll do. They might run amok. It could be bad.”

“Run amok—” Taki twitched. “More than they already are? It could get worse?”

Agatha calmly sighed. “It can always get worse.” She shrugged. “On the other hand, they might just lock up.”

Taki looked at her. “And that would be good, would it?”

The ground shook as a tremendous crash came from the other side of the fragmented organ. The machine-cannon fire cut off. After a few seconds, the two gingerly poked their heads up over the top.

Before them lay the shattered hulk of the Baba Yaga, which had evidently frozen in midflight, and crashed to the ground. Poking out from underneath was the twisted barrel of a smoking machine-cannon.

Agatha looked at Taki. “It could be helpful, yes.”

Krosp popped his head up from behind a leaking barrel. “Oh No!” He leapt out and frantically tried to move the wagon, which didn’t budge.

The three Jägers ambled up. “Get this thing off of him!” Krosp bellowed. The Jägers looked at him and then as one, looked towards Agatha.

“If the Baron is dead, there will be chaos!” Krosp declared flatly. “But if the Baron is dead, and you killed him, the Empire will hold together just long enough to exterminate you before it begins to tear itself apart!”

Agatha nodded. “Get him out!”

Without a word, the three Jägermonsters plowed into the side of the wagon, and it began to tip over.

As it went, it revealed the battered body of the ruler of Europa. Agatha leapt into the small crater and examined him. The others clustered around anxiously.

She leaned back on her haunches and looked up. “He’s not dead, but I can’t explain why.” She looked down. “Or how much longer he’ll stay alive. He needs medical attention. More than I can give him.” She frowned and looked around. “Wulfenbach troops always travel with first-aid kits—where the heck are they anyway?”

“They retreated,” Zeetha said. “But I kind of thought they’d come back when the music stopped.”

“They’re waiting,” Krosp pointed skywards. Several airships that had been stationed over Sturmhalten were now noticeably closer. But much more alarming was a smaller ship that was now practically on top of them.

“The Baron’s ordered a bombing run. They won’t come back here until it’s done.” He looked grim. “But I imagine they’ll be watching to make sure we can’t get out.” He looked at the Baron speculatively. “But if we haul him along with us, they’ll have to let us through.”

“NO!” Agatha said sharply. “The last thing we want to do is move him!” She slumped. “Gil is going to be so mad—” She started. “Gil!”

Krosp flattened his ears. “What about him?”

“He’s here! One of the last things I remember from inside Castle Sturmhalten was that his airship had been sighted! His heavier than air flyer! I’m sure he’s here, but I haven’t seen him!” Her eyes widened. “I could’ve killed him myself—during this stupid fight!”

Ardsley Wooster, looking surprisingly unruffled, stepped out from behind a burning wagon and cleared his throat. “I can relieve your mind on that account, Miss, Master Gilgamesh is not, in fact, here.”

Inexplicably, Agatha felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. “He’s not?”

Ardsley shrugged uncomfortably. “He suspected that you were here, but he said that he was quite busy...”

“Did he.” Agatha felt her face going red. “Well. I guess he’s found... something important.”

Wooster paused, and then, nodded. “Oh yes, ever since his father began negotiating his marriage...”

“Fine.” Agatha cut him off. “Let’s just figure out how to get out of here.”

Wooster nodded in silent satisfaction. If a wedge could be driven between the nascent Heterodyne and the House of Wulfenbach, it could only benefit England. He frowned to himself. So why did he feel like such a cad?

A rising sound interrupted his thoughts. At first he thought it a sustained artillery barrage, but then he realized it was people.

“It’s the troops.”

Krosp got a worried look on his face. “Does anyone else smell something... odd?”

Zeetha leapt to the top of an overturned wagon. “They’re advancing!” She paused. “But... their guns are down. They’re... they’re waving.”

Wooster glanced upwards at the approaching airships. “At least they’ll prevent the ships from bombing us.”

Dimo took a deep sniff and frowned.

Maxim listened intently. “Doze are cheers,” he said with a puzzled frown.

It was indeed cheering, which grew louder and more jubilant the closer it got. Words began to be discerned. Everyone seemed very excited that someone “had returned.”

Soldiers could now be seen swarming onto the former battlefield. Waving their arms and tossing their hats into the air. The crowd got closer and closer and then broke and from within its jubilant depths emerged—

The Heterodyne Boys.

Agatha gasped. It was the Heterodyne Boys. It was the Heterodyne Boys looking just like she’d always imagined them. There was Bill, tall and broad, with a cocksure swagger and a disarming grin. Beside him was Barry, strong and solid, festooned with tools and gadgets that you knew could solve anything. On their arms were Lucrezia Mongfish, looking slightly villainous, but determined to put that all behind her for the sake of love, and beside Barry, the mysteriously exotic High Priestess.

Behind them, striding tall and proud, were their loyal servants, Punch and Judy. When Agatha saw them, she bit back a small shriek of surprise.

It was Adam and Lilith. They were alive. No, they were more than just alive. Their faces shifted slightly. They were whole and undamaged. They weren’t her parents, the people she had lived with and loved, they were Punch and Judy, the Heterodyne’s faithful servants. But she knew they were her parents—Their faces drifted out of focus—her head—

Something was wrong.

“Itz dem!” Ognian breathed.

“It ken’t be!” Maxim said, “Bot Hy seez—”

“Ediots!” Dimo rasped. “Kloze hyu eyez and use hyu nozes!”

“No!” Agatha growled vehemently. “No! I don’t... I don’t believe this. It’s... it’s a trick!”

Krosp tugged her sleeve. “Don’t believe it!”

Taki leaned in, “But act like you do!”

The group swept up to Agatha. Bill and Lucrezia opened their arms and cried out, “Daughter!”

Lucrezia advanced and Agatha shied away from her, until Taki surreptitiously shoved her forward. Instantly Lucrezia tightly enveloped her in her arms.

“At long last we have found her!” Lucrezia cried.

“Yes!” cried Bill enthusiastically. “Behold, Barry! We have found her!”

“Excellent, brother Bill!” Barry declaimed. “And now, we can return to the great battle! With Agatha, the newest Heterodyne at our side, we are sure to triumph!” The crowd again erupted into cheering.

Agatha had been trying desperately to free herself, but Lucrezia was surprisingly strong. She grinned fondly at Agatha and hissed through her teeth. “Stop struggling, dammit.” The voice was unexpectedly familiar.

Agatha froze. “Pix?”

“And now—” Bill sang out as he gestured theatrically skywards, “Our transport is here!”

“Yes!” Barry added, “Thanks to our good friend, Klaus Wulfenbach!” Above them, the smaller airship that had been bearing down on them began to descend. Barry surveyed the crowd. “I must say, Klaus has done rather well for himself.”

The crowd roared in laughter. The ship’s landing lights began to sweep about. A loudhailer crackled into life.

“Ahoy, Heterodynes! Prepare to come aboard!”

The cheering intensified as boarding ladders unrolled from several of the loading doors and fell to earth, where they were grabbed by dozens of soldiers.

They eagerly helped everyone onto ladders, although it was a slow process what with the number of soldiers who wanted to shake the Heterodynes’ hands or just wish them well. But soon enough, they were all climbing upwards. Bill was the last to ascend. He paused to wave to the adoring crowd one final time.

“Goodbye, friends!” This was met with another burst of cheers. “We must—” Taki swung his ladder close and whispered urgently.

Bill started and called out—“The Baron! Our good friend Klaus lies injured!” He pointed towards the wreckage of the Baba Yaga. “His last order was for us to proceed without him, but you must see to him at once! We will return to get him as soon as we can!”

Below, a large contingent of troops had already begun to rush towards the wounded man, while the rest of the crowd continued to wave and cheer farewell as the airship began to lift away, carrying the ladders and their tightly clinging passengers.

Agatha watched as the earth dropped away below her. Her teeth were clenched and her fists were white.

‘Lucrezia’ leaned in, an enormous smile plastered across her face. “Smile! Wave! Look majestic.”

“...Can’t,” Agatha said between tightly grit teeth.

Lucrezia looked anxious. “I didn’t know you were afraid of heights.”

“I’m not!” Agatha gasped. “But I’ve got cat claws in my butt! Let go!” She yelled.

Krosp looked at the rapidly receding ground and dug in tighter. “You must be joking.”

Eventually Agatha managed to painfully pull herself up to the lip of the loading bay where Rivet waited with outstretched hands.

She suffered a final flash of agony as Krosp scrambled up her back and leapt from her head into the airship.

“Relax,” he announced to everyone. “I’m safe.”

Agatha rolled onto her back and blew out a great breath of air. Punch and Judy looked down at her.

“Are you all right?” Judy asked.

“You did great!” Punch said.

Agatha screamed.

Judy looked stricken. “Of course, I’m sorry! Here—”

She whipped out a small atomizer and sprayed Agatha in the face. There was a burst of cinnamon—and all of a sudden Agatha realized that it wasn’t Adam and Lilith standing before her, but Yeti and The Countess dressed in Punch and Judy costumes.

Agatha shook her head. “What?”

“It must have been quite distressing,” the Countess said apologetically. “A delightfully hallucinogenic gas of my own devising,” she said smugly. “One tries not to brag, but it makes the subject very suggestible. We always keep a large supply of it on hand, as it’s proven useful in escaping from unpleasant towns in the past. They see what we want them to see.

“This time we just spread it around and yelled ‘The Heterodynes have returned!’” She frowned. “I’m rather surprised at how easily that caught.” She looked at Agatha. “I suppose your lightshow made it easier for them to believe it. I’ll have to remember that.” She held up the atomizer. “This is the antidote.” She looked nervous. “I’m sorry we couldn’t warn you.”

“It did seem very real,” Agatha admitted. “You were all amazing.”

“Ha!” Gunthar puffed up a bit. Agatha looked at his outfit and realized that he had played Bill Heterodyne. “I always wanted to try playing Bill. Can’t wait to hear what Lars thought. I’ll bet I’ve got him worried,” he chuckled.

He glanced around. “I’m surprised, actually, we thought he’d be with you.”

Agatha felt ill. She opened her mouth—

“Lars is dead.” Zeetha said. “The Baron tried to kill Agatha. Lars stopped him.”

Everyone froze. They stared at Agatha.

“He... he jumped right in,” she whispered in the silence. “I—I didn’t ask him to. I—”

“No one asks anything like that.” Abner stood in the doorway. His voice was firm and filled the room. “But he gave it. Lars always played the hero.” He put a hand on Agatha’s shoulder. “You made him want to be the real thing.” He faced the room. “And that’s how I’ll remember him.”

Agatha took a deep breath. “Me too. Thank you.”

The Countess nodded to herself with a sad smile. It looked like Abner’s apprenticeship was over. She clapped her hands, breaking the mood. “All right, we’ll talk about this later. Now we must deal with the present. We have an airship to run and know remarkably little about how to do it.”

Ardsley stepped forward. “I might be of some assistance there, Madam. Ardsley Wooster, of Her Majesty’s secret service. I am quite familiar with Wulfenbach engineering.”

The Countess nodded. “Excellent. Yeti? Let’s get Mr. Wooster here to the engine room. Captain Kadiiski will be pleased to see him, I imagine.”

She turned to Agatha. “You should come with me.”

On the bridge, they found Master Payne, sitting in the Captain’s chair, as happy as Agatha had ever seen him.

Agatha looked around in amazement. “Is this really a Wulfenbach airship?”

The Countess sighed. “Oh, yes. It was remarkably easy to steal.” She carefully didn’t look toward her husband, while her voice gained several decibels without apparent effort. “But then, who would be fool enough to try?”

Ognian, who had been examining his reflection in some polished brass, turned to a stone-faced Master Payne. “Hey! Iz like hyu wife iz callink hyu a fool witout ektually—”

Payne glared at him. “You cannot possibly be as stupid as you act.”

The Jäger considered this. “Ken if I vants to be!”

On the loading dock, Abner wiped away a tear and went to roll up the last boarding ladder, which, he realized with a shock, still had someone on it. He gingerly leaned out and Maxim’s cheerful face greeted him from just below the edge.

“Hoy! Giff me a hand here. Hy gots sumtink hyuz gunna vant.”

“Lars!” And indeed, the purple Jäger had him slung over his shoulder.

Maxim pulled himself aboard the airship. “Ho! Vell, now, dot’s an interestink metaphysical qvestion.” He gently lowered the body to the deck and then fanned himself with his hat. “See, hit’s hiz body, bot Meester Lars ain’t uzin it no more. So iz it really—”

“You brought him back,” Abner said. “Thank you.”

Maxim waved a hand. “Vasn’t gun leave him.” He patted Lars’ shoulder. “Meester Lars—he vas scared to death. Ve could schmell it on heem. But he come to help Miz Agatha anyvay, und he sacrifice himself wit out tinkink. He fight vit the Jägerkin und die for the house of Heterodyne. Dot make him as goot as vun uf us, and ve dun leave our own behind.”

Maxim stood up. “Ennyvay, hyu kin put him in der icebox and try to get him zapped back, but dot don’t vork as goot as it hyu’d tink. So ven hyu bury him—” Maxim gently placed his leather cavalry hat over Lars’ face—“Hyu make sure he gots a hat.”

Back on the bridge, Payne was arguing with his wife, though to a casual observer it would look as if he were merely explaining himself to an interested third party. No one was fooled, and they all tried to look very interested indeed.

“Ordinarily, stealing one of the Baron’s airships would not be my first choice. But I want us as far away as possible, as quickly as possible.”

Ardsley Wooster entered the bridge in time to hear the tail end of this. He shook his head. “It won’t do any good. They’ll hunt us down...” He paused and looked uncertain. “In fact... they should already be in pursuit.” He looked back at the circus master with suspicion in his eye. “What did you do?”

With a theatrical sweep of his hand, Payne spun the ship’s wheel, swinging the airship about in a tight turn. Below them the landscape tilted and with a rush, the city of Balan’s Gap swung into view. Everyone gasped.

Pillars of smoke were rising from dozens of spots. The encircling Wulfenbach airships were obviously engaged in a battle with ground forces that had effective anti-aircraft capabilities. Several of the dirigibles were burning, and the observers clustered at the great tempered glass windows watched in horror as a dreadnaught slowly dropped to earth trailing a ball of blue flame.

Even from here, lines of troops could be seen engaging swarms of townspeople. Even more alarming, however, were the creatures that were bursting out of various wells and buildings.

Zeetha, Krosp, and the Jägers saw that these were reminiscent of the monstrosities they had fled from in the sewers. They seemed indifferent to the struggles of the people around them, and gleefully scooped up troopers and townspeople alike.

“We did nothing,” Payne said. He kept the wheel tightly pulled and the beleaguered city slid away out of sight. When they were once again facing away, Payne relaxed his grip on the wheel. “But what with the fighting, and the appearance of those monsters from the drains, the Baron’s forces have a serious battle on their hands. For the moment, no one will pay any attention to us.” He looked at Agatha with an unreadable expression on his face. “No matter who we’re carrying.”

Agatha looked at him. “I didn’t do that!” She paused, and continued uncertainly. “Did I?”

The side of Payne’s mouth quirked upwards in a brief smile. “I should think not. Not unless you can command monsters to fight for you,” he raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

Agatha blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Of course n—”

“Hey Dimo!” Maxim cried as he strode onto the bridge, “Hyu made it op dot ladder pretty fast wit only vun hand.”

“Ha!” Dimo shrugged, “Dot becawze Hy used my brains.”

The other two looked at him in amazement. “Eww,” they said. “Messy.”

Agatha threw up her hands. “What am I saying? Of course I can!” Realizations began to dawn. “The Other. She uses voice harmonics—and the Geisterdamen Vrin said I sounded like her!”

Zeetha looked apprehensive. She leaned into Taki. “I think we’re gonna need more pie.” The cook displayed empty hands.

Agatha grabbed hold of Krosp’s coat. “I can talk to monsters!”

The cat squirmed in her grip. “Well, sure. But will they talk back?”

“The Slaver Wasps back on Castle Wulfenbach moved when I ordered them to. If those were her creatures, I’ll bet these are too!” She turned to Master Payne. “Get me back there! I can stop them!” Payne and the others looked at her blankly. A Heterodyne was amazing enough. Now said Heterodyne was talking about confronting the monsters of The Other?

Dimo stepped forward, an apprehensive look on his face. “Dot iz not soch a goot idea, Lady. Hyu dun know dese monsters. Dey could be anybody’s. Ve saw dem in der sewers.

“Eefen if hyu could use hyu voice to get dem all riled op, Hy dun tink hyu could get dem to calm beck down. Monsters like dot, ven dey gets goink, dey ain’t nottink bot killink machines.”

Ognian spoke up. “Jah, und not effen goot lookink vuns like uz.”

Dimo stared at him levelly for a second and then just continued. “Hyu’z better let de Baron deal mit dis. Iz vot he dozz.”

Agatha looked at him in frustration. “But I squished him with a chicken house!” All of the circus members gasped at this revelation. Agatha looked guilty. “Didn’t I mention that?”

Dimo waved his hand reassuringly. “A leedle ting like dot? Oh shoo—” he conceded, “He’z a bit messed op, but he gun be fine! Hy giffs him de first aid!”

Everyone took a second to contemplate what a Jägermonster would consider to be first aid.

Agatha cracked first. “Turn this thing around!” She screamed. Everyone flinched. Agatha’s voice was giving off harmonics that normally sent people racing for the hills. Combined with her increasingly frantic movements and overall air of barely contained fury, several of the more experienced performers seriously considered leaping from the airship.

Only Krosp stood his place. “Ain’t gonna happen,” he said firmly.

“It wasn’t a request!” Agatha roared. She grabbed her head and stared at the cat with a look of dawning awareness coupled with a mounting rage. “Everywhere I go lately, there’s chaos! I’ve got—I’ve got to try to fix something!”

She snapped upright and screamed in defiance. “I’m going to go down there and personally punch every monster in the snoot!” She focused back in on a suspiciously calm Krosp. “And don’t try to stop me!”

Krosp casually put his paws behind his back and cocked a fuzzy eyeridge. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

This was such an unexpected response that several circus members later swore that they could hear circuits snapping within Agatha’s skull. Emotions flickered across her face almost too fast to discern. She settled for an icy rage. “Why not?”

Krosp took a deep breath through his nose. “By the smell of it, all of those chemicals they stuffed into you are burning off. It’s also obvious that you haven’t properly slept in days.” He took another sniff and stepped back. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Agatha’s face went purple with rage. “I’LL—”

She froze, a peculiar look came over her face and she began to swoon.

“Hy gots hyu!” Dimo cried, and no doubt he would have, if he hadn’t tried to catch her with his left hand. As it was, Agatha did a magnificent face-plant upon the deck.

Maxim nudged her with his booted foot and grinned at a chagrinned Dimo. “Should haff used hyu brains dot time, too.”

Dimo glowered as he attempted to scoop Agatha up with one arm. “Shot op!” He shrugged his left shoulder in annoyance. “Hy gets a new vun soon.”

Maxim nodded. “A new brain? Iz about time.”

Agatha slowly awoke. The first thing she noticed was that the sky outside the porthole was dark. Obviously hours had passed. She realized that she was stretched out on a snug airshipman’s bunk. The cabin was small and compact. The only sign of the regular occupant were a few framed tintypes of various women who apparently had trouble properly dressing themselves and a lovingly polished French horn hanging from a silk strap.

Agatha blearily raised her head and observed that she was clad in just a large, unfamiliar shirt. It said a lot for the state of her head that this observation, and the ramifications thereof was processed without undo embarrassment. She considered this, and realized that she was more concerned about the indescribably odd taste in her mouth.

She was surprised that she didn’t have a headache. Whenever heroines in the Heterodyne Boys novels awakened in similar circumstances, they invariably reported having them. Agatha however, was beginning to wonder if she’d ever have a headache again.

What she did have, was a terrible thirst. She spotted a large canteen hanging from a bedside hook. With a bit of effort, she pulled herself up to a sitting position and finding it full of water, took a deep drink.

She could hear the thrumming of engines. The ship was moving quickly, if she was any judge. She also heard voices. Many voices. As the murmur rose and fell, she realized from faint snippets, that the discussion was about her.

She closed her eyes. It was going to be awkward, there was no denying that. They knew she was a Heterodyne.

A tear surprised her by rolling down her face. It was only the first of many. She would have to leave the circus now. They wouldn’t trust her, and... and she had gotten Lars killed.

Now the tears flowed freely and she sobbed quietly as she remembered the feel of his arms around her, the way he had smiled when she had delivered a line perfectly, the taste of his lips.

Gone. Gone forever.

Eventually she snuffled one last time and knew that she had to get up. She swung her legs onto the deck, and felt it vibrating beneath her toes. Master Payne really was driving the ship hard. That made sense.

She swayed to her feet. Shaky, but not incapacitated. Good. She looked about, found her glasses and slipped them on. Then she searched, but saw no other clothing. She blew a lock of hair out of her face in annoyance. She found a small tin washbasin, and poured in a splash of water from the almost empty canteen. She scooped the water over her face, and tried to imagine that she was washing away her old life.

She dried her face and slid her glasses back on. As she did so, she caught sight of herself in the small polished metal mirror bolted to the wall above the basin. A gleam of gold at her throat made her pause.

She blinked in surprise. It looked like—it was! It was her old locket! The one that Moloch’s brother had stolen from her back in Beetleburg months ago!

But it couldn’t be.

Well there was a simple way to settle it. The locket contained pictures of her parents. Her hand stopped halfway to her throat.

Her parents. These would be portraits of Bill Heterodyne and Lucrezia Mongfish. She had lovingly studied them for hours lying in her bed at night, or when she had been bullied at school. Wishing that the people in the locket would return from some magical, far-away place and tell her that she was a princess or some other squirmingly embarrassing fantasy.

Well, as far as fantasy parents go, she had hit the jackpot, and now she was terrified of what that meant. She had a sudden irrational thought: If the locket around her neck wasn’t hers—If there was someone else’s portrait inside, or even no portrait at all—then she could forget that she was a Heterodyne. It would no longer be real. It would be someone else’s problem.

She stared at the locket in the mirror. But where had it come from? Of course it was hers. She recognized it in a hundred subtle ways and knew—knew that it was hers, and that it, and everything it contained and everything it represented—was hers and would always be hers. Even if she were too weak or scared to take it, it would still be there, around her neck and inside her head. Forever.

This realization flashed through Agatha’s head in an instant. She looked at the girl in the mirror. The girl who had dreamed that that she could run away with the circus and avoid her destiny. The girl smiled back at her regretfully. It would have been nice.

Then she set her jaw, and reached for the locket.

“DON’T TOUCH IT!” Zeetha’s hand grabbed hold of Agatha’s wrist scant millimeters from the clasp.

Agatha blinked. “What’s wrong with it?”

Zeetha took a deep breath. “Something happened to you in Sturmhalten. You... changed.”

Agatha nodded slowly. “Yes... The Royal family had this machine. I know you won’t believe this, but because of it, I was possessed. My mind was taken over.”

She waited for Zeetha to scoff. Instead the warrior girl looked like she was thinking. “What was it you were possessed by?”

This question was so unexpected that Agatha blurted out the truth. “My mother. Lucrezia Mongfish. They said she was The Other.”

Zeetha looked troubled. “The Other? Then the Baron...This will cause problems.”

“You believe me?”

Zeetha looked up from her introspection and saw Agatha’s distress. She came over and to Agatha’s surprise, embraced her tightly. Agatha found herself relaxing within Zeetha’s embrace.

“We are Kolee-dok-zumil,” Zeetha murmured into Agatha’s ear. “We are a thing together.” She drew back slightly and looked Agatha in the eye. “And in retrospect, I can see that the person we found in Sturmhalten was not you.”

Her hand came up and touched the locket at Agatha’s throat. “But when whoever was there put that locket on—you—Agatha—came back. I saw that.”

The hand caught Agatha’s chin and tilted her head so the two were looking into each other’s eyes. “So you keep that locket on. You keep it on until you are strong enough to handle whatever is in that head of yours.”

Agatha looked distressed. Zeetha frowned. “Is there a problem with that?”

Agatha glanced at the locket in the mirror. “My uncle made me this locket many years ago. It was supposed to protect me.” She thought for a minute. “And I guess it did. It kept me from violently breaking through like most Sparks do, but it did it by keeping me... stupid.”

She brought her hand up, as if she wanted to claw it away from her neck, but her hand hovered, centimeters away from it. Her face showed the conflict she felt. “It used to make me feel safe. Now whenever I think about it, it makes me furious.”

She sat down hard onto the bed. “It’s a symbol of how awful my life was. The headaches. The inventions that never worked. The people who treated me like an idiot. All of that was because of this locket.” She pounded her fists upon her thighs. “This damned, stupid-making locket!”

She then slumped slightly and looked at Zeetha beseechingly. “But it did keep me safe. I didn’t go mad. And now you say it made the thing in my head go away.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I really don’t know how to feel about this,” she confessed.

Zeetha nodded seriously and sat down next to Agatha. She slung an arm around Agatha’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. The two sat together in silence for a moment.

Finally Zeetha said, “You’ve been wearing it for a while now. You don’t sound stupid. How do you feel?”

Agatha considered this. The answer surprised her. “I feel good. I think this thing—” she flicked the locket with a fingernail—“Has been off for too long.” She paused again, “I... I can tell that my thinking has... slowed down a bit. I have to concentrate more when I’m thinking hard, but it’s nothing like it was before. I think my mind has become too strong for it.”

Zeetha nodded slowly. “So—it’s something that you have overcome. Something that reminds you that you’re stronger. But it’s also something that is making you work harder to become even better? That’s good!”

Agatha looked at her askance. “Really?”

Zeetha bounced to her feet. “Of course! Any warrior would cherish such a powerful symbol!” She touched the locket at Agatha’s throat. “You were meant to have this.”

Agatha sighed deeply and stood up. “I sure hope so, because it looks like I can’t take it off.” She stretched. “That’s something else I have to accept.”

Zeetha nodded and declared in a ringing voice. “Think of it as a symbol of everything you’ve overcome, and everything you will overcome.”

Agatha looked at her with a pained expression. “That seems a bit... precious.”

Zeetha frowned. “When you’re stuck with something onerous, make it into a positive symbol.” She lightly smacked Agatha upside her head. “Unless you want to make yourself miserable.”

Agatha smiled, and took a deep breath. “So where are we going?”

Zeetha smiled. “Are you kidding? Payne’s been making a bee-line for Mechanicsburg as soon as we got the engines up to speed. The last thing they want to do is delay you.”

Agatha nodded. She opened the door. “Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, and strode out.

Zeetha closed her eyes and counted to herself. At “ten,” the door was jerked open and Agatha scuttled back in, slamming it behind her.

“Pants.”

Zeetha said nothing, but silently handed over the bundle she’d brought with her. Agatha dressed quickly. Over her sturdy undergarments she wore a green linen dress that was expensive enough to command respect, but unimaginative enough to make it hard to remember. She laced up the pair of stout walking shoes with the unusual soles that had been constructed by the troupe’s sparky leather worker and part-time cobbler, Sasho[77].

When Agatha finally appeared on the bridge, she found it packed solid. Everyone who was not actively involved in the running of the ship was gathered before Master Payne, who was standing on the elevated captain’s deck.

The old showman looked unnaturally somber. The Countess stood beside him. Usually the two refrained from what the Countess archly referred to as “public indecency” and what everyone else called “holding hands,” but now she was clinging on to her husband’s arm as if her world was ending. And in a way, it was.

“This is it,” Payne said in a voice that allowed no argument. “Master Payne’s Circus of Adventure is finished.” He paused as if he expected a reaction, but everyone remained deathly silent.

“By aiding the Lady Heterodyne, we have done what armies could not. We have humiliated the Baron and escaped to tell the tale.” He shook his head. “No matter what we promise, he cannot afford to let us get away, and we won’t—if we stay together.”

This caused some murmuring, which stopped instantly when Payne raised his hands. “After we have dropped off the Lady Heterodyne, we will fly to Paris. Once there we will sell the airship if we can, but more likely we will have to abandon it. Afterwards, we must go our separate ways.”

That provoked a sharper reaction.

“It cannot be helped!” Payne roared. “We have made our living by being fabulous creatures and thus, we are memorable. As a group we are even more so. We must change or we will die!”

The Countess gripped Payne’s sleeve even tighter. “Payne,” her whisper sounded loud in the silence, “Are you saying that we would have to... leave show business?”

Everyone’s breath caught.

Payne shrugged uncomfortably. “We... might,” he admitted. Sobs were heard from the crowd.

Suddenly, another voice rang out. “It does not have to come to that!” Ardsley Wooster, clad in engine begrimed shirt-sleeves stepped forward. “You don’t even have to disband. Instead, you can come and perform for my countrymen. Come to England.”

He indicated Agatha.” The Lady Heterodyne and myself will be heading there directly. If you come, you will all be guests of Her Majesty, the Queen. You’ll be new! Exciting! A glamorous continental import with a stunning story to tell! You’ll be the toast of Britain and will perform before Her Majesty herself!”

Payne frowned. “We’ll be used as propaganda against the Empire.”

Wooster paused. “Are we talking about the same Empire that will kill you if it catches you? Why, yes sir, I believe we are. Only you can say how firm a grasp said Empire still has upon your loyalty. For what its worth, it’s not like you’ll be asked to spread falsehoods.”

Payne closed his mouth and looked at the rest of the troupe. “Your thoughts? This affects us all.”

“I doubt we’re worth an international incident,” The Countess conceded. She brightened, “And I am a third cousin to Albia by marriage. Many, many times removed, of course.”

“Performers to Royalty always looks good on the playbills,” Rivet stated.

“Oh, yes,” André said gloomily, glancing back towards Balan’s Gap. “That worked out so very well the last time.”

Trish turned to Gunthar. “I think getting Balthazar into a real school might be a good thing.”

“Whoa!” the boy cried, “Hold on! They’d... they’d make me wear shoes!”

Dame Ædith stroked her chin. “I hear England is crawling with vampyres...”

Slowly, more and more of the troupe found themselves warming to the idea.

Finally, there was a call for a show of hands. The result was almost unanimous.

“Very well, Mr. Wooster,” Payne announced, “We are loath to break up our company, and there is no denying that we will be safer for a while outside of the Empire. We accept your offer.” He paused. “Do you... do you think Her Majesty would let us keep the airship?” He then winced at the fierce grip upon his arm.

“I think, for the good of diplomatic relations—” Wooster did not elucidate about whom these relationships were between, but he remembered that skillet—“We will have to return the ship, at least, to the Empire.” The look in Payne’s eyes forced him to add, “But if you tour the outer islands, I expect Her Majesty might put a ship at your disposal.”

Payne and Marie looked at each other and nodded.

“I think you made the right decision, sir,” Wooster said happily. “Let us examine the charts and we can plot the best course.”

“Yes, we have about an hour and a half before we reach Mechanicsburg,” Payne said.

Wooster checked himself. “Mechanicsburg?”

“Yes, Mr. Wooster,” Agatha said, “They’re dropping me off.”

A touch of panic filled Wooster’s face. “What?” The image of Gil’s face filled his mind’s eye. It was not a happy face. “No, back in Sturmhalten, you agreed to come to England.”

“I most certainly did not!”

Wooster stared at her.

Agatha hesitated, and turned to Zeetha. “Did I?”

Zeetha nodded. “You did, but that was when you... weren’t in your right mind.” She continued thoughtfully. “In fact, it sounded like you’d’ve rather gone anywhere other than Mechanicsburg.”

Agatha digested this information. “I see. That’s... interesting.” She turned to Wooster. “You think I should go to England with you.”

“Indeed I do. Right now the Wulfenbachs want you under their thumb. In England, you’ll be under the protection of Her Majesty. Once there, you’ll be able to negotiate in safety.”

Agatha thought about this and shook her head. “No. Right now, I’m just another potentially dangerous Spark. The Baron might not mind me being bottled up in England. He’d probably prefer not having a Heterodyne running around the Empire.

Plus, even though they’re at odds, I imagine that if his... fears about me are correct, then your Queen would easily be able to deal with me. Before the current rift, England aided the Empire when it was clearing the continent of revenants.

“But if I want to be treated as a Heterodyne, than I have to get to Mechanicsburg. Once I’m established, it’ll be a different discussion entirely.”

Krosp interrupted. “Oh, yes. You’ll be a sovereign power then. But that means that if you break the Pax Transylvania, he’ll legally be able to roll in and crush you like he’s done to hundreds of others.” Krosp paused.” And I’ll be honest, from what I saw, I wouldn’t be surprised if he said to hell with the legalities and rolled in anyway.”

Agatha nodded. “Krosp, you’ve studied military history, has anyone ever taken Mechanicburg?”

Krosp paused. “No,” he admitted. “But that was when the Heterodynes were in control. And, I’ll point out, no one has ever successfully resisted the Baron.”

“Sounds like it’ll be an interesting fight,” Zeetha said cheerfully. “But why are you willing to have it? I thought you were talking about just living a normal life?” She glanced at the rest of the circus. “Normal-ish.” She amended.

“Yes,” Agatha admitted. “That was the plan.” She looked at Zeetha and gave her a lopsided grin. “But there’s a serious flaw with that plan, one that ruins everything. I’m not really a ‘normal person,’ now am I? I’m a Heterodyne.”

“But you don’t have to fight the Wulfenbachs,” Wooster insisted. “You can still be a Heterodyne in England.”

“Yes, I imagine that’s one of the reasons your government would like to have me. But I’m going to Mechanicsburg, and I’ll tell you why. When my mother, Lilith was about to throw me to safety, she said, ‘Go. Get to Castle Heterodyne. It will help you.’ She knew people, Klaus Wulfenbach amongst them, would be after me. But that’s where she told to go. Mechanicsburg.”

She looked Wooster directly in the eye. “And since she was one of the two people in this world that I trust completely, that is where I’m going.”

Wooster dropped his eyes and sighed deeply. “I see.” He squared his shoulders and grinned. “Then I guess I’d better go with you.” He turned to Master Payne. “My offer still holds, of course. But instead of going direct, I’ll give you a letter to present to Her Majesty’s ambassador in Paris. I expect you’ll all be on one of Her Majesty’s submersibles within the week.”

Agatha nodded. “Very well, Mr. Wooster, I imagine you’ll be quite useful, and I promise to visit your Queen eventually, if only to see how well my friends have been treated.”

The agent smiled ruefully. “Perfectly understandable. I’d best find some writing paper so I can prepare those letters.”

As Wooster left, Agatha turned to Master Payne and the Countess. “Thank you. For everything. I want you to know that I would have been happy working with you.”

The Countess looked at her appraisingly. “I rather doubt it,” she said frankly. “I suspect that in the end, we would have wound up working for you.” She raised a hand to forestall Agatha’s protest. “It’s the nature of the Spark, my dear. We can’t help it.”

She looked Agatha in the eye. “But we can help how we treat those who fall into our orbit. Treat them with respect. See to their comfort. Reward their efforts—” She hugged her husband, “And allow them the illusion that they are in control of their destiny.”

Payne nodded seriously as he patted his wife’s hand. “Yes, as you can see, that’s very important.”

The Countess froze. “Hieronymus, you filthy commoner. Are you intimating—”

Payne glanced at Agatha. “Please, m’lady, don’t argue in front of the Heterodyne.”

Marie effortlessly switched gears. “Goodbye, my dear,” she said with a tear forming in her eye. “Try to stay good.” She enveloped Agatha in a tight hug and whispered. “But if you simply can’t, at least remember to enjoy yourself.”

Over the years to come, Agatha would often vacillate as to whether this was the best or the worst bit of advice she had ever received, but she had to admit, that she never regretted following it.

Payne took her hand, and a small, pleasantly heavy purse was placed there. Agatha tried to hand it back. “You’ve got to be joking. I... I destroyed all your wagons. Your possessions, your props, your books—I couldn’t possibly accept wages.”

Payne raised an eyebrow. “I know,” he said delicately, “It’s a bill.”

Agatha hefted the purse, which seemed heavier. “Ah. Yes, of course.”

Payne waved a hand. “Oh don’t worry about it right away. Who knows? Perhaps we’ll all become so fabulously rich from the new Heterodyne plays, that we won’t need it, eh?”

“New plays?”

“Don’t be naïve, my Lady. You’ll be the subject of new stories before Wulfenbach’s troops get their cook fires lit. We, at least, will be in a position of authority, for those that care about such things, and I promise you that we will devote as much care and respect to your tales as we do to the others.”

Agatha turned to Gunthar. “I’ve never been in a pie fight.”

He considered this. “Not yet,” he conceded, “but the night is young.”

Agatha turned back to Payne. “I’ll repay every pfennig. I swear.”

Payne looked shocked. “Why, I never thought otherwise.” That said, he again turned serious. “At the moment, you’re basically a good person, Agatha. Try to stay a good person, but don’t let people take advantage of you. If you do, soon enough you won’t be a good person anymore, you’ll be a bad Heterodyne, and frankly, the world has had quite enough of them.”

With that he offered her his hand, she shook it, and with a swirl of his great coat, he swept off. It was only after he left that Agatha realized that there was a smaller purse in her hand, with a small tag which read: “This, on the other hand, is a gift.”

I wonder how he did that, she thought.

With Payne and his wife gone, the rest of the circus approached, and there was much hugging, and crying, and a great many questions about the Heterodynes and her life.

Agatha had thought that the others would be shy because of who she was, but soon realized that these were people who, on stage at least, hobnobbed nightly with figures of legend. To them, at least, she was still Agatha Clay.

All too soon, the landing gongs sounded, and Agatha, Zeetha, Krosp, Ardsley and the three Jägers were escorted to one of the launch bays. There they found several fully loaded horses, and a change of clothes.

“The horses are a surprise,” Zeetha commented as she changed.

“They’re good ones. Officer grade,” Professor Moonsock said as she finished tightening the final saddle.” You should be able to get ten gold Pax-Guilders each when you sell them. Don’t settle for less than five, or they’ll think they’re stolen.”

“But they are—”

“—But you don’t want people to know it!”

At last all the preparations were complete. The airship set down rather bumpily in a deserted field near a dilapidated farm house.

The bay door was rolled up and the Jägers leapt out and watched, as two of the roustabouts slid the ramp out and dropped it down with a dull clong.

A final round of embraces and goodbyes, and the three horses clopped down the ramp and began cropping the long grass as the four watched the ship close up.

Ognian took a deep breath of the crisp morning air and whooped. “Schmells like home, brodders!” The other two Jägers grinned. They all gave Agatha a slight bow, and trotted off to scout on down the road.

The ramp was slid back into place. The doors were rolled closed. The engines revved, the running lights of the airship blinked three times in salute, and it rose slowly into the sky. The figures waving from the windows rapidly dwindled and quickly became unrecognizable. Once airborne, the ship turned and headed off, away from the rising sun.

Part of Agatha felt that she should sit and watch it until it vanished from sight. She shook her head and sighed. They did that sort of thing in stories.

She pulled her horse around. The road into Mechanicsburg wasn’t far. Zeetha and Wooster waited for her to take the lead.

Agatha sat up straight and touched the horse’s flanks with her heels. She was a Heterodyne, and she was going home.