Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

CHAPTER 5

The circus wagons had been parked for hours, and the players were growing bored. People were strolling about, although none ventured very far, peering over the edge of the chasm, sitting atop their wagons reading, playing games, or watching the sunset.

It was a breathtaking chasm, surrounded as it was by magnificent mountains, which were washed purple and orange by the light of the setting sun. A fierce river could be heard roaring by somewhere in the shadows below, the sound booming upwards from between the sheer rock walls.

A poet would have taken one look at it all and dashed off something about the stark grandeur of nature, the quality of the light, the glory of all things, and still had time for dinner.

Luckily, around fifteen hundred years ago, a Roman engineer had taken a look at it and decided that it would be a good spot for a bridge. He had been a good engineer, and the bridge was still there.

A few of the circus members were stationed strategically, keeping a wary eye out on the surrounding countryside. They were the ones who first saw the two small figures rounding the turn of the road they had come up, and trotting (unsteadily in one case) up the slope towards them. But as things were pretty boring, the two were soon the center of attention.

When they reached the near end of the bridge, they stopped. Zeetha clapped her hands once in dismissal, and Agatha slid to her knees, panting.

Pix strolled over. “So, you two finally caught up.”

Agatha glared up at her. “You left without us!”

Pix raised her eyebrows. “Zeetha said you’d catch up.”

Zeetha laughed and tousled Agatha’s hair. “That’s right! Nothing spurs a good run like fear!”

Pix’s mouth quirked upwards. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Zeetha grinned. “Oh yeah.”

Agatha climbed to her feet and vainly attempted to pull the hem of her small outfit further down her thighs. “Humf. If you thought you’d been abandoned in the Wastelands in this thing, you’d know what fear is.” She looked around for the first time and frowned. “Why are we all stopped? You weren’t waiting for us, were you?”

Pix shook her head as she led them to the cook wagon. A small, fat cauldron sat strapped in place in a sand-lined cooking box. Pix lifted the lid and a savory aroma wafted out. It was a pork goulash, thick with wild garlic, onions and spicy paprika. She handed Agatha two bowls and with an enormous iron ladle, scooped out a pair of generous servings. Zeetha reappeared with a loaf of dark break, which she twisted in half, releasing a puff of steam into the chilling air. She handed Agatha one of the half loaves, and the two dug in.

Agatha swallowed and sighed happily. A thought struck her. “I was so tired and hungry I forgot to ask. Why is everyone stopped here?”

Pix stole a chunk of Agatha’s bread and nibbled on it daintily. She waved her hand to indicate the far side of the bridge. “The next town is Passholdt.”

Zeetha interrupted. “Hey! That’s the town that makes those fried cream things[30]!”

Pix nodded. “That’s right. They’re also the earliest open pass through the mountains.” Pix looked troubled as she absent-mindedly wiped down the pot and ladle. “We should have been there by now.” She looked at the now rapidly setting sun and frowned. “But Master Payne stopped us here, and he won’t cross the bridge until Lars and Augie come back. I don’t know why he’s being even more cautious than usual, but I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.” Her face made it plain that she wasn’t sure at all.

On the bridge itself stood Master Payne and his apprentice. Master Payne was on the roadway. He’d strode over almost every centimeter of the bridge at least twice, minutely examined every block and seam, and finally deciphered and translated every ancient line of chiseled graffiti with an ill-concealed temper. Abner, on the other hand, had stood motionless atop one of the wide stone railings for up to an hour at a time, a quietly ticking copper and brass telescope trained upon the far road.

Payne strode over to where the younger man stood and sternly addressed his feet. “As master of this circus and your employer, I demand that you give me the telescope.”

“Of course, sir. You just climb up here to this superior vantage point and I will tender it to you immediately,” Abner replied without moving.

Master Payne glared up at Abner, glared at the meter high railing, considered his dignity and muttered vile implications about Abner’s family in Estonian. Abner ignored him. This tirade was cut off by one of Payne’s pocket watches beginning to chime the hour.

“It’s getting late,” Abner said quietly. “They should have been back hours ago. I know it’s still a bit early in the year, but at the very least we should have seen somebody.” He stamped his foot. “This is the only bridge for fifty kilometers, but we haven’t seen anybody coming from this direction.”

Payne grimaced. “Yes. This is looking worse and worse.” He breathed deeply. “There’s something odd in the air.” Abner took a deep sniff. Payne waved his hand impatiently. “I’ve been watching Moxana’s game. I don’t like what I’m seeing. Something is going to happen.”

Abner continued his slow pan of the countryside. There were signs of civilization. Stacks of wood, a small shrine by the side of the road, but it all had an air of neglect to it. “Here in Passholdt?”

Payne shrugged. “Soon enough that I want to know the status of the town before we cross this bridge.”

“A sensible precaution,” Krosp remarked casually. Both Master Payne and Abner started violently, which almost resulted in the younger man pitching over the edge of the railing. Despite his new bright red and gold coat, Krosp had proved annoyingly good at sneaking up on people. “I thought I’d met everyone in the circus by now,” he continued. “So who is this Moxana?”

Payne and Abner stared at each other, and then simultaneously broke into chuckles. The younger man returned to his watching. “Heavens, it must sound odd.”

Payne grinned. “Oh my, yes. We’ll have to introduce you to Moxana as soon as possible.”

Krosp studied them. There was something strange here. “Yes. I’d like that.”

Suddenly Abner froze. “Whoa,” he exclaimed. “Is that them?”

Through the telescope, he now saw two figures had emerged from the tree line and were riding furiously towards the bridge. The horses were galloping full out. As they came into sight, one of the figures reared back in its saddle, took the reins in his teeth, and began waving his hands furiously.

“What the devil is Lars doing?” Abner muttered, “The damn fool’s going to fall off his horse.”

“Can you see any pursuit?”

Abner swung the telescope across the horizon. The ticking sped up as the focus mechanisms desperately tried to adjust. “I don’t see anything. But they’re riding so hard—” Abner lowered the scope. “We’d better pull the wagons back.”

Payne turned and almost tripped over Krosp, who was staring fixedly, not across the bridge, but back at the wagons.

“Don’t try to move all the wagons out,” he snapped. “You won’t have time. Get all the women and children into the wagons furthest down the road. Quickly!”

Payne gestured to the distant riders. “But we have time—”

Krosp leapt up onto the bridge rail, grabbed hold of a lock of Master Payne’s beard and jerked it back towards the circus. “Look at the horses!”

Abner gasped.” They’re going crazy!” Indeed they were. All of the horses in the circus were rearing and bucking in harness. Several of the wagons were already rammed against each other in a carter’s nightmare of locked wheels and tangled reins.

Krosp took a deep sniff and the fur on his tail bristled alarmingly. “They smell what I smell. Whatever it is, it’s bad, and it’s closer than Lars and Augie.”

Payne and Abner glanced at each other, then Payne was running faster than anyone who didn’t know him would have thought possible. Abner cupped his hands and began to shout, in his best showman’s voice—“To arms! To arms!”

Agatha was in the main room of the Baba Yaga, just buckling her skirt when she heard the call. She slammed her hand against a ceiling panel, which popped open and her latest weapon dropped into her waiting arms. It was a round metal tube topped with a series of glass and copper spheres. As she dashed outside, she spun a small crank on the side. Small red lights began to wink on.

Outside, she found the circus rapidly separating into two groups. Children and the non-fighters were being hauled out of their wagons and sent back down the road to the last three wagons, which were already in the delicate process of being turned around.

The other group was much larger, and weapons and other devices were being charged and brandished about. A subset of this group was grimly trying to calm the horses. Professor Moonsock appeared with an armful of hoods, which when pulled over the horse’s heads began to calm them down.

Krosp leapt to the top of the nearest bridge pillar and howled out orders. There was a significant pause as everyone stared at him, and then, as one, they turned to Master Payne, who, breathing deeply, arrived at the foot of the bridge. He had heard the last few orders Krosp had issued and made an instant decision. He pointed to Krosp and ordered the crowd, “Do as he says!”

Krosp nodded once, and again began issuing orders. Agatha took all this in from her vantage point atop a small boulder. “I don’t see anything,” she said to Zeetha.

“Don’t say that like it’s a good thing,” the green haired girl replied.

Everyone could see the approaching riders now. Dame Ædith scowled. “I... see no pursuit, yet they ride as if pursued by the hounds of Hell.”

Abner swung the telescope up again. “They’ve pulled their weapons out,” he reported.

One of the roustabouts hefted a long pike. He twisted the handle and the blade began to turn, slowly gaining speed. “What are we looking for, Herr Cat?”

Krosp had closed his eyes, and was sniffing deeply in different directions. “I don’t know. Something we don’t expect.”

“Oh, that’s helpful.”

Embi spoke up. “Augi and Lars. They’re trying to signal us about something. Something we should know. What do they see from there that we don’t?”

Everyone looked around.

“The wagons?”

“The hillside?”

“Us?”

“What can they see that we can’t?” asked Agatha.

Krosp froze. Then he leapt down and grabbing Agatha’s skirt, dragged her to one side of the bridge. “That gun of yours puts out a big flash of light!”

“Well... yes... but that’s just a result of the electro-voltaic discharge—”

“That’s the boom part, right?”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she conceded.

“Perfect!” He dragged her to the edge of the chasm and pointed. “There! Shoot down there, underneath the far side of the bridge.” The area in question was lost in blackness, so Agatha simply aimed under the end of the bridge and snapped the switch.

A blue lance of energy sizzled into the rock wall, blasting away chunks of stone, along with a number of the creatures that were pouring out of an opening under the bridge, clinging effortlessly to the bridges underside, and clambering across the chasm.

Realizing that further secrecy was pointless, they shrieked in unison, and began to pull themselves up and over the bridge walls, as well as the cliff in front of the defenders, where they had obviously been hiding.

It was possible that they’d been human, once. If so, they’d been impossibly stretched out. Their arms and legs, fingers and toes, were long and thin, and they moved with a snapping sound that filled the air. Their faces were stretched as well, their lips pulled back in a rictus of rage by their chisel-like teeth. Their eyes glowed red as they swarmed towards the startled performers. There were hundreds of them.

The deepening twilight was shattered by the sounds of two dozen weapons going off in unison. The first wave of creatures collapsed, exploded, or were blown backwards into the chasm. Instantly they were replaced by a fresh wave.

Thundering Engine Woman swore as she snapped a fresh set of rounds into her massive twelve shooters. “There’s too many of them and they’re coming too fast.”

Zeetha leapt forward and skimmed across the cliff edge, slicing as she ran, tumbling another dozen of their attackers off. “Perhaps we die. But we fight to give the wagons time to escape.”

Raucous laughter filled the night. Stopping circus performer and monster alike. “Ho ho ho! Now vot’s de fun in dot?”

Atop one of the circus wagons stood the three Jägermonsters from Zumzum. The one in the middle continued, “Ve fights to keel!”

And with a howl, they leapt, transforming in midair into a whirling blur of teeth, claws and sharp metal that mowed down monsters wherever it touched. “Come on, hyu keeds,” the purple skinned cavalier sang out, “Hyu gots to fight like hyu means it!”

The wielder of the great pole axe added cheerfully, “Dere’s lots uv monsters for efferyvun! Woo hoo!”

Master Payne blinked, and then his voice roared over the battlefield, “DON’T SHOOT THE JÄGERS!”

The green Jäger tore the throat out of a creature, turned to Payne and elegantly tipped his hat in thanks, before whirling back into the fray.

Along with the Jägers, Zeetha carved a swath of destruction that earned her a constant stream of admiring comments from the monster soldiers. The four of them gave the other performers time to reload and recharge their weapons before unleashing another pyrotechnic volley.

“These damned creatures go down blessedly easy,” Dame Ædith remarked as she fired another sharpened stake into a creature’s eye.

Abner glanced under the bridge. By the dying glow of the molten rock where Agatha’s weapon had struck, he could see that the flow of monsters from the tunnel under the bridge was unabated. “Yes, but how many of these things are there?”

Krosp had also been watching the rhythm of the battle and did not like what he was seeing. Despite their best efforts, the circus was retreating. Step-by-step they were receding from the edge of the chasm, which allowed the monsters more room. A small part of his brain noted and filed the fact that although they leapt and swirled throughout the battlefield, there was always at least one Jäger within two meters of Agatha.

This was good, as after the first blast, her gun had begun to smoke, and she was pressed up against one of the circus wagons, a multi-tool in her hand, frantically poking about inside it.

A groan next to her caused her to look up. Professor Moonsock was preparing to ignite a fresh whip, but she had paused, a sick look on her face. “They didn’t make it,” she said dully. “Augie and Lars are cut off.” Agatha saw that this was all too true.

The two had reached the center of the bridge, but the sound of the horses’ shoes had no doubt alerted the creatures underneath, and they had swarmed up and over the sides in numbers impossible to push through. The two men were now hemmed in. Their horses were rearing and wheeling, dealing terrible damage with their iron shod feet, while Lars swung a large sword with deadly efficiency.

Augie fired a last shot from a large rifle, and then started using it as a club. The sight caused Agatha to gasp, “Lars!”

One of the Jägers followed her gaze and then grinned at her. “Ho! Hyu vant heem?” He bellowed out a roar, which was answered by the other two Jägers, who immediately started cutting a swath in their direction. He continued to Agatha, “Ve go get heem!” To the other two he commanded, “To de bridge!” With a howl they chopped their way through the advancing hoard.

A movement in the distance caught Abner’s eye. He grabbed the telescope, swung it up to his eye, and cursed.

Krosp leapt over an outstretched monster’s claws and landed next to him. “What?”

Abner pointed to the distant road. “More of them. A lot more of them are coming out of the woods and are heading straight towards us.”

Krosp hissed and jumped to a higher vantage point. He cupped his paws before his face and shouted. “We need to take out the bridge! Destroy the bridge!”

Payne ignited another monster and stepped back. “Timmonious,” he roared. “The explosives in Red Wagon!”

“Insufficient,” a small man in a large leather apron replied. He paused to squirt a stream of liquid at a set of attackers who screamed as they began to smoke furiously and threw themselves over the precipice. “It’s a very well constructed bridge! Look at the care they took placing the—” His analysis was terminated by a monstrous claw closing over his head.

“I think I can do something about it,” Agatha shouted. Her work within the depths of the gun had new purpose. “But I want to wait until Lars and Augie are safe.”

On the bridge, one of the horses had been pulled down from under Augie. The other was still holding its own against a ring of monsters, but was obviously tiring. The two men were trying to stay close enough to the remaining horse that they were protected by its desperately flailing hooves without being struck by them themselves. It was a nerve-wracking position.

They were surrounded by a ring of monsters, clustered thickly enough that they continually got in each other’s way. Lars chopped and slashed with his sword, while Augie had replaced his now shattered rifle with a pair of large, ornate hammers.

For a lack of anything better to talk about, the two were arguing. “These are Monrovian dueling hammers,” Augie explained patiently.

“They look ridiculous,” Lars retorted. “I’m going to be embarrassed to be found dead within three meters of them. Someone might think I was using them.”

This was ended by one of the Jägers appearing between the two startled men. “Ho ho! Hyu iz wery fonny guyz. Hyu gots to poots dot in hyu show!”

“Don’t encourage him,” Lars replied hotly.

Abner squinted through the telescope. “Are... are they chatting?”

“I’m surprised they’re not dancing!” Agatha slammed the cover down on the gun, which had started vibrating as more and more lights began to come on along its length. “CLEAR THE BRIDGE!” she yelled.

“Hoy! Time to go!” Effortlessly, the Jäger scooped up Lars and Augie and tucked them under his arms. The other two Jägers had swept the immediate area free of monsters, and although more continued to pour over the side of the bridge, the structure was clear enough that they were able to head back at a trot.

“A gurl like dot,” the Jager explained, “Ven she sez ‘moof ’—” The remaining two Jägers answered in cheerful chorus, “Hyu MOOF!”

The circus performers concentrated their fire on the remaining creatures on the bridge, allowing the retreating party to move relatively unhindered. As soon as they touched the road, Agatha wound up and slung the now sparking gun with all her might. It arced towards the center of the bridge. Just before it would have landed, it detonated with a blue-white explosion that knocked everyone to the ground.

When the lights faded from her eyes, Agatha could see that the bridge was gone. There was nothing left but some stone rubble growing out of the ancient chasm walls.

Around her, everyone else began to climb to his or her feet. The creatures were up first, but instead of attacking, they stared at the remnants of the bridge and shrieked in despair. The nearest one to Agatha unfroze and swiveled towards her just as Master Payne stepped up behind it and ran it through with a cutlass. The creature coughed wetly as the sword pushed out through its chest, and it bonelessly collapsed when it was withdrawn. Looking around Agatha saw that the remaining creatures were going down with similar ease.

On the opposite side of the chasm, a growing crowd of monsters could be seen. They screamed and shook their fists at the circus, a few of them getting so excited that they fell, shrieking, into the depths.

Once the monsters around them were dispatched, some of the performers began to turn their weapons on these observers. After the first few fell, the rest retreated and loped back up the road.

The circus milled around. Lars began to shake. “We... we did it! We got out!” His voice began to rise.

Abner swore and pushed towards him. “Oh no, not now...”

The Jäger nearest Agatha, the wielder of the great pole-axe, raised his eyebrows questioningly and jerked a large clawed thumb towards Lars. “Vot’s hiz problem?”

“Lars gets hysterical after a fight,” Agatha explained. “It’s hard to calm him down.”

The Jäger walked over to Lars and rabbit punched the back of his head. With a sigh, Lars collapsed onto the roadway. The Jäger turned back to Agatha and smiled proudly. “No it ain’t.”

Agatha looked at Lars. “Oh dear. I’m sure that’s wrong,” she looked over at Zeetha. “Although I can’t think why.”

Abner turned to Augie, who was staring at the nearest Jäger in horrified fascination. “How are you feeling?”

“Wonderful!” Augie proclaimed loudly, “Never better! Calm and collected!”

The green Jäger nodded. “Hokay.”

Master Payne had been examining one of the dead monsters. With a grunt, he climbed to his feet. “All right, Augie. What’s the story?”

The older man sighed and leaned against the nearest wagon. “We didn’t get much past the bridge when Lars began to get twitchy. It took us awhile to figure out why. There weren’t any other riders. There wasn’t any sign that there had been any riders from the town for quite awhile. Lars insisted we leave the road and he looked around. That’s when we noticed that there weren’t any animals. Not even birds. This is spring, they should be all over the place. But we couldn’t find any active burrows. No fresh nests. No fresh tracks. No droppings. No bodies. No bones. Nothing.”

Agatha looked troubled. “But you kept going.”

Taki handed Augie a bottle of brandy. He gratefully took a pull from the bottle and wiped his mouth. “Passholdt isn’t just any old town we can swing around, Miss Clay. There’re only a few passes open this early in the year. It was a hard winter.”

Abner spoke up. “We’ve seen dead towns before. They’re creepy, but we can pass through them if we must. Plus, it’s always possible that while the surrounding area might be affected, the town itself might have held out and is still secure.” He looked at Augie questioningly.

The advance man wearily shook his head. “No such luck. We stayed off the road and in the woods as long as we could. The farms around the town were deserted. A few were burned out, but the rest were just abandoned. All the livestock is gone. So was the stored grain and seed stock. The silage lofts were mostly full. Whatever happened, happened last fall or over the winter.

“We finally got within sight of the town. The fields were empty. Haven’t even been turned. The city walls are still intact. We didn’t see any smoke, or sentries, but Lars still took over an hour sneaking up to a tree tall enough that he could look over the wall.”

Augie took another deep drink. “Inside the walls, he said that most of the buildings looked intact, but there were smashed carts and wagons and bones. Bones everywhere. Apparently people kept coming to Passholdt for quite awhile.” Another drink.

“And crawling over everything were those... things. There weren’t any people or animals. Just them. They were sprawled on the roofs, shambling through the buildings, picking through the bones. Hundreds of them. Thousands, probably. Lars said that as he was climbing down, he snapped a dry branch. Just one as big around as your finger,” Augie held up an index finger to demonstrate. It was shaking slightly.

“He said that the ones nearest to him whipped their heads around towards him and started shrieking. That spread through the whole town and they all started running towards us. Well, he dropped five meters straight down to the ground and we grabbed the horses and started running.” He looked at the remnants of the bridge and a shudder went through him. “And they still beat us here,” he whispered. “We were damned lucky they started from inside the town.”

Master Payne turned away and looked at the bridge. “Well, no one will get caught by them from this direction. Unfortunately, this leaves us in a bit of a predicament.”

“Us?” Agatha gestured over the chasm. “What about the townspeople?”

Augie looked at her. “For all we know those were the townspeople.”

“You don’t know?”

“How the devil would I know?”

Agatha nodded. “Losing the bridge will certainly make it more challenging, but it does mean that they won’t be expecting anyone to come from this direction. That’s good.”

Master Payne looked at her blankly. “Good for what?”

“Our attack on Passholdt.”

Abner blinked. “Our what?”

Agatha shrugged. “Attack might be the wrong word,” she conceded. “But we have to do something to try to save the people of Passholdt. I guess the first step will be to analyze one of these corpses and see if these creatures were once human. Perhaps we can—”

The concentrated glares from her assembled listeners finally registered, and Agatha’s monologue stumbled to a halt. “No?” she asked.

Master Payne sighed and removed his spectacles. “Many newcomer Sparks make the same mistake, Miss Clay. But I confess that I’d thought you more... grounded[31].”

Agatha was confused. “I don’t understand.”

Payne nodded. “We are actors, Miss Clay. We only pretend to be heroes.” He spread his hands and his spectacles hovered in midair. “We are fakes. These are tricks. Our lives, the lives I am responsible for, are dangerous enough without questing for adventure. We are Sparks, yes, but pitifully weak ones, and we know this. It is this knowledge, the knowledge of just how weak we are, that keeps us alive.”

Agatha interrupted, “But the town—”

Payne snatched the floating spectacles from the air and slammed his great fist down upon a wagon yoke. “At our next stop we will inform the Baron’s people. These are his lands? He can keep them clean!”

Agatha tried one last time. “But—”

“BUT NOTHING!” Payne roared. “For all we know, those things are... are some new form of revenant, and the only thing that can be done for them is to kill them!” He wheeled about and looked Agatha in the eye. “Could you burn down people? Women and children? Even if you knew—you knew, that they had irrevocably become monsters?”

Agatha tried to step back, and found her way blocked by the side of a wagon. She swallowed. “I... no...” She looked down. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

Payne stepped closer. “The Baron can. The Baron has. I respect him for that, but I do not want to be him. No sane man would.” He grasped Agatha’s chin in his hand and dragged her eyes back up to face his own. “Now you drop any ideas you have about being another Othar Tryggvassen, unless you want to leave my show and manage your heroics on our own. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” Agatha wrenched her head from his hand. “Yes, I understand!” Tears filled her eyes, “But I don’t have to like it.” She turned to go and found Zeetha blocking her way.

Zeetha reached out and grasped Agatha’s shoulders. “Remember this,” she hissed. “Remember this union of understanding and rage. This is the balance that will keep you fighting. And to make sure you remember this occasion—” Agatha’s eyes widened in fear—until Zeetha slung a comforting arm across her shoulder. “A drink.”

As a relieved Agatha was led away, Payne turned back to the rest of the circus, who were busy not meeting his eyes, until he clapped his great hands together. “I don’t like it either,” he announced quietly. “But I like dying even less. Move out.”

At this, a collective sigh went up from the group. They dispersed and soon the wagons began rumbling down the hill. Payne stood apart looking out at the ruined bridge until Abner came up and coughed discreetly.

Payne nodded without turning. “Is the warning sign posted[32]?”

“Yessir. Of course, we’ll want to post another at the turn off.”

Payne nodded again. Now that the bridge was out, there was no reason for anyone to climb the two-kilometer slope. He hoped the Baron would take care of this soon, but it was quite possible that he would abandon the road, and simply increase the amount of air traffic to the area. Payne had seen it happen before. He gave a final pat to the ancient stonework before he turned away. It had been a very good bridge.

Abner continued. “I told Dr. Kleeporg to preserve one of the monsters. I thought the Baron might want it[33].”

Payne again nodded. “Good. Now let’s get moving. I want us as far as we can get by morning. Anything else?”

A voice rumbled from above his head. “Vell, now dot hyu mentions it...”

The two men spun in surprise. The green Jäger was squatting on the roof of the cart, a huge grin smeared over his face. “Hello dere.”

Payne visibly pulled himself together. He had found himself facing far worse while traveling in the Wastelands. “My humble thanks,” he said sincerely. “You really helped us here.”

The monster soldier looked pleased, and graciously inclined his head. “Eet vas only fair. Vun of hyuor pipples help us, so ve tink ve shood help hyu beck, jah?”

The Jäger with the triple bladed pole arm unfolded himself from under the wagon. Both Payne and Abner would have sworn there was nothing there.

He looked smug. “End ve did eet mitowt killink ennybody hyu know! Pretty sveet, hey?” The grin he gave the two men was so alarming that they involuntarily took a step back, directly into the arms of the purple Jäger who had materialized behind them. He slapped an affable hand upon each of their shoulders. This elicited a small scream from Abner.

Payne rallied and grinned back. The Jägers mentally gave him an “A” for effort. “Pretty sweet indeed. As a token of our esteem, if you need any supplies—”

The purple Jäger interrupted. “Dere iz sumting dot ve vant.”

Payne nodded. “Excellent! We can certainly—”

The green Jäger spread his hands. “Ve vants to join de circus.” “

WHAT?”

The Jäger with the pole-axe nodded in agreement. “Jah. Ve vant to be circus guyz.”

Payne and Abner looked at each other in amazement. Payne scratched his shaggy head. “But...but what can you do? What could we do with you?”

Abner shook his head. “The audience—”

The green Jäger waved his hands dismissively. “Jah, jah, dey hate us. But dots joost ven vees valkin’ around being us. Pipple expect to see strange tings in a show like dis.”

The purple Jäger puffed his chest up proudly. “End dey dun get much stranger den us,” he declared.

An odd look came into Master Payne’s eyes. “But what could we do with them,” he murmured.

The younger man looked at him askance. “You can’t seriously be considering this. Them? Onstage?”

The purple Jäger swept a hand through his long luxurious hair. “Ve vould be perfect. Hy em Maxim,” so saying he gave a sketchy, but serviceable, cavalier’s salute. “Hy tink Hy iz de leadink man type.”

Payne and Abner stared at him blankly.

The pole axe wielding Jäger leaned in. “Vot’s ‘leadink man’ mean?” he asked sotto voce.

Maxim waggled his eyebrows. “Hit mean hyu gets to kees de gurl,” he explained.

“Hoy!” The horned Jäger turned to Abner and grinned engagingly. “Hy vants to be a leadink man too!” Abner’s eyes were staring to glaze. The Jäger stuck out a clawed hand. “I’m Ognian.” Reflexively, Abner gingerly took Ognian’s hand and was given a quick, seismic rattle.

Maxim smacked the back of Ognian’s head. “Eediot! Hyu kent be a leadink man.”

Ognian pouted. An alarming sight on a person with a mouthful of sharp teeth. “Vy not?”

Maxim shrugged. “Dere’s only vun leadink man.”

“Sez who?”

“Iz hobvious! Eef hyu gots two, deys gunna lead in different directions.”

Ognian thought about this. “So vy hyu?”

“I tink ov hit first.”

“But dere vas two Heterodyne Boyz.”

Maxim’s eyebrows shot up. “Say—hyu iz right!”

Ognian grinned. “But dot’s hokay! Dis vay ve both gets a gurl!”

A flicker of worry passed over Maxim’s face. “Hy dunno. Some uf the gurls de Heterodynes keesed vos pretty scary.”

“Bot dot’s de best part,” exclaimed Ognian gleefully, “Ve’d be keesink actresses!” He smirked, “End hyu know vot dey say about actresses!”

Maxim looked at him expectantly. “Um... No Hy dun’t.”

Ognian shrugged. “Hy dun neither.” He grinned again. “Bot Hy bet ve’s gunna find out!!”

The third Jägermonster smacked Ognian on the back of the head. “Qviet, hyu eediots! Eef deys find out how irresistible ve iz to de vemmins, dey neffer gunna let us join.” The other two realized the sensibility of this advice and arranged their faces into a semblance of innocence before facing the two men again.

“Zo,” the green Jäger said. “I’m Dimo. Vat doz hyu tink?”

Abner and Payne stared at the three and then looked at each other and nodded. “Clowns.”

Dimo, Maxim and Ognian grinned. Perfect.

Lars blinked. The familiar, early morning sounds of the circus drifted through an open window. The clink and rattle of cookware. The unnerving clucking of Professor Moonsock’s syncopated chickens. The gasping and panting of Agatha as she ran past his window, pursued by Zeetha.

He snuffled back into the comforting goose down mattress, as his mind idly went over yesterday’s events—

Which brought him bolt upright, every muscle poised for flight. Gasping, he looked around, and realized that he was safely in his own wagon, and not in fact, being eaten by monsters. He slumped in relief, and then a new memory surfaced. Hadn’t there been... Jägers?

“Goot mornink, sveethot.”

The cheerful voice from right behind him sent Lars bolting from his bed. When he landed with his hunting knife clenched in his fist, he was astonished to see one of the Jägers sitting at his table with his feet up, gnawing on a dried sausage. He was appreciatively flipping through Lars’ supposedly well-hidden collection of British “artistic” postcards.

After a long frozen moment when nothing happened, Lars gestured with the knife. “Put those down! And what are you doing here?”

The Jäger glanced at him and then deliberately picked up the next card. He whistled appreciatively. The girl pictured was riding some sort of velocipede. Ognian thought she looked a bit chilly.

Lars began to feel rather ridiculous. He waved his knife around a bit more in a half-hearted manner.

“Oh, schtop dot befaw hyu hurts hyuself.” Ognian looked at the next card. This girl was obviously a soldier. She had a rifle and everything. In the Jäger’s opinion, she was wearing a mighty fine looking hat. He casually tucked the card into his coat pocket. “Hy’m supposed to make shure hyu vos okay after hyu voke up.” He looked at Lars directly. “So how iz hyu?”

Lars lowered the knife. “Wait... Did I pass out? I’ve never done that before.” He then realized that the back of his head throbbed with a dull ache.

The Jäger looked away furtively. “Oh, dot. Hyu gots smecked by a piece ov der bridge.” He handed a chunk of stone over to Lars. “See?”

Lars examined it. It was indeed a piece of the bridge. He turned it over. Scratched into the stone was the message: I HITT MR LARZ. (SYNED) A BRIK.

Lars stared at it for a moment and then slowly put it down on the table. “I see.”

The Jäger let out a gust of breath and gave him a sharp toothed grin. “Hyu gots to vatch owt for dem leedle devils,” he confided.

Lars nodded slowly. “Right. So...” He briefly considered a plethora of questions and settled for, “How long are you staying?”

Ognian grinned again. “Forever! Ve joined hyu circus!”

Thousands of negotiations with suspicious, armed, or downright insane townspeople kept Lars from doing anything other than raising his eyebrows. “No kidding?”

The Jäger looked at him with a quick flash of approval. “No keedink. Dey pracktically insisted after we’s gets hyu off dot bridge.”

Lars reviewed that particular memory and then unhesitatingly stuck out a hand. “Thank you for that.”

Ognian gave it a quick shake. “Dun tank us. Tank dot gurl vat told us to go get chu. Ve thought hyu vas haffing fun.”

Lars paused. “Which girl?”

“Dot Agatha Clay? She vas vorried about hyu. Go figure.”

“You do what she says?”

The Jäger shrugged. “Vouldn’t hyu?”

Before Lars could answer, a liquid sound drew his gaze out the window. There stood Agatha, a smiling Zeetha handing her a second bucket. The first had been tipped over her head, and the abbreviated training outfit clung to her like a second skin. The second bucketful only served to enhance the effect. Lars’ breath caught, and he swallowed. Casually he turned back to the Jäger and shrugged. “... Maybe,” he conceded.

The door opened and Abner stuck his head in. “Knocking,” he called out cheerfully. “Is he awake?”

Lars waved. “Hey, Bunkie.”

Ognian clapped Lars on the shoulder proudly. “See he’s avake and talking and no more schtupid den he vas before!”

Abner nodded. “So I see.”

Lars let this pass without comment. The Jäger scooped a few more postcards into his coat pocket, carefully placed his fez upon his head and swiped another string of sausages. “Hokay,” he announced. “Hy iz gunna go look for breakfast!” So saying, he casually slouched through doorway, eliciting several small screams from passing circus members.

Lars slumped onto his bunk. “Payne is really letting them stay?”

Abner nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. He didn’t even try to argue with them too much. I dunno how everyone else will like it...”

Lars laced his hands behind his head and relaxed.” Well, they saved my bacon, so I’ve got no—” A frown crossed his face. “What the heck—?” He felt under the coverlet and pulled out a pair of lacy pink undergarments.

He stared at them in surprise, and then a slow grin spread across his features. “Well, well! I wonder whom these belong to? Guess I’d better bring them to lost and found—”

A red-faced de la Scalla snatched them from his fingers. “Shut up!”

Lars looked at him slyly. “Must be mighty convenient, sharing a cart with someone who’s gone so often.”

Lars hadn’t thought it was possible for his friend’s face to get any redder. He was wrong. “...Maybe,” Abner admitted.

Lars leapt up and grabbed Abner’s shoulders and gave him a good shake. “Ahh! Finally! My little pal is all grown up!”

Abner swung at him, but Lars easily avoided it. “Relax, I have no doubt you surrendered your honor only after putting up every resistance. Did she at least promise to make an honest man out of you?” A business-like throwing knife smacked into the shelf next to Lars’ head. He ignored it. A thought struck him and he looked serious. “Am I going to have to move out?”

Abner paused, and thoughtfully tucked a second knife back within his vest. He shrugged. “Naw. Well... yeah... maybe.”

Lars nodded. “Thanks, that about covers it.”

“Well, it’s a big step.”

“It sure is. All my stuff is here.”

Abner smiled. “But you know? It feels right.”

Lars smiled back conspiratorially. “With Pix? I’ll bet it does.”

Abner blushed yet again. Lars was impressed that he hadn’t passed out. “Hey—I’m trying to be serious here.”

Lars swept in and got the smaller man in a headlock. “I know! That is why you need me more than ever, you poor, doomed fool!”

“All right! All right!” Abner broke away and grinned. “I can’t wait until it happens to you.”

Lars laughed and grabbed two glasses and a wine bottle. To his surprise, it was empty, as were the remaining six. He remembered the Jäger and shrugged. “A sentiment expressed by the enraged fathers of a thousand towns!”

Abner smirked. “You laugh. But one day someone will ask you, ‘Who’s your girl?’ and a face will flash through your mind and it’s going to sandbag you completely.”

Lars was indeed caught by surprise, as the image of Agatha, smiling at him, filled his head. He felt his heart skip a beat and a sick realization filled him, even as Abner was saying, “It’s going to be hilarious to watch.” It would have been. It was a pity he missed it.

A gentle knock at the door, along with a melodic “Morning,” interrupted him. Abner turned to find Pix on the stoop. The two exchanged a relatively chaste kiss. “So how is Lars?”

“He seems okay.”

A shaky voice from within the wagon called out, “Actually I think I want to lie down.”

Pix nodded. “Have you eaten yet?” Abner shook his head.

“Good. We’re staying here for the day while Master Payne figures out what to do. So I found us a nice spot in the woods. Here’s a blanket—” She handed Abner a thick rolled pad, “that we can spread out, and a lovely meal we can eat together—” she hefted a large wicker basket. Then she stepped close and whispered softly into Abner’s ear, “...eventually.”

The two moved off through the camp, followed by amused and knowing glances. Pix looked thoughtful. “So with Passholdt gone...”

Abner nodded. “I’m afraid we’ll have to go through Balan’s Gap this year. Master Payne says we’ll discuss it tonight, but I don’t see any alternative.”

“Doesn’t Moxana—” Abner silenced her with a finger to her lips. Swiftly he reached into a nearby barrel and pulled out a squirming and spitting Krosp.

“I thought so,” Abner declared. “Can I help you with something? Before—” he glanced at Pix, “I’m eating?”

“Moxana!” The cat squalled. “You said that you’d introduce me to Moxana!”

The showman hesitated and then sighing, lowered Krosp to the ground. “So I did. Let’s go.”

Krosp looked surprised. “Really?”

Pix looked annoyed. “NOW?”

Abner answered them both. “It won’t take long.”

They left Pix with the food and made their way to one of the baggage wagons. This one was richly adorned with an astronomical motif. Stars and comets swirled along the sides, interspaced with astrological signs and sigils. A small cupola sprouted from the roof.

Krosp frowned. “I didn’t think anyone lived in these.”

Abner smiled. “No one does.” He selected a large ornate key from the ring at his waist and operated the lock. The door swung open with a groan and Abner waved the cat inside. “Krosp, meet Moxana.”

The inside of the wagon was stuffed with various props and stage mechanisms. In a cleared space in the center was a small, fancifully carved and decorated wheeled throne. A closer examination revealed the seated figure of a women, dressed in an exotic outfit and adorned with extravagant golden jewelry from several different cultures.

The cabinet before her was richly ornamented with various inlaid woods and gilded finials. Within easy reach of the seated figure were brightly painted wooden boxes held shut by intricate golden clasps. Directly before her was a game board, almost a meter square.

However, the nature of the game itself was not easy to discern. Looked at one way, it was a chess board. A slight shift in perception, and it could be for the East Indian game, Pachisi.

At this point, an astute observer would realize that there were easily a dozen different possibilities, depending upon the pieces employed. At the moment, the board was littered with pieces from a half a dozen different games haphazardly arranged in an unrecognizable pattern.

Krosp stared and then turned to Abner. “Moxana is a clank?”

Abner smiled. “Of a sort.” He reached over and released a set of clasps upon the front of the cart. The front lowered upon hinges, revealing a large empty section, except for the axle of the cart, and an intricate arrangement of rods and wires connected to various spots on the underside of the game board. “She’s actually a puppet. Run from down here.”

Krosp peered at the area and frowned. “Seems a bit small.”

Abner swung the panel closed and refastened the clasps. He then twisted a few bits of decoration, and the clasps were hidden from casual observation. “Indeed it is. That’s why we don’t put her out these days. Originally, she was run from the inside by a dwarf named Kurtz. He was killed three years ago by some bad clams.”

Krosp looked surprised. “Bad clams?”

Abner nodded, “Yes, they had axes. Anyway, no one else could fit inside.”

Krosp looked at the cart again. “Embi. Or Balthazar.”

Abner pulled a rag off a nearby chest and ran it over the figure as he talked. “Yes, I have high hopes for Balthazar, but at the moment his endgame is terrible.”

Krosp blinked. “Endgame?”

Abner nodded. “Moxana is supposed to be a clank that can play chess.”

Krosp studied the top of the board with a skeptical eye. “This doesn’t look like any chess set-up I’ve ever seen.”

Abner shrugged. “Chess is what we used her for. But yeah, Master Payne says that the board can be used for almost twenty different games that he’s familiar with, and probably a bunch more that he isn’t. But in these parts, if you want to impress someone, you play them at chess.” He sighed. “I’ve taught Embi the basics, but chess just isn’t his game. Can’t really wrap his head around it. The man’s a demon at Omweso, though. That’s a game he brought with him from Africa. There’s this board, with a bunch of little indentations—”

Krosp interrupted. “But I’ve heard people talk about her—it—like it was alive!” He leapt up to the board and gingerly poked at the seated figure. It remained motionless. He noticed that although it had fully articulated eyelids with long full eyelashes, which were closed, as well as a small perfectly sculpted nose and ears, the figure had no mouth. He batted at it again.

Abner looked embarrassed. “Well we all tend to talk like she is. Kurtz was a really good puppeteer. Before you knew it, you’d ignore him and be talking to the puppet. The audience always loved it, so we did it a lot. Got into the habit of telling her our problems, asking advice, you know...”

Krosp folded his arms. “No, not really. She’s got no mouth. How did she offer this advice?”

Abner looked at Krosp and frowned. When he spoke, it was carefully. “She... can do more than play games. When we thought the populace wouldn’t get too spooked by it, she did oracular readings. Tarot cards, pendulum divination, there’s this ‘Ching’ thing from the orient that uses sticks—Kurtz was pretty good at the woo-woo stuff, but—” Abner looked like he’d said too much.

“But—” Krosp prompted.

The man sighed. “It was Kurtz who started it. He said that sometimes... Moxana made her own moves, and that they always... meant something. Something more than he could see.”

Krosp studied the figure again. “And you buy this?”

Abner shook his head. “I don’t know. I was a lot greener in those days, and Kurtz always loved to spin a good story, but...these days, whenever things get a little strange, we say ‘Moxana’s rearranging her board.’” He blew out a breath and grinned. “I guess that’s pretty silly, eh? Kurtz loved messing with people.”

Krosp looked at Abner for a moment, took a deep sniff and then studied the mechanical figure again. He noted that although most of the figure had a fine coating of dust, the game board was sparkling clean.

He turned back to Abner. “Interesting.” He paused, “You know, I play chess. I could run her for you.”

Abner looked startled. He quickly looked at Moxana and then back to Krosp. “But—”

Krosp continued smoothly, “You would like to have her on display again, yes?”

Abner stammered, “Well... yes... of course... but—”

Krosp nodded as if it was settled. “We’ll have a few games later. You can see how good my endgame is.”

Abner acquiesced weakly. “Of course. Later...”

Krosp grabbed his hand and gave it a few hearty pumps. “Good! It’ll be more use than my shoveling dung, I’m sure!” Abner was aware of claws pricking his fingers. He saw the hunter’s gleam in the cat’s eyes. Krosp pulled his paw back, gave it a quick lick and rubbed it over his head. “And now, I’d better go find Agatha. She’s helpless without me, you know.”

With that he hopped down and strolled out the door. Abner stared after him and frowned. Behind him there was a faint whirr and several quick, quiet clicks.

Turning he saw several chess pieces set up upon the board. He made a quick analysis and blew his lips out in a puff of self-disgust. “Check.” He eyed the silent mechanical figure and turned to leave. “Yes, thank you. I got that.”

Several weeks passed. The circus worked its way through a series of small kingdoms that actually bothered to maintain the roads.

As a result, they made good time, and occasionally were able to play two shows a day in two different towns.

True to his word, Krosp proved to be a surprisingly good chess player. Easily beating everyone in the troupe except for Master Payne, who confided in the cat that “People hate to play against a magician, they’re never sure if they lost because I beat them or because I was able to pull a queen out my nose when they weren’t looking.”

Krosp nodded sympathetically, then lashed out with lightning speed and batted at the sleeve that Payne wasn’t gesticulating with, knocking free the rook of Krosp’s that he’d hidden there. The cat snagged it in midair and placed it back on the board. “Yes,” he agreed, “I can see how other people would find that frustrating.”

Payne harrumphed and sat back, which is the only reason he saw the tip of Krosp’s tail nudging one of the cat’s pawns forward.

The two played every day thereafter[34].

Zeetha continued Agatha’s training. This was in two parts. In the morning Agatha was run around, and in the evening, after dinner, she watched while Zeetha went through her own exercises.

While she leapt and swirled, she gave a running commentary about what she was doing, technical terms and the history of the swords themselves.

They were called Quata’aras, and instead of a pommel that was an extension of the blade of the sword, they had a perpendicular handle, which put the blade in a line with the wielder’s forearm. Agatha considered that, from an engineering perspective, this would give the weapons a lot more power. Zeetha moved with such grace that she easily masked this power, until she made a delicate move and cut down a nearby tree. Agatha very much wanted to be able to move like that, and itched to try her hand with the weapons themselves.

One morning, after an exciting, impromptu performance the previous evening, when Zeetha had deftly bisected an attacking swarm of overly large yellow jackets on the wing, Agatha was awakened by the now-familiar nose beep and found that she was expected to run around the camp while lugging a small blacksmith anvil.

Agatha balked. “When do I get to learn to use a sword?”

Zeetha paused. “You’re not ready to even touch a Quata’ara yet.” Agatha opened her mouth, but her memory flashed back to the time on Castle Wulfenbach, when one of the Baron’s students, Zulenna, had demonstrated just how much she had to learn about Europa-style fencing, which was the sword-style Agatha had known about all her life.

With a sigh, Agatha bent her knees and lifted the anvil off the ground. She turned to see Zeetha looking at her, her lower lip pushed out in a moue of disappointment.

“Oh wait,” Agatha said, “let me guess. This was where I was supposed to insist you let me wield a Quata’ara, even though you, my Kolee, have told me I’m not ready. Possibly I’m supposed to harbor some day-dream that I have a magical affinity for these swords, which will allow me to side-step all this tedious training.

“No doubt this would have led to some hilarious, but painful lesson reaffirming that I am, in fact, not yet ready to touch the swords. I’ll skip that, if I may.”

She was about to say more, but the flush working its way up Zeetha’s face stopped her cold. Without another word, she hugged the anvil to her chest and fled. With a roar, Zeetha followed.

That night, a bruised and nearly comatose Agatha lay face down on her bunk, attempting to formulate a philosophical worldview that would make the pain more bearable. This was proving quite difficult, possibly because it hurt to think.

Agatha tried to review the day, but beyond a certain point, her memories faded into a red fog. All she could remember was finally being allowed to drink what felt like liters of water and being too exhausted to eat. Oh, and the Jägers. She remembered them.

Even though Master Payne had announced that they were joining the circus, they’d hardly been in evidence. They were seen, lurking about on the fringes of the camp. They occasionally came in for something to eat, or an awkward conversation, but no one knew where they slept.

It was obvious that they were not used to dealing with people they weren’t trying to kill, and were still trying to figure it out. They never appeared in a town, and sometimes they weren’t seen from one day to the next, especially when other travelers joined the circus at an overnight camp, or were traveling in the same direction.

But they’d been there today. Their usual lazy, insouciant grins replaced by a grim watchfulness. It seemed like every time Agatha had come around a corner, one or the other of them had been somewhere nearby. There had even been one time when she’d been staggering along, the anvil now strapped to her back, when she had stumbled. From nowhere, a pair of strong green hands had caught her and gently set her back onto her feet.

It was shortly after that that Zeetha had released her for the day.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Zeetha’s head popped up through the ladder well. Agatha twitched, but otherwise did nothing.

Zeetha prodded her with a finger, possibly to see if she was still alive. She looked guilty. “How are you doing? I—ah... I was told I might’ve worked you a bit more than I should’ve today.”

Agatha shrugged. It hurt. “I’m sorry I was disrespectful, Kolee,” she whispered.

Zeetha grimaced and proceeded to light several candles and lanterns. She then unbuckled her harness, slipped off her swords and hung them from a peg. The small cloth bag she carried proved to contain several ceramic jars. She opened them one after the other and laid them out in a row on a nearby shelf. Strong herbal scents began to fill the room.

Without a word, she stripped Agatha of her clothes, moving her gently, but pitilessly. When she was done, small stars were lazily pinwheeling past Agatha’s vision.

Zeetha selected a jar, scooped out a handful of creamy paste and rubbed it into her hands. The smell of paprika grew stronger.

She knelt beside Agatha and began vigorously kneading the paste into her shoulders. Agatha’s eyes bugged out and a small “eeee” escaped her lips. The ointment started out soothing, but proceeded to get warmer and warmer until by the time Zeetha was kneading it into her lower back, her shoulders and arms felt like they were on fire. Zeetha ignored Agatha’s squeaks of pain and methodically worked her way down Agatha’s back.

Suddenly, she spoke. “When I asked my Kolee for the sword, she told me I wasn’t ready. But when I asked again, she gave it to me.

“It was so heavy, I was convinced she’d slipped me one made of lead.” She shifted slightly and started working down Agatha’s left leg.

She spoke slower now. “I was younger than you are now, of course. I needed two hands to hold it, and within thirty seconds I had chopped down my aunt’s favorite fruit tree, broken two floor tiles and my toe.”

She switched to Agatha’s right leg and worked her way back up. “Everybody does that at least once. Challenges their Kolee. Tries to prove that they’re Ashtara’s Chosen One.” She was silent as she selected another jar and started from the beginning.

Agatha’s teeth snapped together in shock. This time the contents of the jar felt like ice, and she imagined great scalding clouds of steam erupting from her tortured skin. It took her a few seconds to realize that the pain was fading as well, as if it too were being boiled away. She gave a small groan of relief.

Zeetha gave a small smile. “Like I said, we all do it. The stories are always trotted out at family get-togethers, and everybody always has a good laugh. My teacher’s teacher always said—” and here Zeetha’s voice took on a reedy quality, “There’s no better way to keep a warrior from getting killed than to have her almost do it to herself.”

She paused halfway up Agatha’s right leg. She was silent long enough that Agatha looked over her shoulder to see what was wrong. Zeetha knelt there, tears flowing down her face. She looked at Agatha and sniffed.

“Except of course, when they do manage to kill themselves. My cousin, Zoniax, she was so much faster than I’ll ever be. But they gave her... they let her...” She broke down sobbing. Before she knew what she was doing, Agatha found herself cradling the crying girl in her arms.

“It was such a waste,” Zeetha sobbed. She took a deep breath and pushed herself away from Agatha’s arms and looked her in the eye.

“What you did today was smart. When a warrior is being forged, they don’t train her to be smart. Being smart makes you ask questions, and no War Queen wants an army full of fighters asking questions.” She smiled at the thought. Then she got serious again.

“Now you—you’re never going to be a warrior. But if you ask enough smart questions, you might live long enough to be a War Queen.”

Then she gave Agatha a fierce hug and a kiss on the forehead. Without another word she finished the massage, covered Agatha up and extinguished the lights. A second later, Agatha heard the wagon door click shut.

Agatha lay there for a moment digesting this. Then quickly dropped off to sleep.

The next morning, as she stood shivering, Zeetha casually handed her a pair of padded sticks, complete with handles. Agatha hefted them. They seemed heavy. Zeetha drew her own swords, they gleamed in the faint light.

She spoke gently. “Do not think of it as ‘holding a sword.’ You must learn to think of the Quata’aras as extensions of your own arms. Soon enough, you will learn not to think about them at all...”

The last shreds of spring melted away and summer arrived. The days lengthened. The traffic on the roads increased. Peddlers, tinkers and other travelers increased. Once another traveling show arrived at a large town where the circus was already setting up. What could have been an awkward situation instead turned into a “Battle of the Entertainers,” which lasted for two days, pulled in three times as many customers as usual, sold six times as much refreshments, and ended in a draw.

Agatha continued to play Lucrezia in the Heterodyne shows. She found it to be fun. The only problem was that she seemed to be having an increasing awkwardness with Lars, especially during their big romantic scenes. More than once, Abner was waiting for him in the wings, an annoyed look upon his face.

Meanwhile, Pix had relearned a basic truth about the commedia dell’ arte style of play, which is that the romantic leads tend to be the least interesting characters onstage.

Now this tradition was ameliorated a bit by the fact that both Bill and Lucrezia were full blown Sparks and either one of them was just as likely as the other to pull a doomsday device out of his or her back pocket, but this merely “raised the bar” for the ancillary characters, which helped to explain why the romantic leads proceeded through to their pre-ordained union relatively calmly, valiantly trying to ignore the various clanks, minions, constructs and Sparks that colorfully swirled around them, occasionally throwing pies.

Pix demonstrated that she was actually a very versatile actress indeed. In addition to the enigmatic High Priestess[35], she impressed everyone by breathing new life into hoary old characters such as The Clever Construct, The Oafish Minion, The Wise Witch of the Wood, The Saucy Courtesan, The First Victim, The Clueless Public Official, The Lost American, and The Tragic Abomination of Science.

Furthermore, in the time since Pix and Abner had started keeping company, Pix had mellowed quite a bit. She was a lot more friendly and personable, and actually willing to do some of the thousand and one tedious little jobs that the circus required, and she did them with a rather dopey look on her face while humming happily. It was driving everyone crazy. Astonishingly, she even managed to talk about something other than herself for minutes at a time.

Opinion was divided as to whether this change could be credited to her opening up on stage, or to Herr de la Scalla.

Master Payne and Abner had consulted their maps and sighed. A little more time would be spent on this side of the mountains, but that just meant that they’d spend a little less time on the other side. Towns might be visited a year or two early, or skipped altogether, but life on the road taught one to be flexible.

Travel was certainly smoother this year. Even in the wilderness between towns, the circus had yet to encounter any highwaymen. Nor had it been attacked by rogue monsters, clanks, or wild animals. The odd thing was that other travelers reported the usual number of these impediments, usually in great detail. This particular mystery was resolved to Payne’s satisfaction one day when the circus drove past a small clearing. Within it was a cheerful fire, which was roasting the remains of what appeared to be a shark with six legs and a mouth at either end. The three Jägers were to be seen lazing around it, and they waved happily as the wagons trundled on by.

Everything was going smoother. The Baba Yaga was the most dramatic example, but it wasn’t the only device that mysteriously improved. Throughout the troupe, people began to notice that fuel efficiency was increasing. Gear systems became more intuitive. Mechanical break-downs almost disappeared. Windows stopped sticking. Doors stopped creaking.

No one could explain it. Everyone knew that Agatha had something to do with it, even though they never saw her doing anything.

In retrospect, many people have asked why no one ever just came out and confronted her about it. To understand this lapse, one must consider the culture of the troupe. First and foremost, everything that happened was an improvement. No one wanted to be the one to “kill the golden goose,” as it were. Perhaps more importantly, this was a culture that appreciated a good trick, and they wanted to figure out how she did it without having to be told.

As a result, they fixated upon the superficialities, and never saw the larger changes even as they were happening around them. A most excellent trick indeed.

One afternoon, after the troupe had stopped for the day. Agatha was chatting with the Countess as she was sorting old gears and selecting which ones to set to soak in a bath of kerosene. Balthazar raced up “Hey Miss Agatha,” he called. “I was out collecting wood, and I found you another wreck!”

Agatha smiled. “Wonderful! You keep finding me parts and I’ll get that organ finished yet!”

The boy beamed. “This one is a really big old clank! It should have lots of parts!”

Agatha wiped her hands on her trousers and stood up. She grabbed a bulky workbelt and buckled it around her waist. “Well then, let’s see if we can find you a sweet cake, and then I’ll collect my tools and we can check this clank out.”

This last exchange took place within earshot of Lars and Yeti, who were inventorying the chemical wagon. Lars looked worried. “Hey. She’s going off into the woods to mess around with an old clank?”

Yeti raised a shaggy eyebrow in surprise. “Yes. Just like she’s been doing for a while now.”

“But... by herself?”

“Balthazar is going with her.”

“But he’s just a kid.”

Yeti scratched his chin. “I’m sure they both know to stay within shouting distance.”

Lars grabbed Yeti’s arm and attempted to drag him along. This had the same effect as trying to pull an oak tree. “Come on! It could be dangerous!”

“And you want to follow them?” Yeti frowned. “Lars, are you feeling all right?”

Lars tried pulling him again. “Stop fooling around and let’s go!” With the dispassionate sangfroid of the very large, Yeti shrugged and rose to his feet, allowing himself to be pulled along. This promised to be interesting.

Several minutes later, Agatha and Balthazar stepped into a forest clearing and Agatha felt her breath catch in wonder. The space was like a green cathedral. Shafts of light pierced the darkness, which was filled with dancing motes of light. Slumped to the ground, nestled amongst a mass of broken moss and fungi encrusted logs, was an aged colossus of a clank. Agatha did a quick calculation and whistled softly to herself. When it stood erect, the clank must have been over ten meters tall. She looked at the damage caused when it had fallen, the rust and corrosion that covered every surface, except where moss and lichen had taken hold. By her estimate, this clank had been abandoned for close to twenty years. Whatever empire it had served had no doubt fallen long ago. Agatha looked around. For all she knew, this section of forest had once been part of a thriving town. The Wastelands were full of places where civilization had succumbed to outside forces. Agatha shivered.

She turned to Balthazar. “There’s going to be a lot more here than we can carry. Do you think Smilin’ Stev could get a wagon in here?”

Balthazar considered the uneven path they’d recently trod. “Maybe not. But he can still carry stuff out himself. He won’t care how many trips it takes.”

Agatha nodded. “Please ask your father if I can use him then.” Balthazar gave her a crisp salute and bounded back towards the camp.

Alone, Agatha picked her way the foot of the colossus. She examined the surface of the great clank, and scowled at the condition of the metal. She pulled a small pry bar from a loop on her belt, and with a quick jab and snap, pulled up a section of plate. She examined the mechanisms underneath, and what she saw pleased her quite a bit. She began to hum to herself. From a pouch, she pulled a small monocular, and scrutinized the front of the clank. She found what she wanted up near the head. She gave a satisfied smile and put the viewing device back in its pouch.

She then pulled out a fat metal disc and attached a long, silken rope to it. Still humming, she whirled it around her head several times and threw it towards the top of the clank. With a “THUNK” the disc stuck to the clank, revealing itself to be a magnet. As it turned out, a very strong magnet, as Agatha used the attached rope to haul herself upwards along the face of the recumbent giant.

Once she reached where she wanted to go, she looped the rope around her seat and clipped it to an attached “D” ring. She examined the surface before her and then scraped away a thick layer of moss. A small service panel was revealed. She perfunctorily examined the lock and then took a large hammer from her belt and smacked it squarely. The surrounding metal crumbled into a spray of rust, while the steel lock briefly hung in place, and then tumbled to the ground. Again the pry bar came out and with a tooth gritting squeal, the panel swung open.

Agatha took a cloth and wiped several glass surfaces. To her surprise, a dim light flickered behind one or two of them. She grasped a large control lever, and with some difficulty, spun the dial to “AKTIV.”

A shudder ran through the giant figure. Sparks erupted from various joints and extremities. The single great eye in its head flared red, and with a terrible slowness, swiveled down and observed the small girl hanging from its chest.

The great arms jerked, ripping loose from a cluster of small trees and slowly swung towards her.

At this, the hidden watchers broke from cover and ran towards the giant. “Hang on, Agatha,” Lars yelled, “We’ll distract it!”

Surprised at their appearance, Agatha held up a hand and shouted back over the roaring and squealing of the awakening clank. “What? Just a minute.”

She then pushed away from the control panel, and as she swung back, lashed out with the heel of her boot, shattering the control lever housing. The lights flicked and died, and great figure shuddered once, then collapsed back onto its bed of smashed trees.

Agatha calmly unhooked herself and then slid down to the base of the now motionless figure. “Now what was that?”

Yeti and Lars stared at her. After a second Lars stepped forward. “Are you all right?”

Agatha looked back at the supine clank. “What? This? Sure! I helped my father with old stuff like this all the time. People were always finding dead clanks in the woods.” She patted a metal leg. “It’s always best to disable them permanently before you start trying to take them apart.”

Yeti looked at Lars. “That sounds safe enough.”

Agatha looked confused. “Well, of course. Didn’t Balthazar send you to help?”

Lars nodded. “Oh, yeah—”

Yeti interrupted. “No. Lars was worried about you poking about in the woods all alone.”

Agatha looked at Lars, who gave an embarrassed shrug. Agatha smiled. “Well you don’t know how much it means to me to have the two of you here.”

When Balthazar arrived with Smilin’ Stev, he was surprised to find Lars and Yeti straining to hold up one of the great clank’s arms, as Agatha squatted underneath and pulled out various components. Sweat was pouring down Lars face, and his face was set in a determined scowl.

Yeti looked over at him and smiled. “You did say it might be dangerous.” He shifted his feet. “Happy?”

Lars rolled his eyes and grunted. “Shut... up!”

Several hours later, after the useable parts of the great clank had been stripped and transported back to the circus, Lars gratefully sipped a beer and watched the Sparks sort through the scavenged material. Since Balthazar had discovered it, and Agatha had harvested it, they were the people to bargain with, and the trading of parts and future favors was in full swing.

Agatha’s foster-mother had tried for years to teach her how to dicker in the marketplace. Sadly, Agatha had never had the knack. But now that the locket that had suppressed her mind was off, lessons and techniques that had been patiently drummed into her head long ago were resurfacing. Admittedly, she was bargaining against actors, mountebanks and thieves who had no scruples about using their skills against each other (it was how one stayed sharp, after all), but she was holding her own, and Lars, who was an interested observer to the whole proceeding, realized that her skills were improving from one transaction to the next.

He frowned. He was feeling unusually conflicted when it came to Agatha. He tried to analyze this. Physically, there was no question. Agatha was ripe and round in all the right places. The final onstage kiss should have been something he looked forward to.

He had certainly planned on getting to know her better, but every time he saw an opportunity, he found himself holding back. There was something that was keeping him from pursuing the girl, and it was starting to bother him. He was beginning to fret that he was actually falling in love with her.

The very thought made him twitch.

When the haggling was done, and people were sorting through their prizes, Agatha came up to Lars, and knelt next to him.

She looked nervous. “This is for you,” she said. She handed Lars a small device. “I noticed you still used a tinderbox.”

Lars examined the device. He twisted the knob and a small flame puffed into being. He twisted it back and it disappeared.

“It’s to thank you for helping me move stuff back to camp.” Agatha said quickly. Lars noted that her face was quite red.

“Thank you, Agatha. That’s mighty nice of you.” Lars sighed to himself. He’d been given numerous devices such as this by helpful circus members over the years. He continued to use the more primitive methods because some of the towns he scouted looked suspiciously at anyone who wielded a device more complicated than a knife.

But with the eye of a man who’s hobby was women, Lars could see that Agatha was... interested in him. This made his hesitation even more inexplicable.

He made a show of putting the firestarter into his belt pouch. Agatha smiled. “So,” Lars said, “while I have you here, may I ask an impertinent question?”

Agatha looked wary. “I suppose...” she said uncertainly.

Lars leaned in and talked quietly. “Do you have a boyfriend waiting for you in Mechanicsburg?”

This had clearly not been on the mental list of questions that Agatha had been anticipating. “Oh, no,” she replied. “I was told that I have family there.”

Lars nodded. “Any boyfriends anywhere?”

Agatha looked away. “No, I... No. Not anywhere. Not ever,” she whispered.

Lars leaned back. “Really. Because, that madboy from the airship that came to get you? He seemed awfully upset when we told him that you were dead.” Lars looked away, but continued to watch her from the corner of his eyes. “And I’d heard—”

“I don’t care what you heard—” Agatha snapped, “But we weren’t... we weren’t anything!” She looked away. “He was probably just disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to drag me back to the Baron in chains.” She glared at Lars. He noted that her eyes glistened. “And what business is it of yours, anyway?”

Lars crossed his arms and gave her a leering grin. “Well, when I’m up on stage kissing you—” He was pleased to see a flush of color bloom upon her face, “It’ll be good to know that I don’t have to keep one eye out for some jealous guy jumping up onstage and causing trouble—and yes, it has happened.” He smiled at a memory. “Now that was one heck of an onstage pie fight.”

Agatha looked contrite. “I see.” She shook her head and smiled. “No, you won’t have to worry about that.”

Lars clapped his hands together and stood up. “Great! Then I can start acting less, and enjoy myself more!” And with that, he strode off towards his wagon.

Later that night, in her wagon, Agatha sat hugging a large pillow, as Zeetha slowly brushed out her long golden hair. For what, by Zeetha’s estimate, was the thousandth time, Agatha asked her, “But what did he mean by that?”

Zeetha rolled her eyes and grinned “I haven’t the foggiest idea,” she lied.