Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess (21 page)

Agatha hugged her pillow uncomfortably. “So… there’s kissing and stuff. It feels weird.”

Krosp nodded sagely. “Okay, so when you kiss him, don’t think of him as Bill Heterodyne. Think of him as Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. You liked
him.”

The pillow slammed into the cat so fast he didn’t have time to dodge.

“I don’t want to be reminded of that,” Agatha growled. She
had
kissed Gil once, on impulse, after the terrifying fight with the Hive Queen. But that had been a quick, one-sided victory kiss, and she hadn’t even seen his reaction. She still cringed at the thought of it.

“I will
not
be kissing Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. Now, or ever again.” she declared—trying to push his face from her mind.

Krosp peeped out from under the pillow. “I know that! You’re kissing that what’s-his-name. Lars.”

Agatha paused. “What?”

“Well he’s the one who plays Bill Heterodyne, right?”

Agatha remembered her surprise at the easy strength with which Lars had lifted her free of the barrel. The friendly look in his eyes as he laughed with her. The little tingle she had felt when his voice shifted as he had dropped into character. That had been… interesting.

Thoughtfully Agatha retrieved her pillow and settled down to sleep.

Lars. He wasn’t even a Spark. Kissing him should be safe enough.

CHAPTER 4

When Jägermonsters hunt for you

Remember what you mustn’t do:

Don’t jump in a butt of wine,

   They’ll find you hiding there just fine.

    Don’t hide with the grain or meat,

     You’ll be the first thing that they eat.

      Don’t hide with the dung or offal,

       They’ll just spread you on a waffle.

        Don’t hide in among the dead,

         They’ll eat you up with jam and bread.

          But hide in water, soap and lye,

           and far away from you they’ll fly!

—
Children’s song

I
t was a beautiful morning in the town of ZumZum, and the shops lining the square were doing brisk business. The square itself was a large open area covering a full hectare. Part of it was paved in dark blue stone, but a good half of it was still greensward, occupied by a small flock of sheep and a few cows, idly grazing. A bored-looking child with a stick sat watching the animals, lounging back against the base of a squat tower that stood to one side. The tower, with its limp windsock hanging from a pole, hinted at occasional airship traffic. ZumZum was right on the edge of the Wastelands, but it wasn’t yet completely the middle of nowhere.

A covered market bordered the paved side of the square. It was just a slate-shingled roof atop sturdy wooden posts, but it kept the sun and rain off. Five small boys with brooms were inside the empty structure industriously sweeping at cross-purposes. Tomorrow would be the weekly market-day, when farmers from all over the area would make their way to town to buy and sell, drink, and exchange gossip. Tomorrow, the square would be a noisy, bustling place, full of excitement. Tomorrow would be fun. Today, however, was boring. Miserably, miserably boring.

Three pairs of eyes stared out at the scene glumly. Their owners were watching the movement of the shadows across the green, counting down the hours until market day, when they would have something to look at besides grazing livestock.

“She’s gunna
keel
uz hyu know,” muttered the one on the right, for easily the hundredth time.

The one in the middle rolled his eyes. “Hy know, Hy
know
.”

The left one snorted. “Ho! Ve should get off so easy.”

The one on the right tried to nod, but that didn’t work very well. He gave up. “Hyu gots dot right, brodder.”

The middle one considered this solemnly. “Hy vill admit dot she ken be unreasonable, bot in dis caze, Hy tink mebbe she gots some cause.”

The right one scowled. “Iz dot supposed to make me feel better? Iz not vorkink.”

The one on the left brightened. “Hey!
Vait
a minute! Mebbe ve gets lucky!
Mebbe
ve be
dead
by der time she gets here!”

The three considered this. “I hadn’t thought uf dot,” the middle one admitted.

The right one sighed. “Iz hyu crazy? Den ve’d really be in trouble.” Suddenly, his attention was caught by the group of people in showy clothing walking toward them across the grass. He brightened. “Hoy! Brodders! Company!”

Master Payne and Lars stared up at the three Jägermonsters hanging by their necks from the gallows. They were a strange-looking trio—all the Jägermonsters had presumably once been human, or at least, that was the rumor, but whatever change had been worked on them long ago had given them strange, monstrous features that set each of them apart, even from his fellow Jägers.

The first of the three, in addition to the pointed ears and claws common to most of his kind, had long flowing hair and skin of a purplish hue that looked as if it had been that color even before its owner had been strung up. His face was finely boned and handsome, with sharp teeth that jutted over his lips from his lower jaw. The second sported a large ram’s horn—curling out from one side of a mop of dirty blonde hair. His feet were huge and unshod, with two great toes that looked like fat bird claws. The third had skin so olive it was actually green, and dark, untidy hair that ran down the sides of his wide face into a little pointed beard. He, of the three, was the only one who still wore a hat—a green billed cap that matched his skin topped by a pair of worn goggles. A long plume like a horse’s tail sprang from a small carved skull in the top center, to cascade down his back. The creatures swung slowly in an almost nonexistent breeze, hands tightly tied behind their backs.

“Are you
insane
?” Payne turned to Lars. “We can’t perform here!”

Lars cast a glance at the watchman, a grizzled old soldier wearing armor emblazoned with the town seal. The man stood back deferentially, but he was observing them closely. His face was carefully blank.

“I know, sir.” Lars rolled his eyes. “Believe me, I tried. But all entertainments have to be performed in the town square. As it was, I had enough trouble convincing them to let us camp on the meadow. I actually had to pay out some coin for that.”

Payne frowned, but he knew Lars was good at his job. If money had to be spent, it wasn’t because Lars was a fool. Even so, this was a bit much. “Performing next to corpses is disrespectful!
And
unhygienic!”

Now Lars really looked uncomfortable. “Ah, well, if
that’s
your only qualm…”

The green Jäger grinned down at them apologetically—flashing an alarming collection of large, pointed teeth. “Sorry for der problemz,” he called out in a friendly, slightly strangled, voice.

A man of Master Payne’s dignity rarely leapt into the air in surprise. Lars grinned in spite of the situation. He felt privileged to have been a witness to it. “They’re still
alive
?” Payne was incredulous.

“They’ve been up there for two days, sir.” Lars said, “Apparently, they just aren’t dying.”

Payne stared at the watchman in confusion. “But… after a hanging… they’re supposed to be cut down after twenty-four hours. The Baron’s rules of conduct and hygiene…”

“That’s a bit of a grey area, sir,” the watchman answered stoically. “According to our Mayor, that’s twenty-four hours after they’re dead and all.”

Payne glanced at Lars, who nodded. “The Mayor’s got a betting pool going over how long they’ll last.”

Payne’s lip curled. “Lovely.”

“Oh, he is that.” Lars agreed.

“Well…” Payne looked at the town. Its charm had soured in his eyes. “Fine. One night. We re-supply essentials only, charge double and leave at dawn.”

Lars was surprised. “But I’ve paid for three days. Tomorrow’s a market day—” Payne gave him a look that stopped him cold. “One night. Yessir.”

As they moved off the Jägers grinned at each other. “Did hyu hear dot?”

“Yah! Ve gets to see a show. For free!”

It was going to be an interesting day after all.

Tonight would be Agatha’s first show as a real part of the troupe. Agatha had expected Zeetha to forego the usual morning training—but that had proved wishful thinking. She had been awakened—before sunrise, as always—by the now-familiar beep on her nose.

Zeetha’s foot had healed quickly, and she had celebrated the removal of her bandages by singing a boisterous song in Skifandrian as she trotted behind Agatha on her morning run. Before the run, she had presented Agatha with two heavy buckets full of water, and whenever her pupil had spilled any, or showed signs of slowing down, Zeetha had cheerfully kept time by swatting her across the backside with the freshly-cut switch she carried for just that purpose.

As a result, it had taken some effort for Agatha to stand up straight, wave and smile as the circus caravan rumbled through the cheering crowd at the town gates.

As Zeetha was fond of reminding her, Agatha was still in hiding. To the world outside Master Payne’s Circus of Adventure, she was still Madame Olga: the teller of fortunes. In the odd corners of her days, when Agatha was not peeling vegetables, repairing bits of machinery or running from Zeetha’s stick, she practiced the essential skills she would need for her new identity: observation and lying. The troupe’s sharpshooter, Thundering Engine Woman, was quite a good fortune teller herself, and she had been coaching Agatha in the tricks of the trade. As the circus rolled into the town of ZumZum, she stood at Agatha’s side waving, smiling, and muttering last minute advice. “Remember—eye contact, knowing smile, then look away mysteriously. And for goodness sake, show a little more ankle!”

An hour later, the square had been transformed. The cows and sheep had been moved aside, and now the wagons were arranged in a tight circle on the green. Sideshow booths had been set up, and, even though they would leave the next day, the circus roustabouts were assembling the largest and most elaborate of the Circus’ stages.

The preparations were all of great interest to the three Jägers. Having nothing better to do, they held a long, lazy discussion of past Heterodyne shows they had seen, comparing them to the real people and events on which they were supposedly based. When they got tired of that, they made a game of guessing what each performer’s act might be. Through it all, they cheerfully called out helpful suggestions and friendly remarks to the female members of the troupe, who grimly ignored them.

Suddenly, the wind shifted. The green Jäger stiffened in surprise. The other two were in the middle of a drawn-out argument over the best way to dip a cat in caramel, when he growled at them. “Hey! Shot op!
Shot op!”

The other two looked sideways at him with mild astonishment. “Use hyu
noses!
” he ordered.

They paused. Then, as best they could, they drew in great breaths of air, slowly savoring the mélange of odors that filled the square.

Suddenly, the middle Jäger opened his eyes wide. The one on the end sniffed a moment longer, then his eyes also bugged. The three monsters darted their eyes about, intensely examining each person in the square until, finally, they all found their target. They glanced at each other, excitement showing plainly in their eyes.

It was going to be a very interesting day indeed.

When Thundering Engine Woman caught sight of the gallows with its dangling Jägers, she stopped dead. “Okay. Right here will be perfect.” She dropped the handle of the small cart she had been hauling behind her and glanced at the ground, mentally measuring an open space to one side of the posts.

Agatha looked up and blanched. “Here? Are you kidding?”

The other girl shook her head. “Nope. When people see something like that, they start to wonder what’s going to happen to
them
. They’ll flock right in, and anything
you
tell them will seem a lot better in comparison. You’ll make a fortune.” She dragged the cart to a good spot and began to remove the canvas wrapping.

“That seems kind of… callous.”

The girl nodded as she tugged the last of the cover away. She folded it and set it on the grass, well away from the cart—now revealed as a complex crate made of polished wooden and brass slats. “Probably, but I shoot things for a living. If you want sensitivity, go talk to André. Now, watch carefully. You’ll have to do this yourself, next time.”

Agatha continued to stare at the Jägers. “But what did they do?”

Thundering Engine Woman snorted. “Be Jägermonsters and get captured. Doesn’t take a whole lot more than that around here.” She took hold of a pair of handles and pulled. Jointed poles unfolded and silk billowed.

Agatha bit her lip. “But—won’t the Baron be upset?”

At this, the old watchman, who had been leaning against a nearby wall, came toward them. “The Baron don’t care about
them
, Miss.”

The two women looked at him in surprise. Agatha would have sworn the man had been drowsing in the late-morning sun. “Sergeant Zulli, at your service, ladies,” he said, touching his polished helmet. His smile was indulgent, as though he were addressing children. “We’re too small and out of the way here.” He waved a hand at the tattered windsock. “It’s a rare event when we even see the Baron’s patrol ships overhead.”

“But still, if someone comes looking for them—”

“No need to fret about that, Miss. These fine fellows aren’t part of the Baron’s forces. What we’ve got here is a genuine pack of
wild Jägers!”

Agatha stared at the three in surprise. They grinned down at her silently.

Zulli continued, “And to them with long memories, them what remembers the old Heterodynes, that makes these critters fair game.” He paused for a moment to look up at the captives. From the expression that settled on his face, Agatha guessed that the old guardsman’s memory was very long indeed.