Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess (23 page)

Relief had lifted Agatha’s spirits, but the nervous energy that terror had lent her remained. When Lucrezia Mongfish strode into her laboratory in a towering rage and demanded of her three cringing minions: “Who has deactivated my beautiful frogs?” the audience pointed as one to Bill Heterodyne, who lay stripped to the waist and shackled to a huge wooden laboratory table. “
He
did!” they screamed.

All in all, it was a tremendous success.

The rest of the show passed in a kaleidoscopic whirl, and then…suddenly… Lars was kissing her.

They had carefully pecked at each other during rehearsals, but for the real show, Abner had ordered them to hold the kiss as long as the audience cheered them on.

The audience cheered them on for approximately six and a half years. When it was over, Agatha tottered dizzily backward, her face burning. She stuttered through her last lines and fled the stage with as much grace as she could manage.

The Countess caught Agatha as she entered the wings. She adjusted her hairpiece and tucked her disheveled costume back into place just as the final curtain fell. Then she spun Agatha about and gave her costume one last expert tweak, exposing shoulders and an alarming amount of decolletage in one quick tug before propelling her back onto the stage. She landed hard against Lars, who caught her expertly in the crook of his arm.

At her entrance, the applause doubled in volume. Cheers and whistles filled the air.

Agatha had never received such overwhelming approval as she was getting now—nearly everything she had done at the University had either been ignored or had gotten her into trouble. She drank in the adulation, astonished at how satisfying—how
right
it felt. She ventured a peek at the audience to see how Othar was reacting, and was surprised to see that he was gone.

Lars beamed as he waved to the crowd. He leaned down and whispered in Agatha’s ear: “I knew you’d be great!” He took her arm and led her toward the edge of the stage. “Now we head on down and mingle.”

Agatha nodded. Othar was much less likely to try to kill her in the center of the crowd—he might hit an innocent bystander—and she didn’t think that would fit with his delusions of heroism. She donned her glasses, pulled her costume back onto her shoulders, shook out her skirts, and straightened up to follow Lars—only to walk directly into Othar. He was standing patiently off to one side of the stage, obviously waiting for her. Agatha gave a little shriek of surprise.

Othar laughed genially. “So! Madame Olga!” he boomed, “You are, I’m told, a sayer of sooths and a teller of fortunes, yes?”

Agatha was taken aback. He couldn’t possibly have forgotten her already, could he? Lars leaned in and answered for her. “Indeed she is, sir!”

“Excellent!” Othar looped a muscular arm around her shoulders and began to walk her away. “I would like my fortune told! Now, if you please!”

Agatha was so stunned that she allowed him to gently steer her toward her tent. Less than a minute later, Othar was dropping onto a cushioned chair—leaning his elbows on the ornate little table that stood before Madame Olga’s skull-draped throne. Agatha took her time at lighting the vast collection of candles and lanterns that hung around the tent, trying to collect her thoughts.

“A fine performance!” Othar said as he leaned forward, peering at the dials and meters set into the huge brass-bound crystal orb that rested on the table.

“Thank you.” Agatha was confused. Othar’s body language conveyed no sense of menace whatsoever. Somehow, this only made the tall, jolly man even more frightening.

Othar idly scratched his beard. “You seem a bit on edge.”

Agatha spun about to face him directly. “The last time I saw you, you tried to
kill
me!”

“Oh, that.” Othar waved a hand in dismissal. “That was before I knew that you were a Heterodyne.”

Agatha started. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Why, not long after we—” he coughed politely into his fist, “—parted ways, I ran into a young man who I believe to be your cousin: a Master Theopholous DuMedd?

“You didn’t do anything horrible to him, did you?”

Othar paused, and a frown flitted across his features. “Ah, I see. No, I was unaware that he was a Spark.” He sighed. “What a pity. At any rate, he was traveling with a small group of the Baron’s hostages who had snatched the opportunity presented by my rather dramatic departure to affect their own escape from Castle Wulfenbach. All very nice young people, and all fans of mine, as it happens!

Young DuMedd told me everything. He was very glad to hear that you were in good hands as my spunky girl assistant!”

Agatha glowered. “I am
not
your assistant. You tried to
kill
me.”

Othar waggled an admonitory finger at her. “See? That’s why friends shouldn’t keep secrets from one another.”

“I don’t keep secrets! Not from my real friends.” Agatha was digging through a small chest to one side of her throne. Who knows what the previous Madame Olga had kept in it? Maybe she could poison his tea.

Othar sat back and folded his arms. “Ah. So these traveling players know who you really are?”

This brought her up short. “No,” she admitted, after a deep breath. “No, they don’t.”

Sergeant Zulli stood atop the city wall, watching the moon rise from behind the eastern mountains. He had just spent a half-hour instructing one of the new recruits in the correct use of the town’s prized night scope—and was hoping the boy would prove himself a fast learner. The instrument was huge, an ornate, cumbersome affair full of mirrors, lenses and strange, colored filters, bristling with switches, knobs and gauges all up and down the sides. It had been a gift to the town long ago, built by the local lord—a Spark who occasionally had trouble containing his monsters. Even Zulli had to admit he had no idea how it actually worked, but work it did, and very well, too. A competent operator could view all three roads leading up to the town as clear as day, even on a moonless night.
²⁸

Tonight, Zulli could hear the crowd below—roaring with laughter at the circus’ antics. Things were going smoothly, and he was beginning to think he would soon be able to join the fun, when the boy suddenly started back from the scope’s eyepiece with a yell of alarm, nearly falling from his perch.

Zulli was at his elbow instantly, steadying him with one hand. “Anybody you know?”

“No sir! There’s something coming up the East Road.”

Zulli frowned. “Some
thing
—”

“I don’t know what it is, but it’s big and it’s fast.”

“That’s never a good combination.” Zulli removed his helmet and fitted his eye to the scope.

“It should be coming up on the five lengths mark,” the boy said.

Zulli spun an engraved wheel and pointed the instrument at a distant road sign—the large white V newly repainted and shining in the dark. He brought the sign into focus just in time to see a blur rush past. He snapped upright, eyes wide. “That’s
damn
fast!” The old guard took off at a run, shouting back over his shoulder: “Ring the bell—and get some archers to the East Gate! That’s an order!”

Zulli dashed along darkening streets, lit by only the occasional lantern. Now, he could hear the alarm bell tolling from the central watchtower. He cast his eyes about frantically for someone—anyone—he could commandeer to help spread the word, but the streets were empty, the shops dark and locked tight.
Everyone in town must be at the damn circus,
he realized. He hoped that his fellow guards would hear the bell and respond, but the music of the circus and the noise of the crowd drowned out everything else. They might not hear the bell, or they might be too drunk to care.

He skidded around the final corner and swore in dismay. There before him was the East Gate, portcullis up, the great oak and iron doors still wide open. This staggering bit of incompetence was explained by one look at the men on duty. It was Smek and Bodine, a pair of the Mayor’s otherwise unemployable relatives. Zulli promised himself he’d break whoever had assigned them to the same shift.

“Red fire!” he shouted as he ran up, “Are you Sparksons
deaf?
Close the damn gate!”

The two guards gaped at him. Bodine was in a state of flustered confusion, but managed to squeak: “But… but Assia Velichou and Pavel Dakar are still outside!”

“They’re hunting mushrooms,” Smek drawled helpfully.

Zulli delivered a resounding smack to both of their helmets as he tore past them. “You cretins! They’ve got thirty seconds to get dressed and back inside before we close the gate! Do you hear me out there?” he addressed the darkness beyond the gate in a voice like thunder: “Something’s coming! We’re closing the gate! Get in here NOW!”

Smek was the smarter of the two. He dashed off and began tugging at the great iron hook that locked the left gate open. Zulli tugged at the right, while counting under his breath.

Bodine dithered beside him. “We can’t just leave them out there—it’s dark!”

“Thirty seconds!” Zulli roared as he pulled the hook free.

Smek was already tugging his half of the gate closed. “What’s coming?” he gasped.

“I don’t know,” Zulli admitted, “but you’d better hope it kills you, or Assia’s father
will!”

“S-s-sir!” Bodine whispered. His voice was strangled, terrified.

Another voice spoke. “Hy vish to enter dis town.”

The tones were rich and sweet, but the accent froze Sergeant Zulli fast.
We should have killed those Jägers
, he thought.

There was a gust of warm air behind him. He turned slowly, and found himself face to face with the largest brown bear he had ever seen. Deep brown eyes watched him steadily. Avoiding the bear’s gaze, he found himself staring at the huge pair of gold rings in its left ear, then at the matching pair in its right. A delicate cough dragged his attention upward. The bear’s rider was a Jägermonster, that much was obvious. Its deep blue cloak hung aside slightly, revealing an oddly distorted breastplate. Startled, Zulli realized that the rider was female. Old military man that he was, Zulli had of course heard rumors, jokes, and all kinds of lascivious stories, but he had only half believed them. He had never seen a female Jägermonster before. Now, with one gazing down at him from atop her gigantic bear, the light of the huge gate lanterns throwing vast shadows behind them, the sergeant felt a small flicker of curiosity through his pall of terror.

Her long hair was a fine silvery grey, and her skin—what little could be seen of it—was a deep olive green. The lower half of her face was muffled under a soft scarf, and her wide-brimmed hat was pulled low over her face. The eyes that showed between were large and expressive. She gazed at him calmly—she wasn’t angry… yet.

Zulli opened his mouth and found it had gone dry. He swallowed with difficulty and tried again. “The… the town is closed. Until dawn.”

The Jäger sat back and made a pretense of examining the gate. “But de gate iz not yet closed. Hy merely seek—”

A “tung” sounding from the wall overhead was Zulli’s only hint that his fellow guards had finally arrived. The rider had already noticed them, of course, and moved her hand before the sound even came, calmly plucking a crossbow bolt out of the air. She examined it briefly, and then casually snapped the shaft in half with her thumb.

“Hy forgiff.” She announced to the air. “Vunce.” She leaned down towards the shivering watchmen. “Hy em lookink for my boyz.”

Thank the Blessed Zenobia they’re still alive,
Zulli thought. He was just beginning to form a polite answer, when Smek, unable to contain his terror any longer, proved just how stupid he really was by screaming: “FIRE!”

Agatha sank into the fortuneteller’s throne and leaned forward with one arm on the little table—positioning herself to fling the telluricomnivisualization ball at Othar’s head if he made any sudden moves. “Look” she said. “I’m only going to explain this once. The Baron thinks I’m dead. Gil… thinks I’m dead. That’s
good
. That’s what I want. I don’t want to be a Heterodyne. I don’t even want to be a Spark. Not if people like you are going to show up trying to kill me. So I won’t. I’ll stay here. I’m done with all of that. Finished. And I am certainly not going to go off hero-ing with
you
. Understand?”

Othar leaned back so far that his chair rested on only its two back legs. He crossed his arms behind his head and his mouth twitched upwards in a small, infuriating smile. “Really?” It was more a statement than a question.

At that moment, a great roar erupted outside the tent, followed by screams and a clash of weapons.

Agatha leapt to her feet, knocking over the table and sending the scrying ball whizzing past Othar’s ear. The lightning gun that she had been quietly holding under the table was now in full view, but she didn’t care about secrecy any more. Ignoring Othar, who had fallen backward off his chair, she swept aside the curtains and took in the scene outside.

Through the blaze of the circus lanterns she could see an enormous bear, towering high as it reared back and gave another tremendous roar. A dozen members of the town watch, and easily twice as many townsmen, were swarming around its feet in desperate battle. Things were not going well for them.

The bear lashed out, its wide paws knocking men about with terrible ease. Astride the creature rode a woman swathed in a midnight-blue cloak, silver hair flying. She deflected arrows and sliced the tops off pikes with a sword that was easily two meters long. It wasn’t so much a battle as it was a rout.

“Hy em rapidly loozink my patience,” the woman shouted. Agatha paused as she realized that the rider was a Jäger and, as far as Agatha could tell, hadn’t actually killed anyone.

Just then, the rider noticed Agatha. She took one look at the lightning gun in Agatha’s hands and snarled in fury. Turning her great bear, she faced Agatha directly, and charged.

Agatha desperately pointed the gun and fired. A sharp crack rang out as a burst of dazzling blue light filled the square. When her eyes cleared, Agatha saw that one of the wagons was burning, but the bear and its rider were nowhere to be seen. It was only when the bear crashed back to earth that Agatha realized it must have leapt straight up to avoid the blast.
I didn’t know they could do that
, she thought in a daze, just before the bear’s rider slammed into her.