Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess (38 page)

“Hmm. I think I used a
bit
too much on her.”

Tarvek had pulled Agatha’s face up and was gently cleaning it with a warm cloth that another servant had handed to him. “You
think
?”

Agatha’s eyes focused on Tarvek and a wide smile spread over her face. “You’re very cute,” she whispered. “I hope you don’t think
I
picked out this ugly dress.” Tarvek’s face reddened slightly as he finished up.

“Oh dear,” tittered Anevka, “Here I thought she was telling the truth and now it’s obvious that the poor girl’s been hallucinating.”

“Shut up!” Tarvek felt flushed. Within his head, plans and schemes were shattering and reassembling themselves into new configurations at lightning speed.

The rest of the family stood, and Aaronev ordered a pair of sturdy servants to hoist Agatha to her feet. “I feel very strange,” she confided to one of them. “Zeetha will laugh at me.”

The Prince was ebullient, dancing in place and rubbing his hands together. “Come! Bring her! I have everything prepared!” Tarvek and Anevka glanced at each other. The young man spoke hesitantly. “But father, wait. Shouldn’t we—” he thought frantically for a second. “Shouldn’t we send for some of the others? They’d want to be present for something so momentous.”

Anevka chimed in. “Father, even if you’re sure she is The One, this is a terrible idea. You could
kill
her.”

Aaronev waved this away. “Bah! The others died because they were not her! It’s as simple as that. I have manipulated every other variable and failed.” He glanced at his daughter, and a brief flicker of remorse flashed across his face. “You should know that better than anyone, Anevka.”

The clank girl’s eyes clicked once. “I do, father.”

They had been hurrying along the corridors of the palace. Servants scurried before them, lighting lamps and opening doors, but at the last set of doors they opened the doors and stood back. The royal party swept through, and Tarvek closed and locked the doors behind them.

The large room they were now in had once been the castle’s chapel. Graceful lines arced upwards for several stories, and one could see where thin, arched windows had lined the walls. These were now bricked over, and the naves were filled with glowing banks of machinery. Dominating the central area was a tall, angular device. It had multiple rods and couplings that joined the ceiling, without regard to the religious pictures that could still be faintly seen there. At the base was a peculiar looking throne. The seat was studded with contacts and a set of ominous-looking straps were attached to the armrests. From a rack overhead, a cluster of vaguely non-Euclidian crystal rods pointed straight down, directly to where the chairs’ hapless occupant would reside.

Aaronev took a moment to examine Agatha. With a few deft movements, he removed the various ornaments and jewelry that had been placed in her hair, along with her glasses. “No, this time—” he muttered, “This time, it will work!” He spoke to the two servants carrying Agatha. “Strap her in!”

The two did so, with a quiet efficiency. Then, at Aaronev’s quick dismissal, they bowed and quickly exited, relocking the doors behind them.

Tarvek moved closer. “Father. Don’t do this.”

Aaronev darted about the throne, checking settings and adjusting dials. “I must! Our family has been given a sacred task! I will complete it! I will prove that I am still worthy to lead The Order!” He made a final adjustment and turned to Tarvek, who was alarmed at the gleam he saw in his father’s eyes. “And I will see her again,” he whispered.

Tarvek tried again. “You can’t be sure—”

Aaronev’s hand whipped out and Tarvek found his coat clutched in an iron grip. When Aaronev spoke it was with the strength and assurance of a powerful Spark in full burn. “Of
course
I’m sure! The harmonic readings are perfect! The people
obeyed
her! She confessed to being Lucrezia’s daughter! This
is
The Child!”

He released Tarvek and made a final adjustment. He turned to his daughter, who had glided up behind him. “Anevka,
you
know, don’t you? Tell your brother that I am correct.”

Anevka nodded. “I do believe that he is correct, brother. Therefore—” She reached out and clutched her father’s head. Aaronev didn’t even have a chance to register surprise before a bolt of electricity arced through him. He jerked once and his clothes and hair burst into flame. The crackling blue discharge surrounded him for several seconds before it cut off, and he collapsed to the ground, smoldering.

Anevka’s outfit and wig had been burned away. Revealing a grey metal manikin. Various blobs of half-melted jewelry clung at her throat and wrists. She looked down at her carbon-smeared body and tsked. “That,” she announced to no one in particular, “was my favorite dress.”

This broke the spell that had frozen Tarvek. “Anevka, what the hell—!”

Anevka interrupted. “Do you know how many girls father’s destroyed in that machine? Do you?” Tarvek shut his mouth. Anevka stepped closer. “I do! The only thing that could have possibly made it all worse would have been if he had actually succeeded. And make no mistake. He would have. She is the one!”

Agatha, who had been half-heartedly struggling against the chair’s restraints, looked up at this. It was obvious that she was still disorientated. She peered down at the remains of Aaronev and a faintly disturbed look crossed her features. “Did you do that just for me?” She thought about this. “Should I thank you?”

Anevka strode up to her and tilted her head to one side. “Don’t be silly, girl.” She reached up and extended a finger, which she lightly tapped against Agatha’s forehead. A short burst of electricity arced and Agatha collapsed. “I have my own use for you.”

Tarvek felt an unexpected pang of concern. He knelt and lifted Agatha’s head, checked her pulse and gently rolled back an eyelid. “But shouldn’t we—”

Anevka imperiously waved him into silence. “Come along, brother, the clock is ticking now, and we have much to do.”

Several hours later, there was a frantic knocking at the door to Master Payne’s wagon. After the show, the troupe had packed up and prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. But Agatha had failed to return, and a growing unease had begun to permeate the group.

Eventually, Payne had insisted that the drivers, and anyone else who could, should try to get some sleep. He had ostensibly done so himself, but despite the fact that he and the Countess had burrowed beneath their comforters several hours ago, the instant the first knock sounded, Payne had bounded to his feet, still dressed, a small pistol magically appearing in his hand. The Countess’ feet had yet to touch the floor, but the rifle she drew from beneath the covers moved without hesitation.

Payne moved up to the door and listened for a moment, shook himself, and suddenly appeared a lot more rumpled and sleepy. He slowly opened the door, concealing the pistol behind the door. “Yes?”

A few steps below him was a squad of Sturmhalten soldiers. Abner was bracketed by a pair of them. Zeetha stood to one side, next to Yeti. To anyone else, she would have looked merely nervous, but Payne could see that she was a fraction of a second away from drawing her swords. That wasn’t good.

A Captain stood before him. The man stared a bit too long at the hidden hand holding the pistol behind the door. Payne switched mental gears. This required finesse. With a flick of his wrist he slid the pistol out of sight up his sleeve as he slowly—very slowly—brought his hand out from behind the door and scratched at his chin.

The Captain relaxed slightly. “Evening, sir,” he said, while sketching out the half salute that soldiers gave civilians they were supposed to be polite to. “Are you the master of this circus?”

Payne nodded cautiously. “I am.”

The Captain drew a small note from his pocket and scrutinized it in such a way that Payne knew he had it memorized. “You were traveling with one Olga Žiga?”

Oh, this definitely didn’t look good. “Yes, but at the moment she is at the palace—a guest of your Prince.”

The Captain nodded. “Indeed she is, sir.” He paused, and ran an eye over the other circus members who were quietly collecting. “Were you aware that this ‘Madame Olga’ is a fugitive? Wanted by Baron Wulfenbach himself?”

This was unexpected, and Payne was honestly taken aback, which was handy, as it helped with the lying. “No! Of course not!”

The Captain nodded. “Yes, that’s just what the Prince told me you’d say. Well you’ve had a lucky escape, sir. As have we all, I suspect. No telling what she’s capable of if the Baron’s after her, eh?”

Payne felt the jaws of the trap close. Intellectually he had to admire the way it was done.

The Captain continued. “Still, it’s an ill wind that blows no one any good, eh?” He ostentatiously fished about in a courier’s pouch at his belt and hauled out a leather pouch adorned with the seal of the royal family. It clinked as he tossed it from hand to hand. “Prince Aaronev has sent you this reward! Mighty generous says I, but ‘no bless obli cheese,’ says he.”

Payne blinked. “…Does he?”

The Captain nodded as he handed the money over. “All the time.” As Payne took the money, the Captain’s hand tightened. Their eyes locked. When the Captain spoke again, the easy-going tone he had effected had vanished from his voice. “He also says that, for everyone’s safety, he thinks it best if you and your good people leave town.”

Payne licked his lips. “But it’s—”

In his best parade ground voice, the Captain merely said, “Now.” The rest of the soldiers present straightened and presented arms with a snap. “Your escort is waiting.”

Payne knew when to cut his losses. “We’re moving out,” he roared to the half a hundred hidden ears he knew were listening. A part of his mind noted without surprise that Zeetha had vanished.

In a surprisingly short time, the circus was on the move. The streets of the town were empty. A mist had drifted down from the surrounding mountains, giving the electric streetlights a glowing blue halo. Along the route, soldiers stood quietly, watching the train of wagons as it rumbled towards the gates. In the lead wagon, Abner, Lars and Krosp sat glumly.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” muttered Abner.

“Something’s not right,” said Lars, eyeing the soldiers.

“Of course not,” snapped Krosp, his ears flattened. “That story about a reward is hokum. The Baron thinks Agatha is dead. If he thought otherwise, he’d come and get her. The Prince just wants us to leave, and this way, we daren’t complain.”

Lars looked lost. “But what will we do?”

Abner looked at him levelly. “We go down this road about fifteen kilometers and turn left at Mulverschtag. That’ll get us on the road to Mechanicsburg.”

“No! I meant—”

“Oh wait,” Abner interrupted snidely. “Are you seriously thinking we should go back—into a hostile town full of armed soldiers—to try to rescue a girl from a madboy’s fortress?”

Lars examined this statement. “Yes,” he said simply. “Yes I am!”

Abner sighed. “There’re a million reasons why that isn’t going to work.”

“Dun vorry,” a low voice chuckled from above. The three whipped their eyes upwards. Dimo, Ognian and Maxim were lounging on the roof of the wagon. Dimo was staring down at them and indicated himself and the others. “Dere’s three reasonz it
iz
.”

Agatha blinked. Her mouth tasted terrible, her head was throbbing, and she felt like she was shackled to a table. This last realization snapped her awake. She
was
shackled to a table. Some sort of lab bench, and by straining her head, she could see that she was wearing remarkably little. This didn’t look good.

She was in some sort of laboratory, racks of electronic devices surrounded her, and there was a pervasive smell of ozone and burnt insulation.

Suddenly a figure loomed up from her right. It was Anevka. She had been cleaned and polished. Her wig was black and glossy, cut short in front and tied back with several gold chains. She was dressed in a red velvet lab coat and violet work apron with matching gold piping
⁴⁷
.

By rolling her eyes, Agatha could just see her retainers, with the ever-present device resting upon their shoulders. They stood motionless, eyes half closed.

“Oh good,” Anevka said. “You’re finally awake!” She glanced behind Agatha’s line of sight and made a small adjustment to an unseen device. “Happy?”

That was an easy one. “Certainly not!”

Anevka nodded. “Very good!”

“No—Not good! How dare you people do this to me? Get me some clothes!”

Anevka actually rubbed her hands together. “Excellent. A lovely strong command wave.” She looked back at Agatha. “Do you have any questions?”

Agatha had a great number of questions, as well as several strong opinions about Anevka, her situation, her lack of clothing and Anevka’s preoccupation with whatever it was that was keeping her from setting Agatha free. After about a half an hour of this, Agatha began to wind down. “Are you even
listening
to me?”

Anevka made a final adjustment to the oscilloscope she’d been monitoring and nodded in satisfaction. “Oh yes, and you’ve been just
perfect
! I quite think you’re done.”

She shut down the device and then turned to a small cloth covered ceramic tray. A delicate flip of the fabric revealed an array of gleaming steel surgical instruments. Anevka ran her hand above them, and then selected a simple scalpel.

“And now, let’s hear you beg for your life.”

Agatha’s eyes bugged out. “What?”

Anevka twirled the scalpel around her fingers. “I’ve got my readings. Now I get to have a little fun.”

A squawk from behind Agatha revealed that someone else was here. Tarvek strode into sight, flinging down a set of tools and grabbing Anevka’s wrist. “Stop!” Agatha realized that she didn’t know whether to be more relieved at his intercession or scandalized at her state of undress before him. Another glimpse of the scalpel in Anevka’s hand helped prioritize things nicely.