Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess gg-2

by Phil Foglio

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

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

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

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

  Gone. Gone forever.

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

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

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

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

  But it couldn’t be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “You believe me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Agatha looked at her askance. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Pants.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  That provoked a sharper reaction.

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

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

  Everyone’s breath caught.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Payne and Marie looked at each other and nodded.

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

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

  Wooster checked himself. “Mechanicsburg?”

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

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

  “I most certainly did not!”

  Wooster stared at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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