Only the Mayor did not share the festive mood. He huffed up to Sergeant Zulli, his face red and angry. Thanks to the sling on his arm, the old soldier was accepting his latest free drink with his left hand.
The Mayor clutched a severed rope in one fist, and shook it in Zulli’s face. “Look! See? This rope was cut! That’s how those Jägerscum got free! One of those show people, I’ll be bound!”
Zulli sipped his drink. “A good thing, eh?” He flicked his eyes around the crowded taproom, then gazed back at the Mayor with a significant look.
The Mayor frowned as he surveyed the happy crowd. A large number of the men were sporting bruises, but nothing more serious than that, and the worst bit of property damage had happened to out-of-towners, who hardly counted at all. He could see that everyone was in a surprisingly good mood, and his political sense told him that now was the time to make himself visible, be jolly and congratulatory, and take as much credit as possible. But he wasn’t quite ready to let go of his disappointment. He puffed out his moustache. “But now no one will win the bet,” he muttered petulantly.
Zulli nodded again. “Also a good thing, I think.”
The Mayor snorted and tossed the rope to the ground. “Bah!” He looked over at Master Payne. “It was them all right.” He glowered at Zulli. “I assume you know what to do?”
Sergeant Zulli actually smiled. “Already done, sir.”
Later, Master Payne and Abner were examining the burned circus wagon when Rivet strolled up. “Get this—the Sergeant there said we can fix our wagon in town for free!”
Payne was astonished. “Really?” He glanced around the town as if seeing it for the first time. “Well, well,” he murmured. “We might have to stay a few days after all.”
Abner rubbed his hands together. “Wonderful! I’ve just been talking to a Frau Velichou who wants us to perform at a wedding!” This was also good news. A wedding was a plum job, with lots of tips and free drinks. Payne almost smiled.
Agatha and Othar stood apart, watching the celebrations. Othar was bruised from all his tumbling about, but was surprisingly undamaged. Agatha was beginning to think the man was made of rubber. She shook her head. “You’re the one who caught them? By playing a game of hangman?”
Othar was visibly pleased with himself. “The Jägermonsters love to play games, but they’re fuzzy when it comes to rules. That’s something you should remember as you set out to fight evil.”
Agatha cocked an eyebrow at him. “I told you, I’m not doing that. Going out looking for trouble to ‘fight evil.’ It’s ridiculous. You can’t make me.”
Othar threw his head back and burst out laughing. Agatha stared at him. “Make you?” He took off his visor and wiped his eyes. “You ran straight at the danger without even thinking. That is who and what you are.” Suddenly, the big man’s voice was grave, his manner serious. “You say you want a normal life.” He sighed deeply, “We all say that at one time or another. You certainly deserve your chance at it.” He stepped back and looked her up and down.
“I’ll find you in about three months,” he told her. “And we’ll see how ‘normal’ your life is.” Then he leaned down, and to Agatha’s astonishment, gave her a soft peck on the cheek. His blue eyes were bright and warm.
He grinned and replaced his visor. “But sincerely—Good luck.” And with that, he walked back to the tavern, and the admiring crowd who was waiting to hear his tales of adventure and buy him drinks.
Agatha watched him go, her hand gently touching the spot where he’d kissed her.
Krosp materialized at her elbow. “How can someone so stupid be so smart?” he groused.
Agatha dropped her hand and turned away. “He only sees what he wants to see,” she growled. “Which is why he’s completely wrong about me.”
Krosp’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her. His whiskers twitched. “Ah. Right.” He sighed, “Of course.”
From the eaves of the forest outside town, the Jäger woman listened to the celebratory noise spilling out into the night. As she turned her back to the lights of the town, a huge black shape detached itself from the shadows and lumbered toward her. Even in the darkness, she instinctively found the great bear’s moist nose leather and gave it a fond pat. “Ah, Füst. Who iz a goot bear?”
Füst snorted happily and nuzzled her hand. Without turning, she addressed the air. “Hokay—Hy know hyu eediots iz dere. Come on out.”
From the deep gloom under the trees, the other three Jägers appeared—smug grins on their faces. The Jäger woman looked them over. “Maxim, Ognian und Dimo. Vot vas dot all about? Iz hyu seriously telling me—”
“Dot ve found a Heterodyne? Ho, yaz!” Maxim’s purple eyes shone in the darkness.
Ognian’s toothy grin seemed to reach to both ears. “It’z a gurl. But de schmell, de voice…” He thumped his halberd on the ground—“She iz uf de bloodline!” he declared.
Dimo nodded quietly, but with certainty. “Dere iz no mistake, Jenka,” he agreed.
“A gurl?” The others nodded. Jenka abruptly sat down. The three stepped forward in concern, but she waved a hand in reassurance. “Dot iz… sooprizink.” She sat still a moment, and then, with a single graceful bound, leapt astride her bear. She pointed at the other three. “Hyu three vill stay vit her.”
Dimo was surprised. “Iz dot all?”
Jenka took a deep breath. “Our task vas to find a Heterodyne. This ve haff done.” She sat back. “Now de qvestion iz—vot iz to be done vit her?”
The three looked at each other in surprise. “Hyu gots to ask?” Maxim was puzzled.
Jenka consulted the stars and began steering her bear between the trees. “It haz been too long. Hy vant… instructions.” She waved a hand at them. “Until den, just keep her alive.”
And with that, bear and rider vanished into the night.
CHAPTER 5
Passholdt Fried Crème “Tings”
Preparation Time: 35 minutes
Cooking Time: 30 minutes
Ingredients:
80 g (3/8 cup) sugar
80 g (2/3 cup) unbleached flour
4 eggs
500 ml (1 pint) fresh whole milk, brought to a boil and allowed to cool
The zest of half a lemon, in strips
1 Tablespoon mild fruit liqueur
Salt
Unsalted butter, for frying
A piece of stick cinnamon
Breadcrumbs
Preparation:
In a bowl, beat two whole eggs and two yolks (reserve the whites) with 4 tablespoons of cold milk, the sugar, and the flour.
In the meantime, put the remaining milk in a pot with the lemon zest, cinnamon, and a pinch of salt, and bring it to a boil. Remove it from the fire and slowly add it, in a thin stream, to the flour mixture, beating the mixture steadily with a small whisk to keep lumps from forming.
When you have finished adding the milk, pour everything back into the pot in which you boiled the milk, return the pot to the fire, and cook over a gentle flame, stirring constantly and gently, until the cream thickens. Though an occasional bubble is all right, you do not want it to boil hard, or it will curdle. Continue cooking and stirring for 5 minutes, and then remove the pot from the fire. Remove and discard the zest and cinnamon, and stir in the liqueur.
Turn the cream out into an ample, fairly deep dish, spread it to a thickness of about 2 cm (3/4 of an inch), and let it cool completely.
Cut the cream into diamonds. Lightly beat the remaining egg whites, dredge the rhombs of cream in them, and then in breadcrumbs, and fry them in butter until golden. Drain them on absorbent paper and serve at once.
—Street food recipe from the town of Passholdt.
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 i
t 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 things30!”
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 s
pun 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.”
Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess Page 19