The green Jäger, the one called Dimo, stepped forward. “Ve must tok,” he said seriously.
Agatha looked at them and then carefully put down the screwdriver along with the relieved clank. Instead of distracting her, the presence of the monster soldiers seemed to cause her brain to work harder.
“You’ve been avoiding me ever since you joined up with the circus, but now we must talk? Why? What’s happened?”
Maxim grinned and swept his hair back in a theatrical gesture. He leaned in towards Agatha past Dimo, who looked alarmed. “Oh, vell, hyu know, who vouldn’t vants to tok mit a pretty leetle gurl like hyu?” He leered.
Dimo grasped his sleeve. “Maxim! No!” He looked at Agatha’s face, which had frozen in a mask of cold fury. “She iz schtill in de madness place! She could—”
With a deft movement, Agatha knocked off Maxim’s hat. The mask of sophistication shattered and the purple Jaeger snarled, “Dot vas my hat!”
Agatha stepped closer to him. “What do you want?”
Maxim stared at her, saw the icy calmness that radiated off of her, and with a grin, gracefully dropped to one knee and bowed his head while placing a hand over his heart. “Forgiff me, mistress,” he whispered.
Agatha made a moue of displeasure. “And that is quite enough of that,” she stated. “Get up. These people don’t know who I am.”
Maxim nodded and stood back up. “Ve underschtand, lady.”
Agatha looked at him skeptically. “I doubt it.”
Maxim grinned. “Ve find tings out. Hyu iz escaped from Baron Wulfenbach. He tinks hyu iz dead. Now hyu iz goink to Mechanicsburg.”
Dimo spoke up. “Iz dangerous to travel through der Vastelands mitout protection, so hyu join der circus. Efferbody vants a nize borink jouney. Ve agrees, so ve has helped out a bit mit dot already. Eet giffs us schomting to do at night, jah?”
Ognian stuck a clawed finger deep within an ear and wiggled it about. “Dot Master Payne, he vants a nice qviet trip too. Ezpecially sinze he’s got dot fency magic doll he vants to keep hid from der medboy in Balan’z Gap.”
Maxim nodded. “Yah. Dot family alvays had der sticky fingers and efferyvun iz afraid dot she gets stolen like her seester. She iz a clenk, bot if she gets dismantled, it chust der same as dyink, jah? Herr Payne tink dot since old Sturmvarous got vun nize toy from dis circus, he gun come sniffink around to see vhat else dey gots since den.”
Dimo shrugged. “But dot Payne, he’s a schmot guy. He gots a goot plan.”
Ognian pulled a large insect out from the depths of his ear and regarded it with satisfaction. “He vants us to help. But hyu iz our mistress. Hyu gots to say it is hokay.” With a flourish, he popped the insect into his mouth and chewed.
Agatha goggled at the three for a minute. Dimo elbowed Ognian, who looked guilty and stuck his finger back in his ear. “Sorry bout dot. Do hyu vant vun? Hy should have asked.”
Agatha shuddered. ”No, thank you.” She paused. “You all seem…remarkably on top of all this.” She regarded the three creatures before her. “Are you really Jägers?”
Maxim and Ognian looked surprised and glanced at each other. Maxim slid a small mirror out of his tunic and worriedly checked himself.
Dimo chuckled and slowly rubbed his jaw, which produced a sound analogous to stroking a stiff hairbrush. “Dot… iz a goot qvestion. Sometimes Hy vunder.” Maxim and Ognian looked at him questioningly. “Haff all dose guys mit der Baron gone soft offer der years? Or haff ve become… sharper because ve leaf der group und haff to learn how to tink better?” He spread his hands. “Hy tink mebbee both.”
Agatha narrowed her eyes. “The group… You mean the other Jägermonsters that work for the Baron?” Dimo nodded. “Why did you leave them?”
Dimo looked at her seriously. “For hyu.”
Maxim nodded. “Ven der Baron offered the Jägerkin employment, ve knew ve had to take it. He said dot he needed us, but not as much as ve needed him. Ve served der House of Heterodyne. For der last twenty years or so, dot vas all to der goot, but der Jägers haff served der Heterodynes for hundreds uf years, und dot vas vat people remembered. Vitout der Heterodynes, ve needed somevun like der Baron to protect us.
“But if dere vas even a possibility dot anodder Heterodyne existed, ve could not, in goot conscience sign on mit der Baron. So ve agreed to serve him, mit the condition dot if a Heterodyne vas effer found, ve would be released from der Empire’s service.
“Now, der Baron agreed to help us search, but it vas suspected dot searchink vould not be a high priority. So der Generals asked for a sqvad of volunteers.”
Dimo picked up the narrative. “Ve were to leave the group. Go forth into der vorld, und not return until ve had found an acceptable Heterodyne heir, no matter how lonk it took. Ve knew it vas…suicide mission. Ve had kept track uf der family tree. Ve knew dot der Heterodynes vere gone. Ve vould neffer be able to go beck.”
He stopped, overcome with emotion. Ognian gently punched him on the shoulder and continued. “But because uf us, der Jägerkin could hold der heads up und say dot ve had not abandoned our masters. Dey vas free to join der House uf Wulfenbach. Der Baron protected dem, and dey fought for der Empire.”
The Jäger grinned. “Und now hyu show op und spoil all our plenz!” A tear formed in his eye. “Because now ve… ve gets to go beck. And I neffer—” he gulped, “I neffer thought—” Suddenly he folded up at Agatha’s feet and to her intense embarrassment clasped at her knees. “Ve haff missed you,” he choked out. “Please, please be real!”
Agatha stooped and gave the distraught monster a hug. She looked up into the faces of the other two Jägers, who were displaying mixed emotions at the scene before them. “I am real,” she assured them. “I really am.”
She pulled an embarrassed Ognian to his feet and then sat back down. “Now tell me about Master Payne’s plan.”
Several days later, the circus cleared a last patch of forest and rolled onto a very well-maintained road running parallel to the bank of a fast-flowing river. According to Master Payne, this meant that they had officially exited the Wastelands.
This was cause for a small celebration. Bottles were passed about and musical instruments made their appearance. Thus it was a jolly troupe indeed that pulled up before the stout, reinforced gates of a small fortress that barred the road over the river.
Although small, the garrison bustled with activity. Farmers were delivering hay, a squad of new recruits, loaded with large packs lumbered past, harried by a bellowing Sergeant. Stacks of stores were being moved by sweating troopers, who were stripped to the waist. Several nearby airship gantries stood empty, but showed signs of recent use.
Everywhere in evidence was a sigil depicting a sword thrust down through the spokes of a gear, which was adorned with a pair of heraldic wings. This was the Sturmvarous family crest. They had arrived at the border of Balan’s Gap.
Questions were asked. A desultory examination of the wagons was made, a small discrete payment, as well as several bottles, exchanged hands, and the wagons rumbled through the fortress and over the well-maintained stone bridge. More than one circus member noted the carrier pigeons that left the fortress shortly thereafter and flew on before them.
The lowlands on this side of the river consisted mostly of rich-looking farmland, with fields of freshly sown dark earth, dotted with small settlements.
Almost immediately however, the road swung upwards, and they began to climb the foothills leading up to the actual pass over the mountains.
The superior quality of the road was a pleasant change after weeks in the Wastelands, and once all of the spare horses were hitched up, the climb was slow, but uneventful.
Quickly enough, the trees began to change from deciduous to conifer. By the time the circus pulled into the small alpine village where they’d spend the night, there was a bit of a chill to the air. There were also dark, gathering clouds. The troupe’s part-time meteorologist assured Payne that there would unquestionably be a hea
vy rainstorm in the next few hours, as well as the always-present danger of meteors.
There was no show that night. With the threat of rain, Payne had refused to set up the outdoor stage. With his permission, many of the performers headed over to the inn, a large, grandiose building that was beginning to show signs of neglect. It had been built in the days before airship travel had begun to steal the wealthy road traffic.
There would be no Heterodyne show this evening. The proprietor of the inn had agreed to split the evening’s profits if the troupe performed in the tavern, and while there wasn’t enough space for a proper stage show, it was a perfect venue for individual musicians, buskers and jugglers to try out new routines.
Agatha and Zeetha were heading there themselves, when they came upon Lars tending a small fire.
Lars had been a lot more attentive of late. Agatha found this flattering, but she had discovered that while Lars was undoubtedly what people in books referred to as a “boon companion,” he had certain deficiencies that she, personally, found troubling.
As Lars would have been the first to point out, he wasn’t particularly intellectual, had no inclination towards mechanics or chemistry, and frankly admitted that he wasn’t even much of a reader.
On the plus side, he was tall and muscular, displayed a great deal of interest in Agatha, and when he spoke in his onstage “Madboy” voice, her heart began thumping in a most distracting manner.
She had shared these observations with Zeetha, who had shrugged. “So he’s not much for intellectual discussion?”
Agatha shook her head.
“Good kisser though, eh?”
Agatha had blushed and nodded. Even though all they had done was kiss once a night onstage, these kisses had been getting better and better.
“So kiss him enough that he doesn’t have a chance to mess things up by talking.”
Agatha frowned. “That seems like an extremely poor blueprint for a long-term relationship.”
Zeetha rolled her eyes. “Start with kissing him twice in one night. Then decide if you want to work your way up.”
This suggestion certainly had a lot to recommend it, so when they reached Lars, Agatha stopped, and casually said, “You go on ahead. I’ll be there eventually.”
Zeetha just grinned, and trotted off.
Lars unrolled a horse blanket upon the ground, and patted the empty space beside him invitingly.
“Not going to the inn?” Agatha asked.
Lars shook his head. “I had a bellyful of that lot yesterday. They water the beer and short-change the tavern maids. Besides, someone’s got to watch the wagons.” He pulled a small silver timepiece out from an inside pocket and consulted it. “My watch’ll be over soon anyway.” He looked up at the low-lying clouds. “Before it starts to rain, if I’m lucky. You?”
Agatha stepped over and, feeling quite daring, sat down beside him. “I don’t like taverns much. I don’t like the smells.” She leaned back a bit and looked at the dark clouds overhead. “I think that’s what I like best about living on the road. It always smells so nice.”
“You got that right,” Lars agreed. He reached behind him and pulled out a dark green bottle. He flipped open his knife and set about removing the wax sealing the cork. “Of course, I spent five years apprenticed to a cheese-maker, so just about anywhere smells better than that.” He pulled the cork with a pop, buffed the lip in a gentlemanly way with his sleeve, and offered her the bottle.
Agatha took a sip. It was sweeter than she expected. She passed the bottle back. “I don’t know about that. I was a lab assistant. For stick-to-your-clothes stink, I doubt you can beat your exotic coal-tar derivatives.”
Lars took a drink. He started to speak, and then began laughing.
“What?”
Lars shook his head. “Here I am thinking I’m going to impress a pretty girl by talking about the terrible smells of various loathsome cheeses.” He took another drink and handed Agatha the bottle. “Mighty suave, huh?”
Agatha cocked an eyebrow. “Well I am impressed at how smoothly you slipped the ‘pretty girl’ line in.”
Lars stared at her for a moment, and then sheepishly looked at his boots. “Well, it’s not like I was lying.” He glanced at her again. “If you’re going to cynically analyze everything I say, then I might as well start talking about cheese again.”
Agatha rolled her eyes. “If that’s my choice, I think I’d prefer it if you stopped talking.”
Lars turned towards her. “All right.”
He reached out, gently pulled her towards him and kissed her. It was a slow, relaxed kiss, and yet Agatha felt her heart racing. When they stopped, she took a deep breath. “That wasn’t exactly what I meant.”
Lars raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Is that a problem?”
Agatha opened her mouth and he kissed her again. This time the kiss was harder, and when they broke apart, Agatha could feel that her face was flushed.
“Wait,” she gasped.
Lars smiled. “I have been. This is what I was waiting for.” He leaned in again, and then checked himself. “You don’t like it?”
Agatha did like it. A lot. But there was something that was… not right—she tried to convince herself… “It… it could be an interesting experiment,” she whispered.
Lars paused, and then dropped into his madboy voice. “Don’t tell me you fear the experiment?”
With a small growl, Agatha mashed her lips to his. This caught Lars by surprise and he tried to pull back, but found himself held fast by Agatha gripping his vest. The kiss intensified and she pulled him even closer. Lars felt a small burst of panic and wrenched his face back, breaking the kiss.
Agatha looked at him. Her eyes flashed in heavy-lidded irritation. She pulled him back towards her—
“Stop!” Lars gasped out.
Agatha blinked in astonishment, realized that she was holding him fast, and released him so suddenly that he fell backwards.
Lars felt his heart racing like he had just escaped from some sort of trap. He looked up at Agatha, slightly disheveled, breathing quickly, with a bit of a wild look in her eye, and wondered if he had.
For her part, Agatha was analyzing what had just happened. She looked at Lars and realized that while he wasn’t that interesting intellectually, if he talked to her in his onstage voice, he could recite a bread recipe and she would do whatever he wanted. This disturbed her. On the other hand, it had been an exceptional kiss.
Suddenly, there was the sound of amused throat-clearing, and they turned to find Captain Kadiiski standing on the other side of the dying fire, seemingly fascinated with the cloud-obscured night sky.
He glanced their way, and seeing that he had their attention, bowed. “Good evening! Am sorry to be breaking up no doubt fascinating discussion of various intellectual subjects, but it is my turn to stand the watching.” He paused, “So when did someone steal Master Payne’s wagon?”
Agatha and Lars whipped about, and seeing that all was well, glared at the grinning mechanic.
“Very funny,” Lars said sourly as he offered Agatha a hand up.
Kadiiski nodded. “It is that.” He tipped his hat to Agatha. “So! Are you offering stimulating conversation to all of us lonely watching men?”
Agatha blushed. “I… ah…”
Kadiiski guffawed and made shooing motions. “Off with you both before I am made dead from the cuteness.”
They did. From the inn, a song about the Storm King, accompanied by much table pounding, boomed out from the open doors. A local staggered out and was exuberantly sick.
Wordlessly, they turned back towards the wagons.
All too soon, they found themselves at the foot of the Baba Yaga’s ladder. Tentatively, they kissed. It went on for some time.
Finally, Lars took a deep breath. “Okay. I gotta… I gotta go grab some shut-eye.”
Agatha nodded, and with some difficulty, removed her hands from Lars’ vest. “Right. Say good night to Herr de la Scalla fo
r me.”
“Oh I won’t see him, I’ll be bunking under one of the wagons.”
“What? Why?”
Lars grinned. “Well, Pix has kind of moved in. I’ll be getting a new wagon soon enough, but it’s no big deal since I’m so used to sleeping outside anyway.” He paused, “Although, if you can think of a place I could stay…”
Agatha looked up at Lars and her breath caught. For a moment, the lights from the inn illuminated his profile in such a way that she was reminded of Gilgamesh Wulfenbach.
But it wasn’t Gilgamesh, and it never would be. She had run from him and made sure that he never came back. Ever.
No, it wasn’t Gilgamesh. It was Lars. A man who liked her. Who…who wanted her, even though he knew what she was. She looked around. This was her world now, and Lars was one of the people in it. A good person. Maybe good enough…
All of this flashed through her head in a split second.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It sounds tempting. Really tempting. But…”
Lars knew when to push and when to fade. Sometimes you wanted a girl to be thrown a bit off balance. He gently ran a hand down her cheek and smiled. “—But that’s a big step. No problem.”
Agatha had been expecting a little more pressure. “Really? You’ll be okay?”
Lars dramatically put a hand to his heart and strove to look excessively noble. “I assure you that none will be disturbed by my weeping.” Agatha’s eyes narrowed, and Lars chuckled, lightening the mood. “No, seriously, I’ll be fine outside—”
A boom of thunder rattled loose objects as it rolled across the sky and a wall of rain crashed down upon them.
Seconds later, they were inside the wagon, clothes dripping. Agatha fetched a towel from the small cabinet under the washbowl and silently began dabbing it at Lars’ face.
“Or, I could stay here,” he conceded. Without taking his eyes off of hers, Lars nodded. “That bench seat should be comfortable enough.”
Agatha opened her mouth and he kissed her again. This was a forceful kiss, intense, but quickly ended. He pulled back slightly and waited to see how Agatha would react.
Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess Page 26