Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess (29 page)

Everything was going smoother. The Baba Yaga was the most dramatic example, but it wasn’t the only device that mysteriously improved. Throughout the troupe, people began to notice that fuel efficiency was increasing. Gear systems became more intuitive. Mechanical break-downs almost disappeared. Windows stopped sticking. Doors stopped creaking.

No one could explain it. Everyone
knew
that Agatha had something to do with it, even though they never saw her doing anything.

In retrospect, many people have asked why no one ever just came out and confronted her about it. To understand this lapse, one must consider the culture of the troupe. First and foremost, everything that happened was an improvement. No one wanted to be the one to “kill the golden goose,” as it were. Perhaps more importantly, this was a culture that appreciated a good trick, and they wanted to figure out how she did it without having to be told.

As a result, they fixated upon the superficialities, and never saw the larger changes even as they were happening around them. A most excellent trick indeed.

One afternoon, after the troupe had stopped for the day. Agatha was chatting with the Countess as she was sorting old gears and selecting which ones to set to soak in a bath of kerosene. Balthazar raced up “Hey Miss Agatha,” he called. “I was out collecting wood, and I found you another wreck!”

Agatha smiled. “Wonderful! You keep finding me parts and I’ll get that organ finished yet!”

The boy beamed. “This one is a really big old clank! It should have lots of parts!”

Agatha wiped her hands on her trousers and stood up. She grabbed a bulky workbelt and buckled it around her waist. “Well then, let’s see if we can find you a sweet cake, and then I’ll collect my tools and we can check this clank out.”

This last exchange took place within earshot of Lars and Yeti, who were inventorying the chemical wagon. Lars looked worried. “Hey. She’s going off into the woods to mess around with an old clank?”

Yeti raised a shaggy eyebrow in surprise. “Yes. Just like she’s been doing for a while now.”

“But… by herself?”

“Balthazar is going with her.”

“But he’s just a kid.”

Yeti scratched his chin. “I’m sure they both know to stay within shouting distance.”

Lars grabbed Yeti’s arm and attempted to drag him along. This had the same effect as trying to pull an oak tree. “Come on! It could be dangerous!”

“And you want to follow them?” Yeti frowned. “Lars, are you feeling all right?”

Lars tried pulling him again. “Stop fooling around and let’s go!”

With the dispassionate sangfroid of the very large, Yeti shrugged and rose to his feet, allowing himself to be pulled along. This promised to be interesting.

Several minutes later, Agatha and Balthazar stepped into a forest clearing and Agatha felt her breath catch in wonder. The space was like a green cathedral. Shafts of light pierced the darkness, which was filled with dancing motes of light. Slumped to the ground, nestled amongst a mass of broken moss and fungi encrusted logs, was an aged colossus of a clank. Agatha did a quick calculation and whistled softly to herself. When it stood erect, the clank must have been over ten meters tall. She looked at the damage caused when it had fallen, the rust and corrosion that covered every surface, except where moss and lichen had taken hold. By her estimate, this clank had been abandoned for close to twenty years. Whatever empire it had served had no doubt fallen long ago. Agatha looked around. For all she knew, this section of forest had once been part of a thriving town. The Wastelands were full of places where civilization had succumbed to outside forces. Agatha shivered.

She turned to Balthazar. “There’s going to be a lot more here than we can carry. Do you think Smilin’ Stev could get a wagon in here?”

Balthazar considered the uneven path they’d recently trod. “Maybe not. But he can still carry stuff out himself. He won’t care how many trips it takes.”

Agatha nodded. “Please ask your father if I can use him then.” Balthazar gave her a crisp salute and bounded back towards the camp.

Alone, Agatha picked her way the foot of the colossus. She examined the surface of the great clank, and scowled at the condition of the metal. She pulled a small pry bar from a loop on her belt, and with a quick jab and snap, pulled up a section of plate. She examined the mechanisms underneath, and what she saw pleased her quite a bit. She began to hum to herself. From a pouch, she pulled a small monocular, and scrutinized the front of the clank. She found what she wanted up near the head. She gave a satisfied smile and put the viewing device back in its pouch.

She then pulled out a fat metal disc and attached a long, silken rope to it. Still humming, she whirled it around her head several times and threw it towards the top of the clank. With a “THUNK” the disc stuck to the clank, revealing itself to be a magnet. As it turned out, a very strong magnet, as Agatha used the attached rope to haul herself upwards along the face of the recumbent giant.

Once she reached where she wanted to go, she looped the rope around her seat and clipped it to an attached “D” ring. She examined the surface before her and then scraped away a thick layer of moss. A small service panel was revealed. She perfunctorily examined the lock and then took a large hammer from her belt and smacked it squarely. The surrounding metal crumbled into a spray of rust, while the steel lock briefly hung in place, and then tumbled to the ground. Again the pry bar came out and with a tooth gritting squeal, the panel swung open.

Agatha took a cloth and wiped several glass surfaces. To her surprise, a dim light flickered behind one or two of them. She grasped a large control lever, and with some difficulty, spun the dial to “AKTIV.”

A shudder ran through the giant figure. Sparks erupted from various joints and extremities. The single great eye in its head flared red, and with a terrible slowness, swiveled down and observed the small girl hanging from its chest.

The great arms jerked, ripping loose from a cluster of small trees and slowly swung towards her.

At this, the hidden watchers broke from cover and ran towards the giant. “Hang on, Agatha,” Lars yelled, “We’ll distract it!”

Surprised at their appearance, Agatha held up a hand and shouted back over the roaring and squealing of the awakening clank. “What? Just a minute.”

She then pushed away from the control panel, and as she swung back, lashed out with the heel of her boot, shattering the control lever housing. The lights flicked and died, and great figure shuddered once, then collapsed back onto its bed of smashed trees.

Agatha calmly unhooked herself and then slid down to the base of the now motionless figure. “Now what was that?”

Yeti and Lars stared at her. After a second Lars stepped forward. “Are you all right?”

Agatha looked back at the supine clank. “What? This? Sure! I helped my father with old stuff like this all the time. People were always finding dead clanks in the woods.” She patted a metal leg. “It’s always best to disable them permanently before you start trying to take them apart.”

Yeti looked at Lars. “That sounds safe enough.”

Agatha looked confused. “Well, of course. Didn’t Balthazar send you to help?”

Lars nodded. “Oh, yeah—”

Yeti interrupted. “No. Lars was worried about you poking about in the woods all alone.”

Agatha looked at Lars, who gave an embarrassed shrug. Agatha smiled. “Well you don’t know how much it means to me to have the two of you here.”

When Balthazar arrived with Smilin’ Stev, he was surprised to find Lars and Yeti straining to hold up one of the great clank’s arms, as Agatha squatted underneath and pulled out various components. Sweat was pouring down Lars face, and his face was set in a determined scowl.

Yeti looked over at him and smiled. “You
did
say it might be dangerous.” He shifted his feet. “Happy?”

Lars rolled his eyes and grunted. “Shut… up!”

Several hours later, after the useable parts of the great clank had been stripped and transported back to the circus, Lars gratefully sipped a beer and watched the Sparks sort through the scavenged material. Since Balthazar had discovered it, and Agatha had harvested it, they were the people to bargain with, and the trading of parts and future favors was in full swing.

Agatha’s foster-mother had tried for years to teach her how to dicker in the marketplace. Sadly, Agatha had never had the knack. But now that the locket that had suppressed her mind was off, lessons and techniques that had been patiently drummed into her head long ago were resurfacing. Admittedly, she was bargaining against actors, mountebanks and thieves who had no scruples about using their skills against each other (it was how one stayed sharp, after all), but she was holding her own, and Lars, who was an interested observer to the whole proceeding, realized that her skills were improving from one transaction to the next.

He frowned. He was feeling unusually conflicted when it came to Agatha. He tried to analyze this. Physically, there was no question. Agatha was ripe and round in all the right places. The final onstage kiss should have been something he looked forward to.

He had certainly planned on getting to know her better, but every time he saw an opportunity, he found himself holding back. There was something that was keeping him from pursuing the girl, and it was starting to bother him. He was beginning to fret that he was actually falling in love with her.

The very thought made him twitch.

When the haggling was done, and people were sorting through their prizes, Agatha came up to Lars, and knelt next to him.

She looked nervous. “This is for you,” she said. She handed Lars a small device. “I noticed you still used a tinderbox.”

Lars examined the device. He twisted the knob and a small flame puffed into being. He twisted it back and it disappeared.

“It’s to thank you for helping me move stuff back to camp.” Agatha said quickly. Lars noted that her face was quite red.

“Thank you, Agatha. That’s mighty nice of you.” Lars sighed to himself. He’d been given numerous devices such as this by helpful circus members over the years. He continued to use the more primitive methods because some of the towns he scouted looked suspiciously at anyone who wielded a device more complicated than a knife.

But with the eye of a man who’s hobby was women, Lars could see that Agatha was… interested in him. This made his hesitation even more inexplicable.

He made a show of putting the firestarter into his belt pouch. Agatha smiled. “So,” Lars said, “while I have you here, may I ask an impertinent question?”

Agatha looked wary. “I suppose…” she said uncertainly.

Lars leaned in and talked quietly. “Do you have a
boyfriend
waiting for you in Mechanicsburg?”

This had clearly not been on the mental list of questions that Agatha had been anticipating. “Oh, no,“ she replied. “I was told that I have family there.”

Lars nodded. “Any boyfriends
anywhere?
”

Agatha looked away. “No, I… No. Not anywhere. Not ever,” she whispered.

Lars leaned back. “Really. Because, that madboy from the airship that came to get you? He seemed
awfully
upset when we told him that you were dead.” Lars looked away, but continued to watch her from the corner of his eyes. “And
I’d
heard—”

“I don’t care what you
heard—”
Agatha snapped, “But we weren’t… we weren’t
anything!
” She looked away. “He was probably just disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to drag me back to the Baron in chains.” She glared at Lars. He noted that her eyes glistened. “And what business is it of
yours
, anyway?”

Lars crossed his arms and gave her a leering grin. “Well, when I’m up on stage
kissing
you—” He was pleased to see a flush of color bloom upon her face, “It’ll be good to know that I don’t have to keep one eye out for some jealous guy jumping up onstage and causing trouble—and yes, it
has
happened.” He smiled at a memory. “Now
that
was one heck of an onstage pie fight.”

Agatha looked contrite. “I see.” She shook her head and smiled. “No, you won’t have to worry about
that.
”

Lars clapped his hands together and stood up. “Great! Then I can start
acting
less, and enjoy myself more!” And with that, he strode off towards his wagon.

Later that night, in her wagon, Agatha sat hugging a large pillow, as Zeetha slowly brushed out her long golden hair. For what, by Zeetha’s estimate, was the thousandth time, Agatha asked her, “But what did he
mean
by that?”

Zeetha rolled her eyes and grinned “I haven’t the foggiest idea,” she lied.

CHAPTER 6

Lucrezia: You, sir, should remove your pants.

Stranger: Indeed?

Judy: Indeed, it’s time. We have all laid aside modesty but you.

Stranger: I… wear no pants.

Lucrezia: (Terrified, aside to Judy.) No pants? No pants!

—
The Heterodyne Boys and The Socket Wench of Prague

(Act 1. Scene 2d)

W
hat it meant was that the Heterodyne shows became a lot more… interesting. There was a tension between Lars and Agatha now that was quite evident to the audience, and the final onstage kiss usually produced a cathartic eruption of applause and cheering that could last for minutes.

Agatha’s nights were full of peculiar dreams, and she actually found herself welcoming Zeetha’s morning exercises.

The frustrating thing was that off stage, her relationship with Lars seemed like it was being directed by two different people. One day he would be friendly and attentive, and the next, strangely distant.

Agatha kept trying to figure out if she was doing something wrong, but was unable to discern any pattern to Lars’ behavior.

Finally, in desperation, she mentioned her predicament to Zeetha. The green-haired girl pondered for a moment and then nodded. “An excellent choice. He’s experienced enough that he’ll be able to show you a good time, nice enough that he’ll be gentle, and independent enough that there should be no hard feelings when you move on.”