Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess (15 page)

Marie exclaimed in surprise. “Started over? This far into the season? For Agatha? Why didn’t she just add her, like she has for everyone else?”

Payne shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Marie was intrigued. “But which piece—”

Payne interrupted her. “Not just a new piece. Not just started over—this is a completely new game. A different game, with different rules.” He shook his head. “I’m still working it out, but this Miss Clay is the center of the whole thing.”

Marie’s eyes widened. “What is she?” she whispered. “What have we done?”

Payne looked at her and gave a single, mirthless bark of laughter. “We did what we had to do. You said it yourself. We couldn’t leave her. That may have been… truer than you’d meant.”

“But we couldn’t… ah.” Marie absorbed this. “I find Determinism a very lazy philosophical viewpoint,” she groused, “But… a new game…”

Payne gently slid his hand around her shoulders. “If we hurry, we’ll be in Mechanicsburg in a little over two months. She plans to leave us there. With luck, and a bit of care on our part, she may never notice anything.”

Marie nodded, but her voice was skeptical. “Two months. With this lot?” The couple shared a significant look and shrugged in unison.

From the peaked roof of one of the wagons, Krosp watched them walk off, arm-in-arm.
Well, that was interesting,
he thought.

As Agatha finished peeling her basket of beets, a stout, bipedal clank carrying an enormous load of logs emerged from the forest and strutted toward them. Perched atop the large domed head was Balthazar, who waved excitedly when he saw them. “I brought wood!” he sang out. “Where do you want it, Herr Embi?”

The little man nodded approvingly and pointed to the beginnings of a fire circle that lay nearby. “One more load and you’re done for the day, lad.” He looked at Agatha’s basket and smiled. “And it looks like you are done as well, Miss Clay. Good job! There’ll be borscht tonight!”

Agatha needed no more prompting. She darted off after the clank. There was something about it that had seemed odd, and she wanted a better look at it.

The device moved slowly, and she easily caught up to it. Agatha examined it as she walked alongside. Balthazar smiled down at her from his perch. “Pretty neat clank, hey?” he said with pride.

Agatha nodded. “Indeed it is. Where did your family get it?”

“He.” Balthazar corrected her. “This is Smilin’ Stev. My dad used to be a smith for the Porcelain Count of Niktalten. He’s the guy who used to take down airships with his clockwork falcons. When the Baron beat him, Dad took Stev here as his back pay.” The boy affectionately patted the clank on the head. “He’s nothing fancy, so none of the bad people we run into think he’s worth stealing. He just pulls our cart and fetches wood and water.”

A light dawned. “Ah—That’s what confused me.”

Balthazar suddenly looked wary. “What?”

Agatha pointed at the mechanical troll’s limbs as they pistoned along. “Has your father ever opened Stev up? These joints are really complicated. And look at the way these plates overlap. I think this clank may be a bit more sophisticated than you think.”

“Dad says Stev is slow and stupid, just like Mama likes ’em.”

This pronouncement effectively broke Agatha’s chain of thought. “Wait…
what?”

Balthazar smiled at her innocently. “Dad plays Punch in the Heterodyne plays
¹⁹
.”

“But—”

Suddenly, Agatha realized that while she had been intent on the clank, she had been flanked by Rivet the mechanic, and André, the troupe’s music master. Rivet was assuring André that Agatha was a decent mechanic—or at least talked like one. She turned and smiled cheerfully. “Hello, Agatha!” she chirped. “Feeling bored?”

Agatha saw that escape was impossible. “This doesn’t involve root vegetables, does it?”

Rivet considered this. “No.”

“Or hitting me with sticks?”

André frowned. “Hardly. If I remember correctly, you told Master Payne that you could play anything with a keyboard?”

Agatha perked up. “Yes! He was asking me if I had any performance experience
²⁰
. Lilith gave me lessons—ballroom dancing and piano, mostly. Sometimes, I got to play the big organ at Transylvania Polygnostic, too. And there was that accordion Doctor Vogel had hidden in his lab. He didn’t know we knew about it, but one time…”

André interrupted her. “And you’re a mechanic! It’s too perfect!”

They led her to the baggage wagons. “You’ll like this—we have a repair job for you! When that clank attacked, it completely smashed our calliope.” André untied a rope holding down a canvas cover and whipped it aside with a showman’s flourish. “Behold! The Silverodeon! Once the finest steam-powered music machine this side of the Carpathians.”

Revealed was a carved and painted cart that held an accumulation of scrap metal and twisted piping. Agatha could tell that this was the wreckage of some sort of musical instrument, but the damage looked like it had been caused as much by sheer neglect as by the clank attack.

“But… really? Agatha stepped up to the wagon and took a closer look. “I wouldn’t think it’s been played in years.”

André shrugged. “Ah, it just looks like that. We’ve discovered that if something appears too shiny and new, we run the risk of losing it to some damned princeling out for a new toy.”

Balthazar had said something similar. Agatha ran an eye over the circus wagons ranged before her. It explained a lot.

“But how can I fix this? That is, if I had the right tools, I think I could do it, but it’ll take more than basic cart repair tools for a job like this…”

Rivet grinned. “Ho! Tools I’ve got! Come on over here.”

Agatha turned to André. “I’m surprised you can’t fix it.”

He dismissed this with an elegant shrug. “Ah, while I know keyboards, I am, alas, no mechanic. Rivet here, while a fine mechanic, does not play. At the very least, I’m hoping you can get the basics sorted out before you leave us at Mechanicsburg.”

Agatha grimaced. “Well, I’ll try, but without a shop, without proper tools—”

They stopped beside Rivet’s wagon. It was covered in elaborate panels, which upon closer examination, Agatha noticed were actually cabinet doors. Rivet pulled out a ring of keys and began unlocking them and throwing them open one after the other, giving a proud little “Ta-dah!” with each reveal. Agatha watched this performance with growing astonishment. Within the cunningly-wrought cabinets were rack upon rack of gleaming tools, lovingly placed. Once all the doors were open, Rivet began fiddling with additional latches, unfolding and extending displays to reveal new wonders.

And wonders they were. Even some of the obscure tools she had only seen used in the most specialized labs at Transylvania Polygnostic were represented—often with a left-handed variant, and in a variety of sizes.

Delicate watch-making tools crafted from gold wire and ivory were a single rack away from a collection of monkey-wrenches that could have been used to uncouple the main fuel lines aboard Castle Wulfenbach. Tools constructed of everything from wood to what appeared to be tempered glass were artfully laid out around objects that even Agatha, with all her University experience, was having trouble identifying. Below the tools were what must have been hundreds of built-in drawers that contained nails, screws, bolts, and fasteners in a bewildering variety of shapes and sizes, with each compartment neatly labeled.

Agatha stood back and took in this immense collection of ironmongery. She now understood why Rivet’s wagon had to be pulled by a team of six draft horses.

“Sweet lightning,” she whispered. “This is an amazing collection. I don’t think the University has some of these!” She reverently picked up a locking wrench. “They’re beautifully made.” Craftsmen often constructed their own tools as an important part of their apprenticeship, but this collection ran across dozens of different trades.

Rivet nodded. “I find them out here in the Wastelands. Abandoned towns, crashed airships—you can find all
kinds
of stuff if you know where to look. I keep the best, rebuild and refurbish the rest. They’re good sale and trade items no matter where we go.”

Agatha picked up a curious piece that looked vaguely like a screwdriver. She depressed a small switch and the device began to vibrate in her hand with a high-pitched ululation. Nearby, a brass padlock sparked and fell open.

Rivet looked surprised. “Is that what that does? I’d wondered.”

Agatha carefully put the device back. “You’ll let me use these? With tools like these, I should be able to fix anything—anything at all.” Her voice was thick with admiration.

André grinned. “Wonderful! I will get you some paper, I’m sure you’ll want to draw up plans. Oh, and you’ll want to talk to Otto. He can configure his wagon engine so that it can run a lathe, mill or saw, anything you need.”

Agatha nodded, but she was only half listening. Her mind was already tackling the problem. Deep in thought, she wandered back to the old calliope.

Rivet watched her go, sighed, and began shutting up her wagon. It was a rather time-consuming operation. When she spoke, it was in a low whisper. “André, I just don’t understand what Master Payne is thinking. There’re plenty of
real
repair jobs I could use her on.” She glared at the music master. “Finest music machine east of my ass. That stupid old thing is just a wreck that Lars found. I was planning on stripping it for scrap.”

André sniffed. “Don’t be crude, it suits you all too well. You want her to help with repairs? Then by all means ask her. Master Payne said to keep her so busy she doesn’t have time to think.” He waved a hand to indicate Agatha, who was now atop the calliope wagon, resolutely tugging at a twisted pipe, “Voilà! It is done!”

Rivet hesitated, than sulked a bit. “But she’s going to mess with my tools.”

“Better to share your tools, than lose your neck.”

All Rivet had to say to that was a resigned “Harumph” and the conversation was over. Krosp, lurking behind a wheel, found this extremely frustrating.

At lunchtime, Agatha asked Zeetha: “How will Abner find us again? Haven’t we traveled an awfully long way since he’s been gone?”

Zeetha reassured her. “We’re in the same river valley, and we’re keeping to the old road. The caravan always moves pretty slow, and Abner’s a good woodsman when he has to be. I won’t start to worry about him for another week, at least.”

Even so, it wasn’t long after lunch that Agatha saw Zeetha walk off along the wooded road in the direction they’d come—and when, later that afternoon, Abner emerged from the woods atop a sleek chestnut stallion, Zeetha was trotting along beside him, grinning.

Gunter, the big man who was Balthazar’s father, saw them first and roared out a welcome that also served to alert the rest of the camp. Everyone dropped what they were doing and converged on the returning pair.

A dark-haired young man reached them ahead of the others, and grinned up at Abner. “Hey! You’re alive! And back quick, too!”

Abner laughed. “Sorry, Lars! You can’t rent out my half of the wagon just yet.” He patted his mount, who was eyeing the gathering crowd nervously. “For which you can thank this fine horse.”

Lars examined it critically, and nodded in admiration. “Wulfenbach’s people give him to you?”

Abner snorted at the thought. “Ha. I don’t talk
that
fast. I found him wandering loose near a campsite that had… well, it had been attacked by something.”

Instantly Lars went tense. “Attacked by
something
? By
what
?”

“I don’t know. It was something nasty. The place was wrecked pretty bad.” He dismounted. “Believe me, I was glad to find this guy. I wanted out of there fast. Some of the remains I found… well…whatever got them mauled them pretty bad before it ate them.” He saw the look on Lars’ face and shook his head. “Hey, give me
some
credit. I made sure I wasn’t followed. I rode down the river for close to two kilometers.”

Lars thought about this and nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, that sounds good. Sorry, Ab, worrying is part of my job.” He faced the rest of the crowd. “But that’s still close enough that I want everyone to be on the alert!”

While Abner and Lars talked, Professor Moonsock and Dame Ædith were examining the horse. “Looks mighty famished to me,” Ædith said.

Professor Moonsock ran a hand over the horse’s ribs and frowned. “Certainly feels boney,” she admitted. She tried to grab the animal’s head. “He’ll definitely need fattening up before we can have him working. Come on, old fellow, let me see those teeth.” At this the horse snapped his head back and reared. Ædith caught the smaller woman before she hit the ground. “Closemouthed beast.”

The professor dusted herself off. “He just needs to be fed a bit. Get to know us. Apparently we don’t all have Herr de la Scalla’s winning personality.”

Abner shrugged modestly, then froze as a voice behind him called his name. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning.

“Pix,” he said simply.

They stood less than a meter apart. Everyone else tried hard to look like they were interested in something else—and failed dismally. Pix spoke first. “Are you all right?”

Abner nodded. “I am.”

“Well… well good.” Pix desperately cast about, trying to think of something to say. This confused her—she usually had plenty to say and didn’t hesitate to say it. But now she realized that there were thousands of things she wanted to say to Abner, and that she was terribly afraid of saying the wrong thing. Suddenly, she was annoyed. This actually helped—
now
she could talk. “So what was the idea of horning in on my act, hey?”

This was not quite what Abner had expected. “What? But… I
had
to!” He protested. “I thought he was going to
kill
you!”

Pix considered this. “It was a close thing, wasn’t it?” she admitted, “But I don’t think he was the kind to shoot an unarmed girl. He was making too much noise. I had him pretty rattled, after all.”