Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess (24 page)

The Jäger dashed the weapon from Agatha’s hand and stomped it with a booted heel, smashing the center flat with a crackle of blue sparks.

She grabbed Agatha’s wrist and leaned in close. “Und now,” she hissed, “Ve see vat happens to clever leedle fingers vat play vit nasty leedle toyz—” As the Jäger spoke, she pushed Agatha’s index finger backward toward her wrist.

Agatha thrashed backward and screamed in pain. Suddenly, Othar swung in, delivering a solid boot to the side of the Jäger’s head, so that she went spinning away from Agatha.

“That’s
my
Spunky Girl Sidekick, I’ll have you know!” He boomed cheerfully.

Agatha scrambled to her feet. “I am not—”

“Agatha! RUN!” screamed Krosp, who had followed her out of the fortuneteller’s tent. Agatha turned, only to find herself staring into the gaping jaws of the bear—its hot breath on her face. Krosp was already in mid-leap, claws extended. As he landed, he buried them in the bear’s sensitive nose. The huge animal shrieked in agony and flinched backward, furiously swiping at its face with its paws as the cat ran up its back and launched himself up and away.

Agatha spun about and ran. She passed Sergeant Zulli clutching his limp and bloody arm. He was kicking at the prone watchmen and yelling. “
—Guns
, damn you! Get up! Open the armory and get the
guns!
Shoot all
four
of them!”

Without thinking, she changed her direction until she found herself standing in front of the gallows, and its three Jägers. In the flickering light the three grinning faces took on a demonic quality that sent a shiver down her spine.

The green one spoke. “Problems… Mistress?”

Agatha took a deep breath. “Someone—another Jäger—is attacking the town. The guards are going to shoot you. All of you. I’ll cut you down, and you’ll get her out of here when you escape.”

The purple one nodded. “Oh, yes?”

She paused, “And you’ll leave the townspeople alone.”

The horned one smiled lazily. “Oh, uv cawze.”

Agatha grit her teeth and glowered up at them. “Swear. Swear that’s all you’ll do. Swear… on your loyalty to the House of Heterodyne!”

Their eyes went wide at this, and this time their grins were honest ones.

“Good vun!”

“Schmot gurl!”

“Ve all so svear, Mistress!”

Agatha dashed away and returned with the smaller chair from Madame Olga’s tent. She climbed up next to the closest Jäger, and began hacking at the rope with the folding knife she kept in her boot. It wasn’t the best tool for the job, but it was sharp. “I’d better be right about you,” she panted.

The rope parted, and the green Jäger landed heavily on his feet. He scraped the ropes binding his wrists against a stone wall—so brutally that they parted. Hands free, he grinned up at her. “Too late to vorry about dot
now,
sveethot!” he called as he bounded away.

The Jäger woman held Othar aloft by his hair as she prepared to slice his head off. “Hyu fights pretty goot,” she panted, “But hyu iz too demmed annoyink to be any fun.” She raised her sword.

“Schtop! Hyu horr’ble monster-y ting uf evil!” The voice was loud and strong, and a hush fell over the square.

The Jäger blinked in surprise and lowered her sword. “Vot?”

Ranged before her, striking theatrically heroic poses, were the three Jägers from the gallows. They had found weapons, and, inexplicably, hats.

The green Jäger stepped forward and brandished a fist full of gleaming throwing knives held in a very professional-looking grip. “Ve iz Jägerkin,” he announced in a ringing voice. “Charged by de ancient contract, vit der job uv savin’ all dese pipple!”

The watching crowd of townspeople looked at each other. This was news to them.

The purple one flourished a sword that shone red in the firelight. “Yah, and ve gets to do it by gettin’ hyu
outta
here!”

The horned one twirled an immense three-bladed halberd with an effortless twitch of his fingers. “Now—iz hyu gunna run, or iz hyu gunna
die?”

The female Jäger stared at them for a moment, snorted in amusement, and then, with one flowing move of her arm, tossed Othar high into the air. “Ha-ho!
Dis
vill slow hyu down!” She shouted, and then turned with a swirl of her long blue cape and dashed away. Othar described an elegant parabola high into the air and then crashed to the ground. The Jäger woman stopped, turned, and stared in surprise at the crumpled hero.

The three other Jägers looked at each other uncertainly.

“Sorry,” the horned one called. “Vas ve supposed to ketch him?”

The purple one shrugged and grumbled: “Dunno vhy,
Hy
dun like hm.”

The green Jäger leapt forward. “Vhatever! Come
on,
brodders! Ve gots a monster hunt!”

At this, the other two brightened up. With a shout of “Ve HUNT!” the three brandished their weapons in one last showman-like flourish, and raced off after the bear and rider—through the streets and out into the dark night beyond the town gates.

The amazed crowd stared after them, wondering whether to applaud. It was only when Master Payne bellowed, “Fire!” that the spell was broken and a crew assembled to douse the burning circus wagon.

With the fire out, the monsters gone, and the gates firmly bolted shut, it was time for a party. The tavernmaster whose house bordered the square had stood everyone a large mug of cider, and the townspeople, as a whole, were feeling extremely accomplished. A pack of monsters run off, a fire put out, and a rather good stage show, all in one night! Why, Zumzum would be the next Paris
²⁹
!

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
.

T
he 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.