Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

other members of the troupe. A quick reassessment and she realized that while he was tall, he wasn’t exceptionally tall, and while he was heavy, he wasn’t excessively fat, it was just that he... loomed large. This, she realized, was a man who filled the space he was in, whatever that space happened to be. He had a broad face framed by a mane of wild reddish brown hair, as well as a full beard and moustache. His eyes were magnified in a mesmerizing way by his small, thick spectacles.

He wore layer upon layer of waistcoats, each adorned with pockets, piping, buttons and chains, none of which matched. The whole ensemble was enveloped by a huge, elaborate coat covered with embroidered stars, moons and comets. At his throat was a family sigil badge, which, strikingly, was completely blank.

The man’s voice matched the rest of him. It was solid and booming, and in this instance, grim. It was a voice which allowed no argument.

He addressed Agatha: “Miss Clay, I am Master Payne. I am sorry I must be so blunt. You did us a favor by returning young Balthazar, and we are grateful. But this is my circus, and I am responsible for the safety of the people in it. For that reason, our roads must diverge here.”

Captain Kadiiski looked at Agatha, puzzled, then turned back to Master Payne. “What is wrong with her?” he asked.

The circus master made a chopping motion with his hand, signaling an end to any discussion. “She is on the run from Baron Wulfenbach. Her reasons are her own, and I do not wish to know them. But even ordinary townsfolk might be punished simply for aiding her.” He fixed an eye on the mechanic, “And we have our own concerns, as you well know.”

The Captain stepped back unhappily, and several of the other circus members glanced at each other nervously. Payne turned back to Agatha. His face was sympathetic, but his voice remained firm. “We don’t want any trouble from The Baron, Miss Clay. We will forget that we ever saw you, but that, and wishing you luck, is the best that we can do.”

They all looked at her. Agatha took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I do understand,” she said quietly. “I’d better leave right away. Krosp?”

She looked around. The cat was not to be found. Suddenly, they heard a great yowling intermixed with swearing, and the intense young woman in grey leathers came around the corner, holding a thrashing Krosp by the scruff of his neck. She was furious.

“It ate them!” she screamed. “It ate my entire herd of mimmoths!” Every word was punctuated by a serious shake. “It took me a month just to get them to wear their little costumes! Mr. Honk had just learned to do the peanut trick! And this flea-riddled thing ATE them!”

“Sorry!” the beleaguered cat wailed.

The trainer froze. She stared at Krosp. “Did you just talk?”

The cat’s eyes swiveled to Agatha and then back to his captor. “Yes?” he ventured.

She briefly considered this, and shook him again. “Not good enough!” She declared. “But when I’m done with you—”

Master Payne stepped in. “Professor Moonsock! Release the cat! They are leaving us.”

The Professor glared at the large man, but she instantly let go. Krosp landed on his feet, then dashed behind Agatha’s skirt. “We’re leaving?” he asked.

Agatha nodded. “I... I’m sorry about your mimmoths, Professor. Um... Goodbye, Herr de la Scala. And, um,” she looked back at the two mechanics, “thank you for the offer.”

She then turned to the Pix, who was looking away with her jaw set hard. The girl had been rude and unfriendly, and yet, Agatha felt an odd sense of disappointment. She found didn’t want to go without saying something. “Goodbye Pix. You... you really are a good actress.”

She turned towards the woods and blinked hard. “Let’s go, Krosp.” Without a look back, she marched off into the surrounding forest, Krosp trailing behind.

The others watched them go. Guilt showed on many faces, but not Pix’s. She stared at the ground woodenly as the pair departed.

Abner kicked a stone at his feet. “That was cold. The least you could’ve done was given her a kind word,” he said to her back.

Pix whirled on him and Abner stepped back as he saw the tears flowing from her eyes. “Oh? Why?” she snarled, “She’s doomed! Didn’t you hear? She’s in the Wastelands alone! I... I liked her! She seemed... I don’t know, like someone I could have talked to! But I don’t care! I don’t want to get near Wulfenbach or anybody like him! No matter how nice, or smart, or, or interesting she is, she’d bring him and his monsters right down on our heads. You know she would! So she can’t stay here and now she’ll die. Well I’ve seen lots of people die and friendship and kindness never helped them.”

Abner looked sick, “But that’s so—couldn’t we—”

Pix punched him in the chest. “You are such an idiot!” she screamed and stamped off.

Abner stared after her, holding his hand to his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. Despite his attempts at conversation, Pix had never said much about her life before the Circus. He had already suspected it hadn’t been a happy one—Pix had been alone when she joined, with no friends or family to leave behind. Now, he wondered what had happened to her, that her reaction to Agatha had been so fearful, and so vehement.

Payne also watched her go. He patted his apprentice on the back. “The Countess will give me hell about this,” he rumbled. “But Pix is right, if a bit overdramatic. Now, let’s move out.” When next he spoke, his voice boomed out over the entire camp. “And we move On Stage!”

All across the camp, people exchanged worried looks. Many glanced nervously at the sky. Traveling “On Stage” was dangerous.

Agatha realized that she had to stop moving, at least for a little while. She had come to the edge of the woods, and the ground ahead of her was a wide field of broken stone. She had marched over the previous hill on automatic-pilot, but this rough ground would require more attention than she currently felt capable of mustering. With a deep sigh, she sat on a boulder and contemplated the rocks ahead. They looked sharp.

Krosp gingerly settled next to her. Agatha realized that he’d been trying to talk to her, but she had been walking in a fog, and nothing had registered. He tried again. “Well. That could have gone better.”

Agatha gazed blankly up at the sky and sighed again. “I know you said that people would look after their own, but I never thought we could harm people just by talking to them.”

Krosp frowned. “They did seem a bit jumpy...” he waved it away. “But we were planning on avoiding people anyway.”

Agatha nodded. “I know, but the way they were talking about the Wastelands... and they’re people who actually know their way around out here... Krosp, I don’t know if we can do this alone.”

Krosp twisted in place to gaze back the way they had come. Even in the midday sun, the forest behind them looked dark. He slumped slightly. “I don’t see that we have a lot of choice.”

Agatha stood up. “No. No choice at all, really.”

At that moment, a hellish noise rolled through the woods. Loud mechanical grinding and thumping sounds were mixed by the wild, thin shrieks of horses and the confused shouts of people.

Leaping to her feet, Agatha ran back through the woods. Krosp ran behind her, shouting at her to wait. They quickly arrived at the crest of the hill and stopped, brought up short by what they saw. Master Payne’s circus was on the move at last, but it had definitely chosen the wrong direction.

A large, crab-like clank was breaking noisily through a last bit of forest and lumbering towards the wagons. Agatha had heard of such things—machines of war abandoned or lost in the Wastelands. This one had most likely been lying dormant for years. Its metal surface was rusted and pitted. Lichen and small bushes grew from cracks in its carapace. One of its mechanical fore-claws had been torn off some time in the past, but this did not stop the clank from wrecking havoc with the remaining stump of jagged metal. Exposed and damaged wiring crackled at the torn joint.

The wagon drivers had seen it approaching, and were attempting to disperse, but between the spring-