Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

completely, that is where I’m going.”

Wooster dropped his eyes and sighed deeply. “I see.” He squared his shoulders and grinned. “Then I guess I’d better go with you.” He turned to Master Payne. “My offer still holds, of course. But instead of going direct, I’ll give you a letter to present to Her Majesty’s ambassador in Paris. I expect you’ll all be on one of Her Majesty’s submersibles within the week.”

Agatha nodded. “Very well, Mr. Wooster, I imagine you’ll be quite useful, and I promise to visit your Queen eventually, if only to see how well my friends have been treated.”

The agent smiled ruefully. “Perfectly understandable. I’d best find some writing paper so I can prepare those letters.”

As Wooster left, Agatha turned to Master Payne and the Countess. “Thank you. For everything. I want you to know that I would have been happy working with you.”

The Countess looked at her appraisingly. “I rather doubt it,” she said frankly. “I suspect that in the end, we would have wound up working for you.” She raised a hand to forestall Agatha’s protest. “It’s the nature of the Spark, my dear. We can’t help it.”

She looked Agatha in the eye. “But we can help how we treat those who fall into our orbit. Treat them with respect. See to their comfort. Reward their efforts—” She hugged her husband, “And allow them the illusion that they are in control of their destiny.”

Payne nodded seriously as he patted his wife’s hand. “Yes, as you can see, that’s very important.”

The Countess froze. “Hieronymus, you filthy commoner. Are you intimating—”

Payne glanced at Agatha. “Please, m’lady, don’t argue in front of the Heterodyne.”

Marie effortlessly switched gears. “Goodbye, my dear,” she said with a tear forming in her eye. “Try to stay good.” She enveloped Agatha in a tight hug and whispered. “But if you simply can’t, at least remember to enjoy yourself.”

Over the years to come, Agatha would often vacillate as to whether this was the best or the worst bit of advice she had ever received, but she had to admit, that she never regretted following it.

Payne took her hand, and a small, pleasantly heavy purse was placed there. Agatha tried to hand it back. “You’ve got to be joking. I... I destroyed all your wagons. Your possessions, your props, your books—I couldn’t possibly accept wages.”

Payne raised an eyebrow. “I know,” he said delicately, “It’s a bill.”

Agatha hefted the purse, which seemed heavier. “Ah. Yes, of course.”

Payne waved a hand. “Oh don’t worry about it right away. Who knows? Perhaps we’ll all become so fabulously rich from the new Heterodyne plays, that we won’t need it, eh?”

“New plays?”

“Don’t be naive, my Lady. You’ll be the subject of new stories before Wulfenbach’s troops get their cook fires lit. We, at least, will be in a position of authority, for those that care about such things, and I promise you that we will devote as much care and respect to your tales as we do to the others.”

Agatha turned to Gunthar. “I’ve never been in a pie fight.”

He considered this. “Not yet,” he conceded, “but the night is young.”

Agatha turned back to Payne. “I’ll repay every pfennig. I swear.”

Payne looked shocked. “Why, I never thought otherwise.” That said, he again turned serious. “At the moment, you’re basically a good person, Agatha. Try to stay a good person, but don’t let people take advantage of you. If you do, soon enough you won’t be a good person anymore, you’ll be a bad Heterodyne, and frankly, the world has had quite enough of them.”

With that he offered her his hand, she shook it, and with a swirl of his great coat, he swept off. It was only after he left that Agatha realized that there was a smaller purse in her hand, with a small tag which read: “This, on the other hand, is a gift.”

I wonder how he did that, she thought.

With Payne and his wife gone, the rest of the circus approached, and there was much hugging, and crying, and a great many questions about the Heterodynes and her life.

Agatha had thought that the others would be shy because of who she was, but soon realized that these were people who, on stage at least, hobnobbed nightly with figures of legend. To them, at least, she was still Agatha Clay.

All too soon, the landing gongs sounded, and Agatha, Zeetha, Krosp, Ardsley and the three Jagers were escorted to one of the launch bays. There they found several fully loaded horses, and a change of clothes.

“The horses are a surprise,” Zeetha commented as she changed.

“They’re good ones. Officer grade,” Professor Moonsock said as she finished tightening the final saddle.” You should be able to get ten gold Pax-Guilders each when you sell them. Don’t settle for less than five, or they’ll think they’re stolen.”

“But they are—”

“—But you don’t want people to know it!”

At last all the preparations were complete. The airship set down rather bumpily in a deserted field near a dilapidated farm house.

The bay door was rolled up and the Jagers leapt out and watched, as two of the roustabouts slid the ramp out and dropped it down with a dull clong.

A final round of embraces and goodbyes, and the three horses clopped down the ramp and began cropping the long grass as the four watched the ship close up.

Ognian took a deep breath of the crisp morning air and whooped. “Schmells like home, brodders!” The other two Jagers grinned. They all gave Agatha a slight bow, and trotted off to scout on down the road.

The ramp was slid back into place. The doors were rolled closed. The engines revved, the running lights of the airship blinked three times in salute, and it rose slowly into the sky. The figures waving from the windows rapidly dwindled and quickly became unrecognizable. Once airborne, the ship turned and headed off, away from the rising sun.

Part of Agatha felt that she should sit and watch it until it vanished from sight. She shook her head and sighed. They did that sort of thing in stories.

She pulled her horse around. The road into Mechanicsburg wasn’t far. Zeetha and Wooster waited for her to take the lead.

Agatha sat up straight and touched the horse’s flanks with her heels. She was a Heterodyne, and she was going home.

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NOTES

1

As any serious student of the life of Agatha Heterodyne must be aware of by now, hard facts about things like geography are frustratingly difficult to nail down. As far as we have been able to ascertain, the mountains referred to here were probably part of The Balkans, but could easily have been part of the Transylvanian Alps. All we know for sure is that they were flat on the bottom, pointed on the top, and had ears.

2

See our previous textbook, which, due to unfortunate market forces is entitled Agatha H and the