Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

The Countess stopped her with an upraised hand. “Oh, have no fear, my dear. You’ll earn your keep.” She looked toward the center of the camp, where the old cook was busy shouting orders. Waving a long wooden spoon like a general’s baton, he was directing a group of men who had already emerged from the surrounding forest with armloads of firewood. “If you feel up to it, I imagine Taki would appreciate some help once he’s finished setting up.”

Agatha was smart enough to know that her life with these people would be significantly easier if she was seen pitching in as eagerly as she could.

“Of course. It will be my pleasure.”

The Countess nodded in approval and sailed off. Left alone, Agatha climbed onto the wagon bench and collapsed weakly.

She felt... hollow. She had expected to be hunted by the Empire, but she hadn’t expected him. And yet, maybe she should have. Of course she should have. Hadn’t he taken an interest in her right from the start? It had been Gilgamesh Wulfenbach who had questioned her so pointedly about the whereabouts of Adam and Lilith. Gil who had watched her carefully, brought her to work in his lab, and hidden the fact that she was a Spark from his father.

Krosp had warned her that Gilgamesh was up to something, and so he had been, but she still wasn’t sure exactly what. Some kind of power play was going on in the Wulfenbach family, and Agatha had an uneasy feeling that she had narrowly escaped being made a pawn in a perilous game. Adam and Lilith had hidden her away from the Baron all her life—they had even died trying to protect her from him. And Lilith had said that Gil would only be the first of the powerful people who would try to control her—to use her for their own ends.

And yet, although she didn’t—couldn’t—trust him, she had liked him. Liked him very much indeed, if she was honest with herself, in spite of the fact that she had seen him do such terrible things... Liked him enough to briefly think it might be worth taking the chance...

All day, Agatha had struggled to forget the devastating pain on Gil’s face when he believed she was dead. Had he really cared that much for her after all? Agatha shivered.

Krosp ambled around the corner of a wagon and leapt up to sit beside her. He nudged Agatha’s arm with the top of his head, and she reached down absent-mindedly to scratch behind his ears. The cat tumbled over sideways into her lap and closed his eyes. “So that was ‘acting’ was it?” He growled. “I don’t understand. How did that fool anybody? You smelled exactly the same.”

The corner of Agatha’s mouth twitched upward. “I don’t think he noticed.”

Krosp opened one eye at the pronoun. “Oh? Well he’s obviously an idiot.”

Agatha let this pass. “So what’s Professor Moonsock going to do with you?”

Krosp opened both eyes and looked apprehensive. “Well, for starters, I promised to hunt her up some fresh mimmoths. She says: ‘so you can talk, so what?’ I told her I can swear, too, but she says she’ll teach me to do something ‘stage-worthy.’”

Agatha had yet to see Professor Moonsock’s act, but earlier, she had noticed several large bats hanging out the Professor’s laundry. Krosp’s apprehension might be well-founded. “That sounds fun.”

Krosp glared up at her. “Oh right. Like she can train me. What am I? Some moronic hound?”

“Oh, heaven forbid. So... you won’t do it?”

“Of course I’ll do it! She has cream!” The cat licked his chops. “I just don’t want her to think it’ll be easy.”

Agatha nodded. Krosp curled into a giant ball and began to purr. Suddenly, he snapped his eyes open and stared up at Agatha inquisitively. “Say, you smell kind of sad. This isn’t about that stupid Wulfenbach boy, is it?”

“No. Well, maybe...” Agatha paused, and then sighed. If you can’t be honest with your cat... she thought to herself. Of course, most cats wouldn’t include your secrets as amusing anecdotes in their memoirs, but still...

“Yes,” she said, in a low voice. “Seeing him like that... I still feel like I’ve done something awful. I just wanted to run out and tell him that everything was all right, that I wasn’t really dead. I almost... almost didn’t care what happened at all after that.”

Krosp rolled onto his back and watched her carefully—his head comically upside-down. “But you didn’t,” he said. “Why not?”

“Why do you think? Because it would have been hugely stupid.”

The cat waited for Agatha to continue, but there didn’t seem to be any more forthcoming. “That’s it?”

Agatha nodded glumly. “Well, yes. Isn’t that enough?”

Krosp’s tail lashed a few times. “In my experience, that doesn’t seem to stop most people.”

“Ever since my locket was removed, I can think more clearly.” She paused, trying to find the right words. “Krosp, you’ve read a lot of history. Have you ever read any Classical mythology?”

The cat flicked an ear dismissively. “A bit. I like history better.”

“Then you should know what happens to mortals who get mixed up with the gods. It never ends well. The Wulfenbachs are like the Gods of Olympus, they’ve got the power of life and death over the entire Empire.

“Doctor Beetle was a Spark! A strong one! And he was so afraid of the Baron, he got himself killed rather than let the Baron take him away. Your creator, Doctor Vapnoople—I met him! The students on Castle Wulfenbach call him “Doctor Dim!” What did the Baron do to him?

“And who am I? I’ve got no power, no protection. Nothing. If I had gone with Gil, maybe... maybe he would have been happy that I wasn’t dead, but what would happen after that? He would have taken me back to his father. The Baron killed Adam and Lilith! He gave orders that I was not just to be confined, I was to be kept sedated! And Gil...” Agatha took a deep breath and shook her head. “Even when he said he wanted to marry me, he made it into an order and tried to drag me off. And you saw how he acted with Pix...”

She hung her head. “...and even then, even then, it was still hard.” She absently scratched Krosp’s belly, and the cat stretched happily, closing his eyes and flexing his claws. “Even now, I feel kind of odd. He—they think I’m dead now. Even if I feel bad, I had to do it. It’s all right, I’ll get used to it. It’s just... hard to believe it’s over.”

“Don’t be a fool!” Zeetha snapped. She had appeared silently beside the wagon, as if she had dropped from the sky. Krosp leaped up in shock, eyes wide, fur bristling.

Then, to Agatha’s astonishment, Zeetha dropped to one knee and bowed her head. “Agatha Clay,” she said quietly. “I never got a chance to thank you for trying to save Olga. Nor have I yet apologized for my earlier outburst.”

This was certainly true. In the aftermath of the crab clank’s attack, Zeetha had taken charge of Olga’s body. She had changed the dead girl’s clothing, and stood by protectively while various members of the circus had applied their arts—giving Olga the finishing touches for her last role as the burned corpse of Agatha Clay. All the while, Zeetha had chanted a beautiful, haunting dirge in a flowing tongue Agatha knew must be Skifandrian. When Olga had finally been lowered into the ground, Zeetha had made a small cut on her arm, and allowed six drops of blood to fall upon the winding sheet before the grave was filled in. Then she had turned on her heel and walked into the woods, alone. Agatha had not seen her since, and had begun to think that the green-haired girl had left the Circus entirely.

Agatha shrugged uncomfortably. “Everyone was so busy. Besides, to have lost your friend—I’m so sorry. I wish I could have done more.”

Zeetha stood and nodded. “Olga was a good companion.” She waved toward the camp. “These others are kind, but they were never convinced I was telling the truth. Olga believed me. She helped me when I really needed it. I will miss her. But I have known since childhood that Death is always waiting to cut in on the dance.”

Then, to Agatha’s surprise, Zeetha sat down next to her. She was... different from when Agatha had first met her. Where she had been rough, full of suppressed anger, she now seemed serene. Her eyes were no longer empty.