Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

Agatha slowly pulled herself up into a sitting position. “Gosh. I—”

“And tomorrow, be a little more careful when you leave, okay? You almost woke me up.”

Agatha told herself later that she probably wouldn’t have actually hit him with it... she had just grabbed the rock without thinking. A good-sized rock, actually. It wasn’t until she had raised it high over her head with a vengeful roar that Zeetha voice sounded behind her. “Hey! You’re moving!” Zeetha set down a dish of oatmeal and looked pleased. “I’m really impressed!”

Agatha flinched, and dropped the rock onto her foot. As she clutched her foot in pain, Zeetha explained. “The point of the first day of training is to drive you to your absolute limit. To see just how far I can force you.” She gestured to the rock. “You’re not as weak as I thought.”

The ramifications of what Zeetha was saying began to sink in. “No!” Agatha whimpered. “I am weak.”

Zeetha laughed merrily, and swung the stick up with a flourish. “And you’re sneaky! I admire that!” Down came the stick. “But you won’t fool me again!”

Agatha, squealing, gamely tried to defend herself from the fresh volley of blows. Krosp looked on with detached interest as she staggered off—Zeetha trotting happily behind to deliver the occasional smack.

The cat stretched, then picked up Agatha’s cereal. He ventured a taste, nodded in approval, and began to eat. “Mm! Delicious. She’ll be sorry she missed this!”

Some time later, a large, shaggy raven crouched on the edge of Professor Moonsock’s wagon, peering hopefully at the prone figure of Agatha on the grass below. She hadn’t moved for a long time, which looked promising. Perhaps she was dead. The raven swooped down to land on her thigh. No reaction. Good. It took a peck at her. Still no reaction. Very good. Encouraged, the bird prepared to dig in—when a pebble whizzed out from under the nearest tree and caught it hard just above its tail. The raven gave an outraged “squark” as it flapped hastily into the air, circling around to settle back onto the roof of the cart. It could wait. Countess Marie strode forward. She rolled her eyes at the comatose girl before her and shook her head. “Come along, Agatha. I know you’re not dead.”

A muffled voice escaped the moss. “You cannot prove that by any verifiable method.”

Zeetha had let it be known that she had taken Agatha under her wing, and would be working her hard. There were no objections. In fact, this fit neatly with the order Master Payne had quietly given his troupe the night before. Grateful as the circus members were for Agatha’s help, she was nevertheless a stranger. Until they bid her fare- thee-well at Mechanicsburg, she was to be kept busy and worked hard, hard enough that she would have neither time nor energy to get into trouble, or ask too many questions.

Marie was used to dealing with actors who had over-indulged the night before, and was infamous for her ability to get them on their feet and on stage without mercy. Agatha’s condition, while not self-imposed, was familiar enough. She reached down with one hand, and effortlessly hauled the girl to her feet. “Let’s get you moving.”

Clean, dressed, and with a decent meal inside her, Agatha was soon willing to admit the possibility that life might be worth living.

Marie smiled. “We’ll have you help out with a little of everything. That will give us a chance to see where you’ll be the most use. To start with, I believe Embi could use an assistant.”

Agatha swallowed the last of her oat bread and honey, then wiped her hands. “Who is Embi?” she asked.

The Countess smiled. “Ah! With all the excitement we’ve had the last few days, you haven’t had a chance to meet everyone. Now, it’s high time you experienced the true glamour and excitement of show business!”

Several minutes later, a man no taller than Balthazar—with skin so dark it was almost black—plopped a second huge basket of beets at her feet as he sang out “Aaaand this batch of glamour here!” He then sat down beside her and pulled a paring knife out of his astonishingly tall hat.

Agatha was all-too-familiar with the job before her[17]. She sighed, and set to work with a will. She was soon surprised to find the task more pleasant than usual, for Embi had a friendly air about him and the conversation flowed comfortably.

“That’s a fine hat,” Agatha said. “I’ve never really seen one like it. Is it from Paris[18]?”

“Ho! A common mistake!” Embi smiled. “But it is a style that was common in my youth, in a village in Africa that you’ll never have heard of.”

Agatha sat back and looked at the little man with surprise. “Then you really are a long way from home.”

Embi sighed as he picked up another beet and stripped the peel off all in one long strip. “It is true. I am an explorer. I travel these savage lands in search of the rare and exotic.” He saw the direction of Agatha’s glance and hefted the beet in his hand defensively. “We don’t have these back home.”

Agatha laughed. “But then, why are you with the circus?”

“The same as yourself. It is an excellent way to travel through these inhospitable lands.”

“Inhospitable?” Agatha glanced at the surrounding forest. “Well, the Wastelands, certainly... but I never thought of Europa as savage or exotic.”

Embi raised an eyebrow. “You know, that’s what I always said to visitors to my land.”

Agatha considered this. “I see. What’s your act?”

“Oh, some storytelling, exotic music, slight-of-hand...” Embi shrugged. “Mostly, I am short.”

Embi was obviously an adult, but even for a short man, he seemed impossibly tiny. “Is everyone short where you come from?”

“Indeed!” Embi reached into the basket. “Why, when I left home, my newest nephew was the size of this beet.” He held the vegetable a moment, and a far-away look came into his eyes. “He’ll be a great-great-grandfather now, I trust.” He sighed.

Agatha blinked as she ran the math in her head. “Wait a minute. You don’t look—how old are you?”

The little man studiously began to peel his beet. He didn’t look at Agatha. “I am... no longer sure,” he said quietly. “But one hundred and thirty, at least.”

Agatha sat back and considered this. “Is that normal for your people?”

“Ha!” Embi laughed, “No! When I was young and rash, I asked a boon of the Great Devil Goddess. In return, I took a sacred vow to see the wide world. I am to return to tell her all about it before I die.” He slumped a bit and looked at Agatha with one eyebrow raised. “To be honest, I don’t think either one of us knew just how wide the world is.”

Agatha thought about this. “But what has that got to do with your long life?”

Embi fixed her with a stern glare, and Agatha suddenly felt like a naughty six year old. “Humph! One of the problems with people in these lands is that they do not take sacred vows at all seriously!”

From the shadows between two wagons, Master Payne and Countess Marie watched as Agatha laughed, chatted, and relieved beets of their skins. After a few minutes of eavesdropping, they drew back farther behind the wagons, and the circus master turned to his wife.

“And so, my dear, what do you think?”

Marie bit lightly on a knuckle and frowned. “It’s too soon to tell. She seems very nice. Brave and good- hearted, but then that’s not the question, is it?” She studied Payne. “You’re worried about something.”

Payne gave a snort of annoyance. Among his players, he had a certain reputation for imperturbability, which he took pains to cultivate. His wife, on the other hand, was never fooled. He felt like he was onstage, attempting a conjuring trick that he hadn’t quite mastered. “Moxana has started a new game,” he said.

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.”