Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

“Za nedik eve za gwoon.”

“Hic mok?”

The second rider shrugged and indicated the circus’ camp. “Zo—voco cheeb? Kloopa. Obongs. Set ve?” She crossed her arms. “Za ‘actors.’”

This startled the first rider almost as much as it did Lars and Agatha. “Actors! ”

The second rider made a clicking noise and her spider straightened up and began striding off. The first rider followed suit. Agatha could hear her asking plaintively, “Woge-ze fleepin bo ‘actors,’ bin?”

This was answered with a derisive, “Yan, do hip za cheeb.”

“Hif ni!”

And with that final exchange, the strange women and their giant mounts were swallowed up among the trees.

Lars abruptly sat down on the ground. He looked ill. “I didn’t even hear them coming,” he moaned.

“Who were they?” Agatha asked.

“People call them Geisterdamen. Wei?damen. Spider Riders... all kinds of things. They’ve been around for a long time now. They’re always on the move. Nobody knows anything about them, really.” Lars paused before continuing:

“Except—you don’t want to fight them. They’re really dangerous when you do that. Farmers say that they cause revenants, steal children, blight crops...” He took a deep breath and then bounced to his feet and grinned. “Of course, they say the same things about traveling shows, so...”

Agatha was still staring at the opening in the trees where the giant spiders had disappeared. “I’ve never even heard of them.”

Lars shrugged. “There’re lots of things hiding in the Wastelands that you townies never hear about.” He looked at Agatha appraisingly. “Want us to drop you off at the next town?”

Agatha looked steadily back at him. “No thanks.”

Several of the other circus members burst into the clearing. “You two okay?” Abner asked.

Lars shook his head. “I swear, Ab, I didn’t even hear them coming!” A thought struck him. “Is Balthazar —?”

Abner waved his hands. “He’s safe.”

Captain Kadiiski, who had insisted that Agatha call him Otto (“As you are obviously a civilian”), took his hat off and wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow. “I hates me those creepy girls,” he confided to Agatha. “You should come with me,” he continued. “A wagon we have now prepared for you.”

This was welcome news. Agatha appreciated Professor Moonsock’s hospitality, but the animal trainer had clearly grown oblivious to the smells of her performers, and seemed to find nothing off-putting about mimmoths nesting in the bread-box.

As she followed Captain Kadiiski away, Abner turned to Lars and asked, “So—Just before the White-eyes turned up—did I hear part of West Pole?”

Lars nodded. “Indeed you did. I think we should roll it out for the next town.”

Abner sighed the sigh of a manager who has to deal with persnickety talent. “Put it on the list. There’s a bunch I’d like to do, but it’s got a lot of Lucrezia in it, and our Prima Donna hates playing Lucrezia.”

Lars nodded, and his head turned toward the receding Agatha. “This may no longer be a problem.”

Abner blinked. “Oh, really? You think she’s that good?” He appraised Agatha’s retreating form with new eyes. “Now I wonder how Pix will react to that?” His evil chuckle was cut off when he realized it would be his job to tell her.

Lars punched his shoulder in sympathy. “Go get her, Arlecchino.”

Otto led Agatha through the camp and stopped with an arm grandly outstretched toward a wagon that stood slightly apart from the rest. “So sorry, Agatha, but as you are the new kid, you got to take the old Baba Yaga.”

Agatha, however, was delighted. The contraption before her had a standard wagon body, approximately three meters wide and six long. It was shaped like a miniature Russian dacha, with the addition of a small onion dome jauntily perched atop the curved, peaked roof. The whole exterior was beautifully carved and then meticulously painted in several dozen garish colors. In this at least, it matched the rest of the circus wagons. What set this wagon apart was that, instead of wheels, it stood high above the ground on an enormous set of beautifully detailed mechanical chicken feet.

Agatha had admired it from afar. Until she had joined the circus, she had never seen anything like it, which, considering Adam’s “love of a good challenge,” was a pretty high bar to beat. She had wanted to get a better look at it, but had been too busy—and now it would be hers?

Wonderingly, she reached out and ran her hand over one of the enormous drumsticks. It was covered in individual, gilded metal feathers. Rivet’s head popped out from behind the mechanical claw. She grinned at Agatha. “Oh you’re going to love this.”

Agatha already did[22], but her spirits began to droop as Otto and Rivet continued:

“Driving her is the bear,” Otto grunted. “She is a double-clutch Belgian overgear snap-piston system. They never really caught on. Smart girl like you should get it in a month or so. Or you will die in embarrassing stick-shift accident.” Agatha surveyed the tangle of open-gear operating levers. This was an all-too-possible scenario.

“There’s no gyros or shock absorbers to speak of,” Rivet contributed. “She steers like an ox.” She led Agatha toward the back. “She moves well on rough terrain, which means you’ll pull ahead of the rest of the troupe. This is good—” She pointed to a small wood stove set atop the rear bumper, “because you’ll have to stop every twenty minutes to refuel the boiler. If you’re not careful, this will also make you an honorary point rider, which means you’ve got a good possibility of flushing out any beasties that might be lying in wait on the road ahead. So be careful and try not to get too far ahead of the group.”

Otto nodded. “Plus, the roof, she leaks.” He thought for a moment. “Oh yes, and if you do not park her correctly, the left leg piston will start to lose pressure, and she will fall over sometime in the night.” He clapped his hands together. “Boom,” he said glumly.

Agatha looked at him from under lowered brows. “Anything else?”

Otto waved his hand dismissively. “No. I personally am not one of those who believe that it is haunted. That is nonsense, no matter what everyone says.”

Rivet tried to lighten the mood. “The good news is that you get to bunk solo.”

Agatha glared at them. “If all that is true, then this thing is a walking disaster area! Why do you even bother to keep it running?”

Rivet opened a hatch. A double row of jeweled ovals, each meticulously etched with swirling patterns and encrusted with glittering jewels were revealed. She shrugged. “We need the eggs.”

At dinner, Agatha was again dragooned into helping serve. When she finally had time to eat, the food was filling and delicious. In addition to the promised borscht, there were succulent roast hares and fresh loaves of poppy-seed bread. Taki, the cook, had kept Agatha busy all afternoon, basting the hares with a spicy yogurt mixture. For dessert, the cook opened a large stone crock and dished out a creamy sweet cheese, which everyone eagerly slathered upon the remaining crusts of bread.

Thinking of Lilith and her warnings on the subject of strong drink, Agatha contented herself with several cups of the Countess’ specially-brewed sweet tea.

During the meal, members of the troupe took turns entertaining the rest with music, sleight-of-hand, and assorted soliloquies. Some of these last were touching, some amusing, and one made absolutely no sense to Agatha, although Zeetha had found it hilarious, especially the part about the mad doctor and the impossibly tiny man who played the piano.

One of the more outre performers, a tall Asiatic fellow who appeared to be covered in luxuriant golden fur, who introduced himself as Yeti, successfully juggled various fruits and vegetables even as Zeetha sliced them into smaller and smaller bits.