Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

table, pouring wines and setting out various foodstuffs. Agatha’s wineglass was filled from an elegant green cut- glass carafe. The wine was a deep purple and smelled of spices and green fields. Agatha took a cautious sip.

Agatha had not really had much experience with wine before she left Beetleburg. Her parents had not favored it. Once she had joined the circus, she had been given an instructional course in wine, beer, ale, and cider as well as a wide variety of cordials and homebrewed spirits. Partially, the Countess had explained, because a young lady should be educated about these things, and be able to converse about them knowledgably. Partially, Pix had explained, because a young lady should be aware of the effects of these things upon her and be able to recognize when she was being plied. And partially, Zeetha had explained, because sometimes a warrior needed to get really drunk, and like all worthwhile things, it got easier with practice.

This had lead to some rather amusing nights and some rather awful mornings. On the whole, Agatha had decided that alcohol was something that she could take or leave, and for the most part, left. This particular beverage, however, seemed tasty and of a rather low potency.

A server placed a small bowl of what proved to be a deliciously savory red cabbage and bacon soup before her. The others were similarly served, which precipitated a discreet clattering of spoons.

Anevka ate nothing, but merely sat with folded hands and chatted with her father about a few items of castle management. After a few moments, the Prince cleared his throat and turned to Agatha. “We very much enjoyed your performance this evening.”

Agatha nodded. “Your Highness is most kind.”

Aaronev raised his own glass and looked at her over the rim. “We knew the lady you played, you know.” Agatha choked slightly on a spoonful of soup[46].

“Oh. I... I hope I haven’t given offense,” Agatha stammered. “It’s difficult to remember that we actually portray real people.” She thought for a moment. “Sort of.”

Aaronev laughed. “Nonsense, my dear. Truth be told, you captured her perfectly.”

This gave Agatha a bit of a pause, as she was still reconciling herself to the idea that Lucrezia Mongfish was her actual mother.

Aaronev continued casually. “In fact, it’s remarkable, really, but you sound just like her.”

Agatha smiled gamely and took another sip of wine. The taste was growing on her. “Why, thank you, your Highness.”

Aaronev slowly swirled the wine around in his glass. “Have you known many Sparks?”

Agatha waved her hand in dismissal. “Oh no!” She paused and then felt compelled to add, “Well, I did grow up in Beetleburg, so I saw Dr. Beetle, of course.”

The Prince nodded. “Oh, of course. Did you see him a lot?”

“Almost every day. I assisted in his lab for years.”

Aaronev’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Did you now?”

“Oh yes, I was there when he died.”

Tarvek broke in. “We heard about that. A great shame. We had heard that this mysterious son of the Baron’s killed him.”

Agatha nodded. “Yes, but to be fair, Dr. Beetle did throw a bomb at him.” She smiled. Gil would be happy she remembered that part. That made her happy, too.

Aaronev nodded as if this was a perfectly normal turn of events. “So you’ve seen the Baron and this son of his?”

“Oh yes, I saw the Baron a bit when I was abducted onto Castle Wulfenbach, and his son, Gilgamesh Wulfenbach wanted to marry me.” Tarvek choked on a spoonful of soup at this, and had a small coughing fit. A servant stepped up and thumped him on the back. Tarvek waved him away and grabbed his wineglass.

Anevka leaned forward. “Did he now? But here you are.”

Agatha shrugged. “I had to escape from Castle Wulfenbach when everyone found out I was actually a Heterodyne.”

This time Tarvek actually sprayed his wine across the table.

CHAPTER 8

               The fifty families play a game

                That all revolves around a name.

                 To play the game you must be skilled

                  The Game of Kings can get you killed.

                   They plot and murder, lie and sin

                    Determined no one else should win.

                     They’ll turn Europa upside down

                      To try to claim the Lightning Crown.

—Anonymous (No, really, we don’t know who wrote it. Honest.)

Over the next several courses, Agatha chatted away, cheerfully answering the occasional question, and recounting her experiences of the last several months.

A small growing voice of alarm from somewhere deep within her head vainly tried to get her attention, but was easily overridden by her mouth, which babbled on.

The only time she paused was when she was talking about Gilgamesh. She was giving the facts of her final encounter in a clear steady voice, but a distant part of her noticed that her eyes were streaming almost nonstop, and there was a discernible huskiness to her voice. How sad.

“I suppose I’ll never see him again. If I’m lucky.” She took a deep breath and smiled at the Prince. “And this is a simply lovely torte.” She then collapsed face forward onto her dessert.

There was a pause, as everyone in the room waited to see if this was the end of the show. After a few moments, Agatha began softly humming some sort of waltz. The Prince impatiently waved over a server, took the decanter that had contained Agatha’s wine, and gave it a sniff.

“Hmm. I think I used a bit too much on her.”

Tarvek had pulled Agatha’s face up and was gently cleaning it with a warm cloth that another servant had handed to him. “You think?”

Agatha’s eyes focused on Tarvek and a wide smile spread over her face. “You’re very cute,” she whispered. “I hope you don’t think I picked out this ugly dress.” Tarvek’s face reddened slightly as he finished up.

“Oh dear,” tittered Anevka, “Here I thought she was telling the truth and now it’s obvious that the poor girl’s been hallucinating.”

“Shut up!” Tarvek felt flushed. Within his head, plans and schemes were shattering and reassembling themselves into new configurations at lightning speed.

The rest of the family stood, and Aaronev ordered a pair of sturdy servants to hoist Agatha to her feet. “I feel very strange,” she confided to one of them. “Zeetha will laugh at me.”

The Prince was ebullient, dancing in place and rubbing his hands together. “Come! Bring her! I have everything prepared!” Tarvek and Anevka glanced at each other. The young man spoke hesitantly. “But father, wait. Shouldn’t we—” he thought frantically for a second. “Shouldn’t we send for some of the others? They’d want to be present for something so momentous.”

Anevka chimed in. “Father, even if you’re sure she is The One, this is a terrible idea. You could kill her.”

Aaronev waved this away. “Bah! The others died because they were not her! It’s as simple as that. I have manipulated every other variable and failed.” He glanced at his daughter, and a brief flicker of remorse flashed