Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

a well-worn homespun outfit, complete with a dashing green cap. His feet were bare, but if the calluses were any indication, this was their normal state. Tears glistened at his eyes. When he realized that the two below had seen him, he froze into immobility.

Agatha waved up at him. “Hello! Don’t worry, we’re not going to hurt you.” She looked around. There was no sign of human habitation near by. “Where are your parents?”

The boy slumped a bit. “I don’t know. I was playing, and now I can’t find my way back.” By the end of this statement, his voice had begun to quaver.

Krosp looked at him speculatively, showing a small amount of tooth. “Really. Well, well. Our search for provisions might be over.”

Ugh. Well, the cat was a monster created by a twisted mad scientist. Apparently he had learned all about military strategy, but still needed some lessons in manners. Agatha clouted him sharply on the head. “No!”

Krosp looked offended. “What?”

Agatha lowered her voice. “We’re the good guys, remember? We do not eat children. We do not even threaten to eat children. He is not ‘Provisions.’”

Krosp’s ears flattened. “Whaaaat?! Why not? It’s up in a tree! Maybe it’s a bird!”

“He talks!”

“Lots of things talk! Maybe it’s a parrot!”

“He’s not a bird!”

Krosp looked back up at the now fascinated boy. “Squirrel?” he hazarded.

This caused the boy to burst out in a fit of giggles. The girl and cat looked up at him in surprise.

“I didn’t know you were show people!”

Krosp looked at Agatha in confusion. “Show people? What’s that? Can you eat them? Back on the Castle, Dr. Sanian had these little guys in jars, and they...” Agatha cut him off with another light cuff to the back of the head.

The boy nodded. “Whoo! Yeah! That’s a great talking cat act! Hit him again!”

Agatha glared at Krosp. “I might.”

“Hey!” Krosp stepped back and tripped over a log. He rolled over backward with his feet in the air, then leapt around in one twist and began licking a paw while glaring up at Agatha defensively.

At this the boy applauded and leapt from the tree. He hit the ground in a perfect tumbler’s roll, turned another somersault and a cartwheel, then bounced to his feet in one fluid movement. At the end of this performance, he held his arms out wide and shouted: “Ta-dah!” He held the pose, grinning, as if waiting for applause.

Agatha nodded. “So your parents are show people—” She paused. “uh... too?”

The boy nodded. “Yup. Master Payne’s Circus Of Adventure!”

Agatha was impressed. The way the boy said it, she could hear the capital letters. “So you don’t actually live around here?”

“Nope. Just passing through! Like cheap beer! Ba-dum-bum!”

Agatha blinked. “I... I beg your pardon?”

The boy shrugged. “That’s what my daddy always says. You can meet him when you take me home!”

Agatha looked helplessly at Krosp. “We’ll try.”

Krosp finished smoothing his fur, twitched his tail, and sighed. Then he effortlessly flowed up the tree. He closed his eyes and swiveled his head and ears while breathing deeply. Suddenly he froze and pointed. “I smell campfires and horses, and I can hear people calling from that direction.” He opened his eyes. “Is your name Balthazar?”

The boy nodded. Krosp made little shooing motions in the direction he’d pointed. “Fantastic. Off you go. Good luck, kid.”

Agatha hoisted up her gun and the two headed off. “All right, then. Let’s get you back to your family.”

“Huzzah!” the boy cried, throwing one fist into the air as he marched along.

Krosp stared after them and then, with a hiss, scrabbled back down the tree. He bounced directly into Agatha’s path. “Hey! Whoa! No people, remember?”

Agatha stepped around him. “I’m not going to send him off by himself.”

“Why not? He got here by himself!”

“And besides, he’s already seen us, and we do need that information.”

Krosp practically hopped up and down in frustration. “But I was going to be all sneaky! ” he yowled.

The boy shook his head in admiration as he passed. “That is the greatest cat ever.”

Krosp glared at him, then sighed and followed.

Soon, they broke through a surrounding border of blackberry brush and found themselves on the flood plain near the river. The well-preserved remnants of a Roman road wound past, and an ancient stone bridge arced gracefully over the water.

Encamped there was a collection of mismatched vehicles arranged in a rough circle. Most were normal circus caravan wagons, extravagantly carved, gaudily painted and adorned with all kinds of banners and odd decorations. Traveling shows of all kinds visited Beetleburg, and Agatha had always attended as many as her guardians had allowed, but even so she was impressed by the variety before her.

One of the wagons appeared to be constructed from parts of an ornate locomotive. Steam gently poured from its large smokestack. Another had no wheels at all, but rode below a small blimp, suspended by a network of ropes. Some of the wagons were constructed of odd materials, some were built in strange configurations, but all were brightly colored, proclaiming the wonders they carried and abilities of their owners. Even now, merely paused in the middle of a field, Agatha thought it one of the most impressive-looking shows she had ever seen.

A number of people were about, tending fires or eating. The boy whooped and pointed excitedly. There sat a wagon whose shafts were gripped by a squat, troll-like clank with a huge grin and a smokestack on its head. Agatha eyed it with interest. Even at rest, the clank looked powerful enough to substitute for a team of horses. “That one’s my wagon!” He dashed forward, but was checked by a loud call to the right. “Balthazar!”

Without slowing, the boy veered about and ran straight into the arms of an obviously relieved young woman, who dropped an elaborate crutch and knelt to enfold him in her arms. “Mama!” He hugged her tightly. “I got lost!”

Agatha cleared her throat. “He’s yours then. Good.”

The woman looked up, surprised. She reached for her crutch with one hand, and thrust the boy behind her with the other. Agatha smiled awkwardly and tried to look harmless.

After a long moment, the woman relaxed and smiled back gingerly. “Yes, he is. Thank you.” She hugged the squirming boy tightly, “I was so worried.”

“We found him sitting in a tree. Um... I’m Agatha Clay.”

“Trish Belloptrix.”

Balthazar squirmed free. “She’s nice, Mama! She’s show people!”

Trish looked surprised. “Show people?”

Balthazar nodded vigorously, “Yeah! She’s got a great talking cat act!”

Trish looked at Krosp, who was rolling his eyes and gnawing on a piece of grass. “Cat act.”

Krosp waved a paw lazily. “Hey, howzit going?” he drawled.

Trish’s face hardened, and she raised an eyebrow as she reassessed Agatha. “That’s your ‘act’ is it?”[6]

Agatha pointed at Balthazar. “He called it an act. Not me. We’re not actually performers.”

Krosp shuffled from one foot to another and waved his paws in the air over his head. “And I can dance, too! Voh-dodi-o-doh...”

Trish adjusted her crutch and pulled herself erect, leaning on it lightly. Agatha noted that although the woman had just one leg and obviously relied on the crutch, her movements were graceful and controlled, like a