Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

dancer’s.

She was wearing a style dismissed in towns like Beetleburg as too rustic to be fashionable, but so elaborately embroidered that it looked more like an opera company’s version of a peasant’s dress, rather than the real thing. Still, Agatha could see that the clothing, while clean and well cared for, had been patched and mended numerous times. This was no costume, it was the everyday garb of a performer who lived her life in full view of her audience. It made sense. Most people found that traveling players were worth watching, even off stage. The general assumption was that, not being “from around here,” they were exotic and slightly dangerous. You never knew what they might do next.

Trish smiled again. This time the smile was more genuine. She chuckled as Krosp continued to hop back and forth, humming to himself and waving the blade of grass above his head. “Ah. The townies must love him.” She gestured back to the wagons. “Why don’t you come with me? We were just starting a late breakfast when I missed Balthazar. A meal is the least I can do.”

Agatha hesitated, “Well... I don’t want to be a bother...but...”

Krosp marched on ahead, grabbing the ragged end of Agatha’s skirt as he passed and pulling her behind him. “Let’s go. Food is always good.”

Trish scanned the tree line where they’d emerged. “But...where are the rest of your people?”

Agatha shook her head. “Oh, It’s just us.”

Trish looked shocked. “You’re walking around the Wastelands alone?”

Agatha nodded. “We were on an airship. It crashed.”

Trish studied her. “Pretty lucky, then.”

Agatha looked blank. “Lucky?”

Trish nodded. “That you found us. I doubt there’s another human being within twenty kilometers of here. One that you’d want to meet, anyway.”

Balthazar broke in, “And not just anyone, no! For here you will find the greatest dissemblance of heroes in all of Europa!”

Agatha and Krosp looked at him blankly. Trish patted him on the head. “That’s ‘assemblage,’ dear.” Balthazar smacked his head. “Right.”

Krosp still looked blank. He looked at Agatha. “What? Heroes? What?”

But now that they had come closer, Agatha had been studying the signs on the wagons. The scenes and characters painted there told her everything she needed to know. “Ah—it’s a traveling Heterodyne show!” she exclaimed.

Krosp looked blank. “These people are Heterodynes?”

Agatha sighed. “No, no. I told you earlier, remember? Not everyone with a Heterodyne badge is really connected... Um... Let’s see... Do you know what theatre is? Acting?”

Krosp thought about this. There was a theatre on Castle Wulfenbach. It was used to make important announcements and presentations. And, due to one of the immutable laws of nature, because there was an underutilized stage, there was a Castle Wulfenbach Amateur Theatrical Society. Krosp had snuck in one evening and sat through three performances of “My Pardon, Sirrah, But Is That Your Piston?” a farce from Prague that had left him with several dozen questions about human relationships and a rather low opinion of theatre in general. “Sort of,” he said.

“Well the Heterodynes were real people, who had real adventures, and people like hearing about them. So theatre troupes started doing plays about them, and it became really popular.[7] There are lots of Heterodyne Shows. I always tried to go see them when they came through... Er...”

Agatha faltered a bit as the weirdness of it all sank in. All those dashing stories of the Heterodyne Boys... they were about her father, a man she had never seen. Her uncle Barry—who had disappeared when she was small. These people did plays—usually rollicking adventures with lots of slapstick comedy—about her family. She caught her breath and blinked, seeing the circle of wagons in a strange new light.

“Not a bad way of putting it, miss.” Agatha turned and discovered that they’d been joined by a young man with dark curly hair, a trim chin beard and another colorfully embroidered outfit. He had the air of a man with his mind constantly running over a hundred little details, all of which he was determined to see to before he allowed himself a much-needed drink.

Trish indicated the newcomers. “This is Miss Agatha Clay and her cat. The cat talks. Miss Clay, this is Abner de la Scalla, Master Payne’s apprentice. Abner talks a lot. He also helps run things. Abner, Miss Clay and her cat found Balthazar in the woods and brought him back.”

De la Scalla made a courteous bow. “Much thanks, miss.” He turned to Balthazar. “Jump to it! Go tell everyone that you’ve been found. While you’re at it, tell them that we’re packing up and moving out as quickly as possible.” Relieved that no punishment appeared to be looming, the boy gave a quick salute and dashed off.

Trish looked surprised. “Already? But we were going to—”

“Master Payne wants us out of this valley as soon as possible. There’s something out there that’s spooking the horses.” He blinked. “Did you say the cat talks?”

Trish nodded. “He does.”

Abner looked at Krosp speculatively. “Interesting.”

Trish continued, “I promised them a meal, but we might ask Master Payne to let them join us, if only because she’s traveling alone.”

This fully engaged Abner’s attention. “Alone? In the Wastelands?”

Agatha winced. “It really wasn’t my idea. My airship crashed.”

Abner studied her. “Aeronaut, weird-looking weapon, talking cat... You’ll probably fit right in around here,” he muttered. He then glanced uneasily back toward the woods. “You wouldn’t know anything about whatever is out there, would you?”

Agatha shook her head. “We didn’t see anything, and we slept out there all night.”

“So—were you the only survivors?”

“Oh no, it was nothing like that, it was just us on board.”

Krosp’s head snapped sideways. “Whoa! I smell lunch!” He darted off.

Abner stared after him. “Did he...?” He focused more of his attention on Agatha now. “An airship, and you and... he... you were the only crew? That’s small for a craft all the way out here. Where were you coming from?”

Agatha tried to look innocent. “Is it important?”

“Could be. I see a Wulfenbach sigil on your backpack there, and the watchman in the last town said he saw Castle Wulfenbach sail past the night before last, so I’m guessing that’s where you came from. Do you work for the Baron?”

“No!” Agatha slumped. “I mean, I guess I did. For a while.”

By this time, they had reached the central area of the camp. A few of the other performers eyed her speculatively, listening in. When they heard her last statement, they looked at each other.

Abner rubbed his neck. “But you don’t work for him anymore, huh?” Agatha shook her head. “You’re on the run then.” She nodded. “Hoo, boy.”

A wiry, grizzled man in an apron scratched his chin. When he spoke, he had a slight Greek accent. “Wulfenbach, eh? He’s trouble, that one.”

Agatha whispered, “I didn’t hurt anyone. I just... left.”

The older man eyed her tattered clothing. “Looks like you ‘just left’ in a bit of a hurry.”

Behind him, a girl asked pointedly, “And how did you escape?” She was tall and blonde, with striking good looks. Her dress was obviously new, and was a fashionable cut, but the gold thread and sequins that covered it made the girl look like a flashy theatrical parody of a stylish young lady.

Agatha didn’t bother to object to the girl’s choice of words. A great tiredness settled upon her. “My parents. They... they came to get me, but they...” A shudder ran down her spine. “It was horrible. There was an outbreak of Slaver Wasps, and a fight. I... I escaped in the confusion. But my parents... I still can’t believe they’re dead.”

The mention of Slaver Wasps caused a murmur of dismay to flow through the crowd. Many people looked outright terrified. The stylish girl continued: “And you think they’ll come looking for you. When was this?”

Agatha shook her head. “Yesterday. It was only yesterday.”