Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess (32 page)

Payne smiled at the memory, but remained wary. “Your point, my dear?”

“There’s a reason there are no Jägermonsters in the Heterodyne shows. People really hate them.”

Payne shrugged. “Well it’s not like they’re insisting on performing. We hardly see them.”

Marie eyed him closely and continued slowly. “You could have gotten rid them if you’d wanted to, but you haven’t even tried.” A unnerving “crack,” a groan of pain, and a “Hoy!” of victory caused her to glance back. “In fact, you feed them.”

Payne opened his mouth, looked at his wife and closed it again. “Ergo,” she continued, “You are Up To Something. You have
got
a reason, but you did not tell
me
.”

A few beads of sweat appeared upon Payne’s brow. Marie clasped her hands together and looked vulnerable. Payne flinched. “The only time you don’t tell me something is when you think it’s dangerous, because being a fragile, sheltered noblewoman, I might faint at the thought of experiencing physical harm like a common person.”

She sighed, and seemingly from nowhere, produced an enormous cast-iron frying pan easily one hundred centimeters in diameter. “And then,” she said sadly, “I have to damage one of the
good
pans by smacking it against your thick, common skull until you
tell
me—”

“BALAN’S GAP!” Payne screamed, cowering. “We have to go through Balan’s Gap!”

Marie paused, and then lowered the pan. “Oh dear. You’re expecting more trouble from the Prince.” She thoughtfully tapped a finger against her pursed lips. “And you think having them along might help discourage him from…”

Payne looked out from between his fingers. “Yes?”

Marie cocked her head. “That’s very clever for a commoner.”

Payne drew himself up and preened. “Why, thank you, my dear.” The two of them smiled at each other, and then leaned in for a delicate kiss. Just before their lips met, they were startled by a snuffling sound from overhead. They froze, and they swiveled their eyes upwards to see Dimo crouching on the roof of the wagon beside them. A large tear dripped from his bulbous nose.

“It iz zo nize, ven married pipple tok to each odder.” He leapt to the ground and slumped back against the wagon and grinned. “Und now, Hy tink hyu should tok to me.” He smiled at the Countess. “But mitout de pan.”

Several minutes later, the three were walking a short way away from the circus. Dimo was silent. Finally the Countess asked, “Will you help us?”

Dimo looked at her and grinned in a way that made her squirm. “Eet soundz like fun. Bot—” He held up a clawed finger, “Hy gots to discuss hit vit Maxim and Oggie.”

“Do you think they’ll agree?”

Dimo laughed and deftly slid his arm around the Countess’ waist and drew her close. “For a nize doll like hyu, ve do all kindz uf tings!”

Marie stiffened. “Do you mind?”

Dimo looked surprised, and then darted a look at Payne, standing next to him. A light dawned. “Ho! Yaz!” He dropped his voice to what he no doubt thought a whisper. “Ve gots to be sobtle in front uv you’s haitch… oh… zee… bee…” A worried look crossed his face, and he gave up. He jerked a thumb in Payne’s direction. “Hyu know, heem.” Payne rolled his eyes.

At that moment, they heard a sound drifting through the air. Marie stopped dead. “What in the world is that?”

Dimo smirked. “Ho! Hy knows dot vun. My family vos musical. Dot—” he pronounced, “Iz music!”

The two humans regarded him blankly for a moment. Then Payne spun about. “No!” A look of shock crossed his face. “No, it can’t
be!”
He took off at a run and the other two followed.

To Payne’s amazement, the source of the sound was indeed, the Silverodeon.

The original instrument had been a simple steam calliope that had been fitted with some organ pipes salvaged from an old church. For the next twenty years it had been hauled around to various harvest festivals and occasionally used to scare bats out of barns
.

The circus had discovered it after it had been smashed by a particularly large and grumpy bat, who had gone on to take down several airships before one of the Empire’s warships had blown it apart.

That rusty collection of cheap iron and old brass bore no resemblance to the glittering contraption that was still unfolding from the wagon bed as the magician approached.

Clusters of pipes and tubes sprouted upwards from the back of the instrument, resembling some sort of art nouveau hedgehog. Along the side, valves and pistons rippled, catching the eye and drawing it to the cockpit, where at least four keyboards, as well as what appeared to be the controls from an ancient locomotive, were being played by Agatha
³⁹
.

Sweat poured from her as she played, great sweeping arpeggios and surging waves of melody that sent shivers down the spines of her listeners. This was the first time that Agatha had played—really played, since the shackles had been removed from her mind. She found the music triggering feelings and emotions within her that she strove to express, a creative cycle that went on and on and on.

The listeners never were able to determine just how long they stood there, enraptured by the music, but when it ended, when Agatha finally brought her hands down in a final gentle chord and slumped forward, many of them found themselves weeping and cheering simultaneously. Agatha jerked up, amazed that everyone was suddenly there. A sudden pain in her fingers caused her to grimace, and then smile ruefully. She was out of practice.

Rivet awoke to find herself next to André, who was standing stock still, as if he was afraid that when he moved, he would forget everything he had just heard. “But it was
junked
,” she said to him. “You said it was just to keep her
busy
.”

André smiled at her. “Never have I been so glad to be wrong.”

Payne plowed his way through the crowd and stopped next to the cockpit. “Miss Clay, I’m…” he gave up. “I’m speechless.”

Agatha blinked. “Is that good?”

The Countess smiled, “It’s practically unheard of.” This earned her a snort from Payne.

Agatha winced apologetically. “Please don’t think it’s done, I just wanted to test the keyboards.” Payne stared at her. Agatha nervously buffed a bit of brass trim, “I’m almost finished with the latest mechanism, that’ll let me add more instruments. Maybe even some little singing automata.” Payne’s eyes had begun to glaze.
Oh dear,
Agatha thought.
I’m boring him
.

“I was also thinking, maybe a kind of… a kind of ball, all covered in little mirrors and…”

This particular revolution in popular entertainment was brought to a halt by the sudden ringing of a bell. Agatha looked around in confusion. She knew the signal bells that the actors used for meals, attacks, meetings, and excessive drinking, but this one was unfamiliar. She realized it was coming from a small cupola atop one of the prop wagons. The circus people were looking between the bell and Agatha nervously.

Krosp dropped down next to her. “It’s coming from Moxana’s wagon.”

Payne’s eyebrows rose. “She must have heard the Silverodeon.” He turned to Agatha. “I suspect she wants to meet you, Miss Clay.”

Abner stepped up. “I’m sure Krosp told you about her.”

Agatha nodded. “He told me enough to pique my curiosity, certainly. Unless I miss my guess she’s some sort of autonomous clank construct, apparently with some attribute that resembles prognostication, which no one in the circus can understand, but is doubtless simply utilizing some heretofore undiscovered branch of science, which would explain why you try to keep her out of sight.”

Master Payne looked at her, obviously considered saying something, but in the end, just waved her into the wagon.

It took a bit of maneuvering for all of them to fit into the tight space, so it was Krosp who first noticed—“Hey! The chessboard is gone.”

Suddenly, the seated figure moved. Her eyes snapped open with a soft click. They were a vivid, electric blue. Her gleaming, white porcelain arms came up and swept out over the board, which was now a pad of brushed green baize, embroidered with an intersecting set of lines and circles with a shining silver thread. Her movements were smooth, and gracefully stylized.

She slid her palms together and a deck of large, ornate cards appeared between them.

Payne grunted in surprise. “I haven’t seen her use her cards in ages,” he muttered.

Moxana placed the stack face down and with the tip of a finger, swirled the deck into an elaborate spiral. She then selected the card that lay in the center and flipped it up, exposing the face.

They all craned forward to examine it. Agatha had never seen a card like this before. Adam had occasionally had friends over for a late night game of cards in the back room of the forge. Agatha had been pressed into service bringing them beer and snacks. But this card was not embellished with any of the familiar four suits.

It was a colored picture of a globe hanging in the night sky, part of a mechanism of great brass and crystal gears. A large turn-key was inserted into the heart of Africa. At the top, along the margin was the Roman numeral “XXI” and at the bottom, written in a fine Carolingian miniscule hand, were the words—

“
The Device.
” Payne adjusted his spectacles. “That’s the card Moxana uses to indicate herself
⁴⁰
.”

Moxana nodded, took the card back and unhesitatingly tore it into small bits. As the others gasped in surprise, one of her hands snapped out and clasped Agatha’s right hand and pulled it towards her. Agatha allowed her hand to be turned palm upwards. Moxana then dropped the shredded card into her open hand, reached out to take her other hand and placed it palm down upon the first. She then released both hands, brought both of her arms back to her sides and went still.

Everyone looked at each other, but nothing else happened. Agatha raised her hand. There, upon her upturned palm, was the card, restored and whole.

Agatha stared at this for several seconds, and then looked at Moxana. “You’re broken,” she hazarded, “And you want me to repair you.”

Payne and Abner stared at each other in astonishment. “Could you do that?” Abner asked.

Agatha shrugged. “Depends on what’s wrong. May I take a look?”

Moxana nodded with a click. As Abner unlatched the front, Agatha reached into a pocket and pulled out her pocket-watch clank. A tap on the back, and the central eye clicked on, sending a bright beam of light across the wagon’s dim interior. She slid to her knees and crawled into the depths of the cabinet. A faint humming could be heard as she poked around. This was cut off suddenly as Agatha’s body jerked in surprise. She pulled herself out again with an amazed look on her face. She turned to the two men.

“Did you
know
that this is a Van Rijn?” she whispered.

Master Payne gave her an appraising look. “I did. I’m impressed that
you
do
⁴¹
.”

Agatha reached out and gently took one of the clank’s arms. She peered closely at the mechanisms in the finger joints. “My old Master used to talk about Van Rijn and his work endlessly. They were one of his passions.” She put the hand down. “Beautiful,” she murmured. “You’d never know she was over two hundred years old. There are
still
things we just don’t know how to duplicate…”

She turned to face Master Payne. “I’d rather not just go poking around inside her. I didn’t see anything obviously wrong. What’s the problem?”

Payne shrugged. “I’m not sure—”

With a ping, Moxana snapped into action. Her hands swept up the cards, except for two, that spun about upon their corners before flopping down together, face up. In addition to
The Device
, there was a card that showed a spinning top balanced upon an upright wheel that was rolling off the edge of a cliff. It had the number “XV” at the top, and the label at the bottom simply read:
Movement
.

When Payne saw this, his face sagged and he closed his eyes. “Of course,” he sighed. “Tinka.”

To Agatha’s unspoken question, he explained. “We used to have another clank we displayed along with Moxana. This one was a dancer. Her name was Tinka.” He paused, and then continued. “Both Moxana and Tinka were originally part of a set of nine clanks constructed by the artificer Van Rijn for The Storm King.” He again paused.

“The Muses,” Agatha supplied. Then realization of what she had said penetrated and her eyes went wide. “The Muses?
The
Muses?
Moxana
is one of the Storm King’s
Muses
?”

Payne nodded. “The same
⁴²
.”

Agatha was overwhelmed, and understandably so.

“But they were lost!”

“They lost themselves. If they had not done so, they were convinced they would have been dismantled by Sparks seeking to understand and duplicate Van Rijn’s work. And so, they hid.”

Agatha looked at Moxana. “But—As part of a traveling show?”

Payne spread his hands. “Actually it was a very perspicacious move. Before shows such as ours became Heterodyne shows, they were usually just traveling wonder shows, with a large collection of freaks and oddities. Some of the most popular items displayed were fake Muses. They were famous, after all.”

He reached out and ran a hand gently over the back of Moxana’s throne. “Moxana and Tinka had stayed together, and disguised as fakes, they survived, and traveled across Europa for over a hundred and fifty years, doing what they were designed to do. Instructing, inspiring and waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

Payne sighed. “For a new Storm King.”

Krosp’s brow furrowed. “But—”

Payne forestalled his objection with an upraised hand. “Don’t even start. They were built to serve The Storm King. Until there’s a new Storm King, they wait. If there never
is
a new Storm King, then they will wait
forever
. They are machines. Rational argument will only go so far.”