Agatha H. And the Clockwork Princess by Phil & Foglio Foglio

Author:Phil & Foglio Foglio [Phil & Foglio Foglio]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781597802222
Publisher: Night Shade Books
Published: 2012-06-28T17:38:43+00:00

CHAPTER 7

On this spot we will build a shield against the Heterodyne. A fortress so strong he cannot crack it. Like a mighty storm, he will rage and scream and throw himself against it. But here we will fight him, and here we will stop him. Because we will have a place of refuge. A place of strength. A place of hope. We will have Sturmhalten.

—Andronicous Valois,

From the Commission of Building delivered to the Western Coalition after the Battle of the Six Skies.

It was a crisp, frosty dawn. The weather up here at the pass was still meandering towards spring, but the drivers of the circus wagons were dressed in their performing finery, albeit over several layers of winter underwear.

They certainly attracted a fair amount of interest as they rumbled through the outskirts of the town. Technically, Balan’s Gap was still before them, constrained behind the city walls, but along the main road a ramshackle collection of businesses that existed to service, supply (and swindle) travelers had grown up around the various industries that had been placed outside the town for various health, space or aesthetic reasons.

Last night the circus had arrived at one of the staging areas that existed for arriving or departing trade caravans. While there were still plenty of other travelers who used the old roads, there had been enough excess space in the staging area that the circus had been able to put on a late night performance, to great success. Thus, this morning, they were buoyed along by a large crowd of well-wishers, and noisily escorted by a ragtag convoy of children who frantically waved at the drivers and the various characters who sat waving back wearing grins that didn’t look forced at all.

Abner and Master Payne sat together on the driver’s seat of the lead wagon, sharing a couple of mugs of stewed tea, and a large basket of freshly baked cardamom butter rolls.

To the amazement of a small girl, Payne drew an impossibly large handkerchief from Abner’s ear, delighted her brother by blowing his nose in it with a sound like a rampaging elephant, and then scandalized their mother by stuffing it back into his long-suffering apprentice’s ear.

The cart slowed to a stop. Before them were several other wagons, all awaiting the pleasure of the gate masters of the town. Each wagon was assessed an entrance fee based on the number of riders, number of horses, purpose of travel, and how much trouble you gave the gate keepers. Three wagons ahead, a stout, richly dressed merchant was making things expensive for himself by insisting that the animal pulling his cart was not, in fact a horse, but a rare, short-eared mule.

Both of the watchers appreciated natural comedy in the wild, and were mentally making notes for a future skit.

“So,” said Abner, taking a sip of tea, “You really think this—” he glanced back at the wagon’s door, “Is going to work?”

Payne looked at him askance. “Come now, Ab. It’s far too late to say anything other than ‘Yes.

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