Othar waggled an admonitory finger at her. “See? That’s why friends shouldn’t keep secrets from one another.”
“I don’t keep secrets! Not from my real friends.” Agatha was digging through a small chest to one side of her throne. Who knows what the previous Madame Olga had kept in it? Maybe she could poison his tea.
Othar sat back and folded his arms. “Ah. So these traveling players know who you really are?”
This brought her up short. “No,” she admitted, after a deep breath. “No, they don’t.”
Sergeant Zulli stood atop the city wall, watching the moon rise from behind the eastern mountains. He had just spent a half-hour instructing one of the new recruits in the correct use of the town’s prized night scope—and was hoping the boy would prove himself a fast learner. The instrument was huge, an ornate, cumbersome affair full of mirrors, lenses and strange, colored filters, bristling with switches, knobs and gauges all up and down the sides. It had been a gift to the town long ago, built by the local lord—a Spark who occasionally had trouble containing his monsters. Even Zulli had to admit he had no idea how it actually worked, but work it did, and very well, too. A competent operator could view all three roads leading up to the town as clear as day, even on a moonless night[28].
Tonight, Zulli could hear the crowd below—roaring with laughter at the circus’ antics. Things were going smoothly, and he was beginning to think he would soon be able to join the fun, when the boy suddenly started back from the scope’s eyepiece with a yell of alarm, nearly falling from his perch.
Zulli was at his elbow instantly, steadying him with one hand. “Anybody you know?”
“No sir! There’s something coming up the East Road.”
Zulli frowned. “Some thing—”
“I don’t know what it is, but it’s big and it’s fast.”
“That’s never a good combination.” Zulli removed his helmet and fitted his eye to the scope.
“It should be coming up on the five lengths mark,” the boy said.
Zulli spun an engraved wheel and pointed the instrument at a distant road sign—the large white V newly repainted and shining in the dark. He brought the sign into focus just in time to see a blur rush past. He snapped upright, eyes wide. “That’s damn fast!” The old guard took off at a run, shouting back over his shoulder: “Ring the bell—and get some archers to the East Gate! That’s an order!”
Zulli dashed along darkening streets, lit by only the occasional lantern. Now, he could hear the alarm bell tolling from the central watchtower. He cast his eyes about frantically for someone—anyone—he could commandeer to help spread the word, but the streets were empty, the shops dark and locked tight. Everyone in town must be at the damn circus, he realized. He hoped that his fellow guards would hear the bell and respond, but the music of the circus and the noise of the crowd drowned out everything else. They might not hear the bell, or they might be too drunk to care.
He skidded around the final corner and swore in dismay. There before him was the East Gate, portcullis up, the great oak and iron doors still wide open. This staggering bit of incompetence was explained by one look at the men on duty. It was Smek and Bodine, a pair of the Mayor’s otherwise unemployable relatives. Zulli promised himself he’d break whoever had assigned them to the same shift.
“Red fire!” he shouted as he ran up, “Are you Sparksons deaf? Close the damn gate!”
The two guards gaped at him. Bodine was in a state of flustered confusion, but managed to squeak: “But... but Assia Velichou and Pavel Dakar are still outside!”
“They’re hunting mushrooms,” Smek drawled helpfully.
Zulli delivered a resounding smack to both of their helmets as he tore past them. “You cretins! They’ve got thirty seconds to get dressed and back inside before we close the gate! Do you hear me out there?” he addressed the darkness beyond the gate in a voice like thunder: “Something’s coming! We’re closing the gate! Get in here NOW!”
Smek was the smarter of the two. He dashed off and began tugging at the great iron hook that locked the left gate open. Zulli tugged at the right, while counting under his breath.
Bodine dithered beside him. “We can’t just leave them out there—it’s dark!”
“Thirty seconds!” Zulli roared as he pulled the hook free.
Smek was already tugging his half of the gate closed. “What’s coming?” he gasped.
“I don’t know,” Zulli admitted, “but you’d better hope it kills you, or Assia’s father will!”
“S-s-sir!” Bodine whispered. His voice was strangled, terrified.
Another voice spoke. “Hy vish to enter dis town.”
The tones were rich and sweet, but the accent froze Sergeant Zulli fast. We should have killed those Jägers, he thought.
There was a gust of warm air behind him. He turned slowly, and found himself face to face with the largest brown bear he had ever seen. Deep brown eyes watched him steadily. Avoiding the bear’s gaze, he found himself staring at the huge pair of gold rings in its left ear, then at the matching pair in its right. A delicate cough dragged his attention upward. The bear’s rider was a Jägermonster, that much was obvious. Its deep blue cloak hung aside slightly, revealing an oddly distorted breastplate. Startled, Zulli realized that the rider was female. Old military man that he was, Zulli had of course heard rumors, jokes, and all kinds of lascivious stories, but he had only half believed them. He had never seen a female Jägermonster before. Now, with one gazing down at him from atop her gigantic bear, the light of the huge gate lanterns throwing vast shadows behind them, the sergeant felt a small flicker of curiosity through his pall of terror.
Her long hair was a fine silvery grey, and her skin—what little could be seen of it—was a deep olive green. The lower half of her face was muffled under a soft scarf, and her wide-brimmed hat was pulled low over her face. The eyes that showed between were large and expressive. She gazed at him calmly—she wasn’t angry... yet.
Zulli opened his mouth and found it had gone dry. He swallowed with difficulty and tried again. “The... the town is closed. Until dawn.”
The Jäger sat back and made a pretense of examining the gate. “But de gate iz not yet closed. Hy merely seek—”
A “tung” sounding from the wall overhead was Zulli’s only hint that his fellow guards had finally arrived. The rider had already noticed them, of course, and moved her hand before the sound even came, calmly plucking a crossbow bolt out of the air. She examined it briefly, and then casually snapped the shaft in half with her thumb.
“Hy forgiff.” She announced to the air. “Vunce.” She leaned down towards the shivering watchmen. “Hy em lookink for my boyz.”
Thank the Blessed Zenobia they’re still alive, Zulli thought. He was just beginning to form a polite answer, when Smek, unable to contain his terror any longer, proved just how stupid he really was by screaming: “FIRE!”
Agatha sank into the fortuneteller’s throne and leaned forward with one arm on the little table—positioning herself to fling the telluricomnivisualization ball at Othar’s head if he made any sudden moves. “Look” she said. “I’m only going to explain this once. The Baron thinks I’m dead. Gil... thinks I’m dead. That’s good. That’s what I want. I don’t want to be a Heterodyne. I don’t even want to be a Spark. Not if people like you are going to show up trying to kill me. So I won’t. I’ll stay here. I’m done with all of that. Finished. And I am certainly not going to go off hero-ing with you. Understand?”
28
Admittedly, attacks these days were few and far between, but Zumzum had a fair number of young people who maintained a fine old tradition of nighttime assignations. This assured that the scope was manned almost constantly. Sergeant Zulli always glumly predicted that when the town