Othar leaned back so far that his chair rested on only its two back legs. He crossed his arms behind his head and his mouth twitched upwards in a small, infuriating smile. “Really?” It was more a statement than a question.
At that moment, a great roar erupted outside the tent, followed by screams and a clash of weapons.
Agatha leapt to her feet, knocking over the table and sending the scrying ball whizzing past Othar’s ear. The lightning gun that she had been quietly holding under the table was now in full view, but she didn’t care about secrecy any more. Ignoring Othar, who had fallen backward off his chair, she swept aside the curtains and took in the scene outside.
Through the blaze of the circus lanterns she could see an enormous bear, towering high as it reared back and gave another tremendous roar. A dozen members of the town watch, and easily twice as many townsmen, were swarming around its feet in desperate battle. Things were not going well for them.
The bear lashed out, its wide paws knocking men about with terrible ease. Astride the creature rode a woman swathed in a midnight-blue cloak, silver hair flying. She deflected arrows and sliced the tops off pikes with a sword that was easily two meters long. It wasn’t so much a battle as it was a rout.
“Hy em rapidly loozink my patience,” the woman shouted. Agatha paused as she realized that the rider was a Jäger and, as far as Agatha could tell, hadn’t actually killed anyone.
Just then, the rider noticed Agatha. She took one look at the lightning gun in Agatha’s hands and snarled in fury. Turning her great bear, she faced Agatha directly, and charged.
Agatha desperately pointed the gun and fired. A sharp crack rang out as a burst of dazzling blue light filled the square. When her eyes cleared, Agatha saw that one of the wagons was burning, but the bear and its rider were nowhere to be seen. It was only when the bear crashed back to earth that Agatha realized it must have leapt straight up to avoid the blast. I didn’t know they could do that, she thought in a daze, just before the bear’s rider slammed into her.
The Jäger dashed the weapon from Agatha’s hand and stomped it with a booted heel, smashing the center flat with a crackle of blue sparks.
She grabbed Agatha’s wrist and leaned in close. “Und now,” she hissed, “Ve see vat happens to clever leedle fingers vat play vit nasty leedle toyz—” As the Jäger spoke, she pushed Agatha’s index finger backward toward her wrist.
Agatha thrashed backward and screamed in pain. Suddenly, Othar swung in, delivering a solid boot to the side of the Jäger’s head, so that she went spinning away from Agatha.
“That’s my Spunky Girl Sidekick, I’ll have you know!” He boomed cheerfully.
Agatha scrambled to her feet. “I am not—”
“Agatha! RUN!” screamed Krosp, who had followed her out of the fortuneteller’s tent. Agatha turned, only to find herself staring into the gaping jaws of the bear—its hot breath on her face. Krosp was already in mid-leap, claws extended. As he landed, he buried them in the bear’s sensitive nose. The huge animal shrieked in agony and flinched backward, furiously swiping at its face with its paws as the cat ran up its back and launched himself up and away.
Agatha spun about and ran. She passed Sergeant Zulli clutching his limp and bloody arm. He was kicking at the prone watchmen and yelling. “—Guns, damn you! Get up! Open the armory and get the guns! Shoot all four of them!”
Without thinking, she changed her direction until she found herself standing in front of the gallows, and its three Jägers. In the flickering light the three grinning faces took on a demonic quality that sent a shiver down her spine.
The green one spoke. “Problems... Mistress?”
Agatha took a deep breath. “Someone—another Jäger—is attacking the town. The guards are going to shoot you. All of you. I’ll cut you down, and you’ll get her out of here when you escape.”
The purple one nodded. “Oh, yes?”
She paused, “And you’ll leave the townspeople alone.”
The horned one smiled lazily. “Oh, uv cawze.”
Agatha grit her teeth and glowered up at them. “Swear. Swear that’s all you’ll do. Swear... on your loyalty to the House of Heterodyne!”
Their eyes went wide at this, and this time their grins were honest ones.
“Good vun!”
“Schmot gurl!”
“Ve all so svear, Mistress!”
Agatha dashed away and returned with the smaller chair from Madame Olga’s tent. She climbed up next to the closest Jäger, and began hacking at the rope with the folding knife she kept in her boot. It wasn’t the best tool for the job, but it was sharp. “I’d better be right about you,” she panted.
The rope parted, and the green Jäger landed heavily on his feet. He scraped the ropes binding his wrists against a stone wall—so brutally that they parted. Hands free, he grinned up at her. “Too late to vorry about dot now, sveethot!” he called as he bounded away.
The Jäger woman held Othar aloft by his hair as she prepared to slice his head off. “Hyu fights pretty goot,” she panted, “But hyu iz too demmed annoyink to be any fun.” She raised her sword.
“Schtop! Hyu horr’ble monster-y ting uf evil!” The voice was loud and strong, and a hush fell over the square.
The Jäger blinked in surprise and lowered her sword. “Vot?”
Ranged before her, striking theatrically heroic poses, were the three Jägers from the gallows. They had found weapons, and, inexplicably, hats.
The green Jäger stepped forward and brandished a fist full of gleaming throwing knives held in a very professional-looking grip. “Ve iz Jägerkin,” he announced in a ringing voice. “Charged by de ancient contract, vit der job uv savin’ all dese pipple!”
The watching crowd of townspeople looked at each other. This was news to them.
The purple one flourished a sword that shone red in the firelight. “Yah, and ve gets to do it by gettin’ hyu outta here!”
The horned one twirled an immense three-bladed halberd with an effortless twitch of his fingers. “Now—iz hyu gunna run, or iz hyu gunna die?”
The female Jäger stared at them for a moment, snorted in amusement, and then, with one flowing move of her arm, tossed Othar high into the air. “Ha-ho! Dis vill slow hyu down!” She shouted, and then turned with a swirl of her long blue cape and dashed away. Othar described an elegant parabola high into the air and then crashed to the ground. The Jäger woman stopped, turned, and stared in surprise at the crumpled hero.
The three other Jägers looked at each other uncertainly.
“Sorry,” the horned one called. “Vas ve supposed to ketch him?”
The purple one shrugged and grumbled: “Dunno vhy, Hy dun like hm.”
The green Jäger leapt forward. “Vhatever! Come on, brodders! Ve gots a monster hunt!”
At this, the other two brightened up. With a shout of “Ve HUNT!” the three brandished their weapons in one last showman-like flourish, and raced off after the bear and rider—through the streets and out into the dark night beyond the town gates.
The amazed crowd stared after them, wondering whether to applaud. It was only when Master Payne bellowed, “Fire!” that the spell was broken and a crew assembled to douse the burning circus wagon.
With the fire out, the monsters gone, and the gates firmly bolted shut, it was time for a party. The tavernmaster whose house bordered the square had stood everyone a large mug of cider, and the townspeople, as a whole, were feeling extremely accomplished. A pack of monsters run off, a fire put out, and a rather good stage show, all in one night! Why, Zumzum would be the next Paris[29]!