The purple Jäger interrupted. “Dere iz sumting dot ve vant.”
Payne nodded. “Excellent! We can certainly—”
The green Jäger spread his hands. “Ve vants to join de circus.” “
WHAT?”
The Jäger with the pole-axe nodded in agreement. “Jah. Ve vant to be circus guyz.”
Payne and Abner looked at each other in amazement. Payne scratched his shaggy head. “But...but what can you do? What could we do with you?”
Abner shook his head. “The audience—”
The green Jäger waved his hands dismissively. “Jah, jah, dey hate us. But dots joost ven vees valkin’ around being us. Pipple expect to see strange tings in a show like dis.”
The purple Jäger puffed his chest up proudly. “End dey dun get much stranger den us,” he declared.
An odd look came into Master Payne’s eyes. “But what could we do with them,” he murmured.
The younger man looked at him askance. “You can’t seriously be considering this. Them? Onstage?”
The purple Jäger swept a hand through his long luxurious hair. “Ve vould be perfect. Hy em Maxim,” so saying he gave a sketchy, but serviceable, cavalier’s salute. “Hy tink Hy iz de leadink man type.”
Payne and Abner stared at him blankly.
The pole axe wielding Jäger leaned in. “Vot’s ‘leadink man’ mean?” he asked sotto voce.
Maxim waggled his eyebrows. “Hit mean hyu gets to kees de gurl,” he explained.
“Hoy!” The horned Jäger turned to Abner and grinned engagingly. “Hy vants to be a leadink man too!” Abner’s eyes were staring to glaze. The Jäger stuck out a clawed hand. “I’m Ognian.” Reflexively, Abner gingerly took Ognian’s hand and was given a quick, seismic rattle.
Maxim smacked the back of Ognian’s head. “Eediot! Hyu kent be a leadink man.”
Ognian pouted. An alarming sight on a person with a mouthful of sharp teeth. “Vy not?”
Maxim shrugged. “Dere’s only vun leadink man.”
“Sez who?”
“Iz hobvious! Eef hyu gots two, deys gunna lead in different directions.”
Ognian thought about this. “So vy hyu?”
“I tink ov hit first.”
“But dere vas two Heterodyne Boyz.”
Maxim’s eyebrows shot up. “Say—hyu iz right!”
Ognian grinned. “But dot’s hokay! Dis vay ve both gets a gurl!”
A flicker of worry passed over Maxim’s face. “Hy dunno. Some uf the gurls de Heterodynes keesed vos pretty scary.”
“Bot dot’s de best part,” exclaimed Ognian gleefully, “Ve’d be keesink actresses!” He smirked, “End hyu know vot dey say about actresses!”
Maxim looked at him expectantly. “Um... No Hy dun’t.”
Ognian shrugged. “Hy dun neither.” He grinned again. “Bot Hy bet ve’s gunna find out!!”
The third Jägermonster smacked Ognian on the back of the head. “Qviet, hyu eediots! Eef deys find out how irresistible ve iz to de vemmins, dey neffer gunna let us join.” The other two realized the sensibility of this advice and arranged their faces into a semblance of innocence before facing the two men again.
“Zo,” the green Jäger said. “I’m Dimo. Vat doz hyu tink?”
Abner and Payne stared at the three and then looked at each other and nodded. “Clowns.”
Dimo, Maxim and Ognian grinned. Perfect.
Lars blinked. The familiar, early morning sounds of the circus drifted through an open window. The clink and rattle of cookware. The unnerving clucking of Professor Moonsock’s syncopated chickens. The gasping and panting of Agatha as she ran past his window, pursued by Zeetha.
He snuffled back into the comforting goose down mattress, as his mind idly went over yesterday’s events—
Which brought him bolt upright, every muscle poised for flight. Gasping, he looked around, and realized that he was safely in his own wagon, and not in fact, being eaten by monsters. He slumped in relief, and then a new memory surfaced. Hadn’t there been... Jägers?
“Goot mornink, sveethot.”
The cheerful voice from right behind him sent Lars bolting from his bed. When he landed with his hunting knife clenched in his fist, he was astonished to see one of the Jägers sitting at his table with his feet up, gnawing on a dried sausage. He was appreciatively flipping through Lars’ supposedly well-hidden collection of British “artistic” postcards.
After a long frozen moment when nothing happened, Lars gestured with the knife. “Put those down! And what are you doing here?”
The Jäger glanced at him and then deliberately picked up the next card. He whistled appreciatively. The girl pictured was riding some sort of velocipede. Ognian thought she looked a bit chilly.
Lars began to feel rather ridiculous. He waved his knife around a bit more in a half-hearted manner.
“Oh, schtop dot befaw hyu hurts hyuself.” Ognian looked at the next card. This girl was obviously a soldier. She had a rifle and everything. In the Jäger’s opinion, she was wearing a mighty fine looking hat. He casually tucked the card into his coat pocket. “Hy’m supposed to make shure hyu vos okay after hyu voke up.” He looked at Lars directly. “So how iz hyu?”
Lars lowered the knife. “Wait... Did I pass out? I’ve never done that before.” He then realized that the back of his head throbbed with a dull ache.
The Jäger looked away furtively. “Oh, dot. Hyu gots smecked by a piece ov der bridge.” He handed a chunk of stone over to Lars. “See?”
Lars examined it. It was indeed a piece of the bridge. He turned it over. Scratched into the stone was the message: I HITT MR LARZ. (SYNED) A BRIK.
Lars stared at it for a moment and then slowly put it down on the table. “I see.”
The Jäger let out a gust of breath and gave him a sharp toothed grin. “Hyu gots to vatch owt for dem leedle devils,” he confided.
Lars nodded slowly. “Right. So...” He briefly considered a plethora of questions and settled for, “How long are you staying?”
Ognian grinned again. “Forever! Ve joined hyu circus!”
Thousands of negotiations with suspicious, armed, or downright insane townspeople kept Lars from doing anything other than raising his eyebrows. “No kidding?”
The Jäger looked at him with a quick flash of approval. “No keedink. Dey pracktically insisted after we’s gets hyu off dot bridge.”
Lars reviewed that particular memory and then unhesitatingly stuck out a hand. “Thank you for that.”
Ognian gave it a quick shake. “Dun tank us. Tank dot gurl vat told us to go get chu. Ve thought hyu vas haffing fun.”
Lars paused. “Which girl?”
“Dot Agatha Clay? She vas vorried about hyu. Go figure.”
“You do what she says?”
The Jäger shrugged. “Vouldn’t hyu?”
Before Lars could answer, a liquid sound drew his gaze out the window. There stood Agatha, a smiling Zeetha handing her a second bucket. The first had been tipped over her head, and the abbreviated training outfit clung to her like a second skin. The second bucketful only served to enhance the effect. Lars’ breath caught, and he swallowed. Casually he turned back to the Jäger and shrugged. “... Maybe,” he conceded.
The door opened and Abner stuck his head in. “Knocking,” he called out cheerfully. “Is he awake?”
Lars waved. “Hey, Bunkie.”
Ognian clapped Lars on the shoulder proudly. “See he’s avake and talking and no more schtupid den he vas before!”
Abner nodded. “So I see.”