Opinion was divided as to whether this change could be credited to her opening up on stage, or to Herr de la Scalla.
Master Payne and Abner had consulted their maps and sighed. A little more time would be spent on this side of the mountains, but that just meant that they’d spend a little less time on the other side. Towns might be visited a year or two early, or skipped altogether, but life on the road taught one to be flexible.
Travel was certainly smoother this year. Even in the wilderness between towns, the circus had yet to encounter any highwaymen. Nor had it been attacked by rogue monsters, clanks, or wild animals. The odd thing was that other travelers reported the usual number of these impediments, usually in great detail. This particular mystery was resolved to Payne’s satisfaction one day when the circus drove past a small clearing. Within it was a cheerful fire, which was roasting the remains of what appeared to be a shark with six legs and a mouth at either end. The three Jägers were to be seen lazing around it, and they waved happily as the wagons trundled on by.
Everything was going smoother. The Baba Yaga was the most dramatic example, but it wasn’t the only device that mysteriously improved. Throughout the troupe, people began to notice that fuel efficiency was increasing. Gear systems became more intuitive. Mechanical break-downs almost disappeared. Windows stopped sticking. Doors stopped creaking.
No one could explain it. Everyone knew that Agatha had something to do with it, even though they never saw her doing anything.
In retrospect, many people have asked why no one ever just came out and confronted her about it. To understand this lapse, one must consider the culture of the troupe. First and foremost, everything that happened was an improvement. No one wanted to be the one to “kill the golden goose,” as it were. Perhaps more importantly, this was a culture that appreciated a good trick, and they wanted to figure out how she did it without having to be told.
As a result, they fixated upon the superficialities, and never saw the larger changes even as they were happening around them. A most excellent trick indeed.
One afternoon, after the troupe had stopped for the day. Agatha was chatting with the Countess as she was sorting old gears and selecting which ones to set to soak in a bath of kerosene. Balthazar raced up “Hey Miss Agatha,” he called. “I was out collecting wood, and I found you another wreck!”
Agatha smiled. “Wonderful! You keep finding me parts and I’ll get that organ finished yet!”
The boy beamed. “This one is a really big old clank! It should have lots of parts!”
Agatha wiped her hands on her trousers and stood up. She grabbed a bulky workbelt and buckled it around her waist. “Well then, let’s see if we can find you a sweet cake, and then I’ll collect my tools and we can check this clank out.”
This last exchange took place within earshot of Lars and Yeti, who were inventorying the chemical wagon. Lars looked worried. “Hey. She’s going off into the woods to mess around with an old clank?”
Yeti raised a shaggy eyebrow in surprise. “Yes. Just like she’s been doing for a while now.”
“But... by herself?”
“Balthazar is going with her.”
“But he’s just a kid.”
Yeti scratched his chin. “I’m sure they both know to stay within shouting distance.”
Lars grabbed Yeti’s arm and attempted to drag him along. This had the same effect as trying to pull an oak tree. “Come on! It could be dangerous!”
“And you want to follow them?” Yeti frowned. “Lars, are you feeling all right?”
Lars tried pulling him again. “Stop fooling around and let’s go!” With the dispassionate sangfroid of the very large, Yeti shrugged and rose to his feet, allowing himself to be pulled along. This promised to be interesting.
Several minutes later, Agatha and Balthazar stepped into a forest clearing and Agatha felt her breath catch in wonder. The space was like a green cathedral. Shafts of light pierced the darkness, which was filled with dancing motes of light. Slumped to the ground, nestled amongst a mass of broken moss and fungi encrusted logs, was an aged colossus of a clank. Agatha did a quick calculation and whistled softly to herself. When it stood erect, the clank must have been over ten meters tall. She looked at the damage caused when it had fallen, the rust and corrosion that covered every surface, except where moss and lichen had taken hold. By her estimate, this clank had been abandoned for close to twenty years. Whatever empire it had served had no doubt fallen long ago. Agatha looked around. For all she knew, this section of forest had once been part of a thriving town. The Wastelands were full of places where civilization had succumbed to outside forces. Agatha shivered.
She turned to Balthazar. “There’s going to be a lot more here than we can carry. Do you think Smilin’ Stev could get a wagon in here?”
Balthazar considered the uneven path they’d recently trod. “Maybe not. But he can still carry stuff out himself. He won’t care how many trips it takes.”
Agatha nodded. “Please ask your father if I can use him then.” Balthazar gave her a crisp salute and bounded back towards the camp.
Alone, Agatha picked her way the foot of the colossus. She examined the surface of the great clank, and scowled at the condition of the metal. She pulled a small pry bar from a loop on her belt, and with a quick jab and snap, pulled up a section of plate. She examined the mechanisms underneath, and what she saw pleased her quite a bit. She began to hum to herself. From a pouch, she pulled a small monocular, and scrutinized the front of the clank. She found what she wanted up near the head. She gave a satisfied smile and put the viewing device back in its pouch.
She then pulled out a fat metal disc and attached a long, silken rope to it. Still humming, she whirled it around her head several times and threw it towards the top of the clank. With a “THUNK” the disc stuck to the clank, revealing itself to be a magnet. As it turned out, a very strong magnet, as Agatha used the attached rope to haul herself upwards along the face of the recumbent giant.
Once she reached where she wanted to go, she looped the rope around her seat and clipped it to an attached “D” ring. She examined the surface before her and then scraped away a thick layer of moss. A small service panel was revealed. She perfunctorily examined the lock and then took a large hammer from her belt and smacked it squarely. The surrounding metal crumbled into a spray of rust, while the steel lock briefly hung in place, and then tumbled to the ground. Again the pry bar came out and with a tooth gritting squeal, the panel swung open.
Agatha took a cloth and wiped several glass surfaces. To her surprise, a dim light flickered behind one or two of them. She grasped a large control lever, and with some difficulty, spun the dial to “AKTIV.”
A shudder ran through the giant figure. Sparks erupted from various joints and extremities. The single great eye in its head flared red, and with a terrible slowness, swiveled down and observed the small girl hanging from its chest.
The great arms jerked, ripping loose from a cluster of small trees and slowly swung towards her.
At this, the hidden watchers broke from cover and ran towards the giant. “Hang on, Agatha,” Lars yelled, “We’ll distract it!”
Surprised at their appearance, Agatha held up a hand and shouted back over the roaring and squealing of the awakening clank. “What? Just a minute.”
She then pushed away from the control panel, and as she swung back, lashed out with the heel of her boot, shattering the control lever housing. The lights flicked and died, and great figure shuddered once, then collapsed back onto its bed of smashed trees.