Agatha nodded. A sinking feeling began to grow inside her chest. It didn’t sound like they were going to let her stay.
A shrill mechanical squeal filled the air. Next to them, a wagon covered in garish gear designs rocked to a halt, wobbling slightly as it balanced upon a single, central wheel.
A diminutive woman with dark skin and a grimy leather mechanic’s coverall swore and threw a large wrench to the ground. “What the hell is it now?” she screamed.
Agatha stepped up and cleared her throat. “Excuse me, but that noise means that your gyro gear needs repacking.” The woman gave her long, blank, stare, but an older man, seated at the wagon’s controls, slapped his thigh and laughed heartily. “Aha! See? It is as I told you!”
The woman frowned and turned away from Agatha in irritation. “Ah, what does she know?”
Agatha bristled. “I know that it’s a Duchy of Blenshaf Gyro Wheel,” she said frostily. “Your wobble plate is loose, and it also sounds like you’ve neglected to replace the sponge dampers. Probably because you can’t find new ones. They’re hard to get these days. You can make an acceptable replacement out of horse dung and straw. And from the way your wheel is spalling, it’s obvious that that you don’t have the correct formula for tread gunk.”
The short woman turned back, all traces of annoyance gone. She regarded Agatha with interest. “You know Gyro Wheels,” she stated.
Agatha nodded, slightly mollified. “My dad was a mechanic. We saw these all the time.”
The man in the driver’s seat was grinning. He had fair skin, bleached yellow hair, and a wide jaw. When he grinned, it covered a fair amount of his face. He also had a mechanical forearm and hand which he raised, pushing back his cap. He leaned forward. “Say, if you are going to being sticking around, would you want a working job?”
Agatha blinked. “What?” Behind her, Pix grimaced in exasperation and covered her eyes with one hand.
“I am Captain Kadiiski. Me and Rivet—” He indicated the woman, who gave her a friendly nod, “We have the dubious honor of being the poor, put-upon mechanics for this noisy collection of divas and geeks. But I must admit, with some small embarrassment, that the Lady Rivet and myself are what you would call piston-leg men. This miserable wheel has got us smoked.”
Rivet nodded. “We could use another competent mechanic around here anyway.”
Pix spoke up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Reluctantly, Agatha agreed. “Yes, I’ve got to get to Mechanicsburg.”
Rivet once again looked at her blankly. “So what’s the problem? We’ll be performing at Mechanicsburg in a month or two. Big cheese festival.”
Agatha turned to look at Pix. “Really.” Pix rolled her eyes.
Rivet continued, “Oh yeah. And in the meantime, you’ll actually earn—”
“Rivet! Shut! Up!”
All three of them stared at Pix. Kadiiski frowned. “What is your problem of the sudden?”
“The problem,” a voice boomed from behind them, “Is that this Miss Clay cannot travel with us.”
Agatha turned and stared. Before her stood one of the largest men she had ever seen, followed by several other members of the troupe. A quick reassessment and she realized that while he was tall, he wasn’t exceptionally tall, and while he was heavy, he wasn’t excessively fat, it was just that he... loomed large. This, she realized, was a man who filled the space he was in, whatever that space happened to be. He had a broad face framed by a mane of wild reddish brown hair, as well as a full beard and moustache. His eyes were magnified in a mesmerizing way by his small, thick spectacles.
He wore layer upon layer of waistcoats, each adorned with pockets, piping, buttons and chains, none of which matched. The whole ensemble was enveloped by a huge, elaborate coat covered with embroidered stars, moons and comets. At his throat was a family sigil badge, which, strikingly, was completely blank.
The man’s voice matched the rest of him. It was solid and booming, and in this instance, grim. It was a voice which allowed no argument.
He addressed Agatha: “Miss Clay, I am Master Payne. I am sorry I must be so blunt. You did us a favor by returning young Balthazar, and we are grateful. But this is my circus, and I am responsible for the safety of the people in it. For that reason, our roads must diverge here.”
Captain Kadiiski looked at Agatha, puzzled, then turned back to Master Payne. “What is wrong with her?” he asked.
The circus master made a chopping motion with his hand, signaling an end to any discussion. “She is on the run from Baron Wulfenbach. Her reasons are her own, and I do not wish to know them. But even ordinary townsfolk might be punished simply for aiding her.” He fixed an eye on the mechanic, “And we have our own concerns, as you well know.”
The Captain stepped back unhappily, and several of the other circus members glanced at each other nervously. Payne turned back to Agatha. His face was sympathetic, but his voice remained firm. “We don’t want any trouble from The Baron, Miss Clay. We will forget that we ever saw you, but that, and wishing you luck, is the best that we can do.”
They all looked at her. Agatha took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I do understand,” she said quietly. “I’d better leave right away. Krosp?”
She looked around. The cat was not to be found. Suddenly, they heard a great yowling intermixed with swearing, and the intense young woman in grey leathers came around the corner, holding a thrashing Krosp by the scruff of his neck. She was furious.
“It ate them!” she screamed. “It ate my entire herd of mimmoths!” Every word was punctuated by a serious shake. “It took me a month just to get them to wear their little costumes! Mr. Honk had just learned to do the peanut trick! And this flea-riddled thing ATE them!”
“Sorry!” the beleaguered cat wailed.
The trainer froze. She stared at Krosp. “Did you just talk?”
The cat’s eyes swiveled to Agatha and then back to his captor. “Yes?” he ventured.
She briefly considered this, and shook him again. “Not good enough!” She declared. “But when I’m done with you—”
Master Payne stepped in. “Professor Moonsock! Release the cat! They are leaving us.”
The Professor glared at the large man, but she instantly let go. Krosp landed on his feet, then dashed behind Agatha’s skirt. “We’re leaving?” he asked.
Agatha nodded. “I... I’m sorry about your mimmoths, Professor. Um... Goodbye, Herr de la Scala. And, um,” she looked back at the two mechanics, “thank you for the offer.”
She then turned to the Pix, who was looking away with her jaw set hard. The girl had been rude and unfriendly, and yet, Agatha felt an odd sense of disappointment. She found didn’t want to go without saying something. “Goodbye Pix. You... you really are a good actress.”
She turned towards the woods and blinked hard. “Let’s go, Krosp.” Without a look back, she marched off into the surrounding forest, Krosp trailing behind.
The others watched them go. Guilt showed on many faces, but not Pix’s. She stared at the ground woodenly as the pair departed.
Abner kicked a stone at his feet. “That was cold. The least you could’ve done was given her a kind word,” he said to her back.
Pix whirled on him and Abner stepped back as he saw the tears flowing from her eyes. “Oh? Why?” she snarled, “She’s doomed! Didn’t you hear? She’s in the Wastelands alone! I... I liked her! She seemed... I don’t know, like someone I could have talked to! But I don’t care! I don’t want to get near Wulfenbach or anybody like him! No matter how nice, or smart, or, or interesting she is, she’d bring him and his monsters right down on our heads. You know she would! So she can’t stay here and now she’ll die. Well I’ve seen lots of people die and friendship and kindness never helped them.”