Agatha H. and the Airship City by Phil Foglio, Kaja Foglio Page A

that this was an unfamiliar emotion. “Hy em not gun eatchu.” This did nothing to stop the flow of tears, and after several minutes, the exasperated soldier roared, “Onless dats de only vay to shot hyu op!” Agatha’s sobbing stopped instantly , and she stared at him with wide eyes. The Jägersoldier nodded. “Now. Vere hyu liff? Let’s get hyu home,” and when Agatha continued to stare at him blankly: “MOOF!”
    The walk back through the town was markedly different from the one she’d taken this morning. The number of citizens on the street was greatly reduced, and the few left were obviously determined to get home as quickly as possible. Shopkeepers were closing up, frantically pulling stock in off the sidewalks or, when they saw Agatha and her escort, abandoning it altogether and slamming shut doors and window shutters.
    The only sign of fighting that Agatha saw was a shattered member of the Watch, which still twitched and feebly ticked against a wall as they passed by. More and more of the giant Wulfenbach clanks and soldiers wearing the Wulfenbach crest were to be seen assuming positions on various street corners, and with chilling silence, a small troop of Jägermonsters swarmed across the rooftops of the buildings across the street and disappeared. Shadows from the overhead fleet glided across the streets, causing the townspeople to involuntarily duck their heads and move even more quickly.
    Soon enough they turned on to Forge Street, and the large former stables that housed Clay Mechanical came into sight.
    Agatha turned to her companion. For the last several blocks, the Jäger had abandoned its attempts at conversation, and had been sniffing repeatedly, while a look of distracted concentration flowed across its face. “That’s it. That’s my house. Um… thanks.” With that she bolted for the main door. The Jägermonster lazily leaned against the nearest wall and watched her scurry inside. With a sigh, he shook his head and muttered, “Tch. Poor little ting.” Again he sniffed deeply, then shrugged irritably and loped off.
    Inside the shop, machinist and master blacksmith Adam Clay grasped a thick chain in his massive fists and pulled. The ceiling beam that held the combined pulley system groaned, and the front of the steam tractor the chain was attached to began to slowly rise upwards.
    Herr Ketter’s tractor had some leaks. Adam was pretty sure he knew where. A small collection of probable replacement parts were neatly laid out on a small bench by his side.
    Adam liked this sort of job, as it didn’t involve dealing with madboy technology. Whereas Sparks were able to design and construct bizarre, physics-skirting machinery, their devices were never really able to be mass produced or even reliably duplicated by regular people. Even trained machinists eventually suffered nervous breakdowns if they were forced to try.
    One of the Wulfenbach Empire’s groundbreaking ideas had been that instead of exterminating rival Sparks after defeating them, Klaus hired them. He kept them happy by keeping them supplied with materials, tools, and food, and a dedicated staff that made sure they ate it. They found themselves free of the petty concerns that had plagued their lives, such as what to actually do with that small country once they had proved that they could conquer it with nothing more than a navy composed of intelligent lobsters. He also gave them challenges, adoring minions, and on a regular basis, a large dinner celebrating their accomplishments along with a beautiful calligraphed award expressing the sincere thanks of the Empire in general and Klaus in particular.
    As a result, almost any one of the Sparks Klaus had defeated over the years would have disintegrated you if you had seriously attempted to offer them their freedom, and they gleefully built and repaired the airships and the armies of clanks as well as the other terrifying monstrosities that supported the Pax Transylvania. This easily made