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

that had been prowling through the city’s sewers for some time. Several of these (including the saurian) were on display in the Square of the Tyrant.
    The most talked about incident had occurred when a small band of Jägers had blithely walked into the Thieves’ Market. Instead of closing it down, they wound up dickering furiously with Blind Otto for some hats. After they left, it was discovered that they had managed to steal the boots off of Otto’s feet. Blind Otto was said to be, grudgingly, impressed.
    The death of the Tyrant had stunned the populace. There was a great deal of confusion as to which event, the Master’s death or the town’s occupation, had come first. So far there was little anger. Dr. Merlot had been correct in his assessment that for the populace at large, the presence of the Master had been more of a reassuring concept than a day-to-day experience. The actual takeover of the town had been quick, and the hand of its new master lay lightly so far. Civic leaders had been honored with an audience with the Baron himself, and the ones who survived the experience moved with a new purpose.
    The greatest disturbance had appeared, unexpectedly, in the western part of town. The Baron, his son Gil, Boris, several clanks, a very brave and opportunistic doughnut seller, and a squad of Jägermonsters stood in the center of the street and watched with interest as a large, crude clank, belching black smoke and moving with a ponderous slow step, lurched around the corner. To the trained eye, it was obvious that the device had been built out of a large steam tractor, with the addition of a pair of large solid legs. A single manipulator claw was folded up beneath the prow. At each step, the device paused and swung its front end from side to side.
    The Baron, his hands clasped behind him, observed the device with genuine pleasure. “Well well well.” He murmured, “This is interesting. Boris?”
    His secretary, who was munching on a doughnut, took a sip of coffee, delicately wiped his lips and gestured in the direction of the machine simultaneously. “Not one of ours, Herr Baron. Nor is it from outside the town. It has caused some minor damage, but I believe that to be unintentional.” The Baron nodded.
    The clank was now halfway down the street, and appeared to register their presence. The whistle perched upon its top gave a brief hoot, and it began to advance steadily towards them.
    “Purpose?”
“It appears to be looking for someone.”
    “Indeed?”
    “Allow me to demonstrate.” Boris turned to a Jägermonster standing nearby who was gnawing on a sausage. “Sergeant? Go up to it.”
    The soldier spit out a chunk of sausage in surprise. “Vat? Me?”
    Boris nodded. “Yes, you. Go up to it.”
    The soldier glowered at the shorter man. “I don’ take schtupid orders from you.”
    “I don’t give them. Now go do something useful . ”
    The Jäger grinned. “Ho! So I can sqvish you den, hey, bugman?”
    Boris and the Jägermonsters despised each other. Boris, a naturally fussy man, found their permanently disheveled lifestyles an affront to everything he believed in. The Jägers thought him a self-important, officious prat. Boris had yet to give any Jäger an order that was not automatically questioned. This had escalated until the famous incident where a Jägermonster who was on fire had to be ordered several times, in writing, to put himself out, after which Klaus had stepped in. There were still arguments, but now there was a time limit.
    This morning Klaus intervened early. “Boris, is it safe?”
“I honestly believe so, Herr Baron.”
    “Good. Sergeant? Carry on.”
    “Jah, Herr Baron.” With a theatrical sigh, the soldier tossed his weapon to Boris, who managed to catch it without spilling his coffee, and stomped over to the machine, which had advanced to meet him in the middle of the street. When he was within range, the arm quickly unfolded from underneath and grabbed him.
    “Oh,