The Havoc Machine ce-4

by Steven Harper

  Thad reached the end of the dance and started over from the beginning. Beside him, Nikolai copied, but then put on a burst of speed and overtook Thad. Startled, Thad sped up himself. The audience caught what was going on and, thinking it was part of the act, laughed. Nikolai went faster and faster, until Thad was flatly unable to keep up. With exaggerated defeat, he slunk away, leaving Nikolai in the center of the ring. Arms folded, the boy thrust his legs straight out in front of him so fast, they blurred. He pushed his palms on the ground and twisted his body, flung himself into the air, landed, and started over, just as Thad had done, but with inhuman speed. He landed and went into the jig, also extremely fast. The court clapped and cheered him on. The tsar’s children were shouting and wriggling in their seats. Nikolai jigged and jigged, then slowed down and whistled exactly as Thad had done earlier. Almost caught out, Thad leaped to join him again. Together they slowed the dance until it came to the end. Nikolai turned and put up a hand. Thad matched it, trying not to pant. Sweat ran freely down his face now. Nikolai put up his other hand, and Thad copied him.

  “Perfect,” Thad said without moving his lips. “Now turn and bow.”

  They did so to thunderous applause. The two youngest children of the tsar couldn’t contain themselves and ran out to the ring, despite the governesses who tried to stop them. They surrounded the surprised Nikolai, pulling at his clothes and chattering excitedly. The applause and stomping from the court continued. And then the tsar-the tsar himself-rose partway out of his throne and applauded. This only increased the noise made by the court. Thad felt he might float away, and he wished Ekaterina and David could see this.

  The tsar’s young children, meanwhile, were drawing Nikolai back to their little thrones at the tsar’s feet. “You must sit with us. You will be our new brother. Sit with us!” they chattered. Nikolai went with them uncertainly. Thad halted, his earlier euphoria evaporating. He had performed for high-ranking people before, and knew the etiquette-bow when you begin, bow at the end, and leave quickly unless told to stay. Operating outside the rules always turned into disaster for the lowest-ranked person, and that was always the performer. Thad didn’t dare call Nikolai away from the royal family, but he wasn’t sure if he should leave Nikolai with them.

  Alexander himself solved the problem. He nodded once at Thad and made a small gesture to the floor next to the children’s thrones. A hush fell over the court as Thad trotted over and went down on one knee next to Nikolai, who was standing by the tsar’s children. Thad felt a hundred eyes on him, all of them calculating. The court did not sit in the presence of the tsar, except at state dinners. Kneeling was barely acceptable, on the tsar’s order, and it showed great favor. Thad’s heart pounded again. This was a tricky and difficult position to be in, and the ramifications made him dizzy. He was sitting so close to the tsar’s platform that he could smell the tsar’s cologne. Thad saw Sofiya standing near the wagons. She blew him a kiss and vanished behind them. Meanwhile, Dodd hurried into the ring to announce the next act. This performance seemed endless. Thad’s knee dug into the earth while the tsar’s children continued to talk to Nikolai from their chairs, ignoring the clowns who entered the ring. Nikolai said little, only nodding his head.

  Thad itched with curiosity. He was sitting mere inches from one of the most powerful potentates on the planet, and he wanted to stare up at the tsar, but he didn’t dare. His position was tentative enough without locking eyes with a king. He did, however, look sideways at the tsar’s boots. Father always said you could tell a lot about a man by his boots. These were shiny and black, well made and perfectly polished. Of course they would be. What else would a tsar-

  A gleam caught Thad’s eye. The bottom of the tsar’s throne was swathed with golden cloth that hid the legs. Through a gap in the cloth, however, Thad saw metal. Something moved with mechanical regularity. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that the object was a clock. Its second hand clicked forward, and it was strapped to a bundle of something. A chill ran down Thad’s spine. Nikolai and the other children were only a few feet away from a bomb.

  Thad didn’t even think. He plunged his hand under Alexander’s throne. The movement was so sudden, it caught everyone by surprise, including Alexander.

  “What-?” he demanded.

  Thad yanked the bomb out. It was a clock attached with wires to a bundle of dynamite sticks, and the minute hand was nearly touching noon. The second hand was just ticking past the six-only thirty seconds before it exploded. The court gave a collective gasp. Even the clowns paused, Benny Mazur with a bucket of fake whitewash in his hand. A tiny moment of confusion and uncertainty rippled through the room. A small part of Thad knew what they were thinking. Was this part of the circus? Should we be alarmed? How dared he lay hands on the tsar’s throne!

  Thad didn’t pause. He sprinted away from the throne platform, toward the bank of high windows along the southern wall of the Nicholas Hall. The Cossack guards stationed all about the hall, meanwhile, quickly recovered from their surprise. They drew both swords and pistols and shouted orders at Thad. He ignored them. Fifteen seconds left. His brass hand smashed the glass and struts from one of the windows. With his other hand, he flung the bomb into the courtyard beyond.

  “Get down!” he shouted, and dove.

  The explosion rocked the floor and shattered every window on the wall. A hand of hot air slammed into Thad. Everyone who hadn’t dropped was flung to the floor. Choking dust swirled. The chandeliers swung like trapezes in a hurricane. Screams and shouts and animal roars and frightened screeches swirled through the hall.

  A great panic followed. Performers, servants, and courtiers alike rushed in random directions, most trying to flee the room, others staggering about in confusion. Some sat or lay on the earthen floor with injuries from flying debris. The little hovering automatons had been blown against the far wall and smashed. Thad tried to rise, but the floor rocked, and he could only manage hands and knees. The Cossack guards recovered the fastest. Several ran to the throne to see about the tsar and his children. Others saw to injured lords and ladies. Thad, for his part, found himself surrounded by a contingent of uniformed men. Three of the guards had cuts on their faces from flying debris. They yanked him to his feet with rough hands. Thad tried to protest, but only coughed up dust. One of the guards punched him in the stomach. Pain exploded through him, and all the air rushed from his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to straighten, but the pain was too great. What had happened to Nikolai and Sofiya? Were they all right? He couldn’t see for the dust and the people. The guard kicked his legs out from under him, and he went down again.

  “Get him out of here,” said one of the guards. “Take him to Peter and Paul’s for trial and execution.”

  They dragged Thad through the chaotic crowd of people toward a set of doors. His own panic started now. They thought he was responsible for the bomb. He remembered the clockworker’s death and tried to fight, but he couldn’t catch his breath and his limbs were heavy. “Let me go!” he gasped. “Sofiya! Nikolai!”

  The guards ignored him. Their hands bit into his arms. They were almost at the door now. He caught a glimpse of Nathan, his clown makeup smeared with blood, helping Dodd to walk. Tina McGee cradled the limp body of one of her poodles in her arms. No sign of Nikolai or Sofiya.

  They reached the doors and the guard shoved them open. Thad mustered up some strength to struggle, but he was overwhelmed. The guard who had hit him before was pulling back his fist again when a sharp voice cut through the chaos.

  “Wait!”

  The entire room fell silent except for the animals, who continued to growl and screech and bark. Tsar Alexander was standing head and shoulders above the crowd on the platform next to his throne, his uniform covered with dust. A small cut scored his forehead, but he appeared otherwise uninjured.

  “Bring that man to me!” he ordered.

  The guards exchanged quick glances, then turned and dragged Thad, stumbling, over to the throne and pushed him to t
he floor before it, grinding his face into the dirt. By now, more than half the courtiers and servants had fled the hall, but a nearly equal number of other servants and guards had rushed in to see what was going on, so the Nicholas Hall was still crowded.

  “Let him up,” Alexander said.

  The hands released him, and Thad slowly pulled himself upright. He was suddenly glad Dante wasn’t here to make insolent remarks.

  “What is your name, peasant?”

  “Thaddeus Sharpe, Your Majesty. Son of Lawrence.”

  “What did you do, Thaddeus Lawrenovich?” Alexander demanded. “What happened here?”

  Thad’s mind was finally beginning to clear, though his body still ached. “I…I saw the bomb under your throne, Your Majesty. I didn’t think. I just grabbed it and ran. The children-”

  “My children were not injured, thanks to you,” the tsar interrupted. “This man with the clockwork shadow saved hundreds of lives today, including mine. He is a hero of Russia!”

  With that, the tsar descended from the platform, seized Thad by the shoulders, and kissed him on both cheeks. Thad froze, stunned. The guards stumbled over themselves to fall back and salute.

  “Get everyone out of the hall in case that wall comes down,” Alexander boomed, one arm around Thad’s shoulder. “Summon physicians for the injured. Send a messenger to the tsarina to let her know the children are fine. And someone find General Parkarov. I want a thorough investigation immediately!”

  Uncomfortably aware of the heavy arm of the tsar around his shoulder, Thad still searched the hall for Nikolai and Sofiya, but he couldn’t find them. The tsar abruptly snapped his fingers and dropped his arm.

  “Thaddeus Sharpe,” he said. “Sharpe! I thought I recognized the name. You are the man who kills clockworkers, are you not?”

  Thad wouldn’t have thought he could be startled yet again today, but it turned out he could. “Yes, ser.”

  “And you are associated with the trick rider and her automaton horse? I believe the ringmaster introduced her as Sofiya Ekk.”

  “I am.”

  “Such a lovely wife.” Alexander slapped Thad on the back. “I congratulate you, Lawrenovich.”

  “We are close, ser,” Thad said quickly, “but not married.”

  “Ah. Then I congratulate you twice.”

  A large, gray-haired man in a blue uniform heavy with gold braid trotted over. “Sire, I hate to intrude, but it is not safe for you here. And by your order, I have an investigation to conduct.”

  “Of course, General Parkarov.” Alexander turned to Thad. “You and Miss Ekk will visit the tsarina and me as soon as it is convenient. We have much to discuss.”

  And he strode away. Just at that moment, Sofiya hurried up. Her cloak was missing, but she didn’t seem to be injured. “Thad! Are you well?”

  “Sofiya!” Thad was seized with a confusing impulse to embrace her, which he quickly suppressed. “I’m perfectly fine. The tsar was-” He shook his head. “Where’s Nikolai? Is he all right?”

  The look on her normally composed face gave him a terrible turn, and fear rushed over him. “You should come,” was all she said.

  The guards holding Thad had scattered, and people of all sorts were trying to exit the hall. The circus folk who had animals were refusing to leave them behind, and were trying to turn the cages around to get them out. Old Frank, the elephant trainer, was desperately working to keep Betsy from breaking into a rampaging panic. Clowns staggered about like broken rainbows. A pair of physicians and their apprentices arrived, but they concentrated on the members of the court, most of whom bore only minor scratches but howled loudly at the idea of getting up to walk. Word came that soldiers would be bringing in stretchers from the barrack at the Field of Mars, but they wouldn’t arrive for some time. General Parkarov told several squealing court members-not all of them female-that they were welcome to wait for someone who could carry them away, and after the outer wall came down, he would be pleased to take their descriptions of what happened, if they survived. This solemn proclamation got most of them to their feet and out the door.

  Sofiya led Thad through the chaos to a pillar that held up the inside wall. “You didn’t see,” she explained quietly. “He chased after you when you ran with the bomb, and he failed to drop to the floor. The blast caught him.”

  Thad’s feet crunched over broken glass and chunks of debris, and his stomach roiled with dread. Nikolai was sitting on the far side of the pillar with Sofiya’s dusty cloak bundled round him. At first, Thad couldn’t see anything wrong. His hair was mussed. The upper half of his face, the human half, looked perfectly fine, and the metal lower half showed nothing strange except dirt. But then Nikolai turned to look up at Thad. The other side of his skull had been peeled away, revealing thousands upon thousands of tiny wheels and gears. Sparks snapped and cracked across them.

  “Th-th-thank y-you,” he stammered. “Th-thank you f-f-for taking m-me out-out-out-out of there. I–I-I don’t have-ave-ave one. M-M-Mr. Havoc-oc-oc called me boy-boy-boy-boy.”

  Thad stared. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Something hit his head, where most of his memory wheels are stored,” Sofiya said. “It creates problems.”

  “The victim-im-im of th-the cu-cu-cuckoo’s b-b-brood parasitism-ism-ism will f-f-f-feed and t-t-t-tend the baby-baby-baby cuckoo,” Nikolai sputtered, “even w-when the baby p-p-pushes the nat-nat-natural b-born offspring out and begin-in-ins to outg-g-g-grow the nest-est-est.”

  Thad looked down at the automaton that fizzled and sparked at his feet, the worry he had been feeling drained out of him. He had been starting to think of Nikolai as more than he was, but now Thad could see he was still nothing but a machine. “Can you fix this?”

  “Perhaps.” Sofiya’s face was stony again. “But nothing is certain. Perhaps we should talk about this elsewhere. That wall may come down, you know.”

  Nikolai was unable to walk. Thad flung a fold of Sofiya’s cloak over his head and picked him up. “We can’t go far.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “The tsar and tsarina want to see us.” And he explained.

  Sofiya’s eyes went wide, and she automatically tried to brush the dust from her clothes. “What of Nikolai?”

  “We’ll have a servant put him a closet. No one will bother a broken automaton.” The words came out harsher than Thad had intended, but he didn’t back away from them.

  “Thaddeus Sharpe!” Sofiya gasped. “That is-”

  “Ser,” said a soldier. “If you and the lady will follow me, the tsar wishes to see you as soon as is convenient.”

  It turned out “as soon as it is convenient” meant several detours. A small army of servants ushered Thad and Sofiya into bathing chambers, where they were scrubbed, perfumed, and dressed in smart new outfits. Sofiya’s cloak was whisked away for cleaning, and her ruined circus costume was exchanged for a rich green gown trimmed with gold ribbon and sporting utterly fashionable and thoroughly impractical pagoda sleeves. Thad’s new valet polished his brass hand and dressed him in a dark linen suit tucked into shiny boots under a long evening coat. Nikolai was not stuffed into a closet, but a footman was assigned the task of standing guard over him, to Sofiya’s evident relief. Sofiya gave Thad a number of dark looks, which Thad pointedly ignored. At last, Thad and Sofiya were escorted down the maze of corridors and hallways of the Winter Palace.

  The palace was still in disarray. Servants scurried in all directions. People talked in hushed tones. Soldiers stomped about everywhere, often stopping hapless serving girls or boys to search them. Thad had no idea how much of it was military bluster and how much was part of General Parkarov’s investigation.

  The phalanx of servants who had shepherded them through the baths took them to a heavily carved door and opened it. Thad forced himself to enter with firm steps and without gaping. Suddenly dealing with a mere bomb seemed easy. The opulent sitting room beyond had an enormous white fireplace. Shards of colored glass were inl
aid in the chimney, and they threw sparkling scraps of light across the floor. The furniture was all white and gold, as were heavy carpets that seemed too fine to walk on. Every inch of the white ceiling and the baseboards had been done in gold scrollwork. Trays of food and bottles of wine occupied various end tables. An automaton played a balalaika softly in one corner. The tsar, also in a fresh uniform, sat in a wingback chair near the fireplace, and in the chair next to him was a small, delicate-looking woman with black hair and gray eyes-Tsarina Maria. Strands of pearls were woven through her elaborately braided hair, and the chair could barely contain the great yellow dress with its voluminous skirts and layer upon layer of crinoline. A dozen servants, male and female, waited in the background. Despite his awe at being twice in the same room with royalty in one day, Thad couldn’t help wondering how many peasants a single strand of the tsarina’s pearls would feed.

  Sofiya is rubbing off on me, he thought as he bowed before both of them. Sofiya curtsied.

  Tsarina Maria came to her feet and rustled across the floor to take both Thad’s hands in hers. They were small and cool, and her eyes were almost luminescent with emotion. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mr. Lawrenovich.” Her Russian carried a German accent. “I already lost one child years ago, and now you have prevented me from losing five more. I cannot thank you enough.”

  “Majesty,” Thad replied, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. “I only did what any man would do.”

  “No other man did,” Maria pointed out.

  Thad coughed. “May I present Sofiya Ivanova Ekk?”

  “Not his wife,” said the tsar.

  “I’m sorry I missed your performance today, Miss Ekk,” the tsarina said, “though considering what happened, perhaps not extremely sorry. Come and sit. We will have cake and wine or perhaps tea.”

  The servants seated them at chairs rather lower than the tsar’s and tsarina’s and set plates of food and drink at their elbows. Sofiya took her place with elegant grace, as if she had been dining with kings all her life. Thad nervously managed to take his own chair without stumbling, and he was careful not to use his brass hand for the wineglass, in case he spilled. Like the rest of the palace, the room was warm, almost stifling. Later, Thad learned it was because Tsarina Maria’s health was poor, and the entire Winter Palace was heated for her comfort.