The Havoc Machine (40 page)

“Nikolai,” he whispered into the boy’s hair. “Nikolai, wake up. You have to wake up.”

But he didn’t move.

The ever-present crowd that had gathered to watch the bombardment stared and pointed. A woman came forward.

“Did you escape from the island?”
she said.
“Do you need help?”

“My son,”
Thad said.
“He’s hurt.”

“He has automatons,”
said someone else.
“Two of them!”

“Three!”
shouted a man.
“That child he’s holding is an abomination from the island!”

“It’ll come after us! It’ll attack us like it attacked that man!”

“No,”
Thad said hoarsely.
“It’s not like that.”
His voice didn’t carry. The crowd was still uncertain, but they wouldn’t remain so for long. Thad pulled himself upright. Nikolai just needed a little help. He would be all right. He had to be.

He set Nikolai on the colt’s back, put his wrists under the colt’s chin, and shoved Dante underneath as well. “Hold him, Dante. Don’t let him fall off.”

“Pretty boy,” Dante said, and clamped Nikolai’s wrists with beak and claws. Maddie climbed underneath the colt to hold Nikolai’s ankles together.

“Find Kalvis,” Thad said to the colt. “Go home! Go!”

The colt bolted forward. The crowd reflexively parted
for him. Thad stood there, weaving, as his little boy vanished into the city.

The bombardment of Vasilyevsky Island had stopped, at least. Thad must have damaged the Peter and Paul Fortress too badly for it to keep up the attack for long, so his idea had worked in the end. Just not well enough to save Nikolai. He pushed his way through the bewildered crowd. They still didn’t know what to make of him, and they finally settled on giving him berth. Thad could barely walk, but he had to get back to the circus, had to get back to Sofiya and Nikolai. Nikolai would be all right. He had to be. All Thad had to do was get back to the circus. But his legs felt like beaten bread dough and he simply didn’t have the strength for another step. He leaned against a lamppost.

“You look like you need a ride in the finest cab in Saint Petersburg, my lord!”
said a booming voice.
“But blood costs more than muck to clean.”

Thad looked up into a familiar bearded face and managed a wheezing laugh. “I still can’t play the game, Vanka. But I promise to tell everyone I did.”

Vanka, driving gently, delivered Thad straight to the circus, and even gave him a bit of bread and sausage from his supper, which Thad devoured without tasting. He felt some strength return as the cab pulled up. It was almost completely dark now. Most of the circus was packed up and loaded onto the train, and performers worked on the rest by lantern light. No doubt Dodd intended to depart before morning. Kalvis and the colt stood outside Thad’s wagon, both their heads lowered to the ground. Dante and Maddie perched on the colt’s back. Thad didn’t know whether to feel hope or dread as Vanka’s cab pulled up.

“Sharpe is sharp!” Dante called excitedly when he caught sight of Thad with his single eye. “Pretty boy!”

The door to the wagon stood open and Thad saw something move inside. His heart gave a great leap. He jumped down from the cab before it stopped moving and tossed Vanka one of the pearls from the tsarina’s string in his pocket. Vanka held it up in the fading light.

“You do not understand this game at all,”
he said, and drove away.

Thad ran into the wagon. Sofiya, once again in her red cloak, was waiting for him. Thad spun, searching for Nikolai. Only the grim trophies on his wall looked back at him. Why hadn’t he taken those down? Sofiya’s blue eyes were filled with a quiet sadness that stabbed Thad through the heart.

“No,” he said softly.

She stepped close to him and took both his hands in hers, mingling brass and flesh. “I am sorry, Thad. I am so, so sorry.”

Grief like raw lead dragged Thad to the floor. A black hole gaped inside him, pulled in every thought, every emotion, every bit of energy. He was on the floor with Sofiya’s arms around him, pounding the floor with both fists. It wasn’t true. This was the worst sort of nightmare. His Nikolai, his
son,
could not. Be. Dead. Not again. The pain was far worse than anything else he had experienced on the island. Worse than losing his hand. He would give his other hand, an arm, a leg to have Nikolai back, and be grateful for the chance. His pistol dug into his ribs, and for a wild moment he thought of putting it to his temple. A moment’s sharp pain, and the rest of the agony would end. Sofiya simply held him, and her own tears wet his neck.

“Where is he?” Thad asked at last. His eyes were hot, and his nose was swollen.

“In the Black Tent.”

Thad pushed himself upright. “I want to see him.”

“I am not sure—” Sofiya began, but Thad was already out the door.

Dante jumped to his shoulder as he passed the motionless colt. It was fully dark now, and Thad swiped a hanging lantern from the side of the train to light the way. Sofiya hurried to catch up with him, but didn’t speak. Maddie remained behind. The Black Tent boxcar was closed up when they arrived. Thad slid the door open.

“Dodd wants to leave as soon as possible,” Sofiya said, “but he knows what has happened, and the circus will wait. They are sad as well.”

Thad didn’t answer. He just climbed into the boxcar with the lantern. Shadows danced everywhere, sliding across the walls and colliding with the tools in their racks. On one of the worktables lay a figure draped in a sheet. Thad hung the lantern from a ceiling hook with shaky hands. Never in his life did he think he would do this twice. Never in his life did he think he would lose another son. Heaven was mocking him.

Dante dropped down to the table and hunched there without speaking. Thad pulled the sheet back. Nikolai lay beneath, staring upward with sightless eyes. His little mechanical face was absolutely still. One side of his skull was caved in, crushed as if by a sledgehammer. A great crack wended its way through hair and metal, and it was easy to see that from inside, pieces had fallen out. Thad had been so focused on getting him to safety that he hadn’t seen any of it, or perhaps he had refused to notice.
Thad put his head down on Nikolai’s chest. He wanted to weep, but he felt empty now.

“I’m sorry,” Sofiya said again.

“Why can’t you fix him?” Thad said into Nikolai’s torn shirt.

There was a long silence. Slowly Thad brought his head up. He turned to look at Sofiya. Her face was at the same time serious and a little frightened.

“You
can
fix him.” In two strides Thad crossed the distance between them and grabbed the front of her cloak with both fists. “Why haven’t you? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Doom,” whispered Dante.

“He has lost many parts from his head,” Sofiya said. “Normally it would be impossible to repair him without replacements. But when I destroyed Mr. Griffin—”

Thad’s fingers went numb at this, and he let go her cloak. “You what?”

“It happened while you were on the island.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “That is a story for later. From his lair, I brought out…”

Realization stole over Thad. “That other Nikolai.”

“Mr. Griffin had already shut him down permanently. I couldn’t leave it—him—down there, so I brought him here.” She lit more lanterns from the first, and in a corner Thad could now see the stunted Nikolai, huddled and broken. It should have given him a turn, but instead all he felt was hope.

“You could use his parts to bring Nikolai back!” he exclaimed. “Why are you waiting? Do it!”

“It is complicated, Thad.” Sofiya sank to a stool. “In order to do so, I would have to go deeper into a fugue
than I have ever gone. I don’t know if I would come out. I might go completely mad like those other clockworkers. Like Mr. Griffin was, in the end.”

He knelt beside her and took her hand. “I’ll be here with you. I won’t let you slide.”

“There’s more, and you need to decide, Thaddeus Sharpe.” She took a breath. “He lost many memory wheels. They make up his past, who he is. I remember much of what I saw in their placement when I repaired him last time, but I do not remember everything. In other words, the Nikolai who comes back may or may not be the Nikolai who died.”

Grief turned to disgust. Thad got up and turned his back. “No.”

Sofiya sat behind him without speaking.

“What’s the point, Sofiya? If Nikolai was truly alive and able to…to die, then he can’t be just a machine who can be reworked with a new set of memory wheels. And if he was always just a machine, then there’s no point in bringing him back at all.”

“Was he alive, Thad?” Sofiya asked softly.

“Yes!” Thad choked. “Yes, he was. And you can’t bring the living back from the dead. He wouldn’t be the same person. He wouldn’t be Nikolai.”

“Do you have a sword in your throat even now?” Sofiya said. “Must everything be divided into right and left, black and white, this or that? You believed that all clockworkers were evil, but now I think you see that while some do evil things, others can do good, just like people. You believed clockworker inventions were untrustworthy, but you chose to keep one as your hand and treat another as your son.”

“This is life and death, Sofiya. We aren’t God.”

“God gave us the power to choose what to do.” She came round in front of him and took his hands again. “Nikolai is my little boy, too. I will swallow my fear like your swords and do my best to bring him back. But I will only do so if you wish it.”

Thad hung there between choices for a long moment. It was so easy to see the world as divided in half, black or white, this or that. Ever since David’s death, he had walked the dividing line between the two sides. If he worked hard enough, he could restore the balance between them, make up for David’s pain and loss.

He could make up for letting David down.

Thad had let the world taint that balance. He had done the bidding of one clockworker. He had befriended another. He had surrounded himself with automatons and called one of them his son. Now he was paying for it in pain.

But what had tending to the balance brought him in return? Had he been any happier killing clockworkers? It certainly hadn’t brought David back. Meanwhile, blurring the boundaries had brought him Nikolai, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, too. Whatever the chance, he had to take it. A father could only make one choice.

“Do it,” he said. “Please.”

It was the longest night of Thad’s life. Sofiya stormed about the Black Tent in a rage, and her words were as terrible as her fists when Thad was too slow for her. He did manage to duck out to tell Dodd what was going on, and Mama Berloni brought hearty food and strong tea to keep Thad awake. Still, he felt himself sliding. Sofiya’s
clockworker’s energy kept her going strong, but Thad was only human, and his body was already running out of power. Fatigue clouded his mind, and he made a mistake. A ringing slap from Sofiya sent him reeling.

Nathan’s strong arms wrapped around him. “You’re finished!” he barked, tossing Thad outside, where Dodd and Piotr the strongman caught him. To Thad’s astonishment, the rest of the circus had gathered round with torches and lanterns. Mama Berloni swaddled him in a blanket and shoved a buttered roll into his mouth. Mordovo gave him a flask of something bitter that almost instantly relieved most of his pains. The Tortellis had brought a cot and they pushed Thad onto it.

“I’ll take it from here,” Nathan said, and vanished inside the Black Tent, where Sofiya was still shouting and cursing.

“I’d better get in there, too,” Dodd said, and followed.

Thad blinked up at everyone, bewildered.

“Did you think you were the only one who cared about Nikolai?” Mama Berloni loomed over him with her huge arms folded. “Huh! We take care of family!”

“Sleep,” Mordovo intoned. “We’ll keep watch and wake you when there’s news. Sleep!”

“I shouldn’t…” Thad muttered.

Moments later, a hand shook him awake. He sat up on the cot, confused and befuddled. Dodd, disheveled and with a swollen cheek, was bending over him. The sky was lightening and the air was cold. Every muscle ached. Where the hell was—

Memory slammed through him, and he shot to his feet, ignoring the scream from his sore body. The circus folk were sitting or standing in small groups, still waiting.

“What happened?” Thad demanded. “How is he?”

“Sofiya’s out of her fugue,” Dodd said. “Nikolai hasn’t woken up yet, but she said you should come in.”

Thad climbed into the boxcar, heart jumping about like a frightened hare. The Black Tent’s interior blazed with lanterns. Sofiya, her hair wild and her cloak thrown back, was standing by the worktable. Nikolai lay on it. His head was completely repaired. He was even dressed. Underneath, covered by the white sheet, were the small, sad remains of the other Nikolai. Dante bobbed up and down on the table. Astonished, Thad saw that the parrot was fully repaired as well. New feathers gleamed, and he had two good eyes. Thad automatically brought him to his shoulder.

“I believe there were periods when I had to wait for Nikolai’s wheels to align themselves,” Sofiya said. Her voice was hoarse. “I did not wish to do nothing.”

“Sharpe is sharp,” Dante said, and poked Thad’s ear with his cool beak.

For a moment Thad couldn’t speak. Then he said, “Well?”

“I believe I’ve restored Nikolai as best I can.” She leaned wearily against the worktable. “Now we merely…see.”

Thad noticed her hands looked strange. He picked one up and turned it over. Her fingers and palms were blistered and bleeding. She winced and sucked in a breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“A small penance,” she replied.

“Thank you.” He released her hand. “However this turns out, I want you to know that I’m grateful.”

Without further comment, she reached behind Nikolai’s ear with her bloodstained fingers and pressed the switch. During the interval that followed, Thad held his breath. He couldn’t bear it. He wanted to run off, do anything but watch, let someone else tell him how it turned out. But he stayed. Long, agonizing seconds ticked by. Nothing happened. More seconds. Still nothing.