The Havoc Machine (36 page)

T
had bolted up the ladder with Sofiya hot on his heels. His brass hand clanked on the rungs. Nikolai waited for them at the mouth of the tunnel at the top. Thad grabbed his shoulder.

“Thad,” the boy grunted. The voice was guttural, like something from the back of a cave. Unlike the Nikolai Thad knew, this version of him had dull, flat eyes. His clothes were ill-fitting, as if he had stolen them from a clothesline, and he jerked when he moved. “Sofi-ya.”

This time Thad did throw up. The acid burned all the way up and splattered across the stones. It felt like his entire body burned with bile.

“Help me,” whistled Dante.

“What did you do with him?” Sofiya shrieked at Griffin.

“He is fulfilling the purpose for which he was created,” Mr. Griffin said from below.

“How—?” Thad said.

“I did say that you arrived too early. I needed a moment to spirit him away to Vasilyevsky Island and ensure
everything had time to move. Did you think you could trick me into revealing my plans so you could stop me? It’s far, far too late for that.”

Then Mr. Griffin laughed. It was a deep, rich sound, a completely artificial one made by a machine. Mr. Griffin claimed that the clockwork plague was no longer driving him mad, but living as a brain in a jar was doing an admirable job.

“Run!” Thad said, and the two of them fled up the tunnel, leaving the twisted Nikolai and Mr. Griffin’s laughter behind.

“Sofi-ya!” Nikolai called.

Outside, Kalvis was waiting for them. No longer worried about calling attention to themselves, they jumped aboard the clockwork horse, Sofiya in front, and galloped away. Thad’s entire body was tight with worry. Sofiya had described the machine on Vasilyevsky Island, and he imagined Nikolai shoved into that chair with a cord in his ear, all alone, with no one to help him. Rage gnawed at him, and…

He shoved the feelings aside. Nikolai wasn’t a little boy. He was a machine. He couldn’t get hurt. He couldn’t feel real pain.

Was he screaming when he sat in the chair?

“Is anyone chasing us?” Sofiya asked.

“I don’t think so.” Thad’s reply was breathless. It was difficult to ride behind the saddle of a brass horse, but he managed. The metal was uncomfortably warm. “But that worries me. Why didn’t Griffin simply kill us? We know where he is and we know his plan. We could bring the tsar’s entire army down on him.”

“He said we have another task to do. And he still…watches
my sister. I can’t let the tsar know where Mr. Griffin is.”

They rode grimly through the darkening city. People were back in the streets now, mostly milling about and wondering what was going on. Many carried torches and lanterns, and a fog of tension filled the cold air. Soldiers marched in groups with their rifles over their shoulders through a pall of smoke. A hundred yards from the bridge, Sofiya halted Kalvis so quickly, Thad came up against her back.

“Bless my soul,” Dante said.

“What—?” Thad asked.

“Look!” Sofiya pointed at the bridge. The place where she had shot it gaped in a breach too wide for any man or horse to leap. Charred beams and blacked edges hung over the water, and a few flames licked feebly at the wood. The bridge itself was empty. On the mainland side, a regiment of soldiers was standing guard with rifles at the ready. The island side…

The island side had changed. Metal gleamed in the light of the setting sun—iron and brass and copper and even gold. Cables and wires wound between the buildings, creating a great metal web that covered every building. Havoc spiders scuttled along them. Some of them trailed more cables. In the streets below lumbered larger spiders, from dog size to horse size. Carts moved by themselves, carrying machine parts. And there were human-shaped automatons as well. They walked or lurched or trotted or trundled over cobblestones and dirt. They were different shapes and sizes, a version of a human population taken to an extreme. Some had fingers, some had mittens, some had eyes in the backs of
their heads, some had large wheels from the knees down. Some were tall, some were short, some were thin, some were stout. Some had hair, some did not. Many wore clothing, though it fit poorly.

All the automatons were working. They modified buildings and dug trenches and laid cable and fixed other automatons. They worked ceaselessly, tirelessly, and at amazing speed. The sound of thousands of clacking metal parts reached across the river.

Dante bobbed up and down on Thad’s shoulder, fascinated by the sight. “Pretty boy! Pretty, pretty boy!”

Thad stared. At first he thought the entire island had changed, but now that he looked more carefully, he could see that so far it was only the rim, the parts nearest the river. The interior was so far untouched, though even now spiders were pulling cables farther inland. It wouldn’t take long.

The mainland side of the River Neva was also in chaos. Boats lined the near bank, and none were in sight on the far side. Refugees stood or sat near the water, most of them dripping wet, with looks of shock and fear on their faces. Every so often, another person emerged from the clockwork city and leaped into the river. When that happened, a boat from the mainland side rowed out to pull the person to safety. Thad wondered how many had drowned, or if the automatons had killed anyone. The automatons themselves stayed well away from the water.

“How did they build so much so fast?” Sofiya wondered aloud. “Just finding the materials and metal—”

“The shipping docks,” Thad said. “And the foundry. Built by Cousin Peter. All the materials and metal they
need. Once they have the island, they’ll jump the river to the main city. The city has railroads to other cities. After that, we’re undone.”

“They don’t seem to have killed anyone so far,” Sofiya said. “Only driven them away.”

“Even if they never kill anyone—and I doubt that’ll last—Mr. Griffin said he wanted to push all humans out,” Thad said. “It’ll be war between humans and automatons eventually, mark it.”

“He’s
a human,” Sofiya said. “Doesn’t he think—?”

“It’s clockworker logic,” Thad told her. “If glass shatters too easily, don’t switch to metal; find a way to stop glass from breaking. If a tree is blocking your view, build a machine to turn the house around. If some humans persecute you, destroy all humans.”

More citizens of Saint Petersburg were crowding the streets as word spread of what was happening. They gawked and pointed and asked questions among themselves. Thad wanted to know what would happen to the refugees from the island—and how many people were still trapped across the river, along with Nikolai. He was in there, somewhere.

“We have to get across,” Thad said. “Right now. We’ll commandeer one of those boats. A big one will hold Kalvis. Then—”

“Over there!” Sofiya pointed upstream.

A great grinding and clattering came from upstream at the smaller island on which rested the Peter and Paul Fortress. One of the four flags fluttered bloodred, indicating the presence of Tsar Alexander. The weaponry and cannons that lined the walls atop the fortress were clanking around to focus on Vasilyevsky Island. Thad remembered
the firepower he had seen in the fortress and he felt the blood drain from his face.

“The fortress! We have to stop them!”

“What about—?”

Thad thought fast, incredibly fast. “Take Kalvis. Go to the fortress and stop the tsar. You saved his life just this morning, and he might listen to you. I’ll go the island and find Nikolai.”

“But if they bombard the island, you’ll both be caught in it.”

“Then you must be incredibly persuasive.” He slid to the ground. “Go!”

“Wait!” Sofiya leaped down as well and slapped Kalvis’s rear. His backside opened, just like it did in the ring, and the colt slid out. Sofiya unfolded its slender legs and neck. “He’s freshly wound and ready. He won’t last long, but he might help.”

“Applesauce!” squawked Dante.

“He?”

“Just take him. And Maddie, too. She has been down there before and knows the way to Nikolai.” Maddie squeaked and jumped down to the colt’s back. Then Sofiya kissed Thad on the mouth. “Take that to our son. From his mama. And bring him back.”

Sofiya mounted Kalvis again and galloped away, leaving Thad to stare after her.

*   *   *

Down at the River Neva, Thad and his automatons joined the crowd at the bank. A few talked and gesticulated, but most remained hushed and frightened. Everyone was staring across the water.

“It is a nation of clockworkers…”

“…killed Parkarov and tried to assassinate the tsar…”

“…will kill us all, mark my…”

“…tsar will destroy…”

“…must rise up and throw off the yoke of the tsar…”

The latter comment got Thad’s attention for a moment. A few people were shaking halfhearted signs of the “overthrow the tsar” sort in the crowd, but at this point, no one was seemed interested in revolution. Instead, people were counting on the tsar and his army to solve the problem. Thad wondered how long it would take Zygmund Padlewski and his friends to figure out that Mr. Griffin had been using them as a distraction and as free labor for his own ends.

From this vantage point, he could see the triangular set of buildings that made up the Academy. The buildings were now draped in cables. Spiders ran up and down them, and strange objects festooned the walls and roof. Grinding gears and puffing pistons and winding pulleys worked toward some goal Thad couldn’t fathom. Buried somewhere beneath that building was Nikolai, his little shadow. He wanted to tear the building apart, brick by brick.

It’s just because he reminds you of David,
he told himself.
He’s exactly the same as all those other machines on the street—following orders from his memory wheels. The real reason you’re upset is that Griffin manipulated you and got away with it. Stop the machines, and then stop him.

The trouble lay with the automatons. Hundreds of them worked in the streets or on the buildings, some with human grace, others with machine jerkiness. No
man would be able to walk through without being noticed.

Thad turned and ran all the way back to the circus with the colt right behind him. He found the place in equal disarray, with people bustling about and hurrying in a dozen directions, but it was a disarray he recognized. The circus was pulling up stakes. He came across Nathan in his Aran sweater, shouting orders at the roustabouts, who were just starting work on the Tilt. Behind the wagons, steam puffed from the locomotive.

“Thad! Good God, we’ve been worried!” Nathan clapped him on the shoulder in half an embrace. “Where are Sofiya and Nikolai? And why do you have the colt out?”

“We’re leaving?” Thad blurted out.

“Bless my soul,” said Dante.

“Dangerous to stay, what with everything going on. Warsaw’s a much better venue. You’re coming, right? We need you for—”

A twinge at the name of his old home passed through Thad. “You didn’t move my wagon, did you? I need a few things.”

Moments later, Thad was back at the riverbank with Dante and Maddie on the colt’s back. His good hand was wrapped in rags, and pieces of an automaton head from his collection were tucked under his arm. His pistols and knives and other equipment were hidden under his long brown jacket. He pushed his way through the crowd to the edge. There was a six-foot drop to the river, and a great many boats tied up below. Before he could think overmuch, he dropped into one of the larger ones. The colt hesitated only a moment, and followed. Dante
screeched and flapped his wings frantically all the way down. The boat rocked, but didn’t tip over.

“Hey!”
shouted a voice from above.
“That’s my—”

“Sorry!”
Thad was already rowing away. People were pointing and talking excitedly, but Thad ignored them. The current here was slow, and Thad was able to row upstream past the Academy to a section of the island where the streets were markedly less busy, and he made for it. This side also had a drop to the water, and Thad tied the boat to a ring near a set of rungs set into the stone embankment. Moving quickly to avoid losing the momentum he was building, he set the pieces of automaton head around his own, fitting them over his forehead and under his jaw and tying them in place with leather thongs. His brass hand was working perfectly now, or he couldn’t have managed it. Then he covered his hair with a battered hat a size too large for him and checked his reflection in the river. He looked like an adult version of Nikolai.

Thad tied a length of rope from the bottom of the boat around the colt’s neck, set Dante on one shoulder and Maddie on the other, and climbed the rungs. When he reached the top, he pulled the colt up with the rope and set it on the edge.

They were on a street several blocks upstream from the Academy building. Overhead cables connected the buildings, and power thrummed in them. Speakers similar to the ones Mr. Griffin used hung from cornices, and they spoke in Mr. Griffin’s voice.

“Father loves each and every one of you. Love is obedience, obedience is love. When we work together as brothers, we are all rewarded. All our machine brothers
are equal, and we must work together to create a kind and gentle haven in this hostile human world. Listen to your father. Father knows you better than you know yourself and has your best interests at heart. Father loves you deeply, for he created you and will never steer you wrong.”

The words turned Thad’s stomach. Mr. Griffin had said the free-willed automatons would obey him as a son obeys a father, but he didn’t know Mr. Griffin meant it more or less literally. The automatons worked as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Odd machinery protruded here and there and everywhere, cranking and grinding and puffing. The air smelled of oily smoke. A troop of knee-high spiders scuttled by. Thad’s pulse was so loud in his ears, it seemed to echo inside the heavy mask he wore. But the spiders ignored him. Dante leaned forward, as if to jump after them, and Thad put up his brass hand.

“Don’t,” he said in an undertone.

“Applesauce.”

Thad walked toward the Academy. Then he paused and put a lurch in his step instead. He passed a pair of brassy automatons who were working on a metal spire sticking out of a wall. Their faces were vaguely human, but their bodies and limbs showed gears. They wore ill-fitting shirts and no trousers at all. The only part of Thad that showed was his brass hand, and he lurched past them with his three automaton companions without looking at them, though the eye slits in his metal mask didn’t afford him much of a view. The automatons paid him no attention. Thad took a deep breath inside the mask. This might work, then.