The Havoc Machine (39 page)

“All right,” Thad said. They were at the exit now, but another staircase led farther up. The group of them hung there between the two directions. “Then we’ll—”

“But we aren’t a usual family,” Nikolai finished. “So I will choose. We should save them. They are like my brothers, and we must not let them die.”

“Three minutes,” Dante squawked. “Three!”

Thad gave Nikolai a brief hug. “I’m proud of you. Son. Let’s go!” Together they turned their backs on the exit and hurtled up the stairs.

K
alvis labored as he ran. He needed to be stoked and wound. The new wireless transmitter she had installed at the Peter and Paul Fortress sapped even more of his energy, and unlike a real horse, he couldn’t be pushed. Hoping for the best and not daring to examine the mathematics too closely, she rode him as hard as she dared through the streets. The sun had touched the horizon, and the tsar would attack in less than eight minutes. There was nothing she could do about that now. She had done everything she could, actually, and the thought of sitting still, even among all those weapons, made her ill. It would be beyond foolish to make a run at Vasilyevsky Island, but there was one other place she could go.

The horse arrived at an all-too-familiar building. Sofiya dismounted. The rucksack she wore felt strange on her back, and the baton clipped to the belt around her waist didn’t help. She moved aside the sewer cover with a practiced ease, dropped into the tunnel below, and lit a tin lantern. Water dripped, and darkness stretched before and behind her. Dammit all, now she
did
feel more
secure underground, with good, solid stone close around her. Never, ever would she admit this to Thad.

If she ever saw him again. With Nikolai.

Best not to think of that. Just keep moving.

The route was familiar now, and she easily found her way to Mr. Griffin’s lair and clambered down the rungs. Mr. Griffin’s jar with its pink cargo was in its usual place, surrounded by the crated machinery and the spiders. Zygmund Padlewski and his friends were still working at their desks. In the corner slumped the twisted version of Nikolai like a broken doll, deactivated now that it had served its purpose.

“You!” said Mr. Griffin in English. “What are
you
doing here? I—”

Sofiya pressed a button atop the baton, which was connected to the pack by a thick cable. Instantly, every spider in the room shut down. Zygmund’s wireless transmitter went dead. He glanced up, bewildered.

“Do you know what this device does, Mr. Griffin?”
she said in icy Russian.
“It generates a magnetic field that interferes with all wireless transmission. I put it together in the Peter and Paul Fortress a moment ago. Mr. Padlewski, the brain man here has been playing you. There is no revolution. He intends to keep you around for your cerebrospinal fluid. He’s been drinking those clockworkers for years. They help him live longer. It’s the only reason he would surround himself with other lunatics.”

She kicked open one of the crates. Primeval, the plant clockworker, fell out. The top of his head had been neatly removed, revealing smooth yellow bone. His eyes bulged beneath an empty brain pan. Zygmund and the others bolted to their feet.

“Didn’t have a chance to get rid of that with them always underfoot,” Griffin muttered in English.

“Run, fools!”
Sofiya said, and had to quell an urge to laugh insanely as they scrambled down a different tunnel, leaving only a few papers drifting on the air.

“You know you’ve sealed your sister’s death warrant,” Griffin said when they had gone. “Though I might be persuaded to leave her alone temporarily if you—”

“Shut it,” she snapped. “I spent my entire life being frightened, Mr. Griffin. Frightened of the landowner, frightened of the tsar, frightened of you. Do you know what I have learned? Fear is power. But it’s a power of choice. I chose to give you power over me. And now I’m choosing to revoke it.”

“Your sister—”

Sofiya stepped forward and tapped on the glass jar with a fingernail. “You’re afraid of me now, aren’t you? You should be. You’re helpless. Your spiders don’t work. Your men have fled. You’re two pounds of meat in a jar. And I have a sledgehammer.” From her pocket she produced a bumpy metal egg. “The Russians have some very nice weapons in the fortress. This is called a grenade.”

“An explosive device?” Mr. Griffin said coolly. “Isn’t that—?”

“Blunt? Crude? Tactless? Yes.” She fingered the little firing pin. So smooth, so elegant, even though she hadn’t built it. “Exactly the opposite of what a sophisticated clockworker should use. Completely unexpected and incalculable. Which is why I’m choosing to use it. Good-bye, Mr. Griffin. I look forward to dissecting what is left of your brain after I scrape it from the walls.”

Her finger moved toward the pin. And then a terrible,
painful sound ripped through her. It was as if the maw of the universe sucked her in and chewed her mind with billions of teeth. Her mind tried to make sense of the tritone her ears were receiving, and it got caught in the endless spirals of numbers that made up the basic mathematics of it. It could not exist, but it did exist, and the impossibility of it tore her to pieces.

“You forgot I can do that,” Mr. Griffin’s warm, chocolate voice said over the noise. “I can play it until your little device runs down and I regain control of my spiders. Then you will die, Miss Ekk, and your fluids will feed me.”

Sofiya was on her hands and knees now. The sound was a ten-ton weight. Her throat was hoarse, and she realized it was because she was screaming. A red light flashed on the baton clipped to her waist.

“Ah! I believe your battery is already running out. A hazard when you build in haste.”

The spiders twitched. A few came upright and shook themselves like little dogs. Sofiya’s skull was filled with red lava. Every nerve burned. She clawed her way upright, using the wall for support. The sound got worse, and the pain grew with it. She was directly underneath Mr. Griffin’s speaker box. Summoning her last bit of strength, she lunged for it.

“Stop! You can’t—”

Sofiya yanked the box from the wall and smashed it on the ground. The sound ended, taking with it the pain. Relief sweet as spring rain rushed over her. But the spiders were already moving. They came at her in a pack. Sofiya dropped the rucksack and sprinted for the same tunnel Zygmund and the others had used. The spiders
came fast. At the last moment, she pulled the grenade pin and threw it over her shoulder. She caught a glimpse of Mr. Griffin’s brain in the jar just before the explosion knocked her through the air.

When the noise and heat ended and the dust settled a bit, Sofiya got unsteadily to her feet and edged back to the chamber, ears ringing. Some of the stones had come down from the ceiling, but it hadn’t collapsed entirely. Most of the equipment and the crates were smashed to flinders, and the clockworker bodies hidden inside some of them lay in gory piles. Sofiya mused with a strange detachment that Mr. Griffin had intended her to be one of them, eventually. The jar had been obliterated. Nothing left but a pink smear on the blackened floor. Sofiya scrubbed at it with one toe. She had won. Olenka was safe forever. But Thad and Nikolai were still in danger, and they were her main worry now.

As she was turning to go, her eye alighted on the deactivated Nikolai in its corner. The blast hadn’t hurt it at all. It just vaguely resembled the real Nikolai, and then only when the light was right, but she suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of leaving it—him—down here in the dark, abandoned and alone. She tucked the little automaton under one arm and trotted away. Perhaps she could bury him, give him a bit of dignity. More than Mr. Griffin deserved.

*   *   *

Thad and Nikolai arrived on the Academy roof with Dante. The colt and Maddie had stayed below. Twenty or thirty automatons milled aimlessly about. They examined their hands, their clothes, the smokestacks, and one another as if truly seeing them for the first time.

“Two minutes,” said Dante. “Two.”

On the roof was also the enormous weapon Thad had seen earlier. It looked like a cannon made of glass and brass and steel on a swivel base the size of a beer lorry. A great copper coil wound round the barrel, which was easily twenty feet long and four feet in diameter. Cables ran from it to the smaller machines scattered across the roof. Thad guessed they provided power. There was a chair with a control panel directly behind the barrel, and it thrummed loud enough to make the roof tiles throb. The entire cannon was aimed across the river directly at the Peter and Paul Fortress.

Wishing with all his might Sofiya were here, Thad clambered into the chair and said, “Nikolai, see if you can get your…brothers to help us.”

Nikolai turned to the other automatons. “Brothers! We need you. I know it feels strange now. I know what it feels like to start thinking for the first time. But please—can you help?”

Most of them ignored Nikolai, but four of them came forward. All four were full-sized automatons. Two moved like Nikolai, and two lurched clumsily. “I will help,” one said slowly. “And I,” added the second.

“One minute,” Dante said. “One.”

Thad peered through a telescopic eyepiece. A gun sight drawn on the lens showed that the cannon was aimed at the top of the fortress wall. The lens also showed dozens of soldiers atop the fortress, along with a great many enormous weapons, all of which were pointed in their direction. The soldiers were waiting, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Thad swallowed. If this didn’t work, they were all dead.

“One of you run downstairs and tell everyone to leave the building. Run for the woods on the north side of the island,” Thad instructed, and one of the automatons went. “You others know this weapon, and I don’t,” he continued. “Bring the aim downward until I say stop.”

An automaton said, “But we were to aim it at—”

“Please!” Thad said. “I’m trying to save everyone.”

“Do as he says, brothers,” Nikolai put in. “He stopped the voice and let you think.”

The automatons paused a moment, then went to the platform and spun cranks in complicated patterns. The sight moved downward until it was pointing at the base of the fortress. The soldiers at the top were looking back over their shoulders. Were they receiving orders?

“Time!” said Dante. “Time! Doom!”

“Stop!” Thad ordered, and he pulled what he hoped was the trigger.

The thrumming grew louder, then built into a whine. The copper coil glowed in a spiral around the barrel, and power crackled within. The cannon glowed like the interior of a sun, and then a blast of energy burst forth. It smashed into the base of the fortress wall. Thad peered into the sight. A hole the size of a large cottage had been blown into the wall and a sizable chunk of the ground beneath had been vaporized as well. The rest of the wall was already cracking and crumbling, and water from the river rushed into the fortress. Soldiers and clockworkers fled the top of the wall, leaving the massive weapons behind. Thad even heard the faint shouts and cries.

“To the right!” Thad shouted. “Move to the right!”

More cranking. The great weapon glowed and fired again. More of the base wall went down, giving the soldiers
enough time to flee before it crumbled, but not letting them fire the weapons. Now two sides of the fortress were gone with, as far as Thad could tell, no casualties.

“We’re doing it!” he shouted. “We’re doing it! We’re—”

A deep rushing noise was the only warning they had. Something slammed into the rooftop with explosive force. Thad was thrown from the cannon. He hit his head, and the world swayed dizzily. He tried to regain his feet, failed, and tried again. Smoke filled the air.

“Nikolai!” he cried. “Niko!”

Another rush, followed by an explosion. This one hit farther away, but it still knocked Thad down. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. He coughed and got to his feet again, calling Nikolai’s name. The smoke was so thick, he couldn’t see more than a foot before him. He had to get off the roof, get out of the building, but he wouldn’t leave without Nikolai.

The smoke cleared a moment, and he saw Nikolai lying on the roof tiles. Dante was crouched on his chest. Other automatons lay scattered about like manikins. Thad stumbled over and gathered Nikolai up.

“Nikolai! Are you all right?”

Nikolai didn’t respond. Dante hauled himself up to Thad’s shoulder. Thad didn’t wait to see what was wrong. He ran for the stairs. Whistling and more rushing sounds filled the air, and explosions thudded elsewhere on the island.

The stairs were destroyed. A great hole gaped in the roof where they had been. Thad dashed to the side of the building. Many of the cables and wires draped over
the building had been blown loose and they hung down like vines. Before he could lose his nerve, Thad tightened his hold on Nikolai with his right arm and grabbed a cable with his brass left. Praising Sofiya for the increased strength in his new hand, he clambered over the edge and slid down as fast as he dared. His hand heated up and air rushed past him and his shoulders burned, but he didn’t let go. Yet another explosion hit the roof above dead center, sending vibrations down the cable like piano wire. Thad lost his grip and dropped.

He fell two feet to the sidewalk.

“Bless my soul,” said Dante.

Thad ignored him. His entire being was focused on getting Nikolai to safety. Nothing else mattered. Chaos reigned in the streets again. Automatons ran in all directions, just as frightened as humans. Arms and legs and heads, some still moving, littered the cobbles. The little body was limp in Thad’s arms as he ran around the side of the building and blundered into the colt with Maddie on his back.

“The river!” he said, and didn’t stop to see if they followed. They made it to the Neva, and Thad clambered one-handed down into the boat he had left. He was running on adrenaline now, and he knew if he stopped, he would drop. Blood from a cut he hadn’t remembered getting dripped down his chin. The colt jumped into the boat, rocking it just as before. Thad rowed frantically across the water. Nikolai remained motionless in the bottom of the boat. Thad was weaker now, and he couldn’t resist the current. The river took them to the pontoon bridge Sofiya had destroyed, and the boat fetched up against it on the mainland side. The bridge was low
enough on the water that Thad could climb out with Nikolai and Dante, and the colt could clamber after. Thad’s strength gave out, and he dropped to the planks with Nikolai clasped to his chest.