The Havoc Machine ce-4 Read online

  “I am a peasant, Mr. Sharpe,” she replied. “Does that shock you?”

  “You don’t act like a peasant.”

  “And you don’t act like a human being. The world is an incredible place.”

  “Now, look-”

  “At any rate,” Mr. Griffin interrupted through his speaker, “peasant resentment to this treatment is increasing. In addition, the Ukrainian Empire has fallen apart, and that has emboldened the peasants elsewhere. Vilnius is quiet, but farther out, feelings have become, to use your word, tense. No one has actually attacked a landowner’s stronghold yet, but the peasantry has begun to express its displeasure in other ways. Telegraph lines are cut. Herds owned by the landowner are raided by ‘wolves.’ Coaches are robbed. And the state-owned trains, ones that transport passengers and conscripted troops, are sabotaged. All of this, you see, is a roundabout way of saying that coach and train travel between here and Saint Petersburg has become dreadfully unreliable, and I’m afraid I cannot stomach the unreliable.” Mr. Griffin gave a chocolatey chuckle, as if he had made a private joke.

  Thad put his hands on his knees. “So you want me to find a reliable way.”

  “No. I’ve already found one. I need you to finish it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t. I haven’t explained it yet,” Mr. Griffin snapped. “As you can see, Mr. Sharpe, I travel with a great deal of luggage, enough to take up two train cars. You are going to get those train cars to Saint Petersburg by the end of the week.”

  “By hauling them myself?”

  “I selected you as an employee for two reasons, Mr. Sharpe. The first was that you were the best candidate to get Havoc’s invention. You failed. The second reason is that you are attached to a circus train.”

  A dreadful light dawned. Thad’s mouth went dry. Now more people were getting involved. He had to talk fast. “Look, the Kalakos Circus isn’t a passenger train. You can’t ask Ringmaster Dodd to take on-”

  The spiders clacked their claws in unison again, cutting Thad off. The memory of Blackie’s last scream echoed in his head.

  “You will persuade the ringmaster,” Mr. Griffin’s smooth voice said. “You will use my money and your words and whatever actions you feel will accomplish this task. You will keep any particulars you have deduced about me to yourself. You will definitely not tell the circus anything about my nature or about the circumstances of our dealings. You will remember that my spiders are watching. They are watching that parrot you’re so fond of. They are watching Ringmaster Dodd and his circus. They are watching the boy. And they are watching you.”

  Thad got to his feet, pale as Sofiya. “You’ll get your damned train.”

  “So glad to hear it,” Mr. Griffin said.

  “And once you arrive in Russia,” Thad added, “we’re finished. You go your way, and I go mine.”

  Mr. Griffin said, “Just tell your ringmaster that the tsar loves a circus.”

  * * *

  The signal touched the machine with a soft finger. It awoke, moved all ten legs, and felt its way through darkness. There were obstacles in its way, some hard, some soft, some sticky. The machine pushed them aside or found a way round them. Once it had to pull its legs in tight and scoot on its belly. Through it all, the signal’s haunting melody pulled it forward.

  The obstacles ended. The machine spiraled down a long staircase, skittered down a stone passageway, and found itself in a deep pit. Without pausing, it climbed the walls and pushed aside the long, thin objects dangling near at top. It sensed a vague warmth overhead and saw shapes of other objects around it. The machine didn’t pause to make sense of anything-the signal continued its pull.

  Freed of constraint now, the machine ran. Some of the objects it encountered jumped back and made sounds, but the machine kept running. Eventually it came to a long line of boxy objects sitting on metal wheels. The signal beckoned. Other objects moved about the machine in a rushed cacophony of sound and light and heat. If these objects noticed the machine, they didn’t react to it. The machine dashed up to the boxlike object that was emitting the sweet signal, crawled underneath to the metal undercarriage, and clamped all ten legs to a metal bar.

  It waited.

  Chapter Five

  Drums rolled and the sword slid into Thad’s stomach. He kept his breathing deep and even to suppress his gag reflex, and he held the pommel just above his teeth while he stared straight up at the canvas peak of the Tilt, holding his neck and esophagus perfectly straight. Already the Flying Tortellis were climbing into the rigging in their bright outfits, ready to fly on the trapezes once Thad was done.

  Thad let go of the sword, and the drumroll ended with a cymbal smash. The blunted tip was digging into the bottom of his stomach. He held the position and spread his arms.

  “Bless my soul!” Dante whistled from his shoulder.

  Always at this moment, the blade divided Thad between life and death. A wrong move-a cough, a sneeze, a swallow-and he would die. And yet he felt no fear. Here he had control of his body, of the sword, even of the audience. Anything that happened would come solely from him. He hung there, divided, for a moment longer, then he then drew the blade back out in a swift hand-under-hand movement and swept into a bow.

  The audience gave a scattering of applause. Thad’s performance wasn’t at fault-the grandstand wasn’t even a third full. Unfortunately, Vilnius, like the rest of the region, was enduring economic bad times and not many people had coins to spare for the circus.

  Thad, who was wearing a pirate costume that Dante nicely completed, wiped the sword clean with a handkerchief he kept at his belt and sheathed the sword as Dodd, the ringmaster, dashed into the ring with his cane and his red-and-white-striped dress shirt and his scarlet top hat.

  “Thaddeus Sharpe,” he boomed, and the limp applause stirred itself to something resembling life. Thad trotted out of the ring as Dodd announced the Flying Tortellis.

  Sofiya in her cloak and the boy in his rags were waiting for him just outside the back entrance flap for the performers. The sky was overcast with damp gray clouds that threatened rain at any moment and the air carried a chill, which added nothing to the circus atmosphere.

  “That was impressive,” Sofiya said. “And more than a little disgusting.”

  “Thank you,” Thad acknowledged. “Speaking of disgusting, we need to talk.”

  “Hm.” Sofiya pulled Thad farther away from the Tilt, onto trampled grass. “I told you before-not here in the open.”

  The boy came with them. His eyes were large. “You were incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it! You swallowed that whole knife! And then two knives! And then a sword! How do you do that? Have you ever cut yourself?”

  “Only once,” Thad replied, feeling pleased nonetheless, especially after the lackluster audience. “And you aren’t to touch any of the-” He stopped. Why was he cautioning a machine?

  “Go on,” Sofiya said with a small smile. She seemed to enjoy taunting him with the boy, and Thad didn’t understand that. Inside the Tilt, Antonio Tortelli did a double somersault into the hands of his father.

  “Never mind,” Thad muttered.

  “Bad boy, bad boy,” Dante interjected.

  “I liked it,” the boy piped up. “I’ve never seen a circus before. Does the elephant have a name?”

  “Betsy,” Thad replied absently, “though we tell everyone her name is Maharajah.”

  “Does she eat clowns?”

  Before Thad could reply, Dodd emerged from the Tilt, brandishing his cane. Under the ridiculous top hat he was a handsome man, sandy-haired and brown-eyed, not yet thirty. Young for a ringmaster. He’d managed to grow respectable side whiskers, at least, though they did little to make him look older. He was also a talented tinker and blacksmith who could make basic repairs to automatons and even build simple machines if had the plans, but he wasn’t a clockworker. Lately, Thad had noticed he moved heavier than usual, and when he wasn’t in the ring, he h
ad stopped smiling. His top hat seemed to weigh him down.

  “There you are,” he said. The calliope hooted in the background, providing music for the Tortellis. “You said you wanted to talk, and I have time now. Once the flyers are finished, the joeys will come on for a while, though even they won’t get much out of this crowd.”

  “It’s less of a crowd,” Thad observed, putting off the inevitable, “and more of a sprinkle.”

  Dodd rubbed his face with his free hand. “I know. And frankly, we’re in deep. If we don’t get more people in, we won’t even be able to buy coal to fire up the locomotive and leave town.” He caught sight of Sofiya. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Thad made introductions, though he left the boy out, which naturally meant that Dodd turned to him. “And who’s this strapping young lad, then?”

  They had a story ready, that the boy didn’t understand English and that Thad was thinking about taking him on as an apprentice, that Thad preferred to keep his name a-

  “His name,” Sofiya put in with a mischievous look at Thad, “is Nikolai.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Nikolai.” Dodd shook the boy’s rag-wrapped hand. “You can call me Ringmaster Dodd.”

  “Nikolai,” the boy said, as if he were tasting the word.

  “Nikolai?” Thad repeated, caught completely off guard.

  “That is his name, isn’t it?” Dodd looked a bit puzzled.

  “Of course.” Sofiya put her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Everyone needs a name. Thad and I are looking after him, Ringmaster.”

  “Are you?” Dodd said, apparently not sure how to react.

  “Nikolai,” the boy said again.

  “He’s an automaton,” Thad told him abruptly.

  A moment of silence stretched out amid the group. Sofiya stared at Thad, her eyes wide, her mouth an O.

  “What?” Thad said. “Was that a secret?”

  “I’m not supposed to tell anyone,” Nikolai said softly. “Mr. Havoc would get angry.”

  Thad shrugged. “You don’t have to worry about what Mr. Havoc thinks anymore.”

  “Oh. That’s true,” said Nikolai.

  “Who’s Mr. Havoc?” asked Dodd.

  “The clockworker who built Nikolai.”

  “Ah.” Dodd nodded. “Does he also build elephants, by chance?”

  “Not these days.”

  “Now, look-” said Sofiya.

  “Pity. Not that we have the money to pay for one. Is Nikolai joining us? Is that why you bought him?”

  Thad made a face. “I didn’t buy him.”

  “May I have him, then? I’ll take good care of him.”

  “No!” Nikolai grabbed Thad’s hand in a tight grip. Thad felt his metal joints through the rags. “You can’t give me away!”

  “He seems rather attached to me,” Thad replied, surprised at his own regret.

  “That’s incredible workmanship. I had no idea he wasn’t real.” Dodd knelt down again to look at Nikolai who stared back at him. “Can he perform? We’re short, you know.”

  Sofiya coughed loudly. A gleam of metal caught Thad’s eye and he glanced up. A spider was perched on top of the Tilt, the main tent. Thad tensed. The memory of Blackie’s blood spread through his mind. Even as he watched, the spider moved unhurriedly around the curve of canvas and out of sight. The outrage returned and made Thad’s hands shake. A clockworker was forcing him to betray his friends.

  Just do it now, he thought. And plan for later.

  Thad cleared his own throat. “At any rate, Dodd, I did want to ask-”

  “We have an offer for you,” Sofiya interrupted.

  “I thought I was going to do this,” Thad protested.

  Sofiya ignored him. “Ringmaster Dodd, I work for a man who wishes for your circus to appear in Russia. Saint Petersburg.”

  “The capital,” Dodd said. “Why?”

  “Mr. Griffin,” Thad said, jumping in, “is a difficult traveler and needs a train to take him. He’s willing to pay quite a lot if we can get him there in the next few days.”

  Dodd shook his head. “Why doesn’t this Mr. Griffin take a passenger train?”

  “That would be unwise of him,” Sofiya said. “You have heard of the unrest, have you not? Bad economic times.” And she explained the uprisings that made train travel difficult.

  “Ah. And you think the peasants won’t bother a circus,” Dodd finished for her.

  Thad pursed his lips and glanced around for spiders. “You have it. And once we’re there, we could perform for the Russians. Perhaps even the tsar. It’s a wonderful opportunity.”

  “Is it?” A hard look crossed Dodd’s face. “I remember a wonderful opportunity that took us to Kiev.”

  Uh-oh. This wasn’t going well. “Everyone loves a circus,” Thad said, but it sounded lame in his ears. “No one will bother you. Us.”

  The spider on the Tilt was back. A second one came with it. They seemed to be following the conversation. Thad had to force himself to pay attention to Dodd.

  The ringmaster shook his head. “The last time we took on passengers, the Gonta-Zalizniaks nearly killed us all.”

  “Look, you said yourself that if we don’t get more people in to see us, the circus will be stranded here in Lithuania.” Thad worked to keep the desperation out of his voice. The worst part was that he agreed with Dodd, and was arguing on behalf of something he hated. He felt like he’d been rolling in pig manure. “Do you honestly think we’ll be getting more people in ever? Today’s Saturday, and the stands aren’t even half full.” Come on, Dodd. This is quick money. An easy choice.

  “The tsar does enjoy a circus,” Sofiya said. She had seen the spiders, too.

  “We’re not much of a circus anymore.” Dodd drew his cane through his fingers. “The Gonta-Zalizniaks destroyed our mechanical elephant, and we lost all our other machines in the flood of Kiev. Even mine were wiped away. Half our performers scarpered during the attack, and we haven’t found them. Hell, Nathan’s the manager, but he’s had to go back to clowning to fill in the gaps.”

  He gestured at the ring, where a red-haired joey was scampering about the ring with a dripping white bucket.

  “We’re a shadow of what we were.” Dodd sighed. “Look, I wasn’t going to say anything until later, but Nathan and I have talked, and we’re thinking that we should cash the whole thing in. It’s time for the Kalakos to end.”

  Ice stabbed Thad’s chest. “Good Lord!” He touched the ringmaster’s striped shoulder despite himself. “I knew it was bad, but not that bad.”

  Dodd looked away. His expression drooped like a collapsing tent. “We’re not someone who can play for a tsar. There’s no point in going to Russia. Today’s our last performance.”

  “I like the clowns,” Nikolai piped up. “That one poured whitewash down his friend’s trousers.”

  “You can’t mean that!” Thad forgot about the spiders, forgot about Sofiya, forgot about Mr. Griffin. “The Kalakos is an institution. It dates back to the commedia dell’arte! This was the first circus to use automatons. Your clowns perfected the mirror gag. The Tortellis have flown here for generations. Every carny and circus runner in the world knows the name. You can’t close down!”

  “I’m sorry, Thad. Nathan felt the same way at first, but…” Dodd trailed off and Thad held his breath. The ringmaster stared at the ground for a long moment, not knowing he balanced on a knife blade. If Dodd refused, he and everyone in the circus would die today. If he accepted, they were probably only putting off their destruction until later.

  “You haven’t even heard the offer yet,” Thad said desperately.

  Dodd was still staring at the ground. “One man couldn’t possibly offer enough to-”

  Sofiya named a figure. Dodd’s head snapped back up.

  “That much?” he breathed.

  Sofiya flicked a glance at the watching spiders, then nodded.

  Dodd put a hand to his face. “Good Lord. I don’t know, Miss Ekk. That would keep u
s going even if we played to an empty Tilt for a month, but I’m not sure that it’s worth a trip through difficult territory. And winter’s coming. Saint Petersburg is difficult in winter.”

  Another spider had appeared, this time clinging onto the side of a passing wagon. Thad swallowed hard. Black guilt crawled over him. He was bringing a monster into the fold-a whole swarm of them. He was a traitor of the worst sort, offering to save the circus with one hand and feeding it poison with the other. His skin crawled. The words didn’t want to come, but he forced them out.

  “A circus is its people,” he said. Half a dozen spiders were now lined up along the slope of the tilt, and their claws gleamed. One of them edged forward. “A circus is art and show and performance. Not machinery.” Come on, Dodd. Swallow the poison.

  “Are all these people going to lose their lives?” Nikolai asked.

  “Jobs,” Thad said hurriedly. “They’ll lose their jobs. It’s up to Ringmaster Dodd, Nikolai. He can save the Kalakos Circus, if he wants to.”

  “Uh…” Dodd said.

  “Just take it,” Thad urged.

  “Please, mister?” Nikolai said. “We can’t let the circus die. All the elephants would be hungry.”

  There was a long pause. Sofiya started to speak, but Thad trod on her foot. At last Dodd said, “All right. Tell this Mr. Griffin it’s a deal. We’ll leave as soon as we pull down the Tilt and buy some coal.”

  “Hooray!” Nikolai clapped his hands. “I want to teach the elephants Russian.”

  Thad breathed out heavily and glanced at the Tilt. The spiders were gone.

  * * *

  Within the hour, two boxcars pulled by a team of oxen arrived at the circus grounds. Sofiya paid the drover and a roustabout supervised getting them hitched to the back of the circus train, all without opening either of them. Thad wondered what the hell was inside them. They were clearly locked against prying eyes, at any rate. Piotr Markovich, the strongman roustabout who was hitching the boxcars, appeared incurious, but Thad could see him examining them out of the corner of his eye. Rumors flew around the circus about the true nature of Mr. Griffin, and Thad had been avoiding people and their questions ever since Dodd had made the announcement. Sofiya, for her part, avoided Thad, for all that he tried to corner her for a talk, while Nikolai stuck close to Thad. It made for a strange dance.