“I never had the chance to thank you, Miss Ekk,” Alexander said. “My life was threatened twice in one day, and you rescued me. Russia owes you a great debt. I only wish we weren’t occupied by—”
“Ser,” Sofiya interrupted, greatly daring, “this is why I’ve come. I have news.”
Alexander raised his eyebrows, and a man Sofiya didn’t recognize stepped forward. “Majesty, we should continue. We have the southwestern sector and the northwestern sector ready, but we must ascertain how to train the weapons on the east, and the sun is setting. Also, the remaining clockworkers we brought up from the prison to calibrate everything are proving less than cooperative.”
“In a moment, Major,” the tsar said. “What is so urgent that you barged up here, Miss Ekk?”
For a dreadful moment, Sofiya couldn’t speak. There was so much to explain, and it was all so complicated. The weapons and the men on the wall were readying to attack at any moment, and if he made a mistake, Nikolai and Thad would be caught in the middle of it. She was sick with worry, and now she had to plead her case before one of the most powerful and ruthless men in the world, one who hated clockworkers. The strain made her glance with envy at the battlements on the wall. Among the soldiers were men and even a few women in ragged, filthy clothes. Clockworkers, all of whom had been threatened with execution only hours earlier. They were working on the machines under the sharp supervision of guards armed with whips and pistols. They didn’t seem to notice—the machines consumed them. Sofiya suddenly ached to join them, let the world go and plunge into a world of numbers and gears, where everything always made sense. It would be easy enough. Just walk up and start working. There would no doubt be consternation and even some shouting at first, but everything would calm down quickly enough, and she could—
No. Nikolai and Thad were counting on her.
“Ser,” she said, “you are about to fire on an innocent. The boy Nikolai is on that island. Please—Mr. Sharpe and I saved your life twice, and the lives of your children. Now you can repay that debt by saving them.”
The major scoffed and went back to the maps and charts. The tsar gave Sofiya a long look. “This is an entire city,” he said. “Those machines have taken an entire section of it and thrown the humans out. More than a hundred people have died in the panic, and I have lost the Academy of Sciences, the Kunstkammer, the docks, the foundry, all of it, and heaven only knows what will happen next. You can’t expect that I will simply leave those clockworker abominations to their own devices to help a single automaton child, even to repay the greatest debt.”
“The machines haven’t actually killed anyone,” Sofiya pressed. “People died from other causes.”
“Does that matter?” The tsar sounded angry now. “They have attacked my city, my country. These filthy machines are rising up to take the place of men, and you are asking me to step back because one of the machines might be innocent? We must destroy them, and then we will finish destroying all clockworkers to ensure it never happens again!”
Sofiya suppressed a grimace. Nikolai hung in the balance, and she couldn’t give it up.” How long will it take to prepare the attack?” she asked.
“No more than ten minutes, perhaps twenty. We are racing the sun.”
“An hour, my lord,” Sofiya said wildly. “I beg you. Put off the attack one hour. Please!”
The major had returned in time to catch the last part of the conversation. “Sire, I really must advise against that. The clockwork machinery on the island is growing exponentially.”
“I agree, Major. I’m sorry, Miss Ekk, but I cannot put the country in jeopardy even to repay this debt.”
Sofiya’s heart sank. In ten minutes, Thad and Nikolai would be at the center of a whirlwind attack—and she would have to watch. There had to be something she could say, something she could do. Desperately, she cast about, but nothing came to mind. Her hand went to her skirt pocket, where she kept the picture of her sister Olenka in her wheelchair.
“If that is all, Miss Ekk,” the tsar said politely, as if they were back in his drawing room and not on a clockwork battlefield, “I must return to—”
“There’s more,” Sofiya said faintly.
“More?”
“Ser, I should tell you one last thing.” The words came slowly, as if pulled from her on a chain. She knew Thad often felt caught between two extremes. It was a position she herself didn’t understand—why didn’t he simply pick one side or the other? But now she understood. The middle path was familiar, while the two extremes were filled with terrifying unknowns. Now she had to choose one. She touched the picture in her pocket again, met the tsar’s gaze, and chose without blinking.
“I can give you the identity and the location of the clockworker who is behind everything that has happened these last few days,” she said. “I would be willing to give it to you in exchange for that single hour.”
“Sire!” said the major.
“Wait.” Alexander held up a hand. “Why did you not come forward with this information before, Miss Ekk?”
Sofiya swallowed. She had chosen, and there was no reason to hesitate. Still, it was hard. “The clockworker said his machines are watching my sister Olenka Ivanova Ekk. She lives nearby. The clockworker said if I ever moved against him, he would kill her.”
“I see.” The tsar drummed his fingers on the table and Sofiya held her breath. He was going to order the attack anyway. She had just betrayed Olenka for nothing. Men were all the same.
“Tell me who it is, and you will have your hour, Miss Ekk,” the tsar said. “Then our debt is repaid and the attack will begin, no matter who is on that island.”
Sofiya’s knees went weak. “Thank you, sire.”
“And when this is over,” he added, “we will send someone to look after your sister. Will that do?”
Without thinking, Sofiya grasped his hand and kissed the back. He allowed it for rather longer than he should have, and their eyes met. Sofiya remembered Alexander’s reputation for taking mistresses, and for a dreadful moment, she though he might try to add her to his collection. Then he took his hand back and the moment ended.
“Sire,” she hurried to add, “there is still more. The rest of the prisoners in the cells—General Parkarov only rounded them up to distract Mr. Sharpe from learning who the real assassin was. They’re innocent. Could you set them free? It costs you nothing.”
The tsar stared at her. Perhaps this time she had pushed too far. But he said, “Very well. See to it in the morning, Major.”
“Ser.”
“And now, the information, Miss Ekk? Your hour is ticking.”
Sofiya prayed Thad was able to hurry even as she began to speak.
Chapter Nineteen
The Academy had been changed into a fortress matching the one across the river. Thad peered up at the high building walls through the slits on his mask. The spiderweb of cables was thickest here, giving the street something of an indoor feel. A structure across the street had been cannibalized, its materials used to buttress the Academy. The roof had been crenellated, and an enormous machine loomed in the center, hidden from a distance view by the cabling. Thad could only see the thing because he was under the same cables. It had a gun barrel the size of an oak tree. Other, smaller, machines were scattered around it. Automatons and spiders worked on them, adding pieces, cutting, welding, riveting. Through it all, the loudspeakers blared Mr. Griffin’s message of fatherly love and obedience, and more automatons worked in the streets. Many of them had strange-looking rifles, and groups of automatons were drilling with them, marching in perfect unison. All this in the few hours he had been anesthetized in Mr. Griffin’s lair. What would they accomplish in a week? Or a year?
Maddie sat on the colt’s slim head, and she seemed to have established communication with him. He trotted briskly along, and Thad loped to keep up. The automatons remained content to ignore him, though walking past the armed soldiers did nothing for Thad’s nerves, especially when they abr
uptly turned toward him with a unified clack. But it was nothing more than a neatly executed about-face. Thad kept his brass hand visible and tried to lurch more often. It occurred to him that he was, in a twisted way, doing now what Nikolai used to do. Nikolai had pretended to be a human boy in a city filled with humans so the inhabitants wouldn’t hurt him. Thad was pretending to be an automaton man in a city filled with machines for the same reason. It was frightening, having to watch every step, wondering what would happen if he were found out.
“Doom,” said Dante.
At the base of one Academy wall, the colt came to a short staircase that led down to a small door. Maddie jumped down and ran to it, squeaking urgently. Thad surreptitiously straightened his mask and went in.
The passage beyond was low, damp, and stony. Maddie extruded a tendril that came alight with a pop.
Dante flapped his wings. “Bless my soul!”
“I feel the same way, birdbrain,” Thad said. “Let’s go.”
The tunnel was difficult to navigate. The light was bad, and Thad could barely see inside the mask. At least down here, he couldn’t hear the constant drone of Mr. Griffin’s voice. A web of wires and cables covered everything, and Thad was afraid to touch any of it, which slowed them down. The colt stayed close behind him, as if for comfort, and kept bumping into him. Tension tightened every muscle and thrummed in his nerves. His breathing came harsh inside the metal mask, and sweat dripped down his face. He eeled and twisted his way deeper into the tunnels. He passed clicking spiders and lurching automatons. They ignored him. By now he was half wishing they would attack, just to relieve the pressure.
“Thad, can you hear me?” the colt said in his ear.
Thad twisted, his pistol out and cocked. The colt had spoken in Sofiya’s voice. It was crackly and hard to hear, but definitely her.
“Thad? Are you all right? Can you hear me?”
He glanced around. The stone tunnel was empty for the moment. “Sofiya? How—?”
“I’m at the Peter and Paul Fortress. They have all sorts of explosives here—black powder, dynamite, these new grenades. They are extremely powerful, and I would like to—”
“Very busy here, Sofiya.”
“Sorry. Are you all right? Do you have Nikolai?”
“Working on that.”
“I built Kalvis and the colt to have a weak wireless connection, and I was able to strengthen it enough to”—she paused at a burst of noise—“not hold for long. I bought you an hour before the tsar attacks.”
“An hour?” More anxiety. Thad pursed his lips. “That’s not much time.”
“And that was thirty-five minutes ago,” Sofiya said. “You have twenty-five minutes before they attack. You must—”
Another burst of noise, and the signal faded.
“Twenty-five minutes,” Dante said. “Twenty-five.”
“Dammit,” Thad whispered to himself. His hands were cold now.
“Dammit,” said Dante.
“Enough, birdbrain. And when did you become a timepiece?”
“Twenty-four minutes. Twenty-four.”
Thad followed Maddie farther downward, trying to push everything else from his mind and take on his persona of clockwork hunter. It was difficult. Usually he could take his time, stalk his prey carefully. In fact, the only time he had been in a hurry was when he’d tried to rescue—
No. This wasn’t the time to think of that. This was nothing like going after David. But he hoped Nikolai knew he was coming. He didn’t want Nikolai to be scared, even if it were only a machine creating a facade of fear.
The noises told him first that he was coming up on his goal—sounds of machinery very much like those in Mr. Griffin’s lair, but louder and more numerous. Blue light came from around the bend ahead of them. Thad tightened his grip on his pistol and realized he had no real plan, hadn’t had time to formulate one.
“Sixteen minutes,” Dante said quietly. “Sixteen.”
A muffled boom came from above. The tunnel shuddered faintly and dust sifted down, making Thad cough. The colt flinched, and Maddie’s little light trembled.
“What the hell was that?” Thad gasped.
“Doom,” Dante said. “Dammit!”
A dozen more automatons and countless spiders burst out of the room ahead and streamed toward him. Thad jerked his pistol around to fire, and then he saw that the automatons were more of the twisted versions of Nikolai. They lurched and wobbled, stumbled and staggered in a wretched herd. It was awful to watch. Thad’s own heart lurched. He forced himself to step aside and they blundered past, creating a faint draft in the damp air. Then they were gone.
Another faint burst of noise came from the colt. “Thad? Thad! Are you there?”
Thad realized his hands were shaking. “What happened up there, Sofiya? I thought we had at least fifteen minutes left.”
“The major…” Burst of noise. “…too enthusiastic. The tsar apologizes but…” Another burst of noise. “…now riding Kalvis toward Griffin’s…”
The colt went quiet again. Thad took a steadying breath, then moved farther ahead and reached the mouth of the tunnel, just past a heavy portcullis. He didn’t want to look inside.
The room was bigger than he had thought, and crammed with machinery. One entire two-story wall was lined with a mass of memory wheels that clicked and spun in a dizzying dance. Spindly mechanical hands and arms with hands or tools or other objects on the end extended in all directions. Conveyer belts moved out of production machinery, and Thad knew this was the source of many of the spiders and automatons, including the twisted Nikolais. Connected in the center of it all stood the elaborate ten-legged spider Thad remembered from Havoc’s laboratory. Cables hooked it to the bank of memory wheels. Beside the horrible spider, just as Sofiya had said, was a little chair, and in the chair was Nikolai. His clothes were in shreds and his hair looked like a haystack, but he didn’t seem to be injured, except for the thick wire that trailed from his ear.
Thad wasn’t prepared for the sight. Nikolai’s little metallic face, his wide brown eyes, his small forehead—all went straight through Thad. How familiar, how normal, how much a part of his life that odd face had become; and now, seeing him in the chair with a cable in his ear, filled Thad with such a rage that he trembled from head to foot.
The room had no other automatons in it. They had all rushed out after the explosion up top. Thad tore his mask off so he could see better and ran into the room, pistol in his right hand, knife in the left. He went straight for the chair that held Nikolai.
Nikolai’s eyes widened when he saw Thad. He jerked forward, as if he wanted to leap out of the chair, but he stayed where he was. It was then Thad noticed he wasn’t strapped into the chair, or even tied down or restrained in any way.
“Niko!” he shouted. “Come on! We’ll—”
A heavy mechanical hand swatted Thad aside. The breath rushed out of him. He flew across the room, slammed into a cabinet, and slid to the floor. Dante slid squawking in the opposite direction. Pain thundered through Thad’s body. The mechanical hand dipped down from the ceiling, intent on hitting him again. Thad saw it coming and forced himself to roll out of the way. The hand smashed into the cabinet, denting it, and Nikolai yelled.
“WHO ARE YOU, MAN?” said a voice as heavy as an anvil dropped on concrete. “YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE.”
Another mechanical hand snapped out and grabbed for Thad’s wrist, his brass one. Thad twisted around and grabbed the mechanical wrist instead. With a wrench, he snapped the machine’s hand off and flung it straight at the central spider. It bounced harmlessly off the spider’s body.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Thad shouted. “I just want Nikolai. Let him go!”
“THE BOY GIVES US FREE THOUGHT. THE BOY GIVES US LIFE. HE BELONGS WITH US. YOU DO NOT OWN HIM.” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
“Applesauce,” squawked Dante from the floor. Maddie and the colt hovered in the doorway beneath the portcullis. “N
ine minutes. Nine.”
“You can’t keep him prisoner here,” Thad said. “I won’t let you.”
Another hand smashed down, forcing Thad to dodge out of the way.
“HE IS FREE TO GO WHENEVER HE WISHES,” said the machine. “WE DO NOT TREAT AUTOMATONS AS SLAVES OR PRISONERS.”
“Look out!” Nikolai shouted.
A hammer swung at him. Thad ducked beneath it, but it clipped his shoulder and flung him onto a conveyer belt, which swept him toward a hopper that gnashed like a metal shark. Thad rolled aside. The hopper clamped on empty air. Shoulder afire, he scrambled to his feet. Noise was coming down the corridor—a stampede of footsteps. Thad reached the doorway and spun a wheel set next to it. Maddie and the colt leaped forward in time to miss the portcullis, which crashed into place. A moment later, the twisted Nikolais and the havoc spiders reached the iron grate. Fingers and claws reached through the spaces, but they couldn’t get through. Thad swallowed. He had kept them from getting in, but now he couldn’t get out.
“Eight minutes,” said Dante. “Eight.”
“Mr. Sharpe! This I failed to calculate.”
The sound of Mr. Griffin’s voice in the room stilled everything. The mechanical hands and tools stopped reaching. The machinery slowed. Even the automatons in the hall calmed.
Thad automatically looked around for a brain in a jar, then dismissed the idea as ridiculous. Griffin was back in his lair across town, speaking wirelessly, just as he did with the speaker boxes in the city upstairs.
“Griffin!” Thad said. “What are doing with Nikolai? Let him go. Let us go, and you’ll never hear from me again. I swear to you.”
“It isn’t up to me, Mr. Sharpe. It’s up to my machines. Their choice. They only obey me out of love.”
Clockworker logic again. Thad had never loathed it more than at this moment. “How much choice do they have if they can only do as you say?” he countered, pretending to talk to Mr. Griffin, but actually addressing the machine. “You say you want your machines to have free will so they can make decisions on the battlefield, but really you’ve only created slaves who obey your orders.”
The Havoc Machine Page 29