The Havoc Machine

Chapter Six

Saint Petersburg wasn’t even eight hundred kilometers away. If nothing went wrong, the circus train could travel all night and arrive there by late morning the following day. Mr. Griffin would arrive at his destination in plenty of time.

Thad leaned back against the cracked red leather seat in the last row of the passenger car. Ahead of him, the circus performers occupied most of the other seats, sleeping or conversing or sewing costumes or playing small games with the children. Thad, for his part, always sat in the back so no one would feel obliged to talk to him. He stared fixedly out the window at Russian countryside. Trees were shedding their leaves and the fields were stubbly, stripped of every grain of wheat and rye, every head of cabbage, every single potato. Soon it would be time to slaughter the animals, but for now there was a lull between the two harvests. Normally, it would be the perfect time for a circus to play, but this was also tax time, and taxes had gone up yet again, creating the economic hardship that made the peasants unhappy. At the knife shop, Thad had always been aware of difficult times-people bought fewer new blades and were more likely to ask for older ones to be sharpened. When things got really bad, they didn’t come to the shop at all. Circuses were even more at the mercy of hardship. People always needed knives, but they could live without sword swallowers. Now that winter was coming, the circus should be heading south to a warmer, wealthier country like Italy or France. They shouldn’t be moving into the teeth of winter, towing a monster behind them. It made Thad tense and restless, despite his fatigue.

A small head leaned against his arm. Thad’s jaw went tight. Nikolai refused to budge from Thad’s side, and Thad had no method of keeping him away, short of physical force, and even though he knew full well Nikolai was just a machine, he couldn’t bring himself to use force, not against something that looked and talked like a little boy.

And now the machine in question was snuggling against him, simulating mechanical affection for him. What demented mind had created such a thing?

“You look very sweet,” Sofiya said. Her seat faced him, part of a set of four. The fourth seat was empty. Across the aisle was a stack of travel bags and boxes instead of more seats, so no one sat next to them. “Very comfortable. If you are cold, I could probably find a blanket or a shawl to-”

“I’m fine,” Thad interrupted. Since they were at the very rear of the passenger car, the clacking of the wheels was louder back here, and even Tina McGee, who trained poodles and sat in front of Thad, couldn’t overhear. They actually had a measure of privacy.

“I was not speaking to you, Thad,” Sofiya said.

Nikolai yawned. “I’m not cold.”

Now Thad yawned, and hated himself for it. How could watching a machine yawn make him want to yawn? But he’d been up all night and then had a very trying day afterward. This was the first time he’d stopped moving since. The rocking motion of the train served to make things worse, and his eyelids were drooping.

“Aren’t you tired?” he asked Sofiya.

“Of course. But I am also hungry. I did not get a chance to eat at the hotel like you.”

As if on cue, Mama Berloni, a large, round woman in a patchwork dress and a white head cloth, appeared in the aisle with a large basket. Her pink face was unlined, and her arms were as big around as melons. She and her husband had long ago discovered that those who supplied food to the crowds made more money than those entertained them.

“I find you at last,” she said in her bouncy Italian English. “You eat. Sword swallower needs the big belly, like my husband. You all eat now.”

“Pretty lady, pretty lady,” said Dante from his perch atop Thad’s seat.

“Nothing for you,” Mama Berloni tutted at the parrot. “You just pretend to eat and make the big mess.”

She handed out ham sandwiches wrapped in paper, boiled eggs, and slices of apple pie. Nikolai took an egg, but only held it. Sofiya thanked her and introduced herself.

“You call me Mama,” Mama Berloni replied. “You get hungry and have no food, you come see me at the grease wagon. No charge for circus. But you do a favor for me later if I need, yes? You do for me, I do for you. That is how circus people stay together. Like family. Like you three now. Glad to see Thad has found a good girl. And this is a very sweet little boy. You’re a very nice family. Everyone needs a family.”

“We’re not-” Thad began.

“Now I go see Tortellis,” Mama interrupted. “Without me they eat nothing. Nothing!” And she bustled away.

“Bless my soul!” Dante whistled.

“See?” Nikolai said. “We’re a family. We have a son and a mama and a-”

“I’m not your papa,” Thad said firmly. He unwrapped the generous ham sandwich and took a salty bite. “Stop saying I am.”

“It’s the papa’s job to correct the son.” Nikolai set the egg down and swung his legs against the seat. “So when you tell me to stop saying you’re my papa, you are doing a good job of being a papa.”

Sofiya coughed around her apple pie.

“Now,” Nikolai continued, “you need to tell me a story.”

“What?” Thad was still trying to untangle Nikolai’s first comment. “Why?”

“So I will fall asleep. Or you can sing me a song.”

“I don’t know any songs,” Thad replied shortly. “And I don’t sing.”

“Your mama and papa sang to you when were little. That’s what mamas and papas do.”

“Well?” prompted Sofiya. “Didn’t they?”

“No. Yes. Sometimes.” He tried to get his foggy mind to work, and failed. “Look, I’m tired, and-”

“Why are you keeping this boy with you?” Sofiya brushed bread crumbs off her cloak. “You claim you dislike automatons made by clockworkers. You claim he means nothing to you. Why not set him aside, then? Walk away.”

“He’s my papa,” Nikolai said firmly. “Papas don’t do that.”

“I’m not going to leave an automaton to wander about. Who knows what trouble that might cause?” Thad finished his food and leaned against the window, arms folded and eyes shut. “Once we arrive in Saint Petersburg, I’ll find a place for him.”

As he drifted off to sleep, he heard Nikolai say, “Papas also keep their sons out of trouble.”

“They try,” agreed Sofiya, “but they rarely succeed.”

* * *

Thad jerked awake. A line of warm drool ran down his chin, and he wiped it away. Blearily, he looked about. Sofiya still sat across from him. Next to her, Nikolai paged through a thick book. Outside the train it was daylight, but heavy and cloudy, so dark it was almost night. The train wasn’t moving.

“Why have we stopped?” Thad demanded. “What’s going on?”

“You know as much as I do,” Sofiya replied. Her scarlet cloak poured over the seat around her.

“You snore,” said Nikolai. He pointed at something on the page and asked Sofiya in Russian, “What’s that?”

“A cuckoo,” Sofiya told him.

“And that?”

“A cowbird. They both lay their eggs in other birds’ nests. The false babies trick the parents into raising them as their own.”

The other performers in the car were standing up and talking restlessly. Thad pried open the window and stuck his head outside. Cold, damp air burst over him. Ahead of the steaming engine, a large bonfire blocked the tracks. A crowd of men stood around it, and they shook their fists and shouted. Thad tensed and pulled his head back inside.

“Peasant uprising,” he said.

“Dangerous?” Sofiya asked.

“You know as much as I do.”

“Danger,” echoed Dante. “Death, doom, despair.”

“Your bird is so cheerful,” Sofiya said.

Dodd pulled open the door at the front of the car. He wore an everyday jacket, but he had snatched up his scarlet top hat and cane. Behind him came a tall, lean man in an Aran fisherman’s sweater and cap. He had deep red hair and carried a bag of juggling equipment. This was Nathan Storm, the manager who had recently returned to clowning.

“Piotr!” Dodd said. “I need you outside with me. Tortellis, you too! Where’s the Great Mordovo?”

“What is it? Please explain, Ringmaster,” Mama Berloni called out from her seat.

“Poor peasants. Desperate. They think we’re carrying tax goods and money to the landowner, and they want it back.” Murmurs rushed up and down the aisle. Dodd put up his hands. “Keep calm. We’re going to put on a little show out there, just for them, and prove we’re just a circus. Nathan, you and Hank begin with that team juggling act and the Tortellis will follow with some acrobatics. While they’re doing that, Mordovo, you fetch some of your magic equipment from the boxcars. Everyone else wait here. Move quickly, please! Everyone loves a circus, but not when they have to wait for one.”

In moments, Dodd and the performers he had named were gone. Everyone else remained in their seats in a cloud of tension.

“Is it all right?” Nikolai asked in a small voice.

Thad stuck his head outside again. Already Nathan and Benny, another clown Thad barely knew, were juggling clubs and flipping them back and forth at each other. Dodd stood to one side, his ringmaster’s grin on his face. Piotr hulked near him, either to translate for him or guard him, Thad wasn’t sure which. The enormous crowd of Russian men, easily three times the number of performers and roustabouts aboard the train, stood near the engine and watched. They carried pitchforks and scythes, and Thad hadn’t noticed until that moment how dangerous such implements looked, especially in the hands of hard-muscled men who knew how to use them. Thad glanced in the other direction. Far down the way, past the brightly colored circus cars, lay the two drab boxcars of Mr. Griffin. Thad thought fast, then pulled his head back in.

“Everything will be fine,” he told Nikolai. “You stay here with your-with Sofiya.”

“Applesauce,” said Dante from his perch above the seat.

“And where are you going?” Sofiya asked sharply.

“To get some air.” He nipped out the passenger car’s rear door before she could respond further, leaving Dante behind as well.

With all eyes on the performance near the engine, Thad was able to jump unnoticed to the ground on the other side of the tracks. He trotted down beside the line of cars in the dim light. The setting sun and dark clouds dimmed the light considerably, giving him cover. He passed the animal cars, pungent with exotic manure and loud with restless roars and shrieks. No spiders were in view.

He reached the first drab car. The sliding cargo door lay on the other side, and Thad knew better than to bother with it-noisy to open, very noticeable. Instead, he skinned up the ladder bolted to the metal siding. Just under the eaves of the car was a vent with crisscross bars. Cautiously, Thad pressed an ear to the chilly metal beneath it. Nothing. He slowly brought his head high enough to peer through the bars. Blackness lay beyond. He inhaled through his nose and got smells of wood and engine oil and metal shavings and paper, all smells he associated with a clockworker’s work space. If there was a man in there, however, he was remarkably quiet and willing to sit in complete darkness.

Thad climbed down and slipped along to the second car. What kind of clockworker was Mr. Griffin? Why did he need Thad and Sofiya? Thad also remembered quite clearly the way Mr. Griffin had asked about Nikolai. In Thad’s experience, clockworkers never did anything by accident. What appeared to everyone as insanity was actually extreme intelligence. Everything they said and did would make perfect sense to anyone who could understand it. Unfortunately for the people around them, clockworkers were able to convince themselves that nothing mattered but their own goals and research, which was why they treated other humans with such casual cruelty and disdain. To a clockworker, all life was absolutely equal-a rat, a stalk of wheat, a tree, and a little boy were all the same. Thad had heard of some religious philosophies that taught compassion to all life based on this idea, but clockworkers ran the other way-all life was equally useful for experimentation.

Mr. Griffin didn’t care in the slightest about Thad or Sofiya or Nikolai themselves. He only cared about gaining knowledge or completing his experiments or finishing his grand plan. Mr. Griffin’s plan or experiment must be enormously important to him if it meant keeping Thad around-Griffin had to know Thad was working out a way to kill him. If Thad could figure out what Griffin’s plan was, he would have a leg up in ending the creature’s life.

If only he had access to some explosives. A stick of dynamite beneath the boxcars would end Mr. Griffin’s career rather quickly. But this wasn’t America, where dynamite was easy to come by. Thad ran his tongue round the inside of one cheek. He was caught in a race. The moment Mr. Griffin finished whatever he was working on, Thad would no longer be important, and Mr. Griffin would no doubt kill him as a threat. And who knew what he might do to Sofiya and Nikolai?

He shook his head and climbed the ladder to the second car. What happened to Nikolai didn’t matter. Automatons didn’t matter. Machines didn’t matter.

So why did it seem like he could still feel Nikolai’s little head pressed into the side of his arm?

Because he reminds you of David, he told himself firmly. His memory wheels make him act that way in order to ensure his continued existence. If you like him and view him as a little boy instead of as a mere machine, you won’t destroy him. He acts like a little sweetie so you won’t kill him.

Another treacherous voice whispered, Isn’t that what all children do?

Faint cheers and applause came down the track. Apparently the little performance was having a positive effect. Thad pulled himself up to the vent of the second car and listened a second time. This time he heard a soft chugging sound and the burble of liquid. No voices, however. He peered through the vent. The interior of this boxcar was lit, but all Thad could make out through the bars were some odd shapes of metal and glass. The glass especially drew his eye. It curved like an enormous wine-glass turned upside down, but Thad could only see a tiny part of it. What the hell was Griffin doing? And where was the man himself? What man would subject himself to traveling in a boxcar through dangerous territory? That didn’t seem likely even for a clockworker. Maybe all this was just his equipment, and Griffin was coming to Saint Petersburg another way, by ocean steamer or airship. The more Thad thought about it, the more sense it made. Mr. Griffin wasn’t on the train at all.

Still cautious, however, he crept up to the roof. The curved top was clear but for the bump of the covered vent in the middle. His heart beat at the back of his throat from both nervousness and, he had to admit, excitement. He was a hound on the chase, a hunter on the scent. He had the power to stop a monster before he hurt more people, people like David or Ekaterina or Olga. It wasn’t a life he had chosen, but now that he was doing it, he did find a certain grim satisfaction in doing it right.

Thad slid quietly across the boxcar roof to the covered vent. A heavy padlock secured the lid. Of course. At least he didn’t see any alarms or nasty little traps. He produced his lock picks and set to work. The lock was tricky, but so was Thad, and just as his hands began to get cold, it popped open. Another cheer went up from the front of the train.

Despite the the fact that Thad was sure Mr. Griffin himself was not on the train, he was still careful to slide the lock free without banging it about or making other noise. From another pocket he took a tiny tin flask of machine oil, which he applied to the lid’s hinges so they wouldn’t squeak. Cold dread and feverish anticipation shoved at him, made him want to hurry, hurry, hurry. The performance would end any moment and the train would start up. A guard or sentry machine he had overlooked might take notice. The cold autumn air bit through his clothing. Every fiber in him told him to finish this and run. But he made himself continue with slow, aching caution. He lifted the vent lid just a crack, enough so he could crouch over it and peer inside. A puff of warm, humid air escaped, bringing with it a strange, sweet smell that was also chemical.

The dim light and narrow crack made it hard to see much. A maze of copper pipes ran in all directions. Something went bloop. Liquid gushed. Machinery whirred and clattered. Claws skritched in the shadows, and Thad realized that spiders crawled everywhere. They swarmed the floor. They crawled along the pipes. They clung to the walls. Many of them carried small objects or tools that Thad couldn’t identify. In the center of the boxcar stood a glass dome with pipes and wires connected to it. Thad couldn’t get a good look from this vantage point. He widened the crack a hair to see better.

A cold hand grabbed his wrist. Thad dropped the lid and twisted like a cat, a knife already in his hand. Sofiya stood behind him on the roof. Her scarlet cloak fluttered in the wind. His heart pounded hard enough to break his ribs. God-how had she crept up without him noticing?

“What are you doing?” she whispered harshly. “Leave! Now!”

He tried to pull his arm free, but her grip was surprisingly strong. “I’m trying to find out more about-”

“Now!” Her face was pale with terror. “He has eyes everywhere!”

Her fear was infectious. Thad’s earlier excitement drained away, leaving him felt nervous and cold. Sofiya yanked him away from the vent back to the ladder.

“The vent’s not locked. He might notice.”

Sofiya swore but released him. Thad crept back to the vent and slid the padlock back into the hasp. It made a quiet scraping sound. The click when it locked made him wince.

A loud whistle burst from the engine, and Thad jumped. The peasants must have decided to let the train go through and removed the bonfire. Everyone had climbed back on board and the train was getting ready to move. Thad turned to head back to Sofiya at the ladder.

A spider clung to the edge of the boxcar. It stared at Thad with cold, mechanical eyes. Sofiya saw it at the same time Thad did and she stifled a gasp. Thad’s knife was still in his hand. He threw. The knife spun through the air like a deadly little star-

— and flew past the spider into the fading evening light. The spider skittered sideways, then turned to scamper down the side of the boxcar.

A silent beam of red light flashed over Thad’s shoulder. It struck the spider, which burst into a thousand component parts. Thad spun. Sofiya held a small rounded pistol of glass and brass.

Go! she mouthed, and started down the ladder. Thad followed. When they reached the ground, the train whistled again and jerked forward.

“Dammit!” Thad grabbed Sofiya’s hand and together they ran toward the front of the train. Far ahead of them, the locomotive’s wheels spun, gained traction, and jerked the train forward again. The crowd of peasant men, now smiling, waved at the train. Thad ran past the animal cars and reached the passenger car, which was already gaining speed. He reached for the rail at the side of the car’s tiny staircase and missed as the car lurched forward.

“Faster!” Sofiya panted. “We can do it!”

But the train was speeding up. Still holding Sofiya’s hand, Thad lunged and missed again.

A smaller hand grabbed his. Nikolai was there, clinging like a monkey to the rail. Metal fingers bit painfully into Thad’s flesh, but he didn’t let go.

“Jump, Sofiya!” he shouted, and wrenched his other arm around to help her. Sofiya leaped, and how she avoided tangling herself in her skirts, Thad couldn’t imagine. She landed on the staircase beside Nikolai, still gripping Thad’s hand. Thad stumbled and fell. The train dragged him now, legs bumping over dirt and stones, past the staring peasant farmers. His shoulders were on fire and his hands felt torn in half, but Sofiya and Nikolai didn’t let go. They hauled him upright, and Thad managed just enough purchase for a small jump of his own. The others yanked, and he landed on top of them. Sofiya and Thad lay panting in a pile with Nikolai while the ground rushed by beneath them and the wheels clattered only inches away.

“Can you rise?” Sofiya shouted over the noise. “Only, I can barely breathe.”

Thad sorted himself out, got himself upright, and helped Sofiya and Nikolai to their feet. Sofiya shoved the pistol under her cloak. “I think my arms are longer,” Thad complained.

“Let’s go back inside,” Nikolai said. “That was scary.”

The mood in the passenger car was lighthearted, even a little jubilant, as the trio slipped into the back. The circus had managed one of its most difficult performances and passed. Dodd raised his cane and hat at the front. Thad, Sofiya, and Nikolai dropped into their seats at the rear, unnoticed.

“Well done, everyone!” he called. “It looks like our mysterious benefactor was right-everyone loves a circus. Especially the Kalakos Circus, the best circus in the whole damned world!”

This brought cheers and whistles.

“And,” Dodd continued, holding up a small sack, “Nathan has finished the accounting from Mr. Griffin, so I have the best present in the world-cash! Good silver rubles!”

More cheers, wilder this time.

“I’ll be coming down the aisles for each of you. Don’t spend it all at once.” Small laugh. “Assuming we aren’t stopped again, we should arrive in Saint Petersburg tomorrow afternoon at approximately one o’clock. We should also thank Thad Sharpe and our newest member Sofiya Ekk.” Dodd pointed to them with his cane. “They brought us Mr. Griffin, and without them, the circus would no longer exist.”

Everyone turned in their seats to look at Dodd. Mama Berloni and Piotr the strongman and the dark-haired Tortellis and all the other performers smiled and applauded and stamped their feet. The gesture caught Thad off guard. He smiled uncertainly, then remembered himself and stood up in the aisle so he could sweep into a bow. Then he held out a hand to bring Sofiya up so she could do the same.

“This is awful,” she said through unmoving lips. “They are so nice, and I feel like a traitor.”

“Just smile,” Thad replied the same way, and they sat.

The applause died away, and Dodd came down the aisle handing out money. Sofiya straightened her cloak. It had dirt and grease stains on it. Nikolai, still wrapped in rags and scarves on the seat next to Thad, picked up his book and opened it again.

“Now tell me what you were doing back there,” Sofiya said in a low voice.

“Are you my wife now?” Thad shot back.

“She’s the mama, you’re the papa.” Nikolai turned a page. “You have to do as she says.”

“Do I?” Thad said, nonplussed. “I thought it was the other way round.”

“Only in public,” Nikolai said. “In private, the papa listens to the mama.”

“You have some firm ideas about how a family should act,” Thad said.

“They are correct.” Nikolai’s brown eyes flickered up and down the page. One of his legs kicked at the seat. “You made me scared. I didn’t want you to be hurt or left behind.”

“You don’t look scared.”

“Many of my pistons are moving faster, even though I don’t want them to. That makes me hot and pulls my skin covering tight. It’s also hard to keep still. I am scared.”

“Perhaps you should reassure him,” Sofiya said.

“How?” Thad said. “He’s an automaton. He’s only following a preset program.”

“Does a child of biology do anything more? You frightened him, and he saved both of us. Therefore it is your job to set things right again, whether he is a machine or not.”

Thad ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek. “All right. Listen, Nikolai, I didn’t intend to frighten you or speed up your pistons or tighten your skin.”

“You don’t mean those words.” Nikolai kept his eyes on the book. “Your voice is…is…”

“I believe you want the word sarcastic,” Sofiya supplied.

“Sarcastic. That’s wicked. Isn’t it?”

Sofiya nodded, a small smile on her lips. “And so soon after you saved him. I wouldn’t have thought it.”

“Why do you care?” Thad demanded. “What does any of this matter to you?”

“Should it not matter?” Sofiya returned.

“Look, I don’t want-all right.” Thad changed his tone. “I’m sorry, Nikolai. I didn’t want to scare you. Here.” And he patted Nikolai on the shoulder. “And…thank you. For saving me. Us. You did…good work.”

“I think that’s better.” Nikolai gave a little sigh. “I feel…slower. That is the proper way for a papa to behave.”

Thad wanted to be angry again, but he was just too tired. “Certainly, Niko, certainly.”

This seemed to satisfy the little automaton even further, and went back to paging through his book. “‘The victim of the cuckoo’s brood parasitism will feed and tend the baby cuckoo, even when the baby pushes the natural-born offspring out and begins to outgrow the nest,’” he read aloud. “‘On the rare instances that the parasitized parents abandon the baby cuckoo to build a new nest elsewhere, the mother cuckoo who laid the parasite egg will follow the parasitized parents and destroy their new nest, thus encouraging them to continue raising her offspring.’”

Sofiya leaned forward again and tapped Thad on the knee.

“You still have not explained to me what you were thinking,” she said. “Or what you were doing. Or what you found.”

Thad automatically glanced round, but saw no sign of spiders. “We must find a way to kill Mr. Griffin, and for that I need information. To tell the truth, I don’t think he’s on this train.” And he explained his reasoning.

“No,” Sofiya said when he finished. “He is in that boxcar.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me he would be there.”

“And he would never lie?”

“Mr. Griffin is very careful about his safety. Ocean liners sink. Airships crash. Trains are not perfect, but they are the best choice. Being in a boxcar would not bother him in the slightest.”

“How long have you worked for him?”

“Not quite six months.”

“Sofiya, you need to tell me everything you know about him. You have to understand that his only concern is his plan or his research. People mean nothing. The moment we become less than useful, he’ll have no compunctions about destroying us.”

She nodded slowly. “I have come to see that over time. But I cannot escape him. I tried once, and it ended…badly.” She lifted her chin, and the scar became more visible in the glow of the train’s lanterns. “He does pay well.”

“How much money is worth your sister’s life?” Thad countered. “Look, you know what I do for a living. And I can see you’re extremely intelligent and capable. Between the two of us, we can find a way out from under his thumb.”

“He is far more intelligent than both of us put together,” she said doubtfully. “But…he does have weaknesses. I have seen them.”

“Like what?” Thad tried not to pounce.

“He never comes out in public, and I have never met him in person,” Sofiya said. “Like you, I have only spoken to him through the speaker box. He worries overmuch about his personal safety. This is both strength and weakness. He wants-wanted-Havoc’s machine very, very badly, though I do not know why he wanted it or what the machine did. I am surprised he did not lose his temper when you failed to bring it to him.”

“I don’t like the word failed,” Thad growled.

Sofiya waved this away. “His spiders do quite a lot for him, but they cannot do everything, which is why he hired me. And you. And the circus. Sometimes he makes me hire other men for him. I have already telegraphed Saint Petersburg for men to haul his boxcars away when we arrive.”

“I wonder.” Thad drummed his fingers on the seat. “Perhaps the speaker box gives him some sort of…barrier or filter that lets him handle people effectively.”

“Perhaps,” Sofiya agreed. “You took a terrible and foolish risk out there. If he had seen you, he would have assumed your horse taught you nothing and killed someone in this circus.”

“He didn’t see me.”

“He would have, if I hadn’t come. I just hope he doesn’t notice that a spider went missing.”

Thad changed the subject. “Where did you get that pistol?”

“I bought it.” She touched her skirt. “It will take a great deal of cranking to recharge the battery now.”

“I can help,” Nikolai put in. “But I will need strong brandy first.”

“Thank you, little one,” Sofiya said absently. “Perhaps later. What did you learn of him, Thad? Since you risked so much, I hope you brought something back.”

“He travels with a lot of equipment,” Thad replied, “but I don’t think it’s all research or laboratory equipment. It’s for something else. A lot of copper and glassware. Delicate. That may be one of the reasons he needs to travel by train.”

“Glassware. Hm. What did-”

Two children tumbled into their seating area with giggles and gasps. They had dark hair and eyes and were clearly brother and sister. “Buon giorno!” the girl said.

Thad’s Italian was poor-he was better with Eastern languages. But he could get along. “Buon giorno, Bianca e Claudio,” he said. Nikolai looked up sharply.

“Chi e questo?” Claudio Tortelli asked, pointing at Nikolai. Claudio was eight, and hadn’t started flying with the family act yet, though he expected to soon. Bianca, a year older, was already flying with her mother Francesca.

Thad hesitated again. This was awkward, and one of the reasons he had wanted to put Nikolai in one of the baggage cars or in the wagon car with Sofiya’s mechanical horse.

“Il suo nome e Nikolai,” he said at last. “Lui e un…automa.”

“Automa?” Bianca leaned forward, crowding into the seating area. “Non appare come un automa. Fammi vedere.”

“She doesn’t think you’re an automaton,” Thad said to Nikolai. “She wants to see.”

Nikolai, who had been watching this exchange with quizzical interest, set his book aside and pulled down the scarf that hid his face. Bianca and Claudio drew back at the metallic jaw and flat nose. Then Claudio leaned back in.

“Mi piace,” he said. “Chi ti ha costruito?”

“He likes it and wants to know who built you,” Thad translated.

“Puh!” Bianca said. “Schifoso!” And she fled. Nikolai wordlessly rewrapped his face. Thad wanted to slap the girl. Sofiya sighed.

Claudio gave another burst of Italian.

“He wants you to play with him,” Thad said. “He says he has toys and things up where his parents are sitting, if you want to come.”

“I should go play with other boys,” Nikolai said. “That is what boys do. May I?”

“If the Tortellis don’t mind,” Thad replied slowly. “But his sister will be there. What she said wasn’t nice.”

Nikolai’s eyes went blank for a moment, and Thad thought he heard a faint clicking over the clack of the train wheels. Thad’s earlier feeling of protectiveness slid away, replaced by a cold reminder of Nikolai’s status as a machine.

“Sticks and stones will break my bones,” he said at last, “but words will never hurt me.”

“Applesauce,” said Dante.

“That’s the spirit,” Thad said woodenly. “Off you go, then.”

Nikolai slid free of the seat and left with Claudio, both of them already experts at staying upright on the rocking aisle.

“Alone at last, my husband,” Sofiya said.

Thad slumped in his seat. “Not you, too.”

She laughed, the first time Thad had ever heard that from her. The sound was surprisingly free and rich and eased some of Thad’s tension. She was very beautiful, even in her dirty cloak and her hair coming undone. Thad decided he could, perhaps, enjoy a few moments of that.

“I only make a joke,” she said. “But Nikolai seems to have cast us in a particular mold, no?”

“What are we going to do with him in Saint Petersburg?” Thad said. “I can’t have him hanging about all the time.”

“Why not? He seems to like you. Us. He is easy to care for-just give him a bottle of spirits from time to time. He might even prove useful.”

“A clockworker built him,” Thad said. “I don’t trust him.”

Sofiya twisted in her seat and looked up the aisle. Close to the front of the car, Nikolai and Claudio were playing on the floor between the seats with a set of toy animals. “And why not?”

Thad folded his arms and stared out the window, though it was fully dark now and there was nothing to see. “He comes from a monster who killed a lot of people. Who knows what he’s programmed to do?”

“Hm.” Sofiya crossed her ankles beneath her skirt. “You keep a clockworker’s parrot on your shoulder. That seems a contradiction for someone who dislikes clockwork machines.”

In answer, Thad took Dante down from the seat back and held him out toward Sofiya. “Say it,” he ordered.

“Applesauce,” Dante replied. “Doom, defeat, despair. Pretty lady.”

“Say it, bird, or I’ll twist your head round backward.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

David’s recorded voice was loud enough that Tina McGee, who was once again sitting on the seat backed up against Sofiya’s, turned around for a moment to look. Thad waved at her and put Dante on the seat back once more.

“I see,” Sofiya said quietly. “I understand, and I am sorry. Again.”

“I keep him. It doesn’t mean I like him.” Thad gestured abruptly in Nikolai’s direction. “How does he do that? He’s only a machine. Machines don’t play games.”

“It looks to me that he is learning to play. I think that is why he went with Claudio despite Bianca’s dislike for him. Did you not see his hesitation? He was caught between impulses-one that tells him to keep himself safe and one that tells him to learn. The impulse to learn tipped him over the edge. Of course…” She trailed a hand over the arm rest of her seat. “…human beings do much the same, do they not?”

“He’s not human, Sofiya.” Thad sighed. “I don’t know why you’re trying to convince me he is, but-”

“No,” Sofiya interrupted. “He is not human. But…” She trailed off again to glance over her shoulder. “But he is not an automaton, either.”

“Bless my soul,” Dante muttered. “Despair, death, doom, defeat.” And Thad was too tired to tell him to be quiet. He was leaning back to close his eyes again when Sofiya cocked her head inside her scarlet hood.

“Do you think Nikolai should be destroyed?”

Thad’s eyes came fully open. “I…don’t know.”

“Could you push him into a furnace and watch his face melt into slag?” She leaned forward, invading Thad’s space. “Could you see his eyes dissolve into molten glass? Hear his voice break and crack into smoke and steam?”

Thad realized he was pressed into the seat back and forced himself to stop. The image she conjured up was horrible, and it mingled with the sights and sounds of David’s last moments. His stomach roiled and mouth was dry. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Answer the question. We need to know when we arrive.”

There was only one answer. “No,” he replied at last.

“Perhaps we should back away a bit,” Sofiya said. “Explore other ideas. Could you tell him he cannot stay with you? Could you put him out on the street and say he could never see or speak to you again?”

“Probably,” Thad said.

“Even if he asked you not to?” Sofiya continued. “Because he would. He would say it was a papa’s duty to take care of a child, and he would beg you to let him stay.”

“I could give him to Dodd,” Thad said abruptly. “Dodd already asked to have him.”

“As an attraction for the circus, yes,” Sofiya agreed. “He would probably even pay you a large sum of Mr. Griffin’s money for him, good silver rubles. And then you would see him all the time, working for Dodd, doing as Dodd said, and he could ask you every day to take him back. Could you do that?”

Thad didn’t answer for a long moment, then muttered, “I could melt down your horse in a moment.”

“Ah! Now we are making progress. Why could you do that?”

“Progress?”

“Answer the question, my husband. Why could you melt down Kalvis but not Nikolai?”

“Because he looks like a little boy,” Thad nearly shouted. “Because he reminds me of David, and I couldn’t push him into a furnace any more than I could push you into one, you damned witch.”

“I know.” Sofiya touched his knee softly. “I do know, Thaddeus Sharpe.”

Thad was blinking back tears, something he hadn’t done since the last time he’d visited David’s grave. He felt drained, on the edge of exhaustion. “If you knew, then why-”

“Because I think you needed to say it out loud to someone.” Sofiya rested her chin in her hand. “Are you hungry? I could ask Mama Berloni if she has anything more to eat.”

When she said it, he became aware that he was both starving and immensely thirsty. “Definitely.”

“A wife’s duty.” She rose to her feet with an impish smile. “You know, clockworkers aren’t always evil.”

“Tell that to David. And Olga.”

“Clockworkers also build many fine things,” she said, still standing. “They discovered how to use electricity and build airships and design efficient engines like this locomotive and thinking machines like Nikolai. They go mad in the end, but it is not their fault. It is tragic.”

Thad’s mouth turned down. “Especially for their victims.”

* * *

The machine clung to the underside of the hot iron object. The iron tasted pleasant to the magnets on its feet, and the signal’s constant ping created a reassuring warble. But after an interval passed, the iron object slowed, then stopped. It exhaled great clouds. The machine hung on.

The signal…changed. The machine listened for only a moment, then released the magnets and dropped away from the pleasant iron. It skittered out from under the huffing iron object and rushed away, past more objects, some moving, some still. A few jumped away with little shrieks or cries, but the machine ignored them. It scampered across a floating object that spanned an enormous amount of rushing fluid, and the signal rewarded it with happy tones. The machine found a tasty iron object that covered a tunnel. It pried the iron away, dropped into the hole beneath, and vanished into the darkness.

A tall, blocky stone building in front of the hole bore a copper sign on the wall out front. The sign read BIBLIOTEKA ROSSIYSKOY AKADEMII NAUK, or LIBRARY OF THE RUSSIAN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES.