Steven Harper - The Havoc Machine

When they got outside, Thad discovered that the circus was fully set up. The striped Tilt held court in the center with the smaller sideshow tents trying to get its attention. Waiting behind like servants were the wagons and tents where the performers lived, including Thad, and just beyond that, the row of train cars. A web of ropes and stakes wove itself over everything. Sawdust and straw crunched underfoot as a preemptive measure to keep down the mud, and Thad inhaled smells of animals and machine oil and frying food. Marcus was playing the calliope in the Tilt, and the strangely haunting and jaunty music wandered among the tents with the performers, some of whom wore bright costumes, some of whom wore ordinary street clothes. A bit of Thad’s fear and tension eased. It was the circus, and the circus was home.

He remembered running among ropes and canvas walls when he was small, playing jackstraws and deerstalker, listening to the rain fall on the roof on the wagon-the same wagon Thad lived in now-while his mother sang in Russian and his father sharpened knives, watching the everyday sight of one of the horse girls in her tight sleeves and bodice and one day feeling newly strange about it, stealing a kiss from Gretchen Neuberg behind clown alley, learning to swallow swords and pick locks and throw knives, catching the eye of a beautiful, dark-haired woman in the grandstand during a performance in Warsaw, announcing to his parents that he was leaving the circus to marry his Ekaterina.

Leaving had been difficult, but good. He’d had his new life in Warsaw. But bit by bit that life had been whittled away. Ekaterina died in childbirth. His parents passed away, and he inherited their old wagon. And then David. When the last fragment of his new life had slipped from his fingers, he had pulled the old wagon out of storage and gone on the road, ostensibly as a traveling tinker and knife sharpener, but really to hunt down clockworkers. And when he’d come across the Kalakos Circus eking out performances in Prague, it seemed perfectly natural to join up with them. It was coming home again, in a sad way.

It wasn’t truly the same, of course. Thad kept to himself these days. He avoided making close friends, avoided anything resembling romance. It was easier to pass time alone than to befriend people he would one day lose. Even if it meant being lonely.

Overhead, clouds were drifting in to cover the sun, and the air was chilly. Benny Mazur, the chief clown, stuck his head out of clown alley-the little tent where the clowns got ready-and called something to Nathan Storm, who was just passing by. Nathan nodded, then caught sight of Thad outside his wagon and dashed over, a wide smile on his face.

“Glad to see you’re upright, then,” he said in his light Irish brogue. He clapped Thad on the back. “Wouldn’t want to lose our sword swallower to some stupid pistol accident.”

“I told them,” Sofiya said quickly, “how you were cleaning your equipment and one of your pistols went off.”

“Oh. Yes,” Thad said. “Stupid.”

“And this one.” Nathan swept off his cap, revealing deep red hair, and kissed Sofiya’s hand. “Beautiful and brilliant. I hope you thanked her. She’s our Russian rescuer.”

“Spaceeba, ser,” Sofiya said with a laugh.

“Our?” Thad was becoming more and more confused.

“Tsar Alexander is quite the horseman, and he was taken with Miss Ekk’s mechanical horse-and her beauty. It was because of her that we were allowed to set up on the Field of Mars and, best of all, were called to perform for the court in a few days. So polish your swords, friend.” His eyes sparkled with an enthusiasm Thad hadn’t seen in months. “May I see the new hand, then?”

Thad wanted to hold back. But he was going into the ring eventually, and anyone who paid a few coins would see it. He may as well get used to showing it off now. He held it up and wiggled the fingers. The gears inside whirled with tiny zing noises.

“Nice enough,” Nathan said. “Can you pull swords out of your throat with it?”

Thad looked at Sofiya, stricken. The idea that he might not be able to perform anymore hadn’t occurred to him.

“Probably,” she said. “He will have to practice first. Tell Dodd not to put him on the schedule until we are sure.”

“My lady.” Nathan kissed Sofiya’s hand again and left.

“I love the circus,” Sofiya said with a small sigh. “No one cares that I am…what I am.”

“And I am…confused,” Thad said. “Did you tell them you’re a clockworker?”

“They deduced rather easily when I rebuilt your hand, Thad. They also think I built Nikolai, and I have not persuaded them otherwise.”

“And it doesn’t bother-”

“No.”

“I don’t understand.” Thad was genuinely perplexed. “Three years ago, this circus gave shelter to a man who turned out to be a clockworker, and not only did he destroy their prize clockwork elephant, he also led a small army of other clockworkers into their midst, broke the dam at Kiev, and caused a flood that scattered half their performers. They hate clockworkers. With good reason.”

She threaded her arm into the crook of his elbow as they walked. “You need to stop seeing the world as either-or, Thaddeus Sharpe. Dodd needed to be persuaded, yes, but everyone was very impressed when I saved your hand. I also brought them the money from Mr. Griffin. This helped quite a lot.”

“And put them-still puts them-in the most terrible danger,” Thad pointed out sharply.

“They don’t know this.” Sofiya waved this away. “I also brought the circus a mechanical horse so it can still be the Kalakos Circus of Automatons and Other Wonders.”

“Did you promise not to go mad and kill everyone?” Thad asked.

“No, but I said I would look into replacing the elephant. That, and a performance for the tsar brought Dodd around.”

Thad was working his brass fingers like mad, trying to bring them under greater control. There was always a short delay between what he wanted them to do and what they did, and that would be deadly in an act like his. It didn’t seem real yet. It felt more like he was wearing a strange glove or a temporary splint that would eventually come off, revealing his real hand.

“I’m pleased to know everything is going well for you,” he said with a certain amount of grim irony. “What are you doing in the ring for the tsar, then?”

“You’ll see.” She smiled, and Thad noticed for the first time she had dimples. “Wait a moment. How did I not notice this before? You spoke Russian earlier!”

“Of course.” Thad managed a grin of his own. “My mother spoke it to me every day. To me, it’s as easy as English.”

“Then why have I spoken English with you all this time?”

“Perhaps clockworkers aren’t as smart they think.”

A cannon fired with a sound that boomed against Thad’s bones. He jumped. Sofiya took his arm.

“We must go,” she said in English again. “Hurry.”

He followed her through the maze of tents, automatically ducking under and around ropes and dodging stakes. “What was that? What’s going on?”

They reached the outer boundary of the area set aside for the circus. It appeared to be a parade ground or drilling field for the military and was the size of four polo fields spread out before one of the biggest, most ornate buildings Thad had ever seen. The building went on and on, in fact, block after block. It was three stories tall, with white pillars and arched windows and bright yellow bricks. Decades of stamping feet had trampled the field into reddish dirt and dust. A series of wooded parks bordered two other sides of the field, and the remaining side faced a wide silver river clogged with small boats and rafts. The circus was set up near one of the parks, not far from the river. Across from them, in front of the long building, stood a grandstand much like the one inside the Tilt, though this one also had a partial roof on it. Men and women in colorful clothing were settling into seats.