Steven Harper - The Havoc Machine

The people lining the streets often oohed and aahed and pointed when they saw such a lifelike automaton, and Thad abruptly realized that audiences would now come to the circus expecting to see Nikolai. He wondered if Dodd would want to put the boy in the sideshow until-or if-he worked out an act.

A circus parade always lent the city a temporary carnival atmosphere. Food sellers and other merchants were taking advantage of the assembled crowd to hawk their wares from boxes and trays tied around their necks. Parents in patched clothes hoisted ragged, hollow-eyed children onto their shoulders so they could see. Shopkeepers temporarily closed their doors and workers paused in their labor to come out and look-bakers in their hats, coal sellers with their distinctive caps, fishmongers pushing barrows, house servants in livery or wearing aprons. For those too poor to buy tickets, this would be the only chance they had to see the circus, though Dodd was notoriously lenient about children who sneaked under the tent flaps, to Nathan’s everlasting despair. Thad waved his brass hand to the onlookers. His strange little…he didn’t want to call it a family, but the word was apt in a number of ways…was providing all the automatons that made the circus’s full title a truth, and it occurred to Thad that he should therefore ask for a raise.

Sofiya let her cloak fall from her shoulders and did a handstand on Kalvis’s back, then lithely leaped down to his near side, catapulted back over him, and landed on his off side. The crowd applauded. Thad suppressed a snort. Sofiya was cheating. The true trick riders farther back in the parade trained their entire lives for something Sofiya received without effort. Still, she had a paid a dear price for her abilities, and Thad was positive the other trick riders wouldn’t trade places with her. He certainly wouldn’t.

A lion roared in the back, and the elephant trumpeted, temporarily drowning out the calliope. Kalvis walked ahead, unmoved by any of this, and Nikolai marched steadily along the predetermined path. Then Sofiya stiffened and lost her balance in midflip. She nearly tumbled from the saddle, and only snatched her equilibrium back at the last moment. Her smile faltered also, but she regained it with her customary calm. Startled, Thad followed her line of vision and caught sight of a spider clinging to a balcony above the street. Two spiders. Thad himself faltered, then kept going. He caught Sofiya’s eye. What did this mean? Thad flexed his hand uneasily.

A block later, Thad saw another spider, this time on a windowsill. A woman opened the window as the circus approached and squawked at the sight of it. The spider scuttled away. Another spider looked down at them from a chimney. After that, Thad stopped counting. His smile became something he pulled on to hide his nausea, like a skin stretched over a drumhead. Was this a signal from Mr. Griffin? A message of some kind? Or just notice that he was watching? Thad didn’t know, and he hated not knowing. It made him feel helpless and stupid. Nikolai seemed to have no idea what was going on. He marched tirelessly through the straw-strewn streets, smiling and waving his metal fingers while hidden spiders looked on.

At last they arrived at the Winter Palace. The vast building, shaped like two squares sharing a side, was actually a complex of palaces and courtyards started by Peter the Great and got its name not because the tsar lived there in the winter-he lived there year round-but because the palace ruled the north, where winter held sway. The circus came to the south side, away from the River Neva. The palace facade, three stories tall, ran down the entire street as far as the eye could see. Its walls were marble and granite, blue and white, with intricate windows and pillars. The portico at the south entrance was flanked by four huge columns carved like gods holding up the sky at the top of a double staircase. A sturdy ramp had been hastily constructed so the animal cages and the wagons and the elephant could climb it more easily. Before each pillar reared up an enormous brass bear, the symbol of Russia. The crowd was thicker around the palace, and consisted of more servants. Yet more people leaned out of every one of the dozens of windows, and they waved handkerchiefs like little flags. Nikolai hesitated only a moment. He marched up the ramp, between the great pillars, and toward the bears. When he reached the halfway point, the bears roared in unison. Nikolai backpedaled with a yelp. Thad jumped, himself, and the peasants who had gathered to watch the parade flinched. Some of the children began to cry. Sofiya seemed unperturbed, though she checked Kalvis so he wouldn’t overrun Nikolai. The parade ground to a halt on the street behind them and the calliope music wound down.

An automaton emerged from one of the great arched gates inside the pillars. It wore imperial livery of scarlet and gold, and its hands were little more than metal mittens. It skimmed along on wheels fitted under its feet. This device was meant to travel across nothing but polished floors.

“The tsar bids you welcome,” the automaton said in metallic Russian. “Follow me to the Nicholas Hall. Enter to entertain, and you will be rewarded.”

Nikolai made a fluid little bow and marched forward again, past the now-silent bears. The calliope started up again and the entire circus paraded into the palace. The wagons and cages and elephant squeezed through the high gate with some difficulty, but in the end it was done. The peasants watched them go with hungry eyes. Beyond the gates lay a long, wide hall of high arches and marble floors and heavy doors. Everything was decorated lavishly, every surface carved with curled designs, every wall painted in bright, airy colors, every window and doorway framed with intricate scrolls of copper, brass, and gold. The wagons and horses, including Kalvis, left marks on the perfect flooring, and Thad didn’t want to think about what might happen if-when-the elephant decided to relieve itself. But the tsar had ordered that the circus, including the animals, perform within the palace, and so it would be done. The aftermath was someone else’s problem.

At this point, Dodd came up to the front with his hat and cane. Although ringmasters traditionally did not lead the circus in parade, he had clearly decided that inside the Winter Palace, tradition might be a bit more flexible, especially if it meant meeting the tsar. Nikolai stepped back and faded gratefully into his role as Thad’s shadow.

It was very strange making parade indoors. The calliope was deafening, and the animals and carts made the floor rumble beneath Thad’s muddy shoes. The circus trooped through close to a dozen rooms, each just as elaborate as the entrance hall. Gold and silver filigree dripped from the walls. Crystal chandeliers showered light over everything. Statues inlaid with precious metals and crusted with gems occupied elaborate alcoves. Enormous paintings of people Thad didn’t know looked down on them from gleaming frames. Though outside had been chilly, inside was hot, almost tropical, and Thad began to sweat. Most rooms sported exotic plants and flowers and even full-grown trees in pots, and the rooms were close with their cloying perfume. It was a sharp contrast to the slums where Nikolai had been taken. The crystals from a single chandelier would keep most of a neighborhood afloat for years.

Servants in gold and guards in scarlet were everywhere, standing against the walls to provide an odd audience to this indoor parade. The clowns and acrobats continued to caper. The stilt walkers gamely bumbled along, ducking under doorways. And Thad saw more spiders, in a tree, under a fireplace mantel, in a ceiling corner. He ground his teeth and tried to keep tension at bay without success. If Griffin wanted something, why the devil didn’t he just come out and say what it was? Sofiya saw the spiders as well, but she kept up her mask of control.