Steven Harper - The Havoc Machine

The court went wild. They applauded and stamped their feet. The moment they did so, Nikolai joined in. Sofiya waited until the sound crested, then held up her hands for quiet. When the noise died down, she cocked her head and touched the colt. A thin, high whinny sounded clearly through the hall. The court howled its approval.

And then, Tsar Alexander II plucked a rose from the vase at his elbow and tossed it to Sofiya. A ripple ran through the court, and the applause redoubled. Behind the wagons, the performers laughed and hugged one another with glee. Thad felt ready to collapse with relief. Sofiya, meanwhile, caught the rose neatly, curtsied low, and made her exit.

Moments later, while Travis Fair was out in the ring with his lions, the rest of the performers crowded around Sofiya behind the wagons to offer hushed but enthusiastic congratulations. She accepted with thanks. Thad waited until he could get her alone.

“Marvelous,” he said, unable to keep a grin off his face. “Stunning. I can’t describe it better. Nathan was absolutely right to open with you.”

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

“The colt was a brilliant addition,” he continued. “The tsar clearly enjoyed it, which means the court will also at least act like they love us, whether they truly do or not. Capital and brilliant both, Sofiya.”

She actually colored and smiled at him.

“He is sweet. It was fun to watch him be born.” Nikolai stroked the colt’s thin nose, an odd look in his strange eyes. “Does he have a name?”

“Not yet. But for now, little shadow, we must put him away. He has little room for springs and power, you see, and winds down quickly.” With that, she twisted the colt’s ear, and it collapsed in her arms. This didn’t seem to bother Kalvis, who merely waited behind the empty lion cage with mechanical patience. With several deft cranks and folds, Sofiya returned the colt to its state as a long box, which she slid back into Kalvis the same way it had come out. Thad had to admire the clever workmanship even as the reverse “birth” gave him a small shudder.

The show continued. Living horses and the new seal act and the Flying Tortellis on their portable trapezes. Mordovo outdid himself with his Cabinet of Miracles. Through it all, the tsar showed polite interest, but never the enthusiasm he did for Sofiya. During Tina McGee’s act with her poodles, the tsar spoke to a servant, who bustled away and arrived behind the wagons a moment later. He gestured sharply at Nikolai and said, “The tsar wishes to know when the little automaton will perform.”

Nikolai looked at Thad, his eyes wide with fear, or an automaton’s version of it. Dread twisted inside Thad’s chest, and Sofiya’s face went flat again.

“The…little automaton?” Thad temporized.

“The boy,” said the servant impatiently. “The tsar awaits.”

“I’m afraid the boy does not perform,” Sofiya said slowly. “He is new, and-”

“Is that what you wish me to tell the tsar?” the servant said haughtily. “That the circus he went through considerable expense to bring into this hall cannot accommodate his wishes?”

Sofiya floundered at this. Nikolai looked terrified now. Thad cast about in desperation. Sending Nikolai out there would be suicidal. He wasn’t trained as a performer, and if he made a laughingstock of himself, all the goodwill the circus had built up would vanish. The tsar might even take it into his head to punish them for wasting his time. It had been known to happen.

“The tsar awaits your answer,” the servant said.

Thad’s eye fell on Mama Berloni’s changing screen strung between its poles. The lights from the chandeliers were so strong that the shadows of people moving behind it were sharp and crisp. Shadows. A wild idea came to him.

“Tell the tsar the boy is thrilled to appear next,” he said.

The servant nodded and withdrew as Nikolai and Sofiya both gasped. Nikolai grabbed Thad’s hand with metal fingers. “Why did you tell him that? I can’t perform! I can’t do anything!”

“Do you trust me, Niko?” Thad asked.

“Yes.”

“Then trust me now.”

Out in the ring, Tina finished up with the poodles to polite applause. Thad had just enough time to get in a word with the now nervous Dodd, who ran out and blew his whistle for attention.

“Nikolai the Automaton,” he called, and Thad heard the uncertainty in his voice. Thad’s own throat was dry as sandpaper and his heart beat like a hummingbird in his chest.

“Thad,” said Sofiya, “what are you-”

“Niko! Quick!” Without waiting to see if Nikolai followed, Thad strode out to the ring and bowed to the tsar. The eyes of the court were all on him. Thad didn’t suffer from stage fright, but he was nervous now, and his hands tried to shake. Only a lifetime of a sword swallower’s discipline kept them still.

He came upright. The tsar’s eyes were hard from his throne. The children spread out before him looked more expectant, more eager, and Thad suddenly understood that they had actually asked for Nikolai. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. Thad turned, but the ring was empty-Nikolai hadn’t followed him. Covering his surprise, he whistled through his fingers and waved sharply to the wagon area. No response. Thad quickly made an exaggerated gesture of fatherly impatience with his brass hand and whistled again. All part of the act, ladies and gentlemen, just building suspense. The court gave a low laugh.

Still no Nikolai. Praying hard, Thad did a big comic windup and whistled as hard as he could. At last Nikolai appeared and edged into the ring in his new red coat, his eyes wide, his metallic jaw hanging slightly open. The women in the audience made little murmurs. Thad caught, “Isn’t he darling?” and “What a sweet thing!” and “I wonder who built him?” and “Do you think that handsome man is a clockworker?”

That last comment chilled Thad, though he kept a smile on his face. “Your Imperial Majesty! My lords and ladies!” he called in Russian, breaking the circus tradition of speaking during a performance. “May I introduce…my shadow!”

He turned to Nikolai. “Copy me,” he said in an undertone.

“Wha-?”

“Like you did with Dodd in the Black Tent. Be a mirror! Go!”

Thad raised a hand. Nikolai raised his own a fraction of a second later. Thad raised the other. Niko copied it. Thad backed up, Nikolai backed up. Thad turned a cartwheel, Nikolai did the same. Thad went on to other acrobatics-leaps, somersaults, and even a backflip. Nikolai matched him flawlessly. And then Thad danced, an Irish jig that started out slow. Nikolai stumbled for a moment, and the audience gasped, but he caught himself and matched Thad step for step. Marcus at the calliope caught on and started playing. Thad sped the dance, faster and faster. Nikolai kept up with him. Thad switched to the knee-bending, boot-stomping folk dance Russia was most famous for, a dance his mother had taught him long ago. This time Nikolai caught the switch and matched Thad so closely that only a sharp eye could see he was actually a fraction of a second behind him. The court clapped their hands in time to the steps and even danced amongst themselves. Thad was panting a little now and starting to sweat. It was working. It was actually working! He felt a lump of…pride?…that Nikolai was impressing these important people so readily. But Nikolai was a machine, and his memory wheels allowed him to do this, nothing more. As well be proud of a printing press for turning out a newspaper. Still, the emotion remained.