Steven Harper - The Havoc Machine

“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.

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?