Steven Harper - The Havoc Machine

“The river!” he said, and didn’t stop to see if they followed. They made it to the Neva, and Thad clambered one-handed down into the boat he had left. He was running on adrenaline now, and he knew if he stopped, he would drop. Blood from a cut he hadn’t remembered getting dripped down his chin. The colt jumped into the boat, rocking it just as before. Thad rowed frantically across the water. Nikolai remained motionless in the bottom of the boat. Thad was weaker now, and he couldn’t resist the current. The river took them to the pontoon bridge Sofiya had destroyed, and the boat fetched up against it on the mainland side. The bridge was low enough on the water that Thad could climb out with Nikolai and Dante, and the colt could clamber after. Thad’s strength gave out, and he dropped to the planks with Nikolai clasped to his chest.

“Nikolai,” he whispered into the boy’s hair. “Nikolai, wake up. You have to wake up.”

But he didn’t move.

The ever-present crowd that had gathered to watch the bombardment stared and pointed. A woman came forward.

“Did you escape from the island?” she said. “Do you need help?”

“My son,” Thad said. “He’s hurt.”

“He has automatons,” said someone else. “Two of them!”

“Three!” shouted a man. “That child he’s holding is an abomination from the island!”

“It’ll come after us! It’ll attack us like it attacked that man!”

“No,” Thad said hoarsely. “It’s not like that.” His voice didn’t carry. The crowd was still uncertain, but they wouldn’t remain so for long. Thad pulled himself upright. Nikolai just needed a little help. He would be all right. He had to be.

He set Nikolai on the colt’s back, put his wrists under the colt’s chin, and shoved Dante underneath as well. “Hold him, Dante. Don’t let him fall off.”

“Pretty boy,” Dante said, and clamped Nikolai’s wrists with beak and claws. Maddie climbed underneath the colt to hold Nikolai’s ankles together.

“Find Kalvis,” Thad said to the colt. “Go home! Go!”

The colt bolted forward. The crowd reflexively parted for him. Thad stood there, weaving, as his little boy vanished into the city.

The bombardment of Vasilyevsky Island had stopped, at least. Thad must have damaged the Peter and Paul Fortress too badly for it to keep up the attack for long, so his idea had worked in the end. Just not well enough to save Nikolai. He pushed his way through the bewildered crowd. They still didn’t know what to make of him, and they finally settled on giving him berth. Thad could barely walk, but he had to get back to the circus, had to get back to Sofiya and Nikolai. Nikolai would be all right. He had to be. All Thad had to do was get back to the circus. But his legs felt like beaten bread dough and he simply didn’t have the strength for another step. He leaned against a lamppost.

“You look like you need a ride in the finest cab in Saint Petersburg, my lord!” said a booming voice. “But blood costs more than muck to clean.”

Thad looked up into a familiar bearded face and managed a wheezing laugh. “I still can’t play the game, Vanka. But I promise to tell everyone I did.”

Vanka, driving gently, delivered Thad straight to the circus, and even gave him a bit of bread and sausage from his supper, which Thad devoured without tasting. He felt some strength return as the cab pulled up. It was almost completely dark now. Most of the circus was packed up and loaded onto the train, and performers worked on the rest by lantern light. No doubt Dodd intended to depart before morning. Kalvis and the colt stood outside Thad’s wagon, both their heads lowered to the ground. Dante and Maddie perched on the colt’s back. Thad didn’t know whether to feel hope or dread as Vanka’s cab pulled up.

“Sharpe is sharp!” Dante called excitedly when he caught sight of Thad with his single eye. “Pretty boy!”

The door to the wagon stood open and Thad saw something move inside. His heart gave a great leap. He jumped down from the cab before it stopped moving and tossed Vanka one of the pearls from the tsarina’s string in his pocket. Vanka held it up in the fading light.

“You do not understand this game at all,” he said, and drove away.

Thad ran into the wagon. Sofiya, once again in her red cloak, was waiting for him. Thad spun, searching for Nikolai. Only the grim trophies on his wall looked back at him. Why hadn’t he taken those down? Sofiya’s blue eyes were filled with a quiet sadness that stabbed Thad through the heart.

“No,” he said softly.

She stepped close to him and took both his hands in hers, mingling brass and flesh. “I am sorry, Thad. I am so, so sorry.”

Grief like raw lead dragged Thad to the floor. A black hole gaped inside him, pulled in every thought, every emotion, every bit of energy. He was on the floor with Sofiya’s arms around him, pounding the floor with both fists. It wasn’t true. This was the worst sort of nightmare. His Nikolai, his son, could not. Be. Dead. Not again. The pain was far worse than anything else he had experienced on the island. Worse than losing his hand. He would give his other hand, an arm, a leg to have Nikolai back, and be grateful for the chance. His pistol dug into his ribs, and for a wild moment he thought of putting it to his temple. A moment’s sharp pain, and the rest of the agony would end. Sofiya simply held him, and her own tears wet his neck.

“Where is he?” Thad asked at last. His eyes were hot, and his nose was swollen.

“In the Black Tent.”

Thad pushed himself upright. “I want to see him.”

“I am not sure-” Sofiya began, but Thad was already out the door.

Dante jumped to his shoulder as he passed the motionless colt. It was fully dark now, and Thad swiped a hanging lantern from the side of the train to light the way. Sofiya hurried to catch up with him, but didn’t speak. Maddie remained behind. The Black Tent boxcar was closed up when they arrived. Thad slid the door open.

“Dodd wants to leave as soon as possible,” Sofiya said, “but he knows what has happened, and the circus will wait. They are sad as well.”

Thad didn’t answer. He just climbed into the boxcar with the lantern. Shadows danced everywhere, sliding across the walls and colliding with the tools in their racks. On one of the worktables lay a figure draped in a sheet. Thad hung the lantern from a ceiling hook with shaky hands. Never in his life did he think he would do this twice. Never in his life did he think he would lose another son. Heaven was mocking him.

Dante dropped down to the table and hunched there without speaking. Thad pulled the sheet back. Nikolai lay beneath, staring upward with sightless eyes. His little mechanical face was absolutely still. One side of his skull was caved in, crushed as if by a sledgehammer. A great crack wended its way through hair and metal, and it was easy to see that from inside, pieces had fallen out. Thad had been so focused on getting him to safety that he hadn’t seen any of it, or perhaps he had refused to notice. Thad put his head down on Nikolai’s chest. He wanted to weep, but he felt empty now.

“I’m sorry,” Sofiya said again.

“Why can’t you fix him?” Thad said into Nikolai’s torn shirt.

There was a long silence. Slowly Thad brought his head up. He turned to look at Sofiya. Her face was at the same time serious and a little frightened.

“You can fix him.” In two strides Thad crossed the distance between them and grabbed the front of her cloak with both fists. “Why haven’t you? What aren’t you telling me?”