The Havoc Machine

Chapter Ten

Word got out that the tsar had commanded a performance from the Kalakos Circus, and during the days following Nikolai’s theft or kidnapping or whatever one wished to call it, the Circus played to stands that groaned beneath the weight of a full audience. People of all kinds came-workmen in dirty clothes, peasant farmers in homespun, chimney sweeps in sooty black, maids in head cloths, bored young noblemen in groups, soldiers in uniform, ladies in flounced dresses, and children in flocks and gaggles. Dodd played it to the hilt, wringing from them every drop of applause and cheer, which spurred the performers on to greater heights of artistry. The circus breathed again, lived again. Dodd walked about like a man in love, and more than once Nathan wrung Thad’s hand to thank him.

“He’s his old self now,” he lilted in his rich Irish English. “The whole circus is its old self again. Every night we go to bed thanking you and God and Mr. Griffin.”

Thad watched every performance from the sidelines, feeling guilty and furiously exercising his hand. At night he dreamed he still had both hands, and when he awoke, it was always with a shock when he remembered his new state as a semi-cripple. Nikolai, dressed in his new clothes and only rarely wearing his scarf, clung to Thad with ferocious tenacity, becoming upset if Thad left his field of view for more than a few minutes. Although Nikolai didn’t sleep, he waited patiently in the wagon while Thad did, and Thad found it difficult to drop off with him standing there. Ignorant of the circumstances, the amused circus folk started calling him Thad’s little shadow.

“He is afraid the men will come for him again,” Sofiya said. “It is normal. Eventually he will feel more secure. David would have-”

“Don’t compare him to David,” Thad snapped. “He is nothing like David.” And he ignored the look in Nikolai’s all-too-human eyes, a look Thad could only describe as unhappy.

Sofiya, for her part, spent a great deal of time in seclusion in the Black Tent. She claimed she was practicing her act, whatever it was, and wouldn’t let even Nikolai watch. Only Nathan seemed to have any idea what it was, and he refused to speak of it. Thad knew it involved Kalvis, newly christened Kalvis the Mechanical Wonder, and he was certain that Sofiya would be performing acrobatics, but he couldn’t imagine the need for secrecy-or how Nathan had bullied Dodd into making Sofiya a centerpiece act for the tsar.

Dante also remained in the Black Tent, his gears still clogged with muck. Thad and Dodd didn’t have the expertise to repair him, and Sofiya promised to do so as soon as she had time, though she kept putting it off. It surprised Thad how much he missed the irritating little bird.

Thad spent some time trying to track down Mr. Griffin, though this activity was severely inhibited by the presence of Nikolai, who stubbornly refused to let Thad alone. It rendered Thad unable to make delicate enquiries or follow any leading information he might uncover. It was monstrously frustrating, knowing the clockworker responsible for his injury and for threatening Sofiya’s family was doing heaven-knew-what in Saint Petersburg. Thad was not only unable to do anything about it, but he wasn’t able to even ferret out any basic information. If Nikolai hadn’t been so ingenuous, Thad might have suspected that Mr. Griffin had somehow arranged for Nikolai to neutralize him in exactly this manner.

The circus, meanwhile, was caught in a delightful flurry of performance and rehearsal, with sold-out performances in the evening and frantic rehearsal in the morning and afternoon to create and perfect new acts for the tsar. Thad set up a target and threw knives at it. His right hand was perfectly good, of course, but his left was still unsteady. He could swallow knives and short blades that he would withdraw one-handed, but he didn’t dare swallow an entire sword or multiple knives, both of which required two steady hands. Swallowing even multiple knives wasn’t worthy of a royal performance, however, so, Thad was still relegated to the sidelines, a source of more frustration for him.

The day of the performance arrived. That morning, Dodd called a meeting for the entire cast in the Tilt. He went over the schedule of performers, then set the list aside with a serious look.

“You know how it is with royal performances,” he said. “The tsar and most of the court will be there, along with whatever other hangers-on can wriggle in. Most of them don’t much care about us. They care only about gaining the tsar’s favor. The tsar loves a circus, and if he enjoys our performance, Russian landowners-counts and dukes and barons and even generals-might see friendship with one of us as a route to the tsar. They will praise you and offer you presents and enticements. Accept the praise, but refuse everything else with polite thanks. Best is to pretend you don’t understand the language they’re speaking. We can’t afford to become involved in politics. Russia is extremely volatile right now. The peasants-serfs-are half in revolt. Taxes are at an all-time high. The landowners conscript men and boys into military service for life. And now rumors are running about that Tsar Alexander may set all serfs free.”

A ripple went through the performers. Beside Thad on the grandstand bench, Sofiya remained motionless as marble. He knew she must be thinking of her sister and her former village. Her sister wasn’t living as a serf anymore, but everyone she had known, childhood friends and trusted neighbors, still were.

“As you may imagine, this would have immense political ramifications,” Dodd continued. “Most of the landowners don’t care for the idea, to say the least. However, Alexander wants to bring Russia into more modern times, with a more modern economy, and serfdom isn’t part of such a plan. In any case, I’ve learned that many of the landowners are deeply in debt to the tsar or to the state banks. A great many of them have mortgaged their land-and their serfs-in order to keep up their lifestyles at court. If Alexander emancipates the serfs, the landowners might have to pay their mortgages off all at once, and they simply don’t have that kind of money. Or the tsar could forgive the debts, but that would mean the banks would be in trouble. You can see the mess, and understand why we need to steer clear of it.”

Thad glanced sidelong at Sofiya. For all the expression on her face, she might have been watching fish in an aquarium. He remembered her absolute composure when he had shot off his own hand in the wagon. Didn’t anything truly touch her?

Nikolai, for his part, sat very close to Thad. He sported his new clothes, but his scarf often slipped around his neck, and he didn’t wrap his metal hands at all. Another bag of metal scraps sat in his lap, and he crunched down bolts until Thad made him stop-the chewing noise was disconcertingly loud.

“You never know what might be driving anyone who talks to you,” Dodd said. “Assume the man-or woman-has an ulterior motive and act accordingly. We’re all experienced at dodging flatties. These are simply flatties with money. And, ladies, I don’t need to remind you that the men often see a circus as a traveling brothel, so don’t get caught alone. That advice might apply to some of the more attractive male persons among us. Ask Nathan who you are.”

A laugh went through the performers at that, and some of the tension that had been building eased. Still Sofiya did not react.

“All right then,” Dodd said. “Be in your places when the cannon fires at noon. Tsar or no tsar, we’re giving just another performance by the Kalakos Circus of Automatons and Other Wonders, the best circus in the whole damned world!”

The performers clapped, then rose to scatter. Sofiya nodded once at Thad and vanished out the exit flap before he could speak to her. Nikolai crunched a nail from his paper bag.

“Is the tsar scary?” he asked.

“I suppose he can be,” Thad told him. “He can make laws and order men thrown into prison or flogged.”

“Has he done?”

“I wouldn’t know. Though I’ve not heard of any king that didn’t do such things, so I suppose he has.”

“Would he do it to me?”

“No,” Thad replied absently, still staring at the exit where Sofiya had gone. “You’re an automaton. He’d have you melted down or the like.”

It was several moments before Thad realized Nikolai hadn’t answered. He looked down. The boy was staring at the ground. A little pang went through Thad’s stomach. How much an idiot was he? He knelt down in front of Nikolai.

“No, no,” he said. “The tsar won’t do any such thing.”

“I heard the Tsesarevich beat the clockworker and ordered his machines to pull him to pieces,” Nikolai whispered, eyes still down. “Mightn’t he order me to-”

“Good Lord, no,” Thad interrupted. “You needn’t worry about such things, Niko.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know. I won’t let him.”

Here, Nikolai did look up. “How could you stop him?”

“I have this, of course.” Thad made a fist with his brass hand. “It would stop a hundred Tsesareviches. No more nonsense now. We must get ready.”

“I need more alcohol. Mordovo gave me some very good brandy once. May I go ask him for more?”

Thad sighed. He would need to talk to Mordovo. On the other hand, if the magician could provide Nikolai with a steady food supply, what was the problem? He gave Nikolai a few coins. “Once is a nice favor. After that, you should buy it.”

For the first time in days, Nikolai scampered out of Thad’s sight. Still Thad marveled at how lifelike his movements were despite his metallic face and body. He wandered back toward his wagon, which was still parked with the others near the train cars. On the way, he passed the Black Tent. The boxcar’s sliding door was open a few inches, which was odd, and he thought he heard a soft sound from inside. On instant alert, he eased up to the opening, which was at face level, and pressed an eye to it.

Sofiya was inside. She was standing next to one of the workbenches with Dante’s inert form before her. It seemed a strange time to work on repairs, with the tsar’s performance starting soon. Then Thad realized the framed photograph of Olenka, the woman in the wheelchair, was propped up against Dante’s body, and Sofiya was speaking in a low voice.

“I don’t know how long I can hold on, Olenka,” she said in Russian. “There is so much. I have promised to fix this parrot and to build an elephant for the circus and I must perform for the tsar and keep watch on Nikolai. You would like Nikolai, Olenka. He is so like brother Nishka at that age. It breaks my heart every time I hear him speak.” She touched the photograph propped against Dante’s dented feathers. “I am trying to keep the fugues away, but when the madness comes…the pain and the fear and doubt all fade away. I want the madness, and yet I fear it. Does that make me insane?”

Thad felt uncomfortable now. He hadn’t known Sofiya talked to herself. He felt he should slip away, but curiosity kept him where he was.

“I am sorry, my sister, sorry for everything I did. I know I say this every day, and every day I hope you hear me and understand,” she murmured. Her voice was thick and tears slid down her face. It was so different from anything Thad had seen from her that he had a hard time understanding what he was seeing. It was like discovering that one’s cat was actually a giraffe.

Sofiya took a deep breath. “I must tell you, Olenka, that I broke my promise. A few days ago, I made myself go into a fugue on purpose. Can you understand? I needed to save someone important to me. Please don’t be angry. I won’t let it happen again. I love you, Olenka. Even when you will not speak to me, I love you.”

When she straightened her cloak and moved for the door, Thad eased away from it with years of stealthy practice. He hid around the corner of the Black Tent until Sofiya had exited, her normal mask of indifference firmly in place. Her scarlet cloak vanished among the other tents. Thad ran a hand, his brass hand, over his face. It would be better, he decided, to say nothing and let her have her private pain. He knew what that was about.

* * *

The tsar, of course, would not attend any performance in a mere tent, and if the tsar would not come to the circus, the circus quite naturally would come to the tsar. Dodd found this arrangement perfectly amenable-it gave him a chance to create a spectacle.

The parade lined up around the Field of Mars. The joeys in their bright costumes and wide greasepaint smiles cavorted about cages containing lions and leopards. The sole surviving elephant waited patiently in her place behind the Tortellis, who wore their glittering performance costumes of silk and finely woven wool. The Stilgores strode about in their high-legged stilt walker costumes, he with his cane, she with a tiny dog. The calliope hooted a merry tune on its colorful wagon. Nelson Merryweather blew a ball of fire into the air. Word had gotten out that the Kalakos Circus was performing for the tsar, which brought in new acts, and Dodd had added a seal trainer, an escape artist, and a troupe of Russian acrobats. They joined the parade as well. At the front rode Sofiya on Kalvis the Mechanical Wonder Horse, and before her, ready to burst with pride, came Nikolai. He wore a bright red jacket, and his face and hands were uncovered, revealing his half-human, half-mechanical face. Thad felt a simultaneous pride of his own that mixed with a nauseating dread. They pulled him in two equal directions. It was a fine thing to see a little boy-or something that mimicked one-appear so happy. What child didn’t dream of leading a circus parade? But this child, this machine, was the product of a lunatic genius, and Thad still didn’t know what its purpose might be.

Thad straightened his pirate’s outfit, patted his knives, and automatically checked for Dante on his shoulder. But Dante wasn’t there. He was still in the Black Tent, his gears gummed with muck. Damn the bloody bird anyway. Thad flexed his brass hand. It was now nearly as good as his flesh hand had been, but it still had a tiny delay that kept him from swallowing blades. Everyone made parade, however, and Thad didn’t care to give up a chance to see the Winter Palace in any case.

The Winter Palace faced the River Neva a scant ten-minute walk from the Field of Mars, a short parade. Dodd, however, had no intention of taking a direct route. Once he obtained consent from the tsar’s aides to make an actual parade, he pushed permission to the limit, choosing a path that would take the circus through a good part of Saint Petersburg. A circus lived on publicity, and a parade was the best publicity in the world.

As Nikolai’s handler, Thad was assigned a spot behind him near Sofiya and Kalvis at the front of the parade. Kalvis bore a trick-riding saddle, which sported loops and an extra-long horn. Sofiya wore a tight bodice of rich blue, with long leggings and a skirt that went down to her knees. Gold stars that matched her hair dotted the outfit, and they glittered in the chilly afternoon light. Her scarlet cloak had been cleaned, and she had thrown it over her shoulders while her sunlight hair spilled down her back. The effect was quite electric, and Thad, who had long since grown used to women in scandalously tight outfits, found himself staring at her nonetheless while the rest of the circus hustled itself into place. A crowd of soldiers and officers from the barrack assembled on the side of the street to watch, creating the head of a line of spectators that stretched far down the street. The men all stared at Sofiya.

“Is something wrong?” Sofiya asked.

Thad shook himself. “Not a bit. You look resplendent.”

She looked startled. “Spaceeba, ser. And you are quite handsome when you dress as a pirate.”

The noon cannon boomed from the roof of the prison where the clockworkers were kept, and on that signal, the calliope set to playing. Nikolai, a few paces ahead of Kalvis, looked uncertainly over his shoulder at Thad. Thad gestured encouragingly, and Nikolai started forward. Sofiya urged Kalvis to follow. He snorted steam, cranked his ears forward, and stepped smartly ahead, the curlicue designs on his polished skin gleaming with every move. Thad walked beside them.

“Wave to the nice people,” he told Sofiya, who set about doing just that.

The parade left the Field of Mars and reached the street, which had been cleared of traffic. The worst of the mud had been overlaid with straw, though the unfortunate clowns at the end of the parade would still get churned-up muck. Thad started to remind Nikolai which way to go, but the boy turned in the correct direction. He never forgot anything.

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.

They reached the Nicholas Hall, a breathtaking two-story room of white marble trimmed with gold. Thad felt swallowed up in the enormity of it. The Tilt would have easily fit inside with space to spare. Twelve crystal chandeliers, each more than twenty feet tall, hung from the ceiling, which was inlaid with more gold. Balconies and windows ringed the upper half on one side, and the other side sported high windows that looked out on a courtyard. The parquet floor was covered with bare earth. A closer look revealed that great canvas sheets had been spread over the floor and covered with dirt both to protect the floor and ensure the animals and people wouldn’t slip. It must have taken days to arrange, and at enormous cost, for a performance that would last barely two hours. At the far end of the hall, looking tiny in the distance, was a low platform with two golden thrones. A small table between them had a large vase of red roses on it. Only one throne was occupied. The tsar was seated, awaiting their grand entrance. Thad took a deep breath as they started across the floor toward him. Tsar Alexander II ruled the largest kingdom in the world after the British Empire, but while Queen Victoria had to contend with a parliament, Alexander ruled with tight control. His merest word was law, and despite Thad’s reassuring words to Nikolai, he could have the entire circus beheaded, or beaten to death with whips, or driven into the North Sea and drowned, or anything else he might enjoy. He looked unassuming-a dark-haired man in his early forties with a mustache, large side whiskers, and a receding hairline over a blue military uniform looped with gold braid. His expression was as impassive as Sofiya’s.

Crowded around the platform was the court, men and women in their elaborate dress. They pointed and clapped as the troupe entered the hall. Little automatons flitted about with dainties just as they had during the execution of the clockworker, though more human servants were also in evidence. Thad didn’t see the Tsesarevich, Alexander’s heir, and for that, he was grateful, though on the floor in front of the platform on five smaller thrones were five children. The oldest was a boy of about fifteen, and the youngest was a child of three. The tsar’s other children, Thad assumed. He was glad to see them-it was always easier on everyone to perform when children were in the audience. The younger ones were laughing and clapping like the court, but the teenaged boy wore an expression of practiced boredom.

The automaton wheeled itself within speaking range of the throne, bowed creakily, and announced, “Your Imperial Majesty, allow me to present the Kalakos Circus of Automatons and Other Wonders!”

Dodd came forward now and bowed low. Behind him, everyone in the circus did the same, including the elephant and Kalvis. The tsar’s children were looking at Nikolai with wide eyes. Thad’s mouth was dry. A lot rode on this. If the tsar enjoyed the performance, the circus would reap instant popularity. Everyone, rich and poor, would clamor for tickets to see the show the tsar himself admired, and every performer would become famous. But if the tsar showed a moment’s boredom or even-and Thad’s chest went tight at the thought-actual dislike, the Kalakos wouldn’t be able to pay audiences to attend, in Russia or anywhere else. A king in Germany had once destroyed a composer’s reputation by giving a single yawn during a symphony. The Tsar of Russia could do far worse.

“By your Majesty’s leave,” Dodd said in rote Russian he had learned from Sofiya, “may we make a spectacle?”

There was a moment of silence. Tension filled the air. Every performer in the circus stood stock still. Thad didn’t breathe.

The tsar shifted on his throne. “You may,” he said.

Dodd blew a shrill note on a silver whistle. Instantly, the parade sprang into action. The wagons rumbled forward to create a barrier across the Nicholas Hall for the performers to hide behind. Mama Berloni and her daughter stretched a white sheet between two poles to make a changing area for some of the women. Roustabouts rushed forward with pieces of a ring and fitted them together like a jigsaw puzzle on the earthen floor. Meanwhile, everyone who had an act that could be examined up close rushed in among the court to entertain during the setting up. The clowns fell over one another. Mordovo plucked a variety of objects out of thin air. Tina McGee’s poodles leaped about at her command. The Stilgores strode carefully about on their stilts, bowing elaborately. Thad could see they were tense, but to an outsider’s eye, they were performing just as they always did. Sofiya led Kalvis back to the wagons. Thad wanted to watch the tsar for his reactions but he knew he should get out of the way, so he followed her with Nikolai.

“Are you going to let me in on your secret performance, then?” Thad asked. This was another nervous point for him.

“What fun would that be?” Sofiya stroked Kalvis’s nose. “But I think you are misnamed, my dear one. You are indeed.”

And that was all she would say.

The court seemed to enjoy the up-close performances. The tsar’s younger children giggled and liked being allowed to pet the poodles. No one approached the tsar himself, who remained on his throne and watched everything with an expressionless face. Thad became more and more uneasy. For someone who reportedly enjoyed a circus, he didn’t seem to having a good time. What if he yawned? Or worse, got up and left the hall? The thought made Thad dizzy.

Once everything was set up, including a portable trapeze and tightrope rig for the flyers, Dodd stepped into the ring and everyone else withdrew behind the wagons. All had gone well so far, but none of the tension had evaporated, and the performers remained grimly silent behind the wagons. Nikolai stuck close to Thad and peeked around the lion cage to watch.

“We begin with a new act created for the tsar himself,” Dodd announced. “Sofiya Ivanova Ekk!”

The calliope burst into song. Sofiya leaped aboard Kalvis and trotted out to the ring. Thad watched, heart pounding. This was an incredible risk. Sofiya was a first-timer. Her act was completely untried, and putting her as the opener before the tsar seemed foolish in the extreme. The grim faces on the other performers told him they felt much the same way. But Nathan had said only that the Kalakos Circus was known for its automatons, and they needed to open with an act that used one. Period. Thad prayed that Dodd-or Nathan, at any rate-knew what he was doing.

In the ring, Kalvis, with Sofiya on his back, knelt on his forelegs to the tsar, then reared on his hind legs and walked several steps forward. The court made appreciative noises. Sofiya herself stood up, lightly climbed to Kalvis’s head, and perched atop him, her feet braced on his nose and on his stiff mane. Nikolai gasped and Thad found he was biting a thumbnail. Sofiya swirled her cloak around her body like a scarlet flower. The court applauded, though the tsar had yet to react.

Kalvis dropped back to the ground. Sofiya rolled free of him and vaulted back onto his back. He spun in place, faster and faster, and Sofiya’s cloak furled outward in a pinwheel. Amazingly, she stood up again like a ballet dancer and, still spinning, leaped high into the air, her cloak and skirt still swirling about her. She came down just as Kalvis froze to let her land. The court clapped wildly. Thad did, too. Though he knew it was all possible because of Sofiya’s clockworker reflexes, it was still breathtaking to watch.

Next Sofiya flung her cloak aside and set Kalvis to cantering about the ring while she did many of the more usual riding tricks-hanging from the sides, bouncing from one side to the other, doing handstands on the horse’s back. Here the court began to lose interest; there was nothing particularly new or daring here. The tsar looked bored, and Thad tensed again. Sofiya brought Kalvis to a halt so he was sideways to the tsar. The calliope music changed, and she circled Kalvis three times. When she rapped smartly on his rump, a cunning trap door opened from his hindquarters. A drumroll began. While the court and the tsar stared, Sofiya reached inside and, with great flair, pulled out a long, slender box. Thad caught his breath as the box unfolded. Legs ending in tiny hooves extended down to the ground. A long head rose on a graceful neck. A tail rolled down from the back. In seconds, Sofiya was showing off a little brass colt that walked forward on unsteady legs. An amazed laugh burst inside Thad’s chest, and he had to fight to hold it in. Incredible! Nikolai clapped both his hands over his mouth to keep quiet.

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.”