The Havoc Machine

Chapter Twenty

Kalvis labored as he ran. He needed to be stoked and wound. The new wireless transmitter she had installed at the Peter and Paul Fortress sapped even more of his energy, and unlike a real horse, he couldn’t be pushed. Hoping for the best and not daring to examine the mathematics too closely, she rode him as hard as she dared through the streets. The sun had touched the horizon, and the tsar would attack in less than eight minutes. There was nothing she could do about that now. She had done everything she could, actually, and the thought of sitting still, even among all those weapons, made her ill. It would be beyond foolish to make a run at Vasilyevsky Island, but there was one other place she could go.

The horse arrived at an all-too-familiar building. Sofiya dismounted. The rucksack she wore felt strange on her back, and the baton clipped to the belt around her waist didn’t help. She moved aside the sewer cover with a practiced ease, dropped into the tunnel below, and lit a tin lantern. Water dripped, and darkness stretched before and behind her. Dammit all, now she did feel more secure underground, with good, solid stone close around her. Never, ever would she admit this to Thad.

If she ever saw him again. With Nikolai.

Best not to think of that. Just keep moving.

The route was familiar now, and she easily found her way to Mr. Griffin’s lair and clambered down the rungs. Mr. Griffin’s jar with its pink cargo was in its usual place, surrounded by the crated machinery and the spiders. Zygmund Padlewski and his friends were still working at their desks. In the corner slumped the twisted version of Nikolai like a broken doll, deactivated now that it had served its purpose.

“You!” said Mr. Griffin in English. “What are you doing here? I-”

Sofiya pressed a button atop the baton, which was connected to the pack by a thick cable. Instantly, every spider in the room shut down. Zygmund’s wireless transmitter went dead. He glanced up, bewildered.

“Do you know what this device does, Mr. Griffin?” she said in icy Russian. “It generates a magnetic field that interferes with all wireless transmission. I put it together in the Peter and Paul Fortress a moment ago. Mr. Padlewski, the brain man here has been playing you. There is no revolution. He intends to keep you around for your cerebrospinal fluid. He’s been drinking those clockworkers for years. They help him live longer. It’s the only reason he would surround himself with other lunatics.”

She kicked open one of the crates. Primeval, the plant clockworker, fell out. The top of his head had been neatly removed, revealing smooth yellow bone. His eyes bulged beneath an empty brain pan. Zygmund and the others bolted to their feet.

“Didn’t have a chance to get rid of that with them always underfoot,” Griffin muttered in English.

“Run, fools!” Sofiya said, and had to quell an urge to laugh insanely as they scrambled down a different tunnel, leaving only a few papers drifting on the air.

“You know you’ve sealed your sister’s death warrant,” Griffin said when they had gone. “Though I might be persuaded to leave her alone temporarily if you-”

“Shut it,” she snapped. “I spent my entire life being frightened, Mr. Griffin. Frightened of the landowner, frightened of the tsar, frightened of you. Do you know what I have learned? Fear is power. But it’s a power of choice. I chose to give you power over me. And now I’m choosing to revoke it.”

“Your sister-”

Sofiya stepped forward and tapped on the glass jar with a fingernail. “You’re afraid of me now, aren’t you? You should be. You’re helpless. Your spiders don’t work. Your men have fled. You’re two pounds of meat in a jar. And I have a sledgehammer.” From her pocket she produced a bumpy metal egg. “The Russians have some very nice weapons in the fortress. This is called a grenade.”

“An explosive device?” Mr. Griffin said coolly. “Isn’t that-?”

“Blunt? Crude? Tactless? Yes.” She fingered the little firing pin. So smooth, so elegant, even though she hadn’t built it. “Exactly the opposite of what a sophisticated clockworker should use. Completely unexpected and incalculable. Which is why I’m choosing to use it. Good-bye, Mr. Griffin. I look forward to dissecting what is left of your brain after I scrape it from the walls.”

Her finger moved toward the pin. And then a terrible, painful sound ripped through her. It was as if the maw of the universe sucked her in and chewed her mind with billions of teeth. Her mind tried to make sense of the tritone her ears were receiving, and it got caught in the endless spirals of numbers that made up the basic mathematics of it. It could not exist, but it did exist, and the impossibility of it tore her to pieces.

“You forgot I can do that,” Mr. Griffin’s warm, chocolate voice said over the noise. “I can play it until your little device runs down and I regain control of my spiders. Then you will die, Miss Ekk, and your fluids will feed me.”

Sofiya was on her hands and knees now. The sound was a ten-ton weight. Her throat was hoarse, and she realized it was because she was screaming. A red light flashed on the baton clipped to her waist.

“Ah! I believe your battery is already running out. A hazard when you build in haste.”

The spiders twitched. A few came upright and shook themselves like little dogs. Sofiya’s skull was filled with red lava. Every nerve burned. She clawed her way upright, using the wall for support. The sound got worse, and the pain grew with it. She was directly underneath Mr. Griffin’s speaker box. Summoning her last bit of strength, she lunged for it.

“Stop! You can’t-”

Sofiya yanked the box from the wall and smashed it on the ground. The sound ended, taking with it the pain. Relief sweet as spring rain rushed over her. But the spiders were already moving. They came at her in a pack. Sofiya dropped the rucksack and sprinted for the same tunnel Zygmund and the others had used. The spiders came fast. At the last moment, she pulled the grenade pin and threw it over her shoulder. She caught a glimpse of Mr. Griffin’s brain in the jar just before the explosion knocked her through the air.

When the noise and heat ended and the dust settled a bit, Sofiya got unsteadily to her feet and edged back to the chamber, ears ringing. Some of the stones had come down from the ceiling, but it hadn’t collapsed entirely. Most of the equipment and the crates were smashed to flinders, and the clockworker bodies hidden inside some of them lay in gory piles. Sofiya mused with a strange detachment that Mr. Griffin had intended her to be one of them, eventually. The jar had been obliterated. Nothing left but a pink smear on the blackened floor. Sofiya scrubbed at it with one toe. She had won. Olenka was safe forever. But Thad and Nikolai were still in danger, and they were her main worry now.

As she was turning to go, her eye alighted on the deactivated Nikolai in its corner. The blast hadn’t hurt it at all. It just vaguely resembled the real Nikolai, and then only when the light was right, but she suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of leaving it-him-down here in the dark, abandoned and alone. She tucked the little automaton under one arm and trotted away. Perhaps she could bury him, give him a bit of dignity. More than Mr. Griffin deserved.

* * *

Thad and Nikolai arrived on the Academy roof with Dante. The colt and Maddie had stayed below. Twenty or thirty automatons milled aimlessly about. They examined their hands, their clothes, the smokestacks, and one another as if truly seeing them for the first time.

“Two minutes,” said Dante. “Two.”

On the roof was also the enormous weapon Thad had seen earlier. It looked like a cannon made of glass and brass and steel on a swivel base the size of a beer lorry. A great copper coil wound round the barrel, which was easily twenty feet long and four feet in diameter. Cables ran from it to the smaller machines scattered across the roof. Thad guessed they provided power. There was a chair with a control panel directly behind the barrel, and it thrummed loud enough to make the roof tiles throb. The entire cannon was aimed across the river directly at the Peter and Paul Fortress.

Wishing with all his might Sofiya were here, Thad clambered into the chair and said, “Nikolai, see if you can get your…brothers to help us.”

Nikolai turned to the other automatons. “Brothers! We need you. I know it feels strange now. I know what it feels like to start thinking for the first time. But please-can you help?”

Most of them ignored Nikolai, but four of them came forward. All four were full-sized automatons. Two moved like Nikolai, and two lurched clumsily. “I will help,” one said slowly. “And I,” added the second.

“One minute,” Dante said. “One.”

Thad peered through a telescopic eyepiece. A gun sight drawn on the lens showed that the cannon was aimed at the top of the fortress wall. The lens also showed dozens of soldiers atop the fortress, along with a great many enormous weapons, all of which were pointed in their direction. The soldiers were waiting, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Thad swallowed. If this didn’t work, they were all dead.

“One of you run downstairs and tell everyone to leave the building. Run for the woods on the north side of the island,” Thad instructed, and one of the automatons went. “You others know this weapon, and I don’t,” he continued. “Bring the aim downward until I say stop.”

An automaton said, “But we were to aim it at-”

“Please!” Thad said. “I’m trying to save everyone.”

“Do as he says, brothers,” Nikolai put in. “He stopped the voice and let you think.”

The automatons paused a moment, then went to the platform and spun cranks in complicated patterns. The sight moved downward until it was pointing at the base of the fortress. The soldiers at the top were looking back over their shoulders. Were they receiving orders?

“Time!” said Dante. “Time! Doom!”

“Stop!” Thad ordered, and he pulled what he hoped was the trigger.

The thrumming grew louder, then built into a whine. The copper coil glowed in a spiral around the barrel, and power crackled within. The cannon glowed like the interior of a sun, and then a blast of energy burst forth. It smashed into the base of the fortress wall. Thad peered into the sight. A hole the size of a large cottage had been blown into the wall and a sizable chunk of the ground beneath had been vaporized as well. The rest of the wall was already cracking and crumbling, and water from the river rushed into the fortress. Soldiers and clockworkers fled the top of the wall, leaving the massive weapons behind. Thad even heard the faint shouts and cries.

“To the right!” Thad shouted. “Move to the right!”

More cranking. The great weapon glowed and fired again. More of the base wall went down, giving the soldiers enough time to flee before it crumbled, but not letting them fire the weapons. Now two sides of the fortress were gone with, as far as Thad could tell, no casualties.

“We’re doing it!” he shouted. “We’re doing it! We’re-”

A deep rushing noise was the only warning they had. Something slammed into the rooftop with explosive force. Thad was thrown from the cannon. He hit his head, and the world swayed dizzily. He tried to regain his feet, failed, and tried again. Smoke filled the air.

“Nikolai!” he cried. “Niko!”

Another rush, followed by an explosion. This one hit farther away, but it still knocked Thad down. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. He coughed and got to his feet again, calling Nikolai’s name. The smoke was so thick, he couldn’t see more than a foot before him. He had to get off the roof, get out of the building, but he wouldn’t leave without Nikolai.

The smoke cleared a moment, and he saw Nikolai lying on the roof tiles. Dante was crouched on his chest. Other automatons lay scattered about like manikins. Thad stumbled over and gathered Nikolai up.

“Nikolai! Are you all right?”

Nikolai didn’t respond. Dante hauled himself up to Thad’s shoulder. Thad didn’t wait to see what was wrong. He ran for the stairs. Whistling and more rushing sounds filled the air, and explosions thudded elsewhere on the island.

The stairs were destroyed. A great hole gaped in the roof where they had been. Thad dashed to the side of the building. Many of the cables and wires draped over the building had been blown loose and they hung down like vines. Before he could lose his nerve, Thad tightened his hold on Nikolai with his right arm and grabbed a cable with his brass left. Praising Sofiya for the increased strength in his new hand, he clambered over the edge and slid down as fast as he dared. His hand heated up and air rushed past him and his shoulders burned, but he didn’t let go. Yet another explosion hit the roof above dead center, sending vibrations down the cable like piano wire. Thad lost his grip and dropped.

He fell two feet to the sidewalk.

“Bless my soul,” said Dante.

Thad ignored him. His entire being was focused on getting Nikolai to safety. Nothing else mattered. Chaos reigned in the streets again. Automatons ran in all directions, just as frightened as humans. Arms and legs and heads, some still moving, littered the cobbles. The little body was limp in Thad’s arms as he ran around the side of the building and blundered into the colt with Maddie on his back.

“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?”

“Doom,” whispered Dante.

“He has lost many parts from his head,” Sofiya said. “Normally it would be impossible to repair him without replacements. But when I destroyed Mr. Griffin-”

Thad’s fingers went numb at this, and he let go her cloak. “You what?”

“It happened while you were on the island.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “That is a story for later. From his lair, I brought out…”

Realization stole over Thad. “That other Nikolai.”

“Mr. Griffin had already shut him down permanently. I couldn’t leave it-him-down there, so I brought him here.” She lit more lanterns from the first, and in a corner Thad could now see the stunted Nikolai, huddled and broken. It should have given him a turn, but instead all he felt was hope.

“You could use his parts to bring Nikolai back!” he exclaimed. “Why are you waiting? Do it!”

“It is complicated, Thad.” Sofiya sank to a stool. “In order to do so, I would have to go deeper into a fugue than I have ever gone. I don’t know if I would come out. I might go completely mad like those other clockworkers. Like Mr. Griffin was, in the end.”

He knelt beside her and took her hand. “I’ll be here with you. I won’t let you slide.”

“There’s more, and you need to decide, Thaddeus Sharpe.” She took a breath. “He lost many memory wheels. They make up his past, who he is. I remember much of what I saw in their placement when I repaired him last time, but I do not remember everything. In other words, the Nikolai who comes back may or may not be the Nikolai who died.”

Grief turned to disgust. Thad got up and turned his back. “No.”

Sofiya sat behind him without speaking.

“What’s the point, Sofiya? If Nikolai was truly alive and able to…to die, then he can’t be just a machine who can be reworked with a new set of memory wheels. And if he was always just a machine, then there’s no point in bringing him back at all.”

“Was he alive, Thad?” Sofiya asked softly.

“Yes!” Thad choked. “Yes, he was. And you can’t bring the living back from the dead. He wouldn’t be the same person. He wouldn’t be Nikolai.”

“Do you have a sword in your throat even now?” Sofiya said. “Must everything be divided into right and left, black and white, this or that? You believed that all clockworkers were evil, but now I think you see that while some do evil things, others can do good, just like people. You believed clockworker inventions were untrustworthy, but you chose to keep one as your hand and treat another as your son.”

“This is life and death, Sofiya. We aren’t God.”

“God gave us the power to choose what to do.” She came round in front of him and took his hands again. “Nikolai is my little boy, too. I will swallow my fear like your swords and do my best to bring him back. But I will only do so if you wish it.”

Thad hung there between choices for a long moment. It was so easy to see the world as divided in half, black or white, this or that. Ever since David’s death, he had walked the dividing line between the two sides. If he worked hard enough, he could restore the balance between them, make up for David’s pain and loss.

He could make up for letting David down.

Thad had let the world taint that balance. He had done the bidding of one clockworker. He had befriended another. He had surrounded himself with automatons and called one of them his son. Now he was paying for it in pain.

But what had tending to the balance brought him in return? Had he been any happier killing clockworkers? It certainly hadn’t brought David back. Meanwhile, blurring the boundaries had brought him Nikolai, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, too. Whatever the chance, he had to take it. A father could only make one choice.

“Do it,” he said. “Please.”

It was the longest night of Thad’s life. Sofiya stormed about the Black Tent in a rage, and her words were as terrible as her fists when Thad was too slow for her. He did manage to duck out to tell Dodd what was going on, and Mama Berloni brought hearty food and strong tea to keep Thad awake. Still, he felt himself sliding. Sofiya’s clockworker’s energy kept her going strong, but Thad was only human, and his body was already running out of power. Fatigue clouded his mind, and he made a mistake. A ringing slap from Sofiya sent him reeling.

Nathan’s strong arms wrapped around him. “You’re finished!” he barked, tossing Thad outside, where Dodd and Piotr the strongman caught him. To Thad’s astonishment, the rest of the circus had gathered round with torches and lanterns. Mama Berloni swaddled him in a blanket and shoved a buttered roll into his mouth. Mordovo gave him a flask of something bitter that almost instantly relieved most of his pains. The Tortellis had brought a cot and they pushed Thad onto it.

“I’ll take it from here,” Nathan said, and vanished inside the Black Tent, where Sofiya was still shouting and cursing.

“I’d better get in there, too,” Dodd said, and followed.

Thad blinked up at everyone, bewildered.

“Did you think you were the only one who cared about Nikolai?” Mama Berloni loomed over him with her huge arms folded. “Huh! We take care of family!”

“Sleep,” Mordovo intoned. “We’ll keep watch and wake you when there’s news. Sleep!”

“I shouldn’t…” Thad muttered.

Moments later, a hand shook him awake. He sat up on the cot, confused and befuddled. Dodd, disheveled and with a swollen cheek, was bending over him. The sky was lightening and the air was cold. Every muscle ached. Where the hell was-

Memory slammed through him, and he shot to his feet, ignoring the scream from his sore body. The circus folk were sitting or standing in small groups, still waiting.

“What happened?” Thad demanded. “How is he?”

“Sofiya’s out of her fugue,” Dodd said. “Nikolai hasn’t woken up yet, but she said you should come in.”

Thad climbed into the boxcar, heart jumping about like a frightened hare. The Black Tent’s interior blazed with lanterns. Sofiya, her hair wild and her cloak thrown back, was standing by the worktable. Nikolai lay on it. His head was completely repaired. He was even dressed. Underneath, covered by the white sheet, were the small, sad remains of the other Nikolai. Dante bobbed up and down on the table. Astonished, Thad saw that the parrot was fully repaired as well. New feathers gleamed, and he had two good eyes. Thad automatically brought him to his shoulder.

“I believe there were periods when I had to wait for Nikolai’s wheels to align themselves,” Sofiya said. Her voice was hoarse. “I did not wish to do nothing.”

“Sharpe is sharp,” Dante said, and poked Thad’s ear with his cool beak.

For a moment Thad couldn’t speak. Then he said, “Well?”

“I believe I’ve restored Nikolai as best I can.” She leaned wearily against the worktable. “Now we merely…see.”

Thad noticed her hands looked strange. He picked one up and turned it over. Her fingers and palms were blistered and bleeding. She winced and sucked in a breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“A small penance,” she replied.

“Thank you.” He released her hand. “However this turns out, I want you to know that I’m grateful.”

Without further comment, she reached behind Nikolai’s ear with her bloodstained fingers and pressed the switch. During the interval that followed, Thad held his breath. He couldn’t bear it. He wanted to run off, do anything but watch, let someone else tell him how it turned out. But he stayed. Long, agonizing seconds ticked by. Nothing happened. More seconds. Still nothing.

“I failed,” Sofiya said at last. Her voice broke. “Oh God-I failed. I-”

Nikolai turned his head. He blinked twice, then saw Thad. He sat up and cocked his head. Thad couldn’t move. He didn’t dare.

“Nikolai?” he breathed.

Nikolai stared at him. The upper half of his face still looked so human above the mechanical lower half. Thad swallowed, remembering the little boy he had rescued from Havoc’s castle, the one who read books on the train, who drank whisky and ate bolts, who danced Irish jigs, who told him how to be a father, who had brought him into this strange and incredible new family. Was it still him?

“Papa!” Nikolai said, and held up his arms. “Ta da!”

Thad gave a shout of utter joy and swept Nikolai high into the air. Beside him, Sofiya was laughing and shouting along with them. The three of them came into a hard embrace that lasted years and years. Dante bobbed back and forth on Thad’s shoulder, squawking and screeching with a joy of his own until Thad put up a hand to calm him down.

“Sharp sharp sharp sharp sharp!” Dante nuzzled Thad’s ear, and then Nikolai’s. “Dammit!”

“Did I do it right, Papa?”

Thad set him down, wiping the tears from his face. “Do what right, Niko?”

“You said a circus act is all about doing the impossible or unexpected, and that you have to make what you’re doing look more dangerous than it is.” Nikolai’s face was serious. “And you said that you can’t stay safe. So I came back.”

Thad and Sofiya exchanged glances. “Are you saying,” Thad said, “that you came back as part of a…a circus act?”

“I remembered what you said,” Nikolai said, “and it helped me come back.”

“But how could you remember what I said if you hadn’t come back?” Thad asked.

“I remembered what you said,” Nikolai repeated, “and it helped me come back.”

Sofiya laid a hand on his arm. “I think this is a question for philosophers. For now, I would like something to eat, and to rest.”

“You have to take care of Mama,” Nikolai agreed. “Because-”

“-that’s what a papa does,” Thad finished with the widest grin of his life. “You’re completely right, my son.”

They emerged from the Black Tent into the light of the rising sun amid cheers and cries of gladness from the circus.