Blood and Iron p-2 Page 13

  ‘You like to draw questions from me, don’t you Ada? Very well, there is time whilst we walk. Tell me about the robots of the mountains.

  The Story of the Robots of the Mountains

  ‘Long ago, robots found the land of Born, a thin stretch of land squeezed between the sea and the mountains. Now, some say that the first inhabitants of that land descended to it from the peaks, and others say that the first inhabitants climbed from the sea, but all are agreed that the land of Born was a paradise for robots. The ground was rich in coal, buried so shallow that a robot did not have to mine, but could pull it straight from the earth. All they had to do was hold out their hands for iron ore to tumble onto them from a nearby mountain. Some days, it was said, even molten lead would rise from the earth around their feet, ready to be scooped up and used. A robot could stand in one place and wait for the materials of the forge to come to it.

  ‘And so robots flourished in the land of Born. It is said that the whales would come to the shore to speak, secure in the knowledge they would not be harmed, such was the abundance of metal in the land, and so a friendship grew up here between the two species.

  ‘Some even say that robots travelled from the Top of the World, riding in the bodies of the whales.

  ‘So the robots lived a life of ease. But such ease does not suit robotkind. For sloth and indolence took hold of those robots, until there came the day that that the best women of Born looked at the men, and they found them wanting.

  ‘There was much iron to be found in the mountains, so much so that the men took it for granted, making themselves bodies of iron, and never bothering to roam further afield in search of copper or chrome or nickel. Therefore the best of the women began to complain of the diminishing quality of the men’s wire, for the minds that they wove would be much improved by the presence of silver or a little gold, but the men just laughed and said the women were being too demanding, and wasn’t that the way of women?

  ‘Eventually the best women tired of this. So one night, when Zuse and Neel shared the sky and the snow of the mountains seemed to shine palely itself, the women took themselves along the paths into the high peaks. There they built themselves castles and towers out of rock, and they set traps and deadfalls and did all they could to make the passage to themselves as difficult as possible, that only the most worthy men could reach them-’

  ‘I’ve heard this story before,’ interrupted Kavan. ‘In the North Kingdom. And in Stark.’

  ‘This is not a story,’ said Ada. ‘Follow this path and you will see the places in the mountains that the women built. You will see the high balconies upon which they waited.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Kavan, ‘I believe you.’

  Ada resumed her story.

  ‘The women waited. Eventually, the first men came climbing up to meet them. Those women looked down from their high towers that pierced the clear blue sky and saw the robots climbing the icy paths. But these robots were not the men they had left behind in the lowlands of Born. For the weak, iron-bound bodies those robots had worn would not have withstood the journey up into the high peaks. The men who approached the women in their towers had, of need, built themselves better bodies. They had been forced to travel in search of new metal and new ideas, and these they had incorporated into themselves. Furthermore, these robots were the few who had the bravery and the skill to climb the mountains to meet the women. And so the only men who showed the necessary skill and engineering to climb the mountains and make it past the traps and the deadfalls were judged worthy to make new minds with the women.

  ‘Time passed. And it came to be that the robots who dwelled in the highlands thought less and less of their brothers and sisters of the lowlands. For did not those robots who had remained behind still have the same iron bodies that they always had? Had they not remained in place whilst others had been tempered by the fire? And so those highlanders gradually separated themselves from the world below. They lived a harsh life in the mountains, and through this they became stronger and better engineered.’

  Kavan listened to the story with interest.

  ‘Well, that would explain why the robots of Born were so easy to conquer,’ he said.

  ‘You never met the true Borners,’ said Ada. ‘You may see them yet.’

  ‘You said your mother was a Raman. You admire the Borners?’

  ‘I appreciate good engineering.’

  Kavan nodded thoughtfully. He looked out to his right, down the sheer wall along which the road ran.

  ‘Was it really the Borners who built this road?’ he asked.

  ‘Possibly,’ said Ada. ‘That’s what they claim.’

  Kavan nodded. He understood this much at least. ‘I’d do the same. It would help to inspire fear in my enemies.’

  Night fell, and the army came to a halt.

  Robots sat down, they pooled coal and charcoal, piled it against the low walls at the side of the road and made fires on which they could heat metal and make some repairs to themselves.

  Kavan had spent only a short time in the polluted lands of Artemis; most of his adult life had seen him wandering the continent of Shull. Even so, he had never seen a sky as clear as this. The stars seemed to billow in great sheets of light above him, darkening the surrounding peaks still further by comparison. He gazed up into the sky, thinking.

  ‘You can see the planet Bohm over there,’ said Ada, still there at his side. ‘The bright light, just through the peaks.’

  Kavan looked over to where she indicated.

  ‘They say the robots who travelled down the Northern Road liked to look at the stars,’ she continued. ‘They built an observatory up here in the mountains. The air is thinner, you get a better view.’

  ‘I saw an observatory on the northern coast,’ began Kavan, but his voice trailed away. All around him robots were pausing in their repairs and staring up into the night sky. Kavan followed their gaze and saw why.

  Zuse, the night moon, was on fire.

  Kavan was not a superstitious robot, but as he stared into the sky as rainbow light arced from the moon, he wondered what it signified.

  ‘Is this an atmospheric phenomenon?’ he asked Ada, not quite concealing the note of hope in his voice.

  ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘Look, you can see how it’s erupting from the surface of the moon.’

  Kavan looked back down the path behind him. Thousands of pairs of eyes were turned to the sky, yellow and green and red lights shining in the darkness.

  Then he turned back to the sky. A long flare of light trailed from the moon into the darkness. What was going on?

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do heard the Copper Market well before he entered it. The noise of so many robots speaking and shouting; the ringing of metal being beaten into shape; the cackle and lowing of animals: the sounds echoed through the narrow streets of the mid-city.

  He entered beneath the bone arch and found himself amongst the seemingly random collection of close-packed stalls and booths that had been gathering here in Sangrel for hundreds of years. Commanders had come and commanders had gone, but the Copper Market had sailed on through time untouched by higher events. There were stalls here whose position had been handed down from maker to robot for generations; there were traders whose lineage went back to the time that Sangrel had been carved from the rock.

  Originally, this had been the place where copper was traded, but as the fame of the market spread, so other stalls had been set up, until the Copper Market had become the principle place to buy and exchange goods for all of southern Yukawa.

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do had entered the market by the livestock gate, and he found himself jostled by two skinny cows pushing their way through the crowd. Their owner, an iron robot carrying a long wooden stick, fell to his knees before Wa-Ka-Mo-Do in horror and supplication.

  ‘Peace,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, signalling to the Copper Guard to remain still. ‘They are fine animals,’ he said to their owner.

  ‘Thank you, oh my master.�
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  ‘This is a breed prized for its leather, is it not?’

  ‘Yes, my master.’

  The robot remained kneeling before him, eyes fixed on Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s feet.

  ‘You had better retrieve your animals before they cause some damage,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, and he went on his way into the crowded square.

  There was so much to see here. Birds with clipped wings fluttered and squawked in cages, lizards baked in the hot sun. A frantic bellowing sounded, and Wa-Ka-Mo-Do turned to watch a cow being carefully cut apart. Two strong robots held it in a metal grasp whilst a woman drew a knife beneath its throat. Rich red blood squirted over her body, it dripped from her elbows onto the stone ground. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do looked down to see that he had been walking in the sticky fluid: red metal footprints tracked his progress through the market.

  There was a sudden commotion, the sound of someone shouting, and laughter spread through the crowd. The noise reminded Wa-Ka-Mo-Do of home, it was so long since he had heard people laughing like this, and he moved to see what had happened, the Copper Guard clearing a path for him as he went. He came upon a woman scolding her child, holding up the bodies of four dead animals by their tails. Rats, he thought. What use a robot would make of their skin and bones he didn’t know, but poverty found a use for most things.

  ‘No!’ she was shouting. ‘They’re animals. Animals! You can’t swap their heads around!’

  The crowd laughed all the louder as the child tried to stick the heads of the dead animals back on their bodies. They laughed at the woman, at her frustration at losing stock, but the laughter died away as they saw Wa-Ka-Mo-Do standing there in their midst.

  ‘Madam, he made an honest mistake,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, but already the crowd was dissipating. The woman fell to her knees before him, and at that moment Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah appeared at his shoulder.

  ‘Honoured Commander, I have found you at last!’

  ‘Greetings, Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah.’

  ‘Honoured Commander, if I may say, it does not do to be too approachable to your subjects. Not ever, but especially not now, when they talk and plot against you.’

  ‘Against me, Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah?’ He laughed. ‘I have only just arrived here!’

  ‘They plot against the Emperor, and so by default, against his representative here. Honoured Commander, the people here are angry. Rumour sweeps the city and the surrounding lands.’

  ‘The people here seem quite content, Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah.’

  ‘The people here haven’t lost their jobs in the mines and the fields. The people here still have goods to trade.’ For just a moment, the frustration sounded in Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah’s voice. ‘My apologies, Honoured Commander, I speak out of turn.’

  ‘No, not at all. It’s your duty to keep me informed. Now, lead on. What is it you wish me to see?’

  A shadow passed over Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah’s face. ‘Not out here, Honoured Commander. For the moment, you are merely taking a walk in the market, inspecting the produce. Follow me, and I will show you.’

  Puzzled, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do followed Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah out of the livestock market and through the tanner’s quarter, where he saw slowly turning drums filled with chromium sulphate and animal hide.

  ‘I knew a robot with a nose who walked through here,’ said Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah, in an attempt to appear nonchalant. ‘She said the smell was terrible!’

  ‘Really?’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, looking at a rack of pale blue skins, drying in the sun.

  They passed into the Copper Market proper, and Wa-Ka-Mo-Do halted for a moment, struck by the scene.

  The stalls here were older, but more substantial. They were made of iron decorated with a fine filigree of copper. And set out on them, glowing pale pink, looking so pure it made Wa-Ka-Mo-Do ache to touch them, were ingots of copper. Beautiful, clean pink copper.

  ‘What couldn’t a robot make with such metal?’ he said in awe.

  ‘Oh, indeed,’ said Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah, ‘but not now. This way.’

  They passed on, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do looking about him at the pure ingots of iron and aluminium and gold and feeling the pull of them throughout his electromuscles.

  They came to the poorer part of the market, the northern end, built up against the walls and cliffs that rose up to the high city where Smithy Square and the Copper Master’s house were built. The light here was dimmer, the stalls crowded closer together. The wares on sale were of poorer quality, the robots that thronged the narrow ways were of poorer construction. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do watched a young woman searching through a selection of scraps of tin and poor alloys, hunting for the best-quality metal. Her body was cheaply made, dented and scratched. In that she resembled the other robots who walked here. Fires glowed pale red, lit by poor coal, and black smoke drifted by. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do was aware of how the robots here gazed at him. There was still fear, yes, but there was envy too. Envy of his strong body, envy of who he was. And underneath it all, resentment.

  ‘We’re here,’ said Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah, and Wa-Ka-Mo-Do saw he had been led to very edge of the market. The old stone walls of the city rose high up above him, partly rockface, partly bricks. Caves and rooms had been cut out of these walls, and robots had set up more stalls and forges and storerooms within them. Despite the bustle of the market, the area in front of one of the caves stood empty. There was a leather curtain draped across its entrance, and it was to this one that Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah was leading Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.

  ‘It is best that you see, Honoured Commander.’ He pulled aside the curtain, just a little, and Wa-Ka-Mo-Do stepped into the darkness beyond.

  A silver robot moved towards him, drawing her blade. She let it fall when she saw who it was.

  ‘My apologies, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. I did not immediately realize it was you.’

  ‘Peace, La-Ver-Di-Arussah.’ Wa-Ka-Mo-Do recognized her insult: she was implying that he dressed himself in the manner of a peasant.

  ‘At the back,’ said Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah. The cave was deeper than Wa-Ka-Mo-Do expected. An oil lamp didn’t quite illuminate its furthest reaches.

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do moved into the dimness, and he saw the body. He could not quite hide the shock in his voice.

  ‘It’s one of the Emperor’s army!’ he said. ‘One of the robots under my command!’ He looked closer. There was something strange about the body. The metal panelling didn’t look right, it didn’t look like steel and aluminium should…

  ‘It’s leather,’ he said softly, reaching out to touch the skin. ‘They took off the metal panelling and dressed him in animal skin.’

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do knew that he could not show his concern to his inferiors, yet it was a struggle to remain calm in the face of this obscenity. What minds would do this to a robot?

  ‘There was a note around his neck,’ said La-Ver-Di-Arussah.

  She held out a thin sheet of foil with words inscribed upon it. A human next time…

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do felt as if there was a current running through the metal of the note. It seemed to surge through his body, burning him.

  ‘When did they find him?’

  ‘Last night. The brothers who owned this place have vanished. There are rumours that they were involved with the resistance.’ Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah’s voice was laced with static. ‘These were robots who did this. Robots will suffer because of this. Children will lose their parents. Husbands will lose wives.’

  Something occurred to him. ‘Does the Emperor know of this?’ he asked Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah.

  ‘Not yet.’

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do looked at the dead guard again. ‘Then he shan’t,’ he decided.

  ‘That isn’t your choice to make,’ observed La-Ver-Di-Arussah.

  Wa-Ka-Mo-Do spun to face her.

  ‘Would you question my orders?’

  ‘Not at all, Honoured Commander,’ she replied, and she rested her hand on her sword. ‘But I consider it my duty to advise you.’

  ‘But not in such a manner that I lose face,’ replied Wa-Ka-Mo-Do
, and he drew his own sword so quickly that even La-Ver-Di-Arussah’s eyes flashed in surprise. ‘And so for the second time I wonder if you are challenging me to a duel. Or would you rather apologize for insulting me before an inferior?’

  ‘Honoured Commander, I-’

  ‘Silence, Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah. Before you answer, La-Ver-Di-Arussah, I should explain. Whoever did this is expecting an extreme response. They are hoping that arrests will be made, and that examples will be set. They are hoping to see coils being crushed in Smithy Square as they believe that will galvanize the people to more acts of defiance and subversion.’

  La-Ver-Di-Arussah remained motionless, her hand still on her sword.

  ‘Would you force the Emperor’s hand, La-Ver-Di-Arussah? I suggest that there are some things the Emperor would prefer not to know! Would you have it said that the Emperor knew of this outrage, of one of his soldiers humiliated so, and yet he stayed his hand for fear of inflaming the uprising that would lead to the humans being harmed?’

  ‘The Emperor does not fear the humans!’

  ‘Of course he does not. Yet who would seek a fight where none is necessary? Let us second guess those who perpetrated this atrocity, let us choose the cultured way, let us listen in the silence, let us ask the quiet question, and then, when we find the answer, strike quickly and mercilessly, decapitating this monster, rather than feeding it.’

  La-Ver-Di-Arussah held his gaze for some time, and then, slowly, she withdrew her hand from her sword. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do resheathed his own.

  ‘You are right, Honoured Commander.’ There was the faintest edge of sarcasm to her words. ‘And I thank you for your instruction. May I say, it was never my intention to challenge you to a duel, or to hurt you.’ And she drew her own sword, brought it flashing through the air to stop just before Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s head. He looked at the blade, so sharp, poised just between his eyes, watched as it fell to the ground, La-Ver-Di-Arussah’s hand still gripping the hilt.

  All three robots looked to Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s sword, they marvelled at the way it had been drawn and cut through the wrist, all in one movement.

  ‘And it was not my intention to hurt you,’ replied Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. ‘The hand will be easily reattached.’