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.’
‘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,
