‘Worms?’ said Melt, confused.
‘A story from the Northern Lands. Worms that creep into your head whilst you are sleeping, they twist themselves into the metal of your mind. They work on your thoughts, twisting the wire in your head into copies of themselves.’
‘They bring peace and happiness and understanding,’ said Gail. ‘How can you condemn what you haven’t tried?’
‘And you did say you would accept our gift,’ reminded Levine, the former princess. She had retrieved the two twists of silver from where they had fallen. Now she held them out on one thin, bent palm. Karel saw them wriggling, sensing the lifeforce in his mind, turning their little blunt upper ends in his direction.
‘We’re leaving now,’ said Karel turning to go. Something was blocking the mine entrance. Fleet. There were four other robots with him. These robots were nowhere near as badly rusted as Gail and the rest. Two of them wore the bodies of Artmesian infantry.
‘All the robots who take the worms return here in the end,’ said Gail. ‘They come back to the spawning ground.’
‘Try it,’ said Levine. ‘You promised.’
Melt swung a heavy cast iron arm and smashed her hands away.
‘Stop that!’ shouted one of the infantryrobots by the door.
‘Peace,’ said Gail. ‘Metal doesn’t matter, Kerban. You will see that in time.’
Kerban? That was an Artemisian name! To think that an Artemisian would come to believe that metal was not important! They had to go, now.
‘Let us past,’ he said.
Fleet moved to push him back into the chamber. The two infantryrobots stepped forward to help.
‘Hold them down,’ said Gail. ‘Once the worms enter their minds we will let them go as they please. They will return here in the end.’
The two infantryrobots seized Karel’s arms. He tried to tug them free.
‘Easy,’ said one of them.
Karel kicked down, dented a robot’s shin. It didn’t care.
‘Melt!’ he said. ‘Run!’
Run? The word was ridiculous. Even scraped of metal as he was, Melt could barely walk. He knew it. Gail knew it. She hadn’t even bothered to try and restrain the heavy robot.
‘Let him go,’ said Melt.
‘Melt, don’t be stupid! Get away!’
‘Are you suggesting I have so little honour?’ said Melt. ‘I used to be a soldier.’ And he reached into the fire with both hands and pulled out two burning coals. The robots in the chamber watched, frozen, as he pushed them into the neck of one of the infantry-robots, screwing them back and forth, squeezing hot coal past the panelling. The robot let out an electronic squeal and Karel pulled his arm free of its grasp. Now Melt clasped his hands together and brought them down as hard as he could on the head of the other robot, badly denting the metal skull.
The other robots moved forward. Melt took hold of one of them and pulled backwards, using his considerable weight against it. He swung the robot around and slammed it into the others with a ringing crash.
‘Now we run,’ said Melt.
Out of the cave, into the darkness, sliding down the rain-soaked grass.
Karel and Melt tumbled down the slope, rolling back towards the town, scraping on stones, slipping on the turf.
They reached the bottom in a tangled clash of metal. With some difficulty, they got to their feet, bodies badly dented.
‘They’re not following us,’ said Karel, looking backwards.
‘They won’t. We’re too much trouble.’
‘Where did you learn to fight like that?’ asked Karel, eyes bright so he could see Melt in the darkness.
‘I… don’t remember,’ said Melt, and again Karel knew he was lying. But that was for later.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Maybe Morphobia Alligator was right.’
‘In what way?’
‘Sending you to look after me.’
‘I wish he was,’ said Melt, and Karel could hear the longing in his voice.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do crossed to the Copper Master’s house, his head spinning with questions. The sky was clear, and he gazed up at the night moon, wondering at Rachael’s words. So Zuse was made of metal. What was so strange about that?
The Copper Guard stood to attention as he passed through the doors into his residence. A nervous looking aide was waiting in the hallway.
‘Honoured Commander, your presence is requested in the Copper Room.’
‘Later,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, ‘I have work to attend to.’
‘I’m sorry, Honoured Commander, but your presence is requested.’
The aide looked terrified at having to contradict Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, and no surprise. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do himself was growing irritated by the constant directions he had been given since he arrived here. He was beginning to realize that the post of Commander offered more restraints than it did freedoms.
‘Who wishes to speak to me?’ he asked, but the aide had retreated into the depths of the house.
For a moment Wa-Ka-Mo-Do considered ignoring the summons, but curiosity got the better of him.
He padded past robots, their eyes glowing in the dim light, heading for the heart of the building.
The Copper Room was in the centre of the Copper Master’s house. It had no windows and only two doors. One led out into the main building. The other was concealed and led down through the rocks upon which Sangrel was built; a secret passage, an escape route built in less enlightened times. The Copper Room was the ideal place for holding private meetings. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do stepped into the room and felt his gyros lurch. No wonder the aide had looked so nervous.
Three robots stood in the middle of the room. Female, so obviously female that Wa-Ka-Mo-Do felt the wire stir within him. They were the most beautifully constructed robots he had ever seen, their bodies bent into curves of perfect symmetry. He could feel their metal from here, the mix of platinum and gold, steel and aluminium shone like starlight across his senses. He wanted to move closer to them, just to touch them, just to have them touch him, to pull his metal from his body…
He suppressed the thought. What would they want with his metal? They were Vestal Virgins; they only worked on minds that had already been twisted by others!
But it was so hard… Look at them, so beautiful, they seemed to shine all by themselves. Their faces were so delicate. Look at those smiles, so knowing, so calculating, so pretty…
‘Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’ said one, and her voice was the sweetest notes of copper bells. ‘Honoured Commander of Sangrel. We wish to speak to you.’
‘Really?’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. ‘Is it important? I am very busy.’
‘Are you?’ said a second robot, her voice a little deeper than the first, still it resonated in Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s chest. ‘Zil-Wa-Tem is dead and yet the market place runs as normal.’
Zil-Wa-Tem, thought Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, and he remembered that was the name of the robot who had been found stitched into the animal’s skin in the market.
‘I would have expected the city to ring with the cries of the grieving,’ said the third woman, her voice the deepest of all. ‘I would have expected to see the minds of men and women arranged in a circle by the entrance, their coils crushed. I would have expected to see the smoke of a hundred fires filling the air, the bare electromuscles of the captured held over them in order that confessions be extracted.’
‘Or maybe we misjudge our Commander,’ said the first of the Vestal Virgins. ‘Maybe we underestimate his cruelty. Perhaps he intends instead to play the silent game, to raise fear by remaining still for a time before making a move?’
‘Perhaps you are right,’ continued the second. ‘Perhaps he wishes to request our help? To ask us to steal
