of those of the High Spires. We would expect that you, too, have this heresy woven into your mind.’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s gaze was still, his current was calm, and yet the Emperor’s words were accurate. Wa-Ka- Mo-Do believed in the book. Of course he did.
The Emperor spoke.
‘Even so, it must be understood that there are conventions for the lesser subjects, and there are conventions for those who follow a higher calling. We know of the Book of Robots.’
‘Have you read the book, my Emperor?’
That same thin keening laughter.
‘Our subject is as lacking in guile as he is in intelligence, for not only does he forget that he has claimed not to have heard of the book, but he has also forgotten that no robot is known to have read it, if indeed the book ever existed.’
‘My Emperor is indeed wise to point this out to me,’ answered Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, and again the treacherous thoughts arose inside him. Did the Emperor, wise above all, think himself clever by employing tricks effective only against those that could not answer back?
‘Your Emperor is wise indeed. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, in Sangrel you will meet the animals that have travelled to our world. And you will look at them and you will wonder how any robot could believe that creatures such as they could claim to have had us built. And yet some do. We trust that our subject will remember his duty, should he encounter such robots.’
‘You may be sure that he will, my Emperor.’
‘Good, good.’
The Emperor smiled. ‘We are pleased with our subject. Now, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, we do not need to mention that our people place great faith in the Empire. It has stood unchanging for centuries, built on the rule of the Emperor and its queens. It has met new ideas in the past, and woven them into the rich tapestry that is the Empire. Is my garden not eloquent testament to this?’
A golden butterfly fluttered by, as if to confirm this.
‘Indeed, my master,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.
‘And yet some ideas are not to be contemplated. They throw the weave out of balance, and so they shall not be tolerated. Does our subject understand this?’
‘I do, my Emperor.’
‘So our subject will be thankful that Vestal Virgins are already in Sangrel. They will watch our subject, and ensure that his mind is on his task. Do you understand, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do?’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do felt his gyros spinning just a little faster. He forced them to slow.
‘I understand, my master.’
Something caught his attention: the butterfly. It fluttered past Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s face, turned to the right, and then changed direction again, heading to settle on the Emperor himself.
There was a flicker of silver, and the butterfly fell to the ground in two parts. An Imperial Guard slowly replaced her sword in her sheath. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do was impressed to note she had not inserted her eyes.
The Emperor did not seem to notice.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘The audience is at an end. We wish you every luck in your endeavour. You may leave by the Road of Reflection.’ He turned to indicate the path that Wa-Ka-Mo-Do had entered by.
For the first time, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do noticed the remains of two robots lying at the edge of the clearing, the metal of their minds twisted around their bodies in blue filigree. He saw the lifeforce flickering around them, and realized the warped creatures were still alive, frozen there in agony. The Vestal Virgins, he thought, as he walked by. The Vestal Virgins did that.
He wondered if some day his body would lie there too.
Kavan walked south.
A Scout was standing in the middle of the path ahead, the blades at her hands and feet retracted.
He couldn’t go to the right of her: melting ice fuelled the tumbling stream that lay to that side, water dashed white foam off the sharp rocks littering its bed.
He couldn’t go to the left of her: even the grass struggled to grow on the rocky slope that sliced into the pale blue sky.
And he couldn’t go back. There was nothing behind him but the northern coast of Shull and, beyond it, the iron-grey waters of the Moonshadow sea.
He would have to go past her. Not that Kavan would ever deviate from the path he perceived to be the right one.
He raised his hand in greeting.
‘Hello Kavan,’ said the Scout. ‘I bring the compliments and the congratulations of Artemis City.’
Kavan’s gaze travelled the length of the Scout’s silver body, the metal unscratched and polished to a shine.
‘Have you come directly from there?’ he asked.
‘I have. Three brigades have been sent to aid in the securing of the North Kingdom, following its conquest by you.’
‘Three brigades? That was more than I was given to take the whole of Northern Shull!’
Now Kavan commanded no one. He had expended nearly all his troops in the taking of the North Kingdom. The few survivors would be picking through the melted remains of that ruined land, either that or chasing down the last of the robots who had escaped from the battleground, supposedly carrying the remnants of the Book of Robots in their head. Kavan had travelled to the very top of the kingdom; seeking conquest, not answers, it was true; but even so, along the way he had found nothing but confirmation of his own beliefs.
But that was past. For the moment, he was a leader without troops.
The Scout inclined her head.
‘The story of your conquest is told across the continent, Kavan,’ she said. ‘Your name has been engraved in the Great Hall of the Basilica.’
‘And yet we meet here, in an empty valley at the uttermost north of Shull. No soldiers, no weapons, just you, a Scout in a brand new body and me, a broken-down infantryrobot.’ The fresh wind sang in his badly adjusted joints, as if by way of illustration. ‘So, what are your orders?’
‘To locate Kavan, the hero of Artemis, and to escort him to Spoole, leader of Artemis. You are to be honoured, Kavan. Spoole himself travels north to greet you.’
‘Does he, indeed?’
His tone made the Scout shift slightly, the blades at her hands protruding for just a moment.
‘Kavan, where have you been? Soldiers and Scouts have scoured these hills searching for you. Rumour has been rife. That you were killed, that you had found the Book of Robots, that you had quit these shores and were travelling the sea roads to the Top of the World itself. Tell me, where have you been?’
Kavan gazed at the Scout, her body so smooth and sleek compared to the scratched utility of his grey infantry panelling.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Kavan. ‘Thinking about new lands to conquer. And I have come to a decision. Tell me, Scout, what’s your name?’
‘Calor.’
‘Your body is polished and unscratched. But that means nothing, perhaps you are freshly repaired. Tell me, Calor, have you ever fought in battle?’
‘Yes, Kavan. In the northern states. Two weeks ago. I was caught by three of the mountain robots.’
‘That wasn’t a true war. The conquest of the northern states was completed three months ago. The few robots who still fight are under-resourced and tired.’
‘Even so, they rose from beneath the ground as I ran by; they caught me by the legs, tearing the electromuscles there. I was dragged down beneath the soil. I fought with my arms as they pulled me deeper and deeper into the earth. I cut my own body free beneath the waist, that I may fight better, and then I despatched them, one by one in the dark. I emerged from the earth, my body scratched and filled with soil, and I dragged
