metals and alloys to form long struts of a pleasing curve, electromuscles of the most cunning weave, and polished aluminium panels that shone under the sun in the daylight and reflected the red glow of the forge through the night.
‘Khalah loved the forge and her family, and she loved Eric as he loved her, yet she was filled with disquiet, for as long as Eric was unhappy, she could never be truly happy herself. So, one cold autumn day as they stood before the forge, a day when the frost was heavy on the metal bosses and brackets of the doors, the ice was frozen in rings around edges of the puddles and troughs, and the sky was blue and misty, on that day she challenged him.
‘“Eric,” she said. “Why are you always so sad? You are a good smith, good enough to impress my father, and there are few robots who can do that. My mother approves our match, and some day we shall have this forge for our own, and we can go on building it in strength and stature. Is that not a good thing?”
‘“It is Khalah, it is indeed. Yet I do not feel that I belong here.”
‘“You were not made here, Eric, it is true. Your mind is different, and you construct your body in a style foreign to those who live here, but there is much to be recommended in you, and, as I have said, no less an authority than my mother has suggested that we are compatible and shall weave strong children together. What do your origins matter?”
‘Eric hammered at the red iron he held over the anvil, hammered his frustration into the metal.
‘“What do they matter, Khalah? I was found at the foot of the High Spires by your father. He brought me back here and cared for me, and the people of this town accepted me as their own. They gave me metal and taught me how to weave it in their fashion. My origins shouldn’t matter. Yet they do. A thought lives on in my mind. Look over there. ..”
‘He pointed to the distant peaks of the High Spires. The mountaintops were sharp in the cold air, rising clear of the misty foothills. Snow gleamed white and crisp; Eric almost felt their chill from here.
‘“Do you see the High Spires. Do you see the group over there in the centre? The Crown, they are called. There is something up there, Khalah, hidden amongst the peaks.”
‘“What is it?”
‘“I don’t know. It is there at the edge of my mind. Sometimes it is a sword, made of the first metal, the first metal to think thoughts. Sometimes it is a body made of katana metal, an indestructible body. Sometimes it is just metal itself. But precious metal. A ball of eka lead perhaps, or the metal that lies beyond that.”
‘“I have heard the stories,” said Khalah. “The stories of the first robots, Alpha and Gamma, how they crossed the High Spires, and left some of their treasures up there for safe keeping, before they stepped into this land.”
‘“Khalah, the stories are true! I know it. I came from the High Spires, the pictures are there in my mind. Now I must return there to find those treasures.”
‘“What about me?”
‘“Come with me, Khalah!”
‘“My father would never allow it! I must stay here at the forge with my mother!”
‘“I know that, but Khalah, I must go.”
‘There was a long silence as Khalah contemplated his words. She knew she could not leave the forge, she also knew she could not bear to be parted from Eric. The two urges were powerful within her, so powerful they threatened to rip her in two, or so she thought. In the end her path was obvious.
‘“Then I will come with you,” she said.’
‘And so, later that day, when the forge was full, and Ben-Ji and Khalah were hard at work tending to a man and woman who twisted metal, Eric and Khalah left the city of Ell and set out towards the High Spires.
‘They did not take the main road that led south to the mountain pass, but rather walked through the wastelands that lay to the sides. In those days much of the land of Yukawa was overgrown with grass and twisted trees. Animals walked freely, and these watched Khalah and Eric as they headed south. The robots’ metal soon became dented and scratched from the journey, their electromuscle sodden from fording the cold streams and rivers that tumbled down from the mountains.
‘There was no fire to be found in the wastelands, save what Khalah could kindle from the dead wood that lay on the ground, and the fire she could make was a poor cool thing, not hot enough to fix the damage that their bodies suffered. Eric saw how Khalah’s once smooth and shiny body was now nothing but a network of scratches and scuffs and dents, he saw how she looked away from herself to the grass and the stones and tried not think about what she had become, and Eric felt ashamed at this. He pushed his hand into hers and sent a current down his own electromuscle and into hers.
‘“Thank you, Khalah,” he said.
‘“I will follow you anywhere, Eric.”
‘“I would do the same for you, Khalah.”
‘She was too noble to ask him to follow her back to her father’s forge.
‘And so they walked south towards the mountains, and as they did they saw, in the distance, the other robots who searched for them, for Ben-Ji loved his daughter, and he had not given up hope of finding her.
‘This saddened Khalah further, for she loved her father.
‘But she loved Eric more.’
‘After some weeks they came to the edge of the High Spires. The glassy rock rose up above them, piercing the very skies.
‘“What now, Eric?” asked Khalah.
‘“There is a way up, Khalah. I can feel it in my mind. If we walk along the base of the mountains in the direction of the rising sun, we will find it.”
‘They wandered east. After two days, at the rising of the sun, they saw a ledge that tilted from the ground and ran upwards.
‘“That is the path,” said Eric. “If we follow that ledge it will lead us up into the mountains, up to the treasures.”
‘“Then let us take it,” said Khalah.
‘“Yes, but…” His voice faltered.
‘“What’s the matter, Eric?”
‘“Khalah, now that I see the path, my thoughts have awoken some more, and I can see that this is not enough. Two of us will not be sufficient to gain the prize.”
‘Khalah gazed at him, her body scratched and dented. She kept her calm. “We are not enough,” she said, patiently. “What do you suggest that we do?”
‘“Your body is in need of attention, Khalah. The road north runs near here. A forge lies there at the foot of the mountains. I say we visit the forge, we repair ourselves. Perhaps we can persuade others to join us.”
‘Khalah was pleased to do this. For though she loved Eric, she craved other company, and she desired to visit the forge and make herself beautiful once more.
‘So they visited the forge. And whilst they were there, they persuaded two more robots to join them on their journey up the mountain, and those two robots persuaded two more, and they persuaded still more, until eventually sixteen of them took the path up into the mountains.
‘It was a long and dangerous journey, a story in itself. Perhaps another time I could speak of the paths of glass, too slippery for a robot to pass, or the caves of spears that thrust themselves into bodies as they passed by, or the creatures with the heads of robots but the bodies of insects that they had to battle with in order to get to their destination, but suffice to say they arrived there.
‘And so Eric and Khalah and their company walked into the centre of a circle of stone pillars, and they looked around.
‘“Is this the right place?” asked Khalah. Her body was battered and damaged once more by the journey. She had seen how empty their destination was, and now, for the first time, she questioned the wisdom of accompanying Eric here. All the robots did.
‘Eric looked around, puzzled.
‘“This is the place…” he said, “I’m sure of it…” And his eyes shone as he recognized something.
‘“There,” he said. “There, near the centre of the circle! See? The hole in the ground.”
‘Now they all saw it. A circular hole, about fifty feet across, smoothly bored into the ground. The wonder was they hadn’t seen it before.
