Blood and Iron (34 page)

The lights increased in intensity, their brightness lighting up the plain, sending dark shadows streaming out behind the watching robots.

Kavan saw the way that Calor looked at them, her shell reflecting the patterns, and he realized something. The craft were big and they were bright, and though they were much smaller than the city, they seemed to dwarf it. Whoever was flying those craft, it seemed to Kavan, was sending out a message.

We are here. And we are in control.

Susan and Spoole

Susan and Spoole stood by the window, gazing up at the enormous craft that floated overhead. The room was illuminated in red and green, the patterns of light played across the chequered floor.

‘It’s bigger than the Basilica,’ said Spoole. ‘What have the Generals done?’

‘Made peace with a bigger bully,’ said Susan. ‘You were right, Spoole. It’s too late to fight these people. The other Generals have outmanoeuvred you.’

‘You’re giving up so easily?’

‘It makes no difference to me,’ said Susan. ‘I don’t care who’s oppressing me.’

‘You don’t mean that,’ said Spoole.

‘Spoole, I don’t care. Welcome to my forge. Welcome to the world I have lived in since you and your
Choarh
state destroyed mine.’

Spoole couldn’t take his eyes from the vast shape hanging overhead. Every surface in the room danced to the movement of its lights.

‘Maybe the Generals were right,’ he said, softly. ‘What else could they do?’

‘I think they were right,’ said Susan, and a vicious pleasure welled up inside her. ‘What does that say about Nyro, Spoole?’

Spoole didn’t answer.

‘She’s dead, Spoole!’ Susan couldn’t keep the savage joy from her voice. All the suffering she had endured, now was the time she could pay some of it back. ‘Nyro has gone, Spoole. If not now, then in a few days or a few weeks. The Generals have given the city away to a greater power, and from now on you’ll be playing by its rules!’

She laughed.

Spoole turned and looked at her, and his eyes were bright.

‘What now, Spoole? What will you do now?’

He didn’t reply, he raised his hands slightly, as if he was going to attack her. She didn’t care. She was having her revenge.

‘Well, Spoole? What now that Nyro has gone?’

He lowered his hands.

‘What now?’ he repeated. ‘Susan, you’re right. Nyro has no place in this city any more. This is not the place I was made to lead. I’m free to go.’

The vicious smile faded from Susan’s face as he spoke.

‘Yes,’ said Spoole. ‘Free to go.’

‘No,’ said Susan, disappointed to be cheated this easily of her revenge, poor though it was. ‘No you’re not. Stay here, Spoole. Stay here and see how pointless it all is. Everything that you fought for, everything that you did to me and my family. All for nothing.’

But all the doubt had gone from Spoole. He was his old self again, calm and assured.

‘Would that make you happy? Don’t be so silly Susan. No. We need to go now. Both of us.’

‘Both of us? But why should I come with you?’

‘Because this is wrong. The Generals are wrong. You asked me for help not two minutes ago. Well, I’m offering it. Come on, we’re going to find out what happened to your friend. And then, maybe, we will have some proof of what it is that the Generals have done. We’re going to show Artemis City that this is not Nyro’s way.’

Wa-Ka-Mo-Do

The dark surface of Lake Ochoa was flecked red with burning mirrors of the rising sun. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do and the robots ran along its shore, metal feet slipping on the pebbles, kicking them, sending them dancing across the water. To their left a railway train burned: long tanker wagons were torn apart; they belched black diesel smoke into the sky. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do saw the line of bullet holes down the side of them. Those wouldn’t have caused an explosion, he reflected. Those strange craft must have also been firing incendiaries.

Past the burning train, metal moving to a steady pulse, they turned from the lake shore and headed to the City Gate, clearly visible before them now, wide open and guarded by four humans wearing green panelling. They carried rifles, but not like the ones Wa-Ka-Mo-Do had seen before. These weapons were shorter and constructed mainly of plastic. What little metal there was, was of an odd alloy that felt strangely transparent to Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s senses. Those guns made him feel uncomfortable. They were different – alien. Just like the humans.

Their attitude and demeanour had changed since yesterday, he noted.

The running troop slowed to a halt, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do coming to attention before one of the humans.

‘Thank you for your service here today,’ he said. ‘May I respectfully ask, where is the Imperial Guard?’

The human made an odd motion, and Wa-Ka-Mo-Do realized he wasn’t wearing a translation device.

‘Come on,’ he called, and stepped forward. The humans stood to one side, allowing him to pass, and Wa-Ka-Mo-Do headed into the city, his troops marching along behind him. Inside his gyros were spinning. What would he have done if the humans had tried to prevent him from entering Sangrel?

The Street of Becoming was littered with broken tiles and rubble. Bullet holes stitched the upper parts of the buildings. Dark cracks spread across their walls, and a fine sprinkling of dust fell on the robots.

There were four more humans guarding the top gates of the Street of Becoming, each of them holding the same strange new weapons as those at the bottom. Behind them, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do noted with some relief, were ten warriors of the Emperor’s Army. La-Ver-Di-Arussah stood at their head.

‘Honoured Commander,’ she said. There was a scratch on her brightly polished body.

‘La-Ver-Di-Arussah, there are humans guarding the entrance to the Emperor’s city of Sangrel. Did you not, perhaps, feel this to be an insult to his name?’

‘These are the Emperor’s orders, Honoured Commander,’ replied La-Ver-Di-Arussah coolly.

I don’t believe you!
The words died in Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s voicebox. It seemed that things had gone so wrong here in Sangrel she probably was telling the truth.

‘How badly damaged is the city?’ he asked.

‘The flying craft fired missiles that hit the Emperor’s Palace. Several humans died. Furthermore, they have destroyed some of the buildings that the humans erected by the lake.’

‘What about robots? How many citizens are dead?’

‘We haven’t yet had the time to find that out. The Emperor instructs us that the humans must be assisted first.’

‘Surely you questioned these orders?’

‘One does not question the Emperor, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. We are to secure a passage way from Smithy Square to the Gate of Becoming to allow the humans to bring in new equipment.’

‘No! I don’t believe it! How do you know this is what the Emperor wishes?’

‘His orders were relayed here by radio not one hour ago.’

Did he believe her? He didn’t know.

Wa-Ka-Mo-Do looked down at his hands. His body was covered in grime, a thin patina of dust from the human crops. He felt dirty and disconnected from this city. Nothing seemed to be making sense.

‘La-Ver-Di-Arussah. Think on this: there was already tension in this city before the attack. Imagine the feelings of the citizens now! If we go out and are seen helping to rebuild some of the damage caused by the human craft we may calm things a little.’

‘It is not our job to calm things. The Emperor wishes any rebellion to be quashed in the most brutal manner possible, as an example to other cities.’

She was smiling as she spoke. The
gar
was actually smiling. ‘After all,’ she added, ‘the Emperor has many more robots. He doesn’t have that many humans.’

‘He has no humans! The humans have him!’

Seldom had the silence of robots been so deep. La-Ver-Di-Arussah’s troops stared forward blankly.

‘Surely, if you must speak treason, it would be better away from the troops?’

‘Where’s Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah?’ demanded Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.

‘Up in Smithy Square, helping the humans.’

‘I’m going up there.’

‘Take your squad with you, Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. You will need them to protect you from the robots of Sangrel. They’re angry.’

‘Was that a deliberate insult, La-Ver-Di-Arussah?’

Her smile widened.

‘No. Only advice.’

Wa-Ka-Mo-Do set off alone. He looked through the entrance to the Copper Market, and saw that the stalls in there were still open. The place was a lot emptier than usual, it was true, but there were still robots selling metal and oil and coal. It made sense, he supposed, robots would need materials with which to repair themselves.

He continued up the hill. Where was everyone else, he wondered? He feared he knew the answer. In houses and buildings, in the caves at the back of the Copper Market, stoking up the fire of their grievances.

There were two peasants up ahead, raking the rubble from the street.

‘What happened here?’ he demanded.

‘Silversmith’s house got hit, Honoured Commander.’

They looked at the ruptured wall of the nearby building. Melted silver droplets were spattered across the road and the rubble.

‘Was anyone hurt?’

‘Silversmith’s family were all killed. Melted.’

‘Melted?’

‘We don’t understand it, Honoured Commander. Whatever hit that building sent a jet of liquid metal into it. The family’s minds burned like flares. If you go in there you can see their bodies welded to each other, the whole family turned into one lump.’

Wa-Ka-Mo-Do examined the ground. Mixed among the rubble were droplets of iron and aluminium.

‘What are you doing now?’

‘Clearing a path for the humans. There is a transport craft coming. They will need to bring their own weapons up into the city if they are to defend themselves from further attacks.’

‘What about defending us?’ asked Wa-Ka-Mo-Do

‘Honoured Commander?’

They didn’t understand. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do was already gone, heading up the hill. If the humans wanted to inflame the robots of the city to rebellion, they couldn’t go a better way about it.

It wasn’t until later on it occurred to him that that may have been their plan.

Finally, he reached Smithy Square, and he felt as if the current had drained from his spongy-feeling electromuscles.

The rising sun had bitten through the roof of the Emperor’s Palace.

At least that’s how it seemed. Half the roof was gone. Blue tiles hung broken from the torn edges, aluminium was burned to white oxide. The red sun cast a rusted, decaying light over the scene.

‘It’s still burning inside,’ said Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah, appearing at Wa-Ka-Mo-Do’s side. ‘The humans won’t let us in to help extinguish it. They say they have the situation under control.’

Wa-Ka-Mo-Do looked at the thin black smoke curling into the air through the broken roof. He imagined the ballroom burning, the ancient engravings warping in the heat, the paint flaking from metal.

‘No,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, ‘we go in now, and rust the humans. Get me six robots.’

Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah didn’t move.

‘Did you hear me, Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah?’

‘I’m sorry, Honoured Commander. The Emperor says that we are to obey the humans.’

‘How do you know that, Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah?’ flared Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. ‘How do you KNOW that?’

‘The Vestal Virgins commanded it, in his name.’

‘You’ve seen them?’

‘La-Ver-Di-Arussah did. Honoured Commander, you must be aware that she is part Vestal Virgin herself. Her family is known to have connections to that line.’

‘There is no Vestal Virgin lineage, how could there be?’

Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah did not answer. He was staring shamefully at the ground.

‘Am I alone?’ wondered Wa-Ka-Mo-Do aloud.

Still Ka-Lo-Re-Harballah was silent. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do looked around. The Copper Master’s house stood across the square, seemingly undamaged.

‘Is the radio room untouched?’ wondered Wa-Ka-Mo-Do, an idea forming in his mind.