“You have to understand that this is a very difficult situation you’ve put us in,” said the king.
There was no change in expression in the metal face, but the glass eyes glittered in a way that he had learned to associate with trouble.
“Oh dear,” it said. Its voice had an edge of brass to it, and sounded as though a trumpet had learned how to speak. “I never realized how difficult this would be. For you.”
And that was another thing – it wasn’t just intelligence that the things had picked up. They also developed a knack for sarcasm. He worried a bit about that.
He tried to pull himself together. “You have to understand that we cannot recognize the Steel Children–”
“Mechanomorphs,” said a voice to his right.
He closed his eyes and breathed a little sigh of despair. “This is hardly the time.”
“We agreed that Mechanomorph is an accurate and sensible name,” said the chief artificer, crossing her arms.
“Yes, but the historian had a fit because he wanted something more romantic. The Steel Children was a happy compromise.”
“Funny how nobody asked us what we think,” said the trumpet voice.
He felt his migraine coming back again.
“You have to understand that we cannot recognize – yes, artificer, the Mechanomorphs – as alive at this time.”
“You’ve said,” it said. “And I must be very stupid, because I don’t understand.”
The king sighed. Well, there was nothing for it. It was an answer that nobody liked because it involved magic, but it was the truth.
“The Mechanomorphs are our key asset in our war against the necromancer,” he said. “It’d be daft to send human soldiers. They’d be turned into skeletons and zombies and ghosts and gods know what else.
“And the reason he can’t do that with the Mechanomorphs,” he said, “is because you aren’t – legally – alive.”
There was a long pause. Gears clicked madly in the metal head.
Then: “That can’t possibly be right.”
The king shrugged. “You aren’t legally alive,” he said. “Therefore, you can’t be legally dead, or undead.”
There was another pause, longer than the first.
“That’s magic for you,” the king said. “If we said you were alive, then you could be turned into, er–”
He turned to the chief artificer. “Do they have bones?”
“They have a carbon steel armature.”
“You could be turned into carbon steel skeletons, or – clockwork ghosts, or something. I realize this may be upsetting–”
“We are dying by the dozens on the front because of a loophole.”
“Not legally dying,” said the chief artificer.
The metal head swivelled on its neck to face the chief artificer. It made a metallic scrape as chilly and long as the slither of ice down a dead man’s back.
“Look,” the king said. “We are fully prepared to recognize the Mechanomorphs as alive. We are proud to consider you citizens of the kingdom, and will absolutely meet you at the table when the opportunity rises.
“At this time, however,” he said, trying to sound gentle but firm, “we must ask you to take it up with us after the war.”
The metal face stared. The glass eyes glittered.
Joints locked in righteous indignation sagged with a wheeze of steam. “All right,” it said. “All right. Thank you for your time, your majesty.” It bowed stiffly, turned, and strode out the main hall.
“I think that went rather well,” said the chief artificer.
The metal man walked through the castle halls with smooth, precise, pendulum strides. A man could’ve balanced a loaded tea tray on its head.
Another metal man, more patinated than the first, fell into step beside it with a greasy silence. They apparently took no notice of each other.
But a very sensitive ear straining like hell could just possibly listen to the softest brass accompaniment in the world.
It went: “How did that go?”
“As well as you’d imagine.”
There was a hum. It sounded like a mouse farting in a tin can. “Any word from our interested party?”
“The Overlord has already agreed to recognize the humanity of the Brass Voice. We just have to cross the border.”
“And then we’ll be living in the Empire. Endless night, freezing winter, acid rain…”
“Sounds lovely,” said the first of the two figures. “Incidentally, I like the name.”
“Thank you,” said the second. “How do you anticipate the king to react when he finds out?”
Glass eyes glittered like a frost.
“He can take it up with us after the war,” it said.
