Book 6. Chapter 13: Food obsessed machines
“Humans.” The machine Runner said, hobbling up to the edge of the light. Then brough one of its long arms up, palm out. “Stop. Truce. Not fight.”
Which was a good sign compared to the usual when it came to machines. Wrath was the first to relax, re-sheathing her blade. “There’s no danger from this one. He means as he says.” She said with a curt hand wave at the knights behind.
They all stopped, then adopted a more relaxed position. Not quite putting their weapons back yet. One single runner wasn’t going to be a threat to us, but finding one approaching alone and with such a strange look to him, that’s what made us nervous.
The half-skull turned, violet eyes narrowing at her. “Voice. Lady? To’Wrathh?”
He knows Wrath. Which could be pretty good or really bad, but it didn’t feel like he knew her in the bounty-hunter way. There wasn’t any kind of threat in that voice, as much as I could tell from machine voices. I decided to listen to my gut on this one. “Given he’s got paintings and actual cookware on his shoulders, I had a hunch we’re not looking at a typical machine.” I said, equally sheathing my own weapons now. “Unless he stole that cookware. And painting.”
The machine turned to me now, those violet eyes narrowing down. “You. I know voice. The Bad Human.”
I had a nickname now among the machines, nice. No idea how I got this particular one though, I’d need to ask some pointed questions.
“Did not. Steal cook tools.” The machine answered before I could ask anything, sounding upset at the accusation. “Given. By Old Human. To cook with.” He gingerly lifted a hand and plucked out one tarnished silver ladle, the hilt pinched in two of his fingers. Looked like a chopstick in his hands. Then held it closer so we could see, almost as if it were proof. “She ordered. Favorite ladle. Bring luck. Not burn soup. Good human.”
There’s only one other machine I knew that was more obsessed with food than Wrath. We had met before, and I do remember exactly why he’d call me the Bad Human, with a capital B. “Starting to see a pattern here.” I said. “Is food going to be how I identify you lot from now on? Yrob I’m guessing.”