All the while, that seemingly sympathetic sun was growing a little fiercer, smiling a little broader. Sometimes the land didn’t have to get you. You got yourself.

They were shooting far, and their accuracy suffered, but Nox didn’t exactly have a lot of places to dance through the bullets. They came in number, like rain. You couldn’t afford to get wet.

When in the house of the enemy, the best rooms are always the ones with the lights out.

He fell, toppling forward into the sand. He hadn’t even fully realised he’d lost his balance until the ground told him. And the ground didn’t whisper.

If you were picky about who you worked with in the Wild North, you’d be quickly left with no one to choose. You could try to pick the best of them, but you’d have to dig them up first.

Then everything turned brilliant white for a second, and Jacob’s eyes were stunned. The shock faded, but then another flash came, dulled by the darkness of the fog. Blades of lightning broke through the sea of smoke, accompanied by the violent clap of thunder, as if an angry god saw the storm devour them, and burst out into wild applause.

The silence just allowed the echoes of the question to play out in Nox’s mind, reminding him of his own unwinnable war against the never-ending tide of conmen and criminals. He was trying to clean up these parts, but every time he rubbed away a stain, he found another layer of dirt beneath. So, you could give up – or you could keep on scrubbing.

Science fiction tells us truths that we mightn’t listen to any other way.

Ben looked at his compatriots, just a quick glance to and fro, but it was enough for Nox to see that they’d made their bets. They were putting it all on red.

As the darkness deepened, the sky was streaked with veins of red, the last low beats of a dying sun. Against this scarlet canopy the hulk of the Rust Road’s twin peaks stood tall, mountains of metal, unnaturally jagged. Their sharp pinnacles pierced the sky, and Jacob could not help but wonder if that explained the blood there.