A little after midday, the tracks lead Jonah into a battlefield: a dozen Sangara droids dropped in a ring through the trees, every wreck facing inward at something that went through the whole of them anyway. Then the cold stops being weather and becomes a tenant, and the last quarter mile of his day has only two outcomes in it — and the fire he staggers into belongs to two men he has met before, one of whom answers his frozen question with the strangest grammar in the world: not