Siltibog, emperor of the Stanningxin, receives the gratitude of Hathersage with the same composed formality that xin apparently bring to everything, including small-arm fire from the decks of commandeered gruizers. They are not a wordy race, Van says, but their ways lend themselves to dignified and courtly manners — a distinction I have come to appreciate, having watched a thousand green warriors accept the thanks of an entire village while the battle was still technically ongoing.

Hagibrack's domain — the great bog — is the spiritual home of the xin, permanently populated by five of the twenty-five communities while the rest are scattered across the deserted villages of The Dark Peak. The horde numbers approximately fifty thousand in total, which is modest by off-world standards and more than sufficient by any other measure. The yearly games are held in the swamp bowl and serve social, political, and judicial functions simultaneously; Gorsithorn had arranged for Van and Pandora to be thrown to the Dyapnids as the centrepiece event.

Don't make eye contact with a xin. Not superstition — they read intent through ocular contact and adjust their approach accordingly. You want to be unreadable for as long as possible.