“No Man’s Land is a region of unstable, wild magic. Even the weakest spells become unpredictable and explosive there.

Rule one: never use magic in No Man’s Land and do not carry magical objects with you while travelling there.

Gunpowder’s explosive power varies from one region to another. In several regions (like Dead Region and Moon Region) gunpowder does not explode at all. Presumably, some gunpowder components may have a weak, residual magical powers, which the unstable magic of No Man’s Land affects.

In the North and South areas where magic is stable gunpowder explodes only when used in large quantities. That limits its use to city cannons and mines. Same stays true for the most regions of No Man’s Land, with small variations. Burnt Region stands out against the rest because of how little gunpowder you need there to produce an explosion. It makes the use of small guns possible.

Rule two: when travelling the No Man’s Land choose the weapons appropriate to the regions you are planning to pass through. Keep a sword or a dagger with you always and use a gun when appropriate.

The borders between different regions are blurry, so the regions are marked as intersecting circles on the map. Be extra careful in the interstitial areas…”

Kangassk closed the book with a slam. A tiny cloud of dust that had risen above it made him sneeze and obviously also brought these unseemly tears to his eyes. He felt sick.

Whenever he tried to cover his face with his hands in a pathetic gesture or to blink he saw Vlada’s face in front of him. That beautiful, smiling face under a messy heap of curls, bleached and gilded by the sun; her eyes, as deep brown as strong tea; her freckles… She looked absolutely alien among the perfect copies of Del he got used to see around him every day. She was brave. She was beautiful. She talked to him nicely unlike the locals…

Also, she was going to die. Alone. In the Burnt Region. Without even a gun to protect herself. And he, Kangassk, was going to let it happen. Or was he?

He looked around the store, taking it all in – the dull glint of unsold weapons, the dust slowly dancing in the the air – and thought about the life he had there, in that city. Pleasant memories were rare. For the perfect citizens praising the purity of ancestors he was a freak, an abomination…

“She called me a handsome young man…” Kangassk thought bitterly.

“To hell with all this!!!” he shouted. The next moment he jumped out of his armchair and started packing without saying so much as “May the master forgive me.” Having grabbed all he thought he would need, Kan went straight to the dlar where Vlada had rented a room and sat in front of her door, determined to meet her in the morning.

The curtains in the dlar room were so thick they let no light in when drawn, but the silence that came after a noisy desert night said it all: it was morning and the city was falling asleep. Vlada sat at the table, poring over a map of No Man’s Land where the circular borders of unstable regions were marked with red ink. She had a lot of plans already, starting with getting herself a fast charga in Border.

She had at least two weeks before the unpleasant conversation she dreaded, but they didn’t seem enough.

Vlada rolled up the map, grabbed her backpack, and pushed the door. The door didn’t even budge.

“What the…” Vlada cursed and kicked the stubborn thing with all her strength making the soft heavy object blocking it, a person, as it turned out, roll heels over head into the opposite wall. She recognized the young smith from the weapon store. He looked drowsy.