Very little in science fiction can transcend the gimmickry of a technical conceit, yet without that conceit at its heart a book is not truly science fiction. Furthermore, so little emerging thought and technology is employed by sf writers today that the genre is lagging far behind reality both in the cosmology area and the technology area: sf is no longer a place to experiment, but is now very derivative.

This fight coming is not a battle of weapons, but a battle of wills.

Wisdom, Niko thought as he leaned his cheek against his long-handled rake, cannot be had without price.

Life to you, Riddler, and everlasting glory.

But we're dying here.

Why is it we are always the targets of the angry Fates? Twice as many men of ours met harm as did theirs, since we've come here.

Wisdom, Niko thought as he leaned his cheek against his long-handled rake, cannot be had without price. And that price is blood. The sound of it in your veins. The pound of it in your head. The volume of it in a human body; the sickness when you've spilled it.