“So this is he. Why is he not kneeling?” “He does not kneel, apparently,” said Ganmark. “Everyone else kneels. What makes you special?” “Nothing,” said Shenkt. “But you do not kneel.” “I used to. Long ago. No more.” Orso’s eyes narrowed. “And what if a man tried to make you?” “Some have tried.” “And?” “And I do not kneel.” “Stand, then. My son is dead.” “You have my sorrow.” “You do not sound sorrowful.” “He was not my son.”
