I was three. What did I know?” Ronan turned away, lashes low over his eyes, expression hidden, burdened by being born, not made.

Ronan kept going, his voice louder. “No. Do you hear me, Cabeswater? You promised to keep me safe. Who are we to you? Nothing? If you let him die, that is not keeping me safe. Do you understand? If they die, I die, too.

Do you understand? If they die, I die, too.

It said, Qui facit per alium facit per se.

Greenmantle knew the proverb.

He who does a thing by the agency of another does it himself.

MANIBUS

Do you know what keeps poor people down, Mr. Parrish? It’s not a lack of income. It’s a poverty of imagination. The trailer park dreams of the suburbs, and the suburbs dreams of the city, the city dreams of the stars, so on and so forth. The poor can imagine the throne, but not being kingly. Poverty of imagination.