"Sir isn't what I meant to say," Alain said quietly. "The words won't come out right. Nothing of the High Speech." It's a small thing, in the grand scheme of things. But on top of everything else - losing the Touch, failing his mission, finding himself somewhere so strange - it seems almost too much to bear, as if this place is systematically stripping away everything that makes him who he is. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. Remember your father's face, maggot! Cort's voice snaps in his mind. Don't let this place take it from you.

He remembers his father's face. Remembers it very well. It helps to calm him, ground him again. "Emily. I cry pardon. If I could tell you aught else, or do aught more suited to the place, I would. But you don't know what you ask."