By morning, they formed spiraling towers around his tiny room, loose papers borrowed from the inn owner separating each book from the next just in case the glue leaked and turned paper brothers into Siamese twins. Siles' exhausted body begged him to sleep, but he needed to find a new lead after Gretta had proven to be a closed book.

The innkeeper wasn't a fountain of gossip like most of his kind, but he at least provided a coffee strong enough to jolt Siles out of his half-woken state. Taking advantage of his temporary clarity while it lasted, he considered his options. The innkeeper and Gretta were useless, but he could still count on other customers. Gretta had claimed that others had books needing repair, too. But he had already placed his bait for customers.

Siles watched sunlight trickle through the stained-glass window, the colors following the familiar pattern of the throne room tapestry. As much a he hated the long durations of waiting his plans required, they were better than sitting in the castle all day. If luck was truly in his favor, the Queen would be assassinated in his absence. That would at least provide him with a change of view, even if it was as predictable as the tapestry.

"Do you want to water your horse?"

Siles snapped out of his doze. "What?"

"Do you want to water your horse?" The innkeeper repeated. "The stable boy never remembers to."

"Good idea." Moving around would keep him awake better than the coffee had. Siles stumbled into the sunlight, blinking black spots out of his sight as he found his way to the stable.

"Good morning," the stable boy said. A trough full of water sat by Bonnie's hooves.

"The innkeep said you never remember to water the horses."

"He lied. He just doesn't like talking to people. Or people in general. He probably wanted to get you out of there." The kid smiled as he spoke, his sunburnt face wrinkling around his lips.

"Right. Because antisocial people love jobs that require talking to people." Siles sat on the bench by the trough, holding in a yawn.

The stable boy laughed. "I never said he was smart. But I can't say I'm smart, either. There's a girl my age that's so smart she's leading the grownups, you know. Grownups don't even listen to me."

Siles leaned forward. "Leading the grownups towards what?" He had forgotten how talkative teenagers were. The teenagers in the castle were all servants, and they knew better than to talk.

The boy paused. "Would you consider yourself pro- or anti-magician?"

"The day I support the magicians will be the day I know I've gone just as mad as that innkeeper."

That was all it took. "Me too. I'm not so great at fighting against them and all that since I'm not clever, but this girl is amazing! She has this theory about how to take down the magician government, and the grownups think it could actually work!"

Anxiety built in his chest as the boy continued to speak. If a teenage girl was leading the rebellion, he would have to orchestrate the assassination of a child. Or he could allow the movement to grow until the soldiers had to become involved, which would lead to the deaths of almost every member of the rebellion. His options weren't great, but at least the better choice was obvious.

"I'm sure with enough confidence you could make the adults listen to your opinions, too." Siles patted the kid on the back, then headed back to the inn. Given the thought of killing a child, sleep had become much more appealing than continuing the search for information.

Siles pulled the threadbare covers tighter; he doubted the knocking was for him. He hardly knew anyone in Tern, let alone someone who would come to talk to him this late at night.

Then the knocking came again, this time louder. Even if it was a mistaken drunkard waiting for him behind the door, Siles could tell by the urgency that they wouldn't stop knocking until he got up. Reluctantly, he obliged, pulling on his shoes to step across the room and open the door.

Gretta immediately grabbed his arm, dragging him down the hall and down the stairs, only pausing once to adjust her grip. Siles resisted the instincts of his training; twist the arm holding his, apply pressure until there's an audible crack, then slam her head against the ground until a similar sound results. He was a bookbinder; self-defense, especially the violent kind, would be uncharacteristic.

For a moment, he considered yelling out, but Gretta's expression held no sign of anger. She didn't consider him a threat, so she couldn't know he worked for the Queen. His best bet was following along until some kind of explanation appeared.

The explanation came soon enough in the form of the tallest building in Tern; the town hall. So Siles had passed Gretta's test after all. He breathed a sigh of relief, then retracted it just as quickly when he remembered what the stable boy had said about the teenage girl.

The teetering wooden building held so many people that Gretta's ability to pull Siles through the packed crowd was almost magical. By the time Siles and Gretta had reached the front, a woman with the broad build of a farmer had stepped to the front of the stage. She raised a hand and the crowd fell silent.

"As I'm sure you all know, our meeting here today is dangerous. There are enough of us now that the Queen's soldiers will take notice if they haven't already. But our great number is also a sign of our greatness. Only together can we conquer the magician monarchy, and only together can we rebuild the kingdom into something truly beautiful."

Never had Siles been so happy to see a rebel leader speak. The teenage girl wasn't the leader, after all. While he could see a young girl standing at the edge of the stage, she hugged herself with the uncomfortable grimace of someone unaccustomed to crowds. The kid couldn't be part of the chain of command; she would be safe from Siles' plans.

Siles spent most of the gathering watching expressions. Three others occupied the stage besides the girl and the farmer woman, and each of them grimaced at some point in the woman's speech. One of them, a tall man with the thin pot-bellied stature of a scarecrow, even tried to join the woman's speech at one point, only for her to talk over him. Siles had found the weak spot.