Duck, Fakir thinks, would say something ridiculous like, You've been standing in one place since you were little?

Fakir only says, "I've read them."

By now he's read a dozen books with torn bindings, books that begin with Once upon a time but never reach happily ever after. The secret of telling stories without losing control is in there somewhere. If Autor can help him reach it, then Fakir will stand here for weeks if he must.

(If there's a hooded shadow just briefly visible through the window of Drosselmeyer's house, Fakir doesn't see it.)