“I’m somebody as long as I got these thrice-cursed papers,” said the Kobold, pulling a tiny green booklet from his coat. “I’m somebody as long as a washed-up princess wants me in her purse! We ain’t like you Lightlings, waking up every morning and wondering what you want to do, where you think you should go. I wake up every morning and wonder what they’ll let me do, what I can get away with. ’Cause any day I cross them, they’ll take away my papers and then I’m nothing again. Fodder for some hero’s license, a dead dog walking.
