Of course, when everyone imagined their goals to be enormous, those goals might be small-so small they could barely be seen with the naked eye. And when people believed their goals were truly small, they might instead be vast, beyond all imagining.
What could an inconspicuous little door in a tree trunk bring?
What was he trying to achieve by probing indirectly, and by pushing that door open?
Value.
Purpose.
This was not their final destination yet.
This weeping Black Wizard desperately wanted the garden. He might even have plotted and fantasized about it. But for the sake of another purpose, he had suppressed his longing, just as he had on the first day, when he arrived with Ruger and stood at the entrance, shedding silent tears, remaining motionless for a long, long time.
His behavior had been baffling then, but now it made sense.
It had been joy mingled with the utmost agony.
Just as the fellow had said: torment.
Something legendary, something he had yearned for in his dreams, had appeared before his eyes, only for him to have to give it up.
And it was no idle notion from his youth. It was a treasure trove with real, tremendous value, offering both the fulfillment of a dream and practical worth.
Ruger felt that, in his place, he might have wept even more miserably, perhaps even stood there howling in anguish.
If the other wizard really had a good way to take this garden away, then Ruger, an honest, simplehearted kobold, was very interested too. He simply could not part with these lovely little flowers. Their attachment was hard to sever; mere reluctance did not begin to describe it. And they seemed very fond of him as well.
A silent zero-ring spell made his body lighter.
His footsteps