But such a thing was beyond the imagination of two apprentice wizards, let alone their understanding. What they had cast aside was not meant to harm the Nightmare Lord, nor was it a secret borrowing of power—it was a sacrifice. They had never expected that. And what that fellow had offered was no ordinary thing, but himself, dead for ten thousand years, along with a thread of dim light like a winding stream, connected to the power of fate.
"How long until he comes?" Ruger asked.
"Three days if he's quick," Layden said, poking at the campfire. He knew Ruger meant the wizard coming to take over. "Ten days or so if he's slower. That's usually how it is when official wizards accept commissions. And that's only for first-ring wizards. I've heard that when those truly high-ranking wizards are preparing to go out, they might already be standing at the door when some question suddenly occurs to them. Then they'll just stand there, lost in thought, for decades..."
Ruger blinked, and even the hand playing with the dog-fur doll slowed.
He could only hope they were not waiting for someone like that. Of course, a first-ring wizard did not have the luxury of being so willful. Anyone who could space out at a doorway for decades must do that sort of thing often.
"Are you planning to go home next?" Ruger asked softly.
Layden shook his head.
"I don't have a home."
His tone was steady.
Ruger thought of Vito's aspirations.
"Are you like Vito, then?" Ruger asked.
"Not quite. I haven't suffered the tragic fate Lord Vito has. My family is still alive—most of them, anyway." Layden gazed into the fire. "My surname came from my teacher. I was born without one. Some wizard families in the Cavern World