Ruger's mood shifted from nervousness to eagerness, then disappointment, and finally curiosity.
What kind of island was this? How exactly could they get onto it, and how could they leave? How many opposing factions were here? And why was that fellow Mahama so quiet?
Of course, he could not rule out the possibility that Mahama was in danger. As Mona had said, nothing in this world was foolproof. But Ruger was more inclined to believe that the thoughtful Big Guy was hiding somewhere, waiting for rescue just as he was.
He could vaguely make out that one side in those battles was precisely the group who looked as though they each carried a person on their backs.
That group was strange, too. Judging by their attire, they should have been Wizards following the same path, but Ruger was more inclined to think they belonged to the same Wizard organization. Normally, even apprentices from the same school, taught by the same teacher, would not be so alike. Even along the same Wizard path, there would be different philosophies and different forms of expression.
For them to be so similar, the organization's philosophy must have taken deep root in their hearts, constraining them along a single Wizard path-or perhaps supporting them along it-and earning their wholehearted acceptance.
They accepted it so thoroughly that even with ideas of their own, all these Wizards still chose to take root upon that foundation and grow their own branches and leaves.
Ruger had always felt that the enormous pillar organizations under the Supreme Council, though called Wizard organizations, were actually more like individual alliances of Wizards. They were closer to the original form, a comparatively healthy structure that suited the nature of Wizards.
Those six people were different. For them to be so alike, beyond their