Ruger stared at the book-shaped stone carving before him, making no move for a long time.
The round, ball-like old wizard did not hurry him. He simply watched with a smile and let out a long yawn.
The book-shaped stone was remarkably plain. Apart from the grooves on either side of its spine and a few parallel lines, it had almost no decoration. Its thick block of pages was one solid piece, and the whole thing was essentially a blue-gray rectangle of stone.
Ruger was, of course, gathering his thoughts.
This was clearly a necessary step, and a very common one here.
All his thoughts, everything he had considered over the past three years, his accumulated understanding of spells, what he had learned about modifying them, his own experiences, the many wizards he had encountered as friends or foes, his impressions from interacting and fighting with them, and his reflections from different angles and on different levels converged in his mind at that moment. It was as though they, too, were forming a book in his head, but he soon began tearing its pages apart.
He could not simply seek out that answer. He had to shape it himself. He tore away, simplifying the book in his mind. Every wizard was a different individual, so how could he hope to obtain an answer directly? What he needed to examine was something like a table of contents. Only by keeping it brief could he draw closer to the answer he sought. What he had always wanted was the foundation on which to build that answer, and this moment should be no exception.
Having worked it out, Ruger took a deep breath and raised his hand to press it against the book-shaped stone.
"Relax, young wizard. I can already smell the demons