He had his own guesses about the gaps in his memory. Looking on the bright side, perhaps they were meant to protect them.
As for looking on the dark side, there was no need at all, because there would be no end to it. His earlier, muddled speculation as he stood dazed before the stone door-that his memories had been eaten-was already a mild possibility. Speculating along darker lines would create an endless abyss in his mind, layer upon layer, with no worst possibility, only worse ones.
Humming a tune, he walked into the sitting room of his quarters and looked toward the stone door, where the noise was coming from.
He did not particularly want to go near that thing now. It was a little ridiculous, but he believed most of the Wizards here had probably acquired this interesting little habit. It was not fear; they simply hated standing in front of that stone door.
With a rasping scrape, the stone door slid to one side.
Ruger wore a faint smile, while his mind kept turning over possibilities.
But a moment later, though his smile remained unchanged, one eyebrow rose.
The first thing he saw was the corner of a Wizard Robe, then a shoulder, then another. Figures overlapped behind them. There was more than one visitor.
Ruger merely watched in silence. The little Kobold's faint smile betrayed no emotion, like an ornament fixed to his face whose shape never changed, with a hint of amusement to it.
That was indeed how Ruger felt. He wanted to see what these visitors were after.
When the stone door opened fully, four people stood outside.
Ruger swept his gaze over them. He knew none of them. They all appeared to be Wizards from this floor, including one One-Ring Wizard. All looked