Ruger glanced around, casually settled back into a crooked chair, and broke its two damaged legs down to the same length. His small frame fit snugly into it, temporarily turning Mahama's large chair into a kobold's recliner.
He took out the spellbook for Zan Zemanla's Flame Torrent again and began reading.
Some things had already happened, but there was no need to devote all his attention to them.
Doing what he ought to do was important too.
It was time to practice constructing the spell model. As he tried, he also sought to understand Zan Zemanla's thinking-assuming, of course, that Zan Zemanla had actually named the spell after himself, rather than in memory of a friend or lover. That practice was rare, but it did exist.
Speaking of commemorating friends, sitting here gave him the feeling that he was mourning Mahama, even though only Big Guy's house had collapsed.
He had another reason for sitting here: he wanted to see whether anything else would change.
After all, he had watched those gemlike mushrooms sink into the ground amid a dim glow and vanish without a trace. From what he knew of Barry Danton, the real upheaval had yet to begin. That fellow always prepared for every eventuality. Everything should still be in preparation.
Speaking of Barry Danton, Ruger's strongest impression of him as a wizard was naturally the man's assessment of his own talent. An entirely fair description would be "abysmal." Not so poor that he could only remain a first-level apprentice for life, but poor enough that he had no hope whatsoever of becoming a wizard. It was precisely that disadvantage that had shaped him.
It had made him the Barry Danton he was today.
Ruger understood the anguish of such a predicament, but he had never voiced or