It was late--or early, depending on how you looked at it--and the rest had gone to bed hours ago. The main floor of the inn was silent and empty, except for the wizard sitting at the table that his friends had long ago abandoned.

He was going back and forth between his two books, his globules of light floating around his head so he didn't need to keep a candle burning. It was a quite comfort, flipping through pages there were already full and then back to the beginning when he reached the blank pages.