The day finally came when the miserable mage was brought before him. The scribes have recorded their words thusly:

“Awlmys of Thenloch-how I have longed to see thee once more! We had a deal, oh master of magic, that I should reward you justly for your services. I wish to pay you now.”

“I fear you have nothing to offer me, my lord, that I would want or require,” Awlmys proclaimed.

“ Is that so, wizard of wonder? I am honor bound, nonetheless, to repay you in kind. Tell me now, Awlmys of Thenloch, why I should not kill you with my own father's sword-all that I have left thanks to you!” Strumalt growled.

“My lord! How come you to demand my life? What have I done?”

“ You play the idiot quite well, since you are one! You know all too well what you have done! Your boasting cost me my kingdom. You told me you could make my enemies disappear.”

“ My lord, this I did!” Awlmys insisted, realizing the peril he was now in.

“You rendered them invisible, allowing them to steal into my hall like cowards and thieves who have no honor! Then you brought forth tremendous hail stones to pummel my land instead of water to end the drought.”