“You!” the sorcerer howled, his voice quaking with rage. “You!”
The sorcerer was just about to hurl an ensorcelment at poor little Tweek, one that would have killed him on the spot, but at that very instant one of the sorcerer’s demon guards came hurrying up, and he said, “Quark! Klachtsh-etsch-etsch! Quahhh!”
(Which means, “The processions have begun! The empress demands your presence upon the instant!”)
The sorcerer grunted. Yes, the processions. He’d almost forgotten. The empress’ new coronation. That Crown that she and her flatterers had made so much of.
“Hmph!” the sorcerer said with disgust. “Hmph!”
“Quahhhhh!” the demon guard insisted, with rising urgency. It did not do to make the empress wait, not even for an instant. Her punishments were most profound.
“You!” the sorcerer howled…
“Yes, yes, on my way” the sorcerer impatiently replied. “You!” he said, turning back on little Tweek. “Stay here! I will kill you when I get back!”
And with those words, he strode through the door and slammed it shut and locked it tight behind him.
Poor little Tweek was a shaking mass of fear. He’d brought the attention of a sorcerer upon himself, and now he must die.