[WP] The young sorceress climbed into the cave. "A contest", she proposed. "If I win I claim all your artifacts and runes." The old wizard stood up and laughed. "And if I win you become my student"

Alonda clearly outmatched Weyman in every way. Her spells were stronger, her incantations more pronounced, her wand work faster, and her mind more focused. Weyman's many long years had obviously taken a toll on his abilities. Alonda wondered why she had even worried about facing the old man; his past reputation was doing nothing for him now.

She stood over him wreathed in fire like a goddess, casting flickering shadows around the cave. "Do you give up?" she asked. Her tone was haughty and self-assured, even more so than when she'd first challenged him.

Weyman didn't even have the energy to answer. Instead, he dropped down onto the floor of the cave, panting and sweating. His right hand still managed to clutch at his wand even though his arm had gone numb up to the shoulder from where he hadn't properly blocked one of Alonda's attacks. It was all he could do to nod his head in submission.

"You have to admit that I am superior," she needled him.

"You are superior," he wheezed, still out of breath.

Alonda pretended to be gracious; Weyman didn't need magic to see through the act. She offered him a hand to help him stand, but he decided to stay sitting instead. She thanked him for the challenge with a tone that told him she had considered it no challenge at all. She said she was honored to have faced such an esteemed and famed opponent. Then she twisted the knife: "I guess I didn't need a teacher like you after all!"

Weyman, having recovered his breath a bit, smiled at her. "I suppose not," he said. He'd tried to persuade her to study under him, but she'd refused. Said that she was powerful enough, and that she could prove it. That's how they'd made their wager in the first place.

Then she went about raiding his storeroom. Weyman honored the deal and stood by while she rifled through everything he had collected over hundreds of years. The first object she took was the Amethyst of Loron, Weyman's most prized possession and one of the most powerful artefacts in existence. And she just stuffed it in a bag like it was nothing. Next was the Decanter of Maleos, the only self-refilling container known to exist. Then she took the Fire Eye diamond, the Heart of Lesgrev, and Weyman's entire stock of dragon horns. She looked to see his reaction, but he remained stoic. So she continued her shopping, moving on to the lesser-known and lesser-renowned items.

Finally Alonda decided she was finished. The bag in her hand must have weighed ten tons, but she held it as though it weighed less than a feather. "Well, it was a pleasure meeting you," she told the old man, still sitting on the floor of his cave. His eyes were still fixed on the empty cupboards and shelves of his workshop. She almost felt bad. "Here," she said, reaching back into her bag. "Maybe this will help you get you back on your feet." She handed him a small ivory totem that would give him an incremental magical boost so small that it was hardly even noticeable. Then she exited the cave.

Weyman remained seated. The stone floor was smooth and cold, but surprisingly comfortable. And he waited. Through the mouth of the cave, he watched the sun rise, then set again. He watched the moon travel by, and the stars swirled against the darkness. Then the sun came again, and Weyman continued to wait. He had no need for food nor drink nor sleep. One doesn't live for hundreds of years by accommodating the petty needs of physical bodies.

On the sixth day, Alonda returned. Weyman was surprised: she seemed like the stubborn type, and he hadn't expected her to fold so quickly. She carried the same bag with her, but not the same attitude.

"Having some trouble?" Weyman asked.

"What did you do to all of this stuff?" she asked, dumping the bag out in front of him and sending priceless gems skittering across the cave floor. "Why won't it work?"

He smiled. This was his favorite part. "I didn't do anything," he said. "They still work." Just to prove his point, he picked up his Philosopher's Stone and turned a stretch of pebbles into gold nuggets. "You just don't know how to use any of the things you won. You were so eager to have them that you didn't stop to think whether you deserved them."

She scowled. They stared at each other, each waiting for the other to break the tension. Weyman didn't mind; he could wait.

"Fine," she said at last.

"Fine?" he asked, goading her on.

"Fine, I'll be your student," she said.

"That was not our arrangement." He gave the same fake grin that she had given him. "You have to admit defeat. And admit that I am superior."

She ground her teeth. That hurt more than losing all of the artefacts that she had won. "I'll just walk away," she threatened. "I won't be able to use any of this," she gestured at the treasure at her feet, "but neither will you."

"So be it," he said with a tranquil grin. Over centuries of life, you get to know people. And he knew her type. She didn't care so much about the objects, she wanted the power. And there was only one way for her to get them.

They faced off for a few more moments.

"How about another deal?" she proposed. "I become your pupil, in exchange for a rematch."

He offered his hand, and they shook on it. "Maybe next time I won't let you win," he told her.