I gave him the glare of tolerant disgust, veteran to green soldier. To be too passive would only invite attack. I simply wanted to leave as swiftly as possible, attracting no more attention than necessary. “Watch your own step, lad,” I warned him genially. I moved past him, only to have him shove me from behind on my left shoulder. I turned to confront him, loose but not yet aggressive. He had his fists up ready to defend himself. I shook my head tolerantly at that, and several of his companions snickered. “Let it be, lad,” I warned him.

“I asked you a question,” he snarled.

“So you did,” I agreed benignly. “If you’d cared to favor me with your name before you demanded mine, I might have answered. That used to be the custom at Buckkeep.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Charl of Bright’s Guard. I’ve no need to be ashamed of my name or company.”

“Nor I,” I assured him. “Tom Badgerlock, man to Lord Golden. Who expects me shortly. Good day.”

“Lord Golden’s serving man. I might have known.” He gave a snort of disgust and turned to his fellows to confirm his superiority. “You don’t belong in here. This place is for the guardsmen. Not pages and lackeys and ‘special servants.’ ”

“Is it?” I let a smile crook the corner of my mouth as I ran my gaze over him insultingly. “No pages or lackeys. That surprises me.” All eyes on us now. Hopeless to avoid notice. I’d have to establish myself as Tom Badgerlock. He reddened to my insult, and then swung.

I leaned aside to let his blow go past, then took a step forward. He was ready for my fists, but instead I kicked his feet out from under him. It was a move more befitting a brawler than a noble’s guardsman, and it obviously shocked him. I kicked him again as he went down, driving the air out of him. He fell gasping, to sprawl perilously near the firebox, and I stepped forward to place my foot on his bare chest, pinning him. I snarled down at him. “Let it go, lad. Before it gets ugly.”

Two of his companions stepped forward, but “Hold!” shouted Blade, and they halted. The old guardsman stepped forward, one hand pressed to the small of his back. “Enough! I won’t have it in here.” He glared at the man that was likely the guards’ commander. “Rufous, get that pup of yours under control. I came here to ease my back, not to be annoyed by an ill-trained braggart. Get that boy out of here. You, Badgerlock, take your foot off him.”

Despite his years, or perhaps because of them, old Blade still commanded universal respect from the guardsmen. As I stepped back, the boy came to his feet. He had both murder and chagrin in his eyes, but his commander barked, “Out, Charl. We’ve all had enough of you today. And Fletch and Lowk, you can both go with him, for being fools enough to step forward for a fool.”