Legends of the Riftwar by Raymond E. Feist

spared a quick glance back at the two Tsurani, both of whom were leaning over their game, whispering to each other. Neither was laughing, but Richard wondered if they were talking about him.
    â€˜Bet they’re saying how you don’t have any manhood below your belt. I wouldn’t let them get away with that, boy: it’s bad for our company. You showed yourself a coward once before, are you going to do it in front of the Tsurani as well?’
    Richard shifted uncomfortably.
    Hearing him move, both of the Tsurani glanced up at him.
    â€˜Darvan!’
    Alwin Barry stepped between them and the Tsurani. ‘Shut the hell up,’ he hissed, his voice barely a whisper.
    Darvan grinned.
    â€˜We’re in a bad enough fix as is without you egging the boy on to a fight.’
    â€˜They stink up this place,’ Darvan growled. ‘I say let’s kill the bastards in here now, then go out and finish the rest.’
    â€˜Captain’s orders. We stand down for the night.’
    â€˜The Captain–’ Darvan started to say more but Alwin’s hand shot out and grabbed Darvan by the throat, stilling his voice.
    â€˜You want to fight come morning?’ Barry whispered, his voice filled with menace and his eyes boring into Darvan. ‘Fine. We do it when the captain says so and not before. For now, leave this boy alone. Use him to start any trouble, and I’ll kill you myself.’
    Turning his back to the Tsurani, who were watching the exchange with open curiosity, Darvan could barely croak out words, with Alwin’s hand around his throat. ‘This boy?’ he asked, pulling Alwin’s hand from his throat. Still whispering, he added, ‘We all know he’s a coward. Jurgen died to save this piece of offal. And for what?’
    Richard flushed, feeling as if every eye inside the room had suddenly shifted to him. Honour was now at stake.
    His heart began to race, and though he was sitting next to a furnacelike fire, a cold chill swept through him. Then came the memory of all the dead in that cold frozen field, the angry gaze of the Captain, the eyes of Jurgen going dark and empty.
    Knees trembling, he started to stand up, his hand going to dagger. Though terrified, he had to face the challenge.
    â€˜Not now!’ Alwin snarled. ‘Damn it boy, sit down before this place explodes!’
    Richard caught a glimpse of the two Tsurani. They were both standing, one of them going for his own dagger and Richard instantly realized that somehow the Tsurani, not understanding the conversation, had assumed that the exchange of glances was turning into a challenge for a duel. Others, both Kingdom and Tsurani were moving, shifting apart into two groups, the room going silent.
    As he shoved Richard back into his seat on the bench, Alwin rounded on Darvan. ‘I’ll personally flog you from one end of camp to the other if you get out of this alive!’ With a back-handed blow he struck Darvan across the face, knocking the man backwards.
    Darvan slammed into the wooden wall, his legs still hooked over the bench. Men were standing all over the cabin, weapons being drawn. Only the fact that it was two Kingdom men who were confronting one another made the Tsurani hesitate in attacking the nearest enemy. Darvan looked up, grinning, wipingthe blood from his split lip. ‘Afterwards, Barry. I’ll remember this.’
    Alwin half-turned to face the two Tsurani who were looking from Darvan to Richard, and extended his hands, palms out, in a calming gesture. The one-eyed Tsurani came up, saying something unintelligible. He pointed at Darvan and barked out a gruff laugh. The tension edged back down, the two sat and returned to their game. Other Tsurani around the room returned to their previous activities. Darvan rose slowly, and glared hatred at the Tsurani, whom he assumed to be a sergeant. The one eyed warrior spared him a mere glance, and turned away as if entirely