Page 61 of Paladin's Faith

“No,” said Shane.

There was a long pause. The chevalier was obviously thrown off stride. “What do you mean, no?”

“I will not fight you.”

“But you will!”

“No.” Shane gazed over the man’s shoulder, his face impassive.

“Do you refuse to meet me, then?” The chevalier’s lip curled. “Are you a coward?”

Marguerite had to translate that last word. Shane’s expression did not change to any significant degree. “Sure,” he said.

“What kind of man are you?” blustered Lawrence.

“One who does not fight duels.”

“That is no kind of man.”

“All right.” Shane seemed unconcerned by this.

“Have you no care for your reputation?”

“Not…muchly? No.” He murmured a quick question to Marguerite, who supplied the word. “Not particularly.”

The chevalier was clearly taken aback by this. “You will fight me, sir!”

“Will I?” Shane finally looked back to the chevalier. “Do you fight to first blood here?”

“For a matter of courtesy, most certainly.” The man swept his arm toward the girl, who was trying to slink away. “Duels to the death are reserved for a matter of honor.”

Shane listened to Marguerite translate the details on that, then nodded. “First blood, then?”

“So I have said.”

Shane moved so quickly that Marguerite saw only a blur. The chevalier yelped and slapped his hand to the side of his head. Shane turned and carefully set a small object down on one of the little drinks tables scattered along the wall.

It was an earring. It was still snapped closed. Marguerite winced.

“You barbarian!” hissed the chevalier. Blood was leaking between his fingers, staining the fabric of his cuffs. The gathered crowd gasped excitedly.

“You will want to get that fix. Fixed? Fixed, yes,” said Shane. “Ears always bleed…muchly?” And then he went back to staring over the man’s shoulder.

“I…you…” The man grabbed for his sword, which was peace bonded into the scabbard. “You dare!”

“Was that not what was meant?”

Marguerite decided it was time to intervene, before Shane ripped another earring off of the man’s head. “Sir Lawrence, I will thank you to stop badgering my bodyguard. This is clearly a misunderstanding.”

“A lady’s reputation is at stake!” the chevalier snarled, although this was deprived of some of its impact by the fall of lace across his face as he clutched his ear.

“The lady has left,” said Marguerite. She stepped forward. Shane made a small disapproving noise and started to move after her, but she waved him back, annoyed. “Sir Lawrence,” she said in an undertone, “no one can doubt that your heart was in the right place, but my bodyguard is more muscle than sense. He only barely speaks your language and had no idea what you were asking. He meant no insult to the lady.”

“Nevertheless—”

“It would be beneath you to meet such a man on the field of honor,” she said. “You spoke correctly when you said that he was a barbarian. He’s from the northwest. Far northwest.” She leaned in. “I found him wrestling ice-bears in the pit for spare change. He’s got certain talents, but no comprehension of civilized honor whatsoever.”

Sir Lawrence’s gaze flicked from Shane back to Marguerite. Between the earring and the hypothetical ice-bears, he seemed to deflate slightly. “I have no concern for my honor,” he said coldly, “but the lady’s.”