"Someone's passing out tonight!" was the only part of Solomon's declaration that anyone heard. Price could have hugged the courier for joy. He let out a whoop and slapped the boy on the back. He turned around and nearly shrieked with fright at the death-glare from the short ranger in the corner.

"No- no alcohol," Price murmured, remembering his orders.
The short ranger continued staring at him.
Price gulped and scooted over next to Solomon. He opened his mouth to speak, but for a few moments, he stammered, unable to look him in the eye. "I'm- I'm- you know, I'm- sorry. You've tried to be a real pal, and I won't soon forget you. Truly, I'm sorry..."

He drew his sword and sliced at Solomon.

The whole room rung with unsheathed swords.