Thief of Time - Scared

'My name,' said Lu-Tze, leaning on his broom as the irate ting raised a hand, 'is Lu-Tze.'

The dojo went silent. The attacker paused in mid-bellow.

'-Ai! Hao-gng! Gnh? Ohsheeeeeeohsheeeeeee ...'

The man did not move but seemed instead to turn in on himself, sagging from the martial stance into a kind of horrified, penitent crouch. Lu-Tze bent over and struck a match on his unprotesting chin.

'What's your name, lad?' he said, lighting his ragged cigarette.

'His name is mud, Lu-Tze,' said the dojo master, striding forward. He gave the unmoving challenger a kick.

'Well, Mud, you know the rules. Face the man you have challenged, or give up the belt.' The figure remained very still for a moment, and then cautiously, in a manner almost theatrically designed not to give offence, started to fumble with his belt.

'No, no, we don't need that' said Lu-Tze kindly. 'It was a good challenge. A decent “Ai!” and a very passable “Hai-eee!”, I thought. Good martial gibberish all round, such as you don't often hear these days. And we would not want his trousers falling down at a time like this, would we?' He sniffed and added, 'Especially at a time like this.' He patted the shrinking man on the shoulder. 'Just you recall the rule your teacher here taught you on day one, eh? And... why don't you go and clean yourself up? I mean, some of us have to tidy up in here.’

***

The Thief of Time - p57-58