"Being on the Council saves your neck for now, Drummer," he said with venom. "Soon as Narval gets wise to you, and kicks your tail off, I'll be coming after you."
He reached Drummer's table.
"On second thought, why wait that long," his voice changed to a snarl. "Now's as good a time as any."
He grasped the front of Drummer's cloak and jerked him to his feet.
"Tell me, old man, what can you do that Narval can't?"
The onlookers' silence hung heavily. The stale incense rose in eddies and diffused the shadows cast by the glowing wall sconces.
"Show's over, Scarf," said Drummer in a low voice, trying to twist away. "I've got to be on my way."
He placed his hand over Scarf's huge paw to loosen its grip.
They were of equal height, but Scarf, more than twice Drummer's mass and build, would have none of it.
"The hell you do," he growled, tightening his hold.