Someone mentioned this quote. I like it, so thought I'd toss it out. I think, it's worth noting that the two men here are subtly goading and baiting each other, so it's good not to take their assessments of each other's castes to heart, such as to take from this that "all warriors are bloodthirsty louts and must be played as such", or "all assassins are efficient, mirthless killers and must be played as such". What makes this scene so amusing is the fact that these two characters are having to work together, and are verbally poking and playing off each other as they go, using their castes' stereotypes as fodder for the verbal jibes.
“But you are of the Assassins,” I said.
“We are tenacious fellows,” he smiled.
“I have heard that,” I said.
“Do you think that only Warriors are men?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I have never been of that opinion.”
“Let us proceed,” he said.
“I thought you were too weak to be an Assassin,” I said. “I was once strong enough to defy the dictates of my caste,” he said. “I was once strong enough to spare my friend, though I feared that in doing this I would myself be killed.”
“Perhaps you are the strongest of the dark-caste,” I said. He shrugged.
“Let us see who can fight better,” I said.
“Our training is superior to yours,” he said.
“I doubt that,” I said. “But we do not get much training dropping poison into people’s drinks.”
“Assassins are not permitted poison,” he said proudly.
“I know,” I said.
“The Assassin,” he said, “is like a musician, a surgeon. The Warrior is like a butcher. He is a ravaging, bloodthirsty lout.”
“There is much to what you say,” I granted him. “But Assassins are such arid fellows. Warriors are more genial, more enthusiastic.”
“An Assassin goes in and does his job, and comes out quietly,” he said.
“Warriors storm buildings and burn towers.”
“It is true that I would rather clean up after an Assassin than a Warrior,” I said.
"You are not a bad fellow for a Warrior," he said.
"I have known worse Assassins than yourself," I said.
"Let us proceed," he said.
"Agreed," I said. We, together, I carrying the girl, made our way up another flight of stairs.
"Wait," I said.
"Yes" he said.
"The most obvious approaches to the chamber of Zarendargar," I said, "will probably be heavily guarded. Thus, let us circle about and climb upward. Perhaps we can eventually cut through from the level above."
"For a warrior," he said, "you are not totally without cunning."
"We have our flashes of inspiration," I informed him.
There is also this one for consideration:
Little love is lost betwixt the castes of warriors and assassins. Each deems himself the superior of, and the natural foe, of the other. The sword of the warrior, commonly, is pledged to a Home Stone, that of the assassin to gold and the knife.