"Then accept the wager," he goaded.

"Done then," he said loudly. "Easy money."

"Yes," Eron agreed. "For me."

There was raucous laughter from several of the men around Lamon as the Kaels marched onto the line. They all counted out ten arrows, then put the rest on the ground well behind them, like the other seven men and women on the line. There was no organized firing. Each archer fired at his or her own pace, but they all had to wait for the go signal from Garyth Longshank, the village mayor. Garyth was a tall man, thin and whip-like with a friendly face and warm expression. He was the village cobbler, and just about everyone except the Kaels wore his leather shoes and boots. He was also a sharp trader, who made quite a bit of money duping the travelling merchants who thought the small village had no trading man among them. Garyth, wearing a simple white wool shirt with his leather apron and wool breeches, stood to the near side of the firing range, holding a large piece of white cloth in his hand. "Are the archers ready?" he called.

There was no reply. That meant that everyone was ready.

"Alright then, commence shooting!" he shouted.

Tarrin exhaled, centering himself. He drew back his powerful longbow in a smooth motion; the bow was one of Eron's best, and it was so powerful that only Tarrin, Eron, Elke, and the village smith could even draw it. He brought the bowstring to his cheek, carefully lining the arrow up with the target, after testing the air with his senses to discern wind speed and direction. He held the bow rock-solid, tuning out the sound of loosed arrows and chatter around him, becoming one with his bow, one with the target, just as he was taught. Then he loosed in a smooth, fluent motion.

He knew it was a bull's-eye the instant it left the bow. He didn't bother to watch it, reaching in for another arrow, pulling it out just as his arrow thudded home in the exact center of the target. His was not the only one; many men and women in Aldreth were not shabby with the bow themselves, since just about everyone in the whole village had at least one. The villagers of Aldreth as a whole were exceptionally proficient with the bow. Of the ten archers at the line, only two failed to hit the bull's-eye on the first shot. And theirs were not far off.

Tarrin blanked out his mind again, drew, carefully aimed, and then fired. Then again. And again. His arrows were tightly grouped right around the bull's-eye as he fired his arrows. Tarrin lost track of where he was, he was so caught up in the machination of nocking, drawing, aiming, and firing the bow. He reached for another arrow, and found the quiver empty. He'd fired all his arrows. He looked down the range, seeing his ten arrows almost perfectly arranged inside the red of the bull's-eye. That was good, even for him. He usually had one or two outside the bull's-eye. He looked to his left, to his sister's target. It looked exactly like his. A look to the right showed his father's target exactly the same. His father looked at him and grinned boyishly.

"They'll have to advance all three of us," he said with a smirk. "We tied. And I just won twenty talents."

Jenna laughed delightedly and lowered her bow. "Let's see the others beat those," she said with family pride.

As surely as the sun rose in the east, Eron was right. Garyth consulted with the official tallyman, then made an announcement. "There is a tie," he called. "Three people put all ten arrows in the bull's-eye. The rule is, all people who tie are given advancement except in the final round, so Eron Kael, Tarin Kael, and Jenna Kael advance."

Smiling, the three made their way back to their table, where Elke handed each of them an earthenware mug of chilled apple-flavored ale from Eron's keg. "Did you see that?" Jenna laughed to her mother.

"You shot very well," Elke smiled to her daughter.

"And Lamon Dannis thought I couldn't get an arrow to the target. Ha!"

Tarrin noticed that all the boys were looking strangely at Jenna. Surprisingly, her shooting ability had attracted their eyes. He couldn't see why not, her dark hair and pretty face would attract any boy's attention. Then again, she was the daughter of Elke Kael. But Jenna didn't have the same problems as Tarrin, since she looked Sulasian to her fingernails. She had lots of friends in the village, and the mothers of the children weren't quite as worried over her. Although Tarrin was a nice, considerate boy, he looked too much and acted too much like Elke Kael to suit them.

"Don't drink too much," Tarrin warned her. "We have to shoot again."

"I won't," she promised.

Because ten people were supposed to go on to the next round, the rules changed slightly for the last group. There were only six of them, so the mayor decided that only one of them would advance, to balance out the advancing group to ten to take the tie into account. After the last group fired, the targets were moved back and the advancing ten were called back up to the line. In this phase of the competition, the goal was to score at least a predetermined amount. Everyone that did stayed in, while those who failed were out. Every time a round was over, the target was moved back twenty five paces. In case nobody scored the quota on a particular round, the person with the highest score was declared the winner. What made it more difficult was that each archer was only to fire three arrows.

"This is a group of good archers," the mayor said in a booming voice, "so we'll make it tough right at the start. The quota is nine points." Everyone was expected to pass the first round, but a few of them grumbled at the high quota set. The reason they grumbled was because the wind had picked up some. Distance firing in a shifting crosswind was tricky. "Archers ready!" the mayor called, and ten bows raised. "Loose!" he shouted.

Tarrin raised his bow slightly, calculating in his mind the trajectory angle needed to give the arrow the right height to hit the bull's-eye. Then he watched the wind carefully, adjusted his aim to let the wind push his arrow into the target, and then loosed. He watched the arrow go high and seemingly off center, then get pushed down and back on course by the wind. It hit just at the edge of the bull's-eye, but it still counted as one. He noted with concern that Jenna nailed the center with her first shot, but Tarrin knew that Jenna had to eliminate everyone else fast. If the target went back too far, her young thirteen-year-old arm wouldn't be able to send an arrow to reach it. Tarrin figured she'd be in for only three rounds before distance began working against her. But Tarrin had other things to do than worry about his sister. He nocked another arrow, aimed, checked, adjusted, and then fired again, hitting more solidly in the bull's-eye that time. Then he did it once more. His last arrow missed the bull's-eye, but was solidly in the innermost ring. That was eleven points, enough to advance. Tarrin saw that Jenna and his father both had three bull's-eyes. Looking down the line, Tarrin saw that everyone looked to be advancing.

Almost. After the tallyman checked the targets and the archers walked to the target to pull their arrows, two people were eliminated, the thatcher and the smith's apprentice. The targets were moved back, and Tarrin glimpsed a slightly worried expression on his sister's face. He thought that she had to know that she was going to run into this problem; Tarrin did well his first time, but didn't win. Because the same thing happened to him. The target was pushed back out of his range. He stepped over to her as she checked the fletching on her arrows, and said "don't worry, the same thing happened to me when I competed the first time. Just do the best you can."

"But I want to win," she huffed.

"So did I," he told her.

The wind died down some as the mayor raised the quota to ten points. The whole line took several minutes to shoot three arrows, as each archer carefully took aim, and there was no time limit. After that round, three more were out. Five stood to watch the target go back. The quota went up to eleven points, and Tarrin guessed that this would be the last round.