Ian and Honoria idled amidst the bustle and clamor of the merchant’s tents. They stood off to one side letting the tide of people flow past them, trying to look as if there was nothing unusual about loitering for so long in one place. They had been keeping their eye on a particular merchant who was three tents down. They watched until Ian felt he was the target they were looking for and then stepped into the flow and headed towards the tent.

  “What’s wrong with these arrows?” Ian asked pointing to a barrel that was nearly full of them. He knew exactly what the barrel was for, but it seemed as good a way as any to try and stir someone up.

  The merchant who was running the tent looked to be an elf. A fact that the merchant was making sure everyone knew. There were elvish symbols, art and trinkets decorating every available space.

  “They aren’t for sale,” replied the merchant without looking up from the work he was doing in his lap.

  “Why not?” Ian asked, picking one up.

  “Well, I suppose I’d sell them to you if you’d like, but they are all damaged. Some just need refletching, others are worse. Doubt you could hit much of anything with many of them.”

  “Then why have them out here?”

  “I don’t sell them,” the merchant explained in a voice that said he’d had this conversation many times in the past. “I buy them. I give a copper an arrow. Then I fix them and resell them.”

  “Arrows aren’t that hard to make and it’s a poor archer who can’t fletch an arrow,” said Ian. “Seems like a scam to me.”

  “I promise you it isn’t,” the merchant replied looking a little put out. “I’ve trained with elvish masters. I can take any arrow in that bucket and make it fly as true as you’d like. If you’d like a specific pattern in the fletching, I can give you that too for a slight increase in price.”

  “I am not a poor archer. I make and fletch my own. I’m sure that I can take any arrow in that bucket and make it fly truer and straighter than yours.”

  Honoria, who had been standing quietly nearby, stepped up to Ian and whispered in his ear. Though you couldn’t hear what she said, her expression seemed to indicate that this was a waste of time. As she put her hand on Ian’s arm as if to guide him away from the booth, she brushed her hair over her shoulder and nodded away from the tent. Which served the desired purpose of drawing attention to her own pointed ears.

  Several of the people nearby had stopped and were now listening in on the exchange between the two. One of them, a human, stepped forward.

  “If your friend had said that,” the new man said gesturing towards Honoria, “I might have believed it. But I don’t believe you will be able to back those claims. Yllia here is one of the best fletchers I’ve ever known. I too can make my own arrows, but his arrows put mine to shame.”

  “Is that not a comment on your skill rather than his?” Honoria asked.

  “I’ll admit I’m not the Empire’s greatest, but I can make fine arrows. Fine enough that I rarely miss. But with Yllia’s arrows I never do.”

  Honoria said nothing in reply, instead she raised one eyebrow and made a slight frown that spoke volumes.

  “You doubt me!? I don’t mean to be rude, but you don’t even know who I am! You give me ten of Yllia’s arrows, name your target, and I guarantee I hit more often than your fellow does. Probably more often than you as well.”

  “Silas,” said a voice out of the crowd, “I can outshoot you, myself.”

  “That’s crap and you know it. I’ll outshoot them, you and anyone else who wants a try.”

  “Sounds like a challenge to me,” said Yllia. Clearly pleased at the prospect of the amount of arrows he might sell providing ammunition to just such a contest.

  “So, it does,” said Honoria.

  “Where and when?” asked Ian.

  “How about now?” said Silas. “There’s a large oak tree on the south edge of the conclave. I’ll meet anyone who wants to take their chances there, just as soon as I can get to my tent and grab my gear.”

  “We will be there,” said Ian with a smile.

  Ian and Honoria went back to their own tents, collected their bows and headed straight for the oak tree. They didn’t have far to walk in either direction, but nevertheless, by the time they arrived there was already a fairly sizable crowd waiting.

  The fellow who had said he also could outshoot Silas, who had the unfortunate name of Rodblit, was included among them. There were also eight other archers who, despite not being at the initial conversation, already knew of the contest and were ready to shoot as well. Six of the other eight archers were human with the remaining two being either elves or half-elves. Besides Honoria, the only other female was one of the humans.

  Yllia, clearly a motivated entrepreneur, had set up a small bench with plenty of arrows and other equipment ready for sale. He’d also brought along several of the various elvish items from his tent. It wasn’t long after that that Silas arrived.

  “Looks like there are eleven of us,” said Silas counting heads. “Unless your friend intends to shoot?”

  “I will compete as well,” said Honoria.

  “Then an even dozen it is.”

  “Yllia, you care to take part?” asked Ian.

  “No. I know my limits. I will be glad to provide arrows, strings and the like, but I’m sure you can all outshoot me. My eyesight is not what it was a hundred years ago.”

  “Is this contest for bragging rights or do we want to make it worth our while?” asked Rodblit.

  “I am content to shoot for bragging rights,” said Ian, “but I will not turn down a chance to take away more than that. Shall we shoot for gold?”

  The other archers had all looked quite enthused as the talk of a wager had started, but then at the mention of gold a lot of their smiles turned to frowns.

  “I got no gold,” said one of the men in a thick country accent that essentially left the ‘d’ off of gold.”

  “Alright then,” said Ian immediately realizing his mistake. “What shall we wager?”

  “Let’s do it for favors,” said another of the men and the rest readily agreed.

  Ian, not quite sure what was being suggested, spoke up again, “Sorry, we are relatively new to Clan Zenja, and this is our first conclave. I just want to be sure about what I’m staking.”

  “Favors is something often wagered amongst the Cunāe,” explained Yllia. “It means that each of the contestants is promising to help the winner in any reasonable way that they should ask. The favor could be asked immediately at the end of the contest or saved until a later date.”

  “Favors it is,” Ian said with a smile. “I’d be proud to help any of you fine people. Actually, before we begin, let me just say that I don’t need a contest to force me to help out. If I can do anything for any of you, I’d be glad to assist you whether you win, lose or aren’t even participating.”

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  “I also believe this,” said Honoria.

  “Okay, now that we’ve got the wager worked out, what exactly are we shooting at?” asked another of the men.

  “We could shoot at the oak. Or one of the knots on it,” suggested another. “We could back further away after every round.”

  “The whole tree is too large, and the best knots are on this side. That would mean shooting toward the tents and while I’m sure none of you would miss, let’s not take the chance of hurting bystanders. We should probably shoot either away from the crowd or parallel to it,” said Ian.

  “Do you actually have some gold?” asked Rodblit.

  “Sure. Did you want to make a side wager?”

  “No, but coins make fine targets from a distance.”

  “This is a good idea,” said Honoria. “But not a coin. Perhaps this.”

  Honoria walked over to Yllia’s bench and picked up a necklace with a round metal disc hanging from it. The disc was the size of a coin, but less thick and looked to be made of some type of gray metal. It had a face stamped on both sides of it and a hole punched through it near the top.

  “While I’m sure Taslit, the demigod depicted on both sides, would find using his likeness as a target in an archery contest was perfectly fine, I must take this opportunity to mention that this particular trinket does actually belong to me,” said Yllia, “but it is for sale.”

  “I’ll give you a gold,” said Ian. “Don’t ask for more.”

  “One gold it is,” replied Yllia without pause.

  “Let’s hang it from the long branch of the oak. It extends pretty far away from the tents and the crowd. We can head to the east and fire from there. Backing up as needed. How does that sound?” asked Ian.

  The various archers all agreed and without further delay one of the nearby youngsters was hoisted up into the tree with the necklace and some extra cord. Moments later the token hung down about four feet below the limb and about five feet above the ground. The token had enough weight that it was relatively stationary. The wind did cause it to slowly spin, but that was actually a benefit as the sunlight winking off of the turning coin made it easier to see at a distance.

  An initial distance of fifty feet was decided upon and the archers prepared to fire. It was agreed that anyone missing the token would be out of the contest. Everyone hitting the token would shoot again in the next round, which would take place ten feet back from the previous line. To qualify for the next round a hit in the center of the token was not needed, your arrow need only nick the token, a fact that was easy to discern as the token let out a clear ‘ting’ whenever it was struck by even the most glancing of blows.

  By this point the crowd watching the shooting had grown quite large. Despite the earlier wariness amongst the archers about betting, Ian could spy plenty of people in the crowd making wagers, even though the first arrow had yet to fly.

  It was clear after the first round that none of the archers was a poor shot. All twelve easily hit the token that danced and spun after each contact. During the second round it became clear why Yllia had been so quick to accept Ian’s offer of a gold. Halfway through the round the token broke free from the cord holding it up. There was a quick search for it that ended with one of the spectators holding up the arrow that had knocked it free. The arrow had pierced the token and passed most of the way through it. Even if they bothered to break the arrow off, the token was no longer usable.

  Before they could even wonder what, they should do next. Yllia was standing nearby with a token identical to the first hanging from his hand. When Ian went to take it Yllia said, “I believe the agreed upon price was a gold.”

  Ian held his tongue, smiled and fished out the coin.

  The new token was suspended in the tree and the contest continued.

  Twelve rounds and eight tokens later only three of the archers had missed the target. All of them were human men who had shown up on their own. Both elves, the human woman, Rodblit, Silas, two more men, Ian and Honoria still remained. The remaining nine backed up another ten feet and were now 170 feet away from the target.

  As they waited their turn, Ian and Honoria talked quietly standing a little away from the others.

  “What do you think, Ria?” Ian asked. Ian had first called Honoria that long ago hoping to get a rise out of her but had later learned she was fond of it. Now he only called her that when they were talking privately.

  “Astrid, the woman will miss next.”

  “I think so too. After her the two human men and then the shorter elf and probably Silas. Who do you think is the best among the last two?”

  “Rodblit will be at the end.”

  “I don’t know. The taller elf seems pretty good.”

  “His form is no good. He is possibly the best of them at short ranges, but we are reaching his limit. Rodblit will be at the end.”

  “Care to bet on it? Perhaps a favor?”

  “Fine. I will take your favor.”

  The next five to miss were the ones they had predicted, though Silas actually missed before the elf. Ian, Honoria, Rodblit and the taller elf were all that remained. Up until that point neither of the elves had bothered to even give their names, but now the taller one admitted that his was Preston and that he was actually a half-elf. Hence the relatively un-elvish name.

  Other than that brief exchange, and the occasional “good shot”, the four remaining archers continued shooting in silence. It wasn’t until they were two hundred and thirty feet away that Preston finally missed.

  The remaining three, each expressed what rotten luck it was to Preston. Though in truth none of them believed luck, good or bad, had anything to do with it. They immediately got back to the contest.

  From this distance, they were far enough away that they couldn’t even hear distinct voices from the crowd anymore. There were a few people standing near the archers, but the bulk of the spectators stood near the oak where they could see the token and hear the chime as the arrows struck it.

  Ian, having now bought nearly twenty of the tokens, had begun to wonder if Yllia would have enough to see the contest through to the end. But when he’d mentioned this to Yllia, the elf had merely smiled and assured him that there were plenty of the tokens available.

  As Ian got ready to fire, Honoria moved beside him to talk to him in a whispered tone.

  “Should we not let this end?” she asked.

  “What do you mean,” Ian replied in a similar whisper. “We were supposed to create a contest as a means of fostering relationships and as a way of potentially getting information. That’s what we’re doing. Why should we lose on purpose?”

  “To foster the good relations. Nobody likes to lose.”

  “Nobody likes a quitter even less than they like to lose. If you want to drop out, feel free. I am going to win this.”

  Ian stepped forward to make his shot. As he did, Honoria whispered in his ear, “Also, you owe me a favor.”

  Five rounds later Rodblit fell out of the contest. They were now far enough away that the shooters could not hear the arrow hit the coin, but the roar of the crowd with each successful hit was more than enough to confirm it. When Rodblit’s arrow missed, instead of a round of cheers, a low “ooh” floated back to them on the wind.

  “And now?” asked Honoria.

  “Now we still finish. It’s just you and me. But before we go on, I want to increase the wager.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to win this and have you say that the favor you won from Rodblit lasting longer than Preston cancels out the favor you will owe me. If you want to cash in that favor, do it now. Otherwise, it is double or nothing.”

  “What is a double or nothing?”

  “It means when I win, you owe me a favor and I owe you nothing. If you won, I would owe you three favors. Though you aren’t going to win.”

  “You say you have better use of the common tongue? This is not ‘double or nothing’. It is single for you or triple for me.”

  “Fine. Then the bet is single or triple. Agreed?”

  “Agreed. I will take your three favors.”

  In addition to the gold Yllia was getting for the tokens, he ended up getting even more from Ian and Honoria for arrows. Both had plenty of arrows back at their tent, but it didn’t seem wise to try and pause the contest long enough for them to get them. So, they were forced to buy some from the elf after all.

  After another three rounds of shooting, Ian reluctantly admitted that the elves’ arrows shot impressively cleanly.

  It took another five rounds after that for one of the pair to finally miss. The target was 360 feet away. The coin was essentially invisible.

  Honoria was first to fire this round. She sat gauging the wind and taking aim with the arrow drawn back. She stood as still as a statue. The end of the hair that fell beside her ear was the only part of her that moved. After a time long enough to make Ian’s arm ache, even though he wasn’t the one shooting, she finally fired.

  The ‘ooh’ of the crowd when her arrow flew wide signaled the miss.

  “Can it be you’ve lost?” Ian asked.

  “I do not lose,” said Honoria. “You still have to hit it to have won.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to miss.”

  Ian stepped up to the line and gazed down towards the coin. The sun was getting close to the horizon, and you could still catch a glimpse of the token as it spun. He brought the bow up in a smooth motion and prepared to take aim as Honoria had. But then, acting on instinct, instead of pausing he let the arrow fly as soon as the bow was in position. In his mind he could hear his old instructor chiding him for taking such a rash shot. But somehow in his heart he knew, for better or worse, it was the right choice.

  He might have imagined the ring of the arrow striking the token, but he clearly did not imagine the roar of the crowd.

  “Luck.” Honoria said. “You fired without aiming proper.”

  “Good luck,” agreed Ian. “I asked my heart to give me what it wanted and now I have a chance to get it.”

  “And what favor will you ask of me? My stand on our having a relationship does not change.”

  “I know. I know. You’ve made that clear. Though I still maintain you are wrong. But I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Instead, I’m going to try to convince you one last time. The favor I ask is that you let me try.”

  “Done. But how will you convince me without talking about it?”

  Ian stepped forward, put one arm around her waist, slid the other into her dark hair and kissed her.

  This time the roar of the crowd was louder.