Whiz. Bang. Crack.

  Little stones the size of marbles and larger stones the size of handballs volleyed across the field from the elders, who were reduced to an inch tall by the distance.

  Bang! A boom that shook the whole piece of clapboard wall. A large rock rebounded just on the other side of it from Dalliance. Crunch. The next one went straight through.

  Dalliance ducked from a prediction, the stone landing in the earth and wall behind him. There were stones everywhere, and the elders kept changing their minds. The good news was, once in the air, the arc was long enough to give a little warning. Another stone zipped through the hole left by the first one to nearly exactly the same result.

  "And we’re supposed to do what?" he asked again.

  "If we can hit them with any weapon, they are in time-out," Earnest snapped. "If we could hit them all at once, we win."

  There was a scream. Dalliance glanced over to the trenches to see Fallowfield clutching an obviously broken right hand. The bow he’d been training with lay uselessly out in the open, where anybody could throw a rock at you.

  Dalliance's own starter weapon had likewise been hit, but a few fake-outs allowed him to succeed in grasping it. The training arrows had leaden tips, rounded, but should still fly just fine. He wondered if a volley up over the wall would have any chance of hitting an adult in a normal situation, but his situation wasn't normal. Of course, he couldn’t get any visual either.

  He was forced to adjust his aim and draw until the predicted outcome was a cheer from the onlooking village. Then he released.

  Swish. Thwip. Thwip. The wind tore at the arrow's fletching, which was not in the best of repair, as the arrow itself sped off and scored a hit.

  Earnest glared at him. "He shot someone across the green without fletching."

  Effluvia, who was actually lying down in her own trench—though he wasn’t sure what her plan might be for moving forward from this position—commented acidly, "Every dog has his day."

  "She’s just jealous. I just need one second of sight," she complained.

  In an instant, it struck Dalliance. He was different from the rest of them. Of them all, he was the only one who didn't have to remain on the field. The battle was optional for him; he could fly away. They couldn’t possibly hit him. There were no rules about staying put.

  So he could get to a flanking position. No one could stop him. The notion was exciting.

  He could flank them. There was nothing in the rules that said he couldn’t, just nothing expecting him to be able to. Ha!

  Okay, he looked too happy.

  "Get down!" Ernest yelled.

  He dropped to the ground, his hands over his head. A fusillade of rocks, this time five at once, completely splintered the top of the barricade.

  "How did you know that was coming?" Dalliance asked.

  "I watched your face. Your eyes track it."

  "What? You’re watching the sky. It's a dead giveaway," Earnest said.

  Dalliance thought about that. That sounded like a real problem. "Yeah, it's a major tell," he said. "Also, your eyebrows."

  "Thanks, Earnest. I’m gonna go win."

  "What? Alone?"

  Dalliance thought about it. "Well. . . ." he said, trailing off.

  "Take me," Effluvia demanded. She raised a finger up behind her, and to the left of her barricade, released a coruscating arc of lightning.

  The flash had barely registered before she landed next to him in a heap of skirts and exhilarated, rosy-cheeked enthusiasm.

  "I can't." The words were more sure than he felt.

  "It’s a transport spell," she said. "It takes your equipment, right?"

  He blinked at her.

  "You don't show up naked," she said.

  "Right. I don't show up naked," he confirmed. It was less embarrassing to go along with her.

  "I'll be your scarf!" she said, and put her arms around his neck. "Take me with you."

  Dalliance cast [Werewind] as much to avoid Earnest's facial expression as for anything else.

  And Dalliance and Effluvia dissolved into a spreading gust of wind, her wild laughter rising until there was nothing left to produce it. The cloud, which used to be a pair of children, circled high above the field, their view a bird's-eye one, and then dropped just as suddenly back into the forms they’d inhabited for a lifetime.

  Her laugh completed from where it had cut off—delighted, free, and far too loud. After an instant's pause, rocks whizzed through the trees next to them, impacting with sharp pops and cracks, throwing fragments of bark and little clouds of dust into the air.

  "Sorry," she said. "It was amazing." Even the apology was delivered with a minimum of sheepishness, a perfunctory social contract fulfilled.

  "Let's move on."

  More rocks came, but the elders weren't exactly visible. She ducked and, moving on all fours, worked her way around to a completely different tree, unlimbering the bow from her back. Dalliance was right behind her. With all the noise of the rocks, their own motion was surprisingly covered.

  "You know," he said, "I almost forgot you use the bow."

  She rolled her eyes. "Mister Best said something similar." She nocked an arrow. "And with what's to come . . . ." She shrugged.

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  They drew and loosed together. Twin cheers went up as two elders lifted their hands. Mister Big Cheese, recipient of Effluvia's arrow, was visibly unaware of the impact until it clattered at his feet. He smiled and waved. Holiday Mallow, the other recipient, glowed briefly with magical healing, looking far less sanguine about Dalliance's aimed hit to the back of his head.

  "Children!" came the amplified voice of Earnest's mom, of all things. "Dalliance and Effluvia, picking an enfilade against their seniors! Have they landed the first two hits? Remarkable! Oh, and there's my Earnest!"

  Dalliance could see her now, peeking out of a trench.

  A hand shot out, which was Earnest attempting to get her to sock herself in the face with her own rock. Predictably, this failed.

  "An inspiring use of inspiration!" she announced.

  If Mister Best's puns were not always considered the best, Missus Verity's were widely considered the worst. But it was a small price to pay for having a town crier who could sing.

  She took off on a tangent, critiquing his skill's attempt. Earnest's ability was really only effective if you didn’t know what you were looking for. Dalliance had learned to resist most unexpected impulses toward nose-picking, butt-scratching, or stretching during class. A valiant attempt, though, he admitted.

  Effluvia fired again. Then a rock embedded itself in the tree next to Dalliance's head. He knew it was coming, but only a fraction of a second before, only long enough to get out of the way. And still, it skimmed his ear, leaving the tiniest stinging burn.

  He could see red on his fingertips as he felt his ear. If he hadn't moved, he'd have seen his own death. He dove into the first row of the little, tiny stand of windbreak trees.

  There was another rock. This one, a very early plate-shaped and spinning one, buzzed overhead like an angry bee.

  "Do not get hit," he said. "You’ll die."

  She looked at him like he was joking, smiling, and then the smile faded. "Peril," she said. "Drat. Someone’s actually put us in peril. But what elder would be willing?"

  Dalliance predicted what he would see if he looked around. Mister Best at one end of the field, looking toward him. His Da. And Sterling’s father. Not one powerhouse, that would be too easy, he thought. The three.

  Dangerously, the rocks whizzed overhead. “We’ve made ourselves the outliers," she said, clearly kicking herself for it. "Mister Best has no option but to follow along.”

  Man, they could throw.

  Dalliance predicted what he’d see if he looked around the tree. Cadence, with a head-sized rock.

  The back of the tree exploded into splinters.

  “Can you fly again?”

  “I’ll try.”

  A small rock slapped into the side of the tree, splinters spalling off its back, rapping hard against his shoulder, fragmenting his concentration. Sparks flickered with mana discharge, but that was all.

  Blood oozed slowly from the splinters embedded in his shoulder and chest.

  “No.”

  “Then I suppose we play by the rules for the time being.” She held her bow awkwardly out to the side. “Tell me when I’ll hit something.”

  Huh. He hadn’t considered that.

  “Tree. Tree. Still tree. Effie—okay.”

  The arrow’s path cleared the first branch.

  “Up. Up. Loose.”

  A cheer rose. She’d hit Da. He felt a surge of spite, then started looking for targets of his own.

  There was a problem.

  “I don’t know if we can hit Mister Best from here.”

  “What?”

  “He keeps catching my arrows and saluting me with them.”

  "You're kidding," she breathed. She sounded horrified, but there was an undeniable undercurrent of being impressed.

  Dalliance watched as Mister Best, as predicted, didn't even bother to dodge. He snatched the snap-shot arrow smoothly from the air, flicking it up next to his ear in a motion that looked suspiciously like a fencer's salute.

  "I never knew him to be so fearsome," she said, an odd look on her face.

  Hero worship? Dalliance wondered. Now?

  Mister Best's return fire was technical. His rocks were thrown well, accurately, and fast, but became almost trivial to dodge without the support of Dalliance's Da to box them in. The ones aiming for his head seemed to be gone, as well: Mister Best habitually went for body shots, while Sir Worth seemed to be trying to hit their hands or bow.

  Sir Worth's, on the other hand, were terrifying. They boomed through the air like cannonballs and shook leaves from the branches when they struck the trunks.

  "We need to get the Knight," she said, eyeing the massive armored figure in the distance.

  "I think Mr. Best only allowed us to hit my dad to spite him," Dalliance countered, watching the teacher’s relaxed stance. "Don't admit it, but I don't see us getting anything past Mr. Best. He’s too fast."

  "Do you have any ideas?" she asked, ducking as a rock splintered a branch above them.

  Dalliance hesitated. He looked at the impossible odds, then at Effluvia.

  "Yes," he admitted, lowering his voice. "But I didn't want to tell him I know how to cast the spell [Whisper]."

  Effluvia’s eyes narrowed instantly. "What are you going to use to cheat?"

  "Hey, I didn't say that!" he protested.

  But she didn't look convinced. She looked at the carnage in the trenches, then back at him with a grim, pragmatic set to her jaw.

  "Might as well do it," she said. "There's no one here to help who needs your help at this point on the final anyway."

  Dalliance grimaced. She was right.

  He focused his will, feeling the wind swirl around them, carrying the scent of pine sap and disturbed dust.

  "You always sound so certain," he said, breathless, "when you say that sort of thing."

  "Comes with a certain kind of upbringing," she said mysteriously, checking the fletching on her next arrow.

  Dalliance leaned out from behind the cover of the tree. He focused hard on Mr. Best. The teacher was scanning the tree line, a rock in hand, looking terrifyingly competent. Dalliance closed his eyes for a split second, summoning the memory. He needed the specific pitch and timbre of Morality Best greeting her father when he came back from the fields in the morning. High, clear, and demanding.

  He had to amend the words, though. He cast the sound on the wind, right into the man’s ear.

  [Whisper]: "Daddy? Why are you throwing the wrong way?"

  It worked. Mister Best spun in place, eyes widening. Dalliance loosed.

  Dalliance watched the pale dot of his arrow arc up, then begin to fall, and thus also when Mister Best became able to hear it: A sword appeared in his hand—drawn from thin air or a sleeve with impossible speed—and he swept it sideways. It was a dancer’s step, fluid and carrying him away from the arrow’s path even as his blade sought its shaft.

  But putting the two together was not quite sufficient.

  The arrow, deflected but not stopped, clattered against his leg.

  Point.

  Mister Best froze. He didn't check the 'wound'. His head snapped up, his eyes boring a hole through the foliage instead. Locked directly onto Dalliance’s hiding spot.

  There was a look of entirely un-teacher-like anger in them. Dalliance felt certain there would be words later on the topic. Probably something along the lines of: 'You don’t scare friends with threats against their children'.