Changes

sending it straight for the goal. The Trainees and Riders, who had been in hot pursuit, couldn’t reverse fast enough, and just when it looked as if Holly was going to make the save, the ball did a bizarre drop, bounced once, then an invisible hand smacked it into the goal.

The crowd went insane. Mags swore, and he was pretty sure that the rest of his team was turning the air blue with curses as well. Dallen danced under him with frustration.

They were so determined now that it was mere moments from the point where the ball came into play again that they had it in front of West’s goal. But try as they might, they could not manage to shake it out of the scrum, and the quarter ended with West still ahead by one.

“This is the point where I should be a good sport and remind you all that this is only a game,” Gennie said crossly, as they huddled. “As your captain, I am supposed to keep the greater good in mind.”

“Right. Ye’ve reminded us,” Mags managed from between clenched teeth. Now ’ow d’ye really feel?”

“Ballocks to that cant,” said Gennie fiercely, her eyes gleaming behind the face-guard. “I know they weren’t cheating, but did they have to pick the day we’re playing in front of half of Haven to pull that trick out?”

“I’ve got a trick of m’own,” Corwin said grimly. “Are there any rules ’bout gettin’ help from the side, so long’s it’s not touchin’ the ball?”

There had been some extremely stringent regulations laid down regarding extra players on the field or a spectator using any Gift to interfere with players, ball, or flag. Gennie and the others looked at each other. “Noooo —” Gennie said, slowly. “You know all the rules as well as the rest of us, Corwin, so I assume whatever you have in mind doesn’t break anything existing. What are you going to do?”

“Keep ’em busy, but keep half an eye on their goal,” Corwin said. “When you see me pop up in front of it, get the ball t’me, anyhow.”

Now they all looked at Gennie, who shrugged. “We’ve got nothing to lose and we have to make two goals to win,” she pointed out. “Try it, Corwin. Hup!”

So it was football again, with Jeffers and Halleck keeping the Fetching Trainee so busy he was never able to put an eye on the ball for as much as a heartbeat. Mags couldn’t figure out what Corwin was up to; he seemed to be holding his place in front of their goal, steady as a rock—

When suddenly, he blinked out, just vanished, and when Mags threw a startled glance at the West’s goal— there he was!

::Corwin!:: he shouted into everyone’s heads, and fast as a snake, Pip had the ball up out of the scrum and in the air, and Gennie hit it as hard as she could in a fast drive to Corwin, while Jeffers and Halleck boxed in the Fetching Trainee and shoved him down a slope.

Corwin leaped into the air and snatched the ball out of it, then tucked it under his arm, put his head down, and charged like a bull for the goal. There were no rules about that, either, although no one in all of the games that had been played so far had ever tried to run the ball to the goal physically. No one could believe that Corwin was doing it. The West’s Foot, stunned for an instant, charged for him. They all met in a cloud of dust and a tangle of limbs right at the door of the goal.

The entire South team ran for the West goal. By the time they got there, the pile had sorted itself out, and the referee had gotten there. He really didn’t need to make a ruling, though; the ball was clearly just over the threshold. Corwin had made the goal!

But Corwin was still on the ground, groaning and holding his arm against his body. And three Healers had peeled out of the crowd at a run, with four Healer Trainees and a stretcher behind them.

“Goal for South!” Colin shouted over the field-trumpet. “Foot Corwin down! Substitute for South!”

Corwin’s sub, a Blue by the name of Jamson, ran out to join the South Foot. As everyone watched nervously, the Healers huddled over Corwin, who couldn’t be seen for all the green-clad bodies. Mags watched, his heart in his throat. How badly was Corwin hurt? Had he cracked his skull? There was an awful lot of stone around those goals.

Finally one of the Healers popped his head up. “Just a broken arm!” he called. The crowd exploded with cheers. They cheered again when two of the Healer Trainees hoisted up the stretcher with Corwin on it and he waved feebly with his good arm. Gennie rode up to him as he was carried off the field, talked with him for a moment or two, then signaled to the referee for a time out as she rode back to join the rest.

As Corwin’s porters made their way through a sea of well-wishers, the team gathered around Gennie.

“How in the name of Kernos did he do that?” Jeffers demanded.

“Herald Tamlin.” Gennie grinned. And as about half of the team, including Mags, looked puzzled, she added, “His Gift is to make you see things that aren’t there.”

“Wait—what?” Jeffers said, then his eyes widened. “So the Corwin at our goal wasn’t really there?”

Gennie nodded. “He’s an old friend of Corwin’s family. They probably worked this out between them last night.” She shrugged. “He was right. There’s no rule against it. It wasn’t as if he were cloaking Corwin sneaking up on the goal; Corwin’s just that good at sneaking. And I can’t believe he charged in there like that.”

“Me either,” Pip said with admiration. He looked down at the substitute. “Think you can play up to that standard, laddy?”

Jamson gulped, but he straightened his back. “I’ll give it all I’ve got, Trainee.”

Gennie nodded with approval. “Well said. All right. There’s not much time left in the quarter, so do whatever it is you need to do to win this game. Just don’t break any skulls. However the game ends, it won’t be said that we didn’t give them a fight.”

If West expected them to be shaken by Corwin’s loss, they were quickly disabused of the notion. Play started with a full-on charge headed by South’s riders, who were all over the Fetching Trainee. Pip got the ball, and he and Gennie dribbled it up and down the sides of the field, which effectively prevented about half of the West Riders and Companions from closing in on them. Mags and Dallen concentrated on harassing the edges of the action, giving special attention to West’s Riders, acting as if they were about to ram, then just brushing by. That rattled the Riders, who kept bracing for collisions that never happened, getting their ponies irritated and in a lather.