"Then it seems entirely all right if she wants to compete against adults. And I bet she will want to, she really loves this stuff."

"Great, thanks!"

Rembrandt walks back to Iomedae. "Do you understand - competition, tournament, rankings?" 

"No, sir, I not know competition, tournament, rankings."

"Okay. Today you can shoot just for fun, if you want, or you can try to shoot better than other people to win a prize. That's a competition. If you like, you can test how good you are at shooting, and we can figure out what your ranking should be - that means how good you are compared to other people - and you get a badge for how good you are. So people know you're not a beginner. Do you want to do that?" 

" - I want to do that!!"

"Alright. So we're gonna have you shoot a royal round. That means we use these targets - this way." He walks with Iomedae over to the right end of the range, where there are modern five-ring targets set up at twenty, thirty and forty yards. Each has rings of white, black, blue, red and gold.

"You get six arrows to shoot the first target, then six to shoot the second, then six to shoot the third. Then we do a timed round where you have thirty seconds to shoot as many as you can. Five points if you hit yellow, four for red, three for blue, two for black and one for white. That make sense?"

They're still waiting for others to be done before Iomedae can retrieve arrows. 

"I do not know English sir but - shoot better is better, I know that?" Iomedae hasn't seen a painted-rings target before but the concept is obvious - you try to hit the center, and the painted rings make it apparent how much you missed by so that you can adjust your aim. It is clever and it makes sense the way few things in America make sense. It is clear why you would invent it and how people would be served by it.

"You understand six?" Rembrandt shows her six fingers. 

“Six.” It sounds like the Spanish so she actually does remember that one, though she can’t count to it. “Six arrows.” 

"Yes. After we retrieve arrows, you can shoot six arrows at this close target. Don't change targets until after you shot six, okay?"

"Last arrow!" Joy calls. 

"Six, at this target." For a contest of skill, in which she can show that she can shoot as a man can. Her face is full of determination and she is holding the bow like it is the most precious thing she's ever touched.

"Yes. And you take as long as you like to shoot them. Later we have a timed round, but not this round."

Joy calls, "Bows down! Retrieve arrows!"

Rembrandt gestures for Iomedae to go fetch his arrows back. "If any are broken, just show me, I'll replace them."

One of the arrows has in fact lost a feather. Iomedae finds the feather and brings it to Rembrandt, a little apologetically but not very. Arrows break; it wouldn't be surprising if Americans had invented arrows that didn't but it also isn't surprising they haven't. 

Rembrandt takes the arrow missing a feather and runs a finger along its length. "Yup, that happens. No stress."

He hands Iomedae a new arrow with an absolutely neutral face. "Wait for Joy to call before you shoot anything. Six arrows in the closest target here."

When Iomedae's brothers and father are having an archery competition they throw things to shoot in midair, usually. Sometimes someone will point out an apple on a tree and try to hit it. But it makes sense, that if you wanted a direct comparison without too much luck in it, you'd do it like this. Her instincts are really strongly against holding an arrow at full draw for very long - she literally cannot do it on a good bow, for one thing - but that doesn't mean she isn't lining up the shot thoroughly in her head, thinking about it, while she waits for joy.

"Everyone back behind the line?" Joy calls. Rembrandt coughs noticeably and Joy freezes, then corrects herself. "Is the range clear?"

The range is clear!

"Loose when ready," Joy shouts because that's what her other teacher had her saying and it's the more period phrasing, and then she remembers it's more important to be consistent. The nerves are getting to her a little bit. "Fire at will!" 

This target is really quite close and Iomedae knows the bow a bit better by now. Only one of the arrows misses outright, and three are on the gold. She tries not to look too pleased with herself, because it's a very easy shot for any real archer.

Rembrandt shades his eyes with his hand as he counts the arrows. "Five, five, five, four, four, that's twenty-three."

She shoots so fast he reckons she can get a second round in before there's a call to retrieve. "You want six more arrows for the next target, or you want to take your time?"

He points at the thirty-yard target to make it obvious which he means.

People have been doing quite a lot of asking her if she wants to take her time and she feels like she should probably check if they have some wisdom relevant to the kind of beasts you fight in America. "Trying to kill a angry car with legs, take your time no a good idea. Trying to kill a car eat grass, take time a good idea?"

"Uh, I don't think you should try to kill a car with arrows. Or any metal object. You'll break all the arrows that way." 

"A car no wearing steel."

"A... wagon?" 

"Wagon eat people or grass?"

"...wagons don't eat anything. They're carts. Cars with no engines?" 

"...what things you shoot?"