Archery? Well, Vyarin had to give it some thought. Sure, he understood its purpose, that much was well drilled into his mind. Yet, to actually wield one was another matter. He had been taught, of course. His tutor had taken it to heart that the young Vyarin could hit a target from twenty paces in a pinch. Yet this lady seemed rather enraptured by the idea of them. Perhaps Apura too had a strong archery tradition? It made sense to his mind, on some level. What was he to say?

"'Archery,'" he began. The word he didn't know in Apura-tongue, so he continued to use the Prozdy term. "I to know it. Yet not good. I ask you to help me? To make good in the . . . ahh . . . 'archery', yes?" That was about as well as he thought he could handle it. To be quite honest, it would be good to have some more practice in the craft. Strenuous activity was far more to his taste than this court life, and besides, it would be nice to share an activity with a local. Maybe even a friend, if the diplomatic relations here don't fall through. He blinked with his one good eye, recalling with a touch of annoyance playing across his face. The eye thing, right. He wouldn't be able to tell if his target were at ten paces or a hundred.

"I . . . not to see good. You help me there also, yes?" He said smiling a bit, hopefully conveying that it was but a light-hearted joke.