“The judges,” Yellow said, standing.
“Judges?”
“They can not use unicorns for the Unolympics; they’re not objective. Too much rivalry between the Herds. It’s the same with the other species; they all have to use outside judges. Now if thou wilst excuse me, I must to my station.”
“Station?”
“I am a judge too. Didn’t I tell thee?”
“Now I’ve seen everything!” Stile muttered.
“Not quite. But when thou spyest Black judging, two pavilions down, then mayhap thou canst consider it close enough to everything.” She moved off.
A demon arrived—and also a young man with the head of a hawk. They joined the Yellow Adept at the front of the pavilion. This was the team of judges for one section of the Unolympics.
The contestant-unicoms were now trotting to their places. There was a brief period of confusion as they criss-crossed the field. Then columns formed before the several judging stations. Sixteen unicorns formed a line before the Adept pavilion, standing at equine attention. This station, it developed, was judging the acrobatics. Others judged speed-trials, high- and long-jumps, horn-fencing, melody-playing, dancing and precision gaits. Neysa and her brother Clip had entered the category of couples-dancing, and that was at a far corner of the field; Stile could not make out what was going on there, to his frustration. So he turned reluctantly to the local display. Twelve of the entrants were males—not herd leaders, just lesser stallions. The Herd system had no regard for the needs of un-dominant males; they were not allowed to breed with the mares, and were tolerated in the herds only so long as they kept their places. In time of war. Stile was sure, their place was at the forefront, as expendable troops. Naturally they participated in the Unolympics; it was a major peacetime opportunity to achieve recognition. In fact, Stile realized, these various Olympics represented to the animal kingdoms the same sort of entertainment, excitement and chance for individual notoriety that the Game and Tourney did for serfs in Proton. It was a parallel system, used as a relief-valve for the frustrations of the undertrodden.
Yellow, as an Adept, assumed direction of the proceedings at this station. “Equine, thou’rt designated number One,” she said to the unicorn on the far left. “When that number is called henceforth in this judgment, do thou answer promptly or forfeit whatever honor may be due thee. Understand?”
The designated unicorn dipped his horn submissively. Yellow then counted off the others, up to the last, number Sixteen. “We are the preliminary panel of judges,” she continued. “The Demon Horrawful, who is an Elder of his den and has served with fiendish distinction at other Olympics; in his youth he was a winner at this same event at the Demolympics.” There was a smattering of polite applause, mostly from the spectators now crowding close to the edge of the pavilion, a number of whom were demons.
“And this is Glynteye the Hawkman, winner of the Avolympic rabbit-spotting meet last year. He is competently versed to spot the antics of unicorns.” There was more applause, especially from the animalheads present. “And I am the Yellow Adept,” she concluded. “In life I am an old human crone whose business is known to most animals. Were it not for the sufferance granted visitors at this event, I would be mobbed. However, I believe I am qualified as a judge of fine animals, and I am in this respect objective.”
There was a pause, and then some extremely tentative applause. The Lady Blue looked about, frowned, then set her jaw and clapped her hands. The consort of Green joined her. Then Stile and the Green Adept had to join in, and the outside animals, shamed into a better sense of the occasion, finally made a more substantial showing. All had a horror of Yellow’s business of trapping and selling animals, but all antagonisms were theoretically suspended here. Yellow did indeed appear to be competent and objective. Stile was reminded yet again of the parallel of Proton. The Rifleman had shown him favor, causing the other Citizens to react with similar courtesy despite the gulf between Citizen and serf. The Lady Blue had been the catalyst this time, but the spirit was the same. “Now withdraw to the sides and rear,” Yellow directed, betraying her surprised pleasure at the applause by only a slight flush at her neck. “Form an arena, open only at the spectator’s side. No alien magic can function here.” And the unicorns did as she bid, so efficiently that Stile realized this was a standard procedure. Indeed, all the stations were forming similar formations.
“Number One ‘corn stand forward,” Yellow said, and the first stallion moved to the center of the arena, facing the pavilion. “Thou and each other entry will have two minutes to make thy presentation. Each act will be followed by a one-minute consultation of judges and announcement of aggregate score. Applause of up to thirty seconds will be permitted only at that time. If there are any questions at this point, stifle them.”
There were no questions. “One, perform,” Yellow said. The unicorn went into his act. He was a fine purple and green animal, with white ears. He pranced and wheeled and leaped in assorted patterns. Gradually he worked up to the more difficult exercises—forward and backward flips, hoof-clicking jumps, and an impressive bucking-bronco finale.
Time,” the demon-judge grated. Apparently he had the timing ability. The stallion stood, his barrel heaving from the exertion, nostrils flared, just a hint of fire in his breath, awaiting the score.
The three judges consulted. Stile could not hear what they said, and did not know the scoring system. Again he tried to spot the activity of the couples-dance unit, and could not.
“Number One scores fifteen,” Yellow announced. Now there was applause, the unicorns honking brief notes and tapping their hooves on the ground in lieu of the clapping of hands. It did not seem overwhelming to Stile, and he decided the performance had been no more than average for this type of competition. Certainly Neysa could have matched it, and she had not even entered this event. “Number Two, stand forth,” Yellow said, and another stallion came to the fore. He was larger and better muscled than the first, and his color was brighter: bands of blue alternating with intense yellow. His neck was especially powerful. “Perform.” And he launched into his act. This one was sharper than the first. He did the front and back flips, then went into a series of midair barrelrolls that brought musical gasps from some spectators. He stood on his two forehooves and clicked his rear hooves together so that sparks flew. In the finale he leaped straight up, turned in air, and landed squarely on his horn, which plunged three quarters of its length into the turf. He remained frozen on that one-point support until time was called. Then he allowed his body to drop to the ground so that he could withdraw his horn.
“That is the likely winner,” the Lady Blue murmured. “Neysa could not have done that.”
“True.” Stile had never imagined a unicorn supporting itself in that manner.
The judges consulted. “Twenty-six,” Yellow announced, and strong applause burst forth instantly, cutting off only at the expiration of the thirty seconds. A popular decision, certainly.
The other acts followed, but they did not match the second. Stile concluded that each judge graded on the basis of one to ten, with an aggregate of thirty points being the maximum. His attention wandered to the units on either side. To the right were the speed trials, with unicorns gal-loping around a marked pattern so fast that flame shot from their nostrils, dissipating their developing body heat. Unicorns did not sweat, they blew out fire. On the left side were the gait trials, with unicorns prancing in perfect one, two, three, four and five-beat combinations, manes and tails flying high. But still Stile could not see what Neysa’s unit was doing. He was becoming covertly bored with the proceedings, though the Lady Blue evinced continuing interest.