The banners snapped inward.
Lyra looked up from the corrected stair sign and saw the first ribbon tear free toward a point the wind should have been leaving.
Above the arena, the scheduled weather curve had begun while the controlled transition was still changing the return. Mist gathered along the enclosure, beautiful for the first instant. A few spectators applauded the familiar promise of a display.
Then the rain turned sideways.
It struck beneath the protected edge, drove a program out of a man’s hand, and sent a narrow bench scraping toward the approach rail.
A technician shouted from the gallery.
“That layer’s still active!”
The emergency signal sounded before anyone could decide that an impressive mistake deserved another cheer.
