MAKING UP FOR the instruction he had missed the previous day, Zakkai persuades Folabi to meet him again early in the morning. While lighting a flame in a fireplace that had escaped Zakkai's notice yesterday, the elder mentions he has an upcoming errand to run soon. If Zakkai displays a passable level of proficiency in their upcoming lesson, he may be granted a chance to tag along.

Folabi's fire brightens the space and knocks out the chill that had gripped the armory overnight. While puffs of warmth wash over Zakkai, pointed spear in hand, he pesters the elder for further details on the proposed outing to no avail. He must settle instead for a meticulous lecture on the fundamentals of wielding a spear while watching wisps of smoke climb to vents in the ceiling.

The disciplines of swordsmanship and spear fighting mirror each other in many respects, though the differences catch Zakkai off guard at times. While they share techniques of footwork intended to power a thrust or evade a counterattack, the swordsman's emphasis on nimbleness is replaced by a focus on rooting in place for the spearman. Especially when fighting alongside comrades, firmness of stance becomes essential in the latter discipline so as not to compromise the cohesion of the unit.

The most frustrating aspect of Zakkai's catchup lesson comes when Folabi hones in on the technique for thrusting. He must hold his arm perfectly to aim the attack, keep the forearm at a precise angle, jerk the upper arm just so. All this fuss over the precise way to stab a pointed stick into a hunk of meat. Before long, no doubt the elder will grab a protractor to measure the angle between his bicep and tricep.

"You must realize I am not being particular simply to be difficult," Folabi says. "Wasted motion is wasted power."

Zakkai huffs. "I understand that, but the difference between right and wrong is so narrow that the distinction seems arbitrary."

"The margin for error is narrower because your attack surface is far smaller than a sword provides. With proper form, you use the entire mass of the shaft to drive that little spike into the target. Precision here will keep you from wasting your strength."

While the explanation provides Zakkai compelling logic to tighten his form, the process of perfecting it becomes no less frustrating. Over and over again, Folabi demonstrates a flawless thrust, calls for Zakkai to mirror it, and proceeds to critique how he fell short. First, he throws his elbow too far out. Next, he straightens his arm too much. Then a comment about "thrust from your shoulder, not with your shoulder" baffles him.

After an exhausting hour of repetitions, Folabi declares him to be acceptably acquainted with the basics, enough to advance to a different mode of practice. Retrieving a circular shield from the rack, the elder braces himself behind it and states his intent to test the youth's aim. On the face of the shield are painted three red rings surrounding a small dot, much like the targets used for archery practice.

Zakkai squints, plants his feet as instructed, and thrusts his spear at the red dot. A light crunch ensues as the point embeds itself in the wood, but the impact is slightly to the left of the center. He frowns. Wielding a longer weapon grants more room for error in closing the distance between attacker and target, but he had been sure his attack had been made in perfect alignment.

Then he glances down at his arm, grimacing at Folabi afterward. "My elbow was too far out. I see why you stressed that so much now."

"Indeed. Not only do you rob yourself of potential power, but a misaligned elbow also has a tendency to skew your aim."

Nodding, Zakkai withdraws for a second attempt. He pictures a protractor in the crook of his arm, slowly adjusting the angle until it matches the elder's previous instructions, and then like a snake, he strikes. A louder crunch this time, and his spearhead needles into the red dot, albeit on the right edge of the circle and not the perfect impact in the middle he had imagined.

"Much better," Folabi says. "You felt the greater power behind that thrust as well, no doubt."

"I did. As you said, the spear is a weapon which rewards attention to detail."

For a few more minutes, the two continue this sort of target practice. After Zakkai nails the red dot two more times, Folabi instructs him to aim for specific points further out on the shield's face, such as "northeast on ring two", which proves more challenging than expected. The eye naturally gravitates to the center, but focusing it on an arbitrary target and accurately thrusting at it tests his new abilities to their limit. To further increase the difficulty later on, Folabi gradually moves the shield, forcing Zakkai to hit a target not simply waiting in place to be hit.

"I confess, your performance today exceeds what I had anticipated," Folabi says, lowering the target after several consecutive successes on Zakkai's part. "I should like to see more consistency in your form still, and your calculations need to become quicker, but for your first day on this weapon, you are excelling."

Zakkai cracks a smile. "It would seem I was born for greatness. What else did I miss yesterday?"

"Only one more exercise. You will likely find this the most exciting of the bunch."

Folabi steps away to open a closet on the opposite side of the room from the fireplace, wheeling out a trio of wooden dummies. Zakkai widens his eyes as they roll closer, allowing a better glimpse of their details. While the figures' heads are nondescript ovoids resembling skulls only vaguely, the blocky bodies are decorated with greater detail. Likenesses of the various organs are painted in the appropriate locations of the torso, heart and lungs especially prominent and outlined in scarlet. In addition, the arms riveted to the dummies' sides are fitted with sockets at the ends, wide enough to slot weapons in.

Folabi slips a spear into the weapon slot of the first dummy, though he inserts it backwards so only the shaft points at Zakkai when he rolls it close.

"These do wonders to sharpen your skills, especially at your current skill level where you lack the control to safely spar with flesh and blood," he explains. "Target practice has its place, but these offer a glimpse into more practical aspects of real combat."

"I can see that being the case. Quite obviously, the heart would be fatal to aim for at any time, but what would you say are the other prime targets to focus on?"

"Frankly, a committed stab from a spear anywhere in the body will be near impossible for any man to walk away from. That said, a warrior punctured in the guts may survive long enough to strike back, where a pierced heart or lung has a more immediate effect."

Zakkai nods. "Why would you ever aim anywhere else, then?"

"We are not always given the ideal scenario. Many times, a man with a shield will favor guarding his head and chest, and a nimble thrust to the guts may bypass that defense. We must attack the opening in front of us, even if we wish for a better one."

"Fair enough. So hitting any organ is a strategic advantage, then."

"Yes. Though for the purposes of this practice in accuracy, I will name specific ones to target, and you will aim specifically there."

"What if I forget the location of the organ you name?"

Folabi quirks a brow. "Then this exercise will also jog your memory."

The elder proceeds to initiate an exercise where after calling out a location on the body, he shoves the dummy forward, rolling toward Zakkai. He must stop its momentum by thrusting at that organ before the shaft of its spear hits him in turn. To present an added challenge, the wheels turn sideways if pushed correctly, advancing on the amateur spearman at an angle and giving even large organs a smaller profile at times.

For the first few attempts, Folabi orders him to go for lungs, a fairly easy task to fulfill. Hitting one of two fairly large targets near the center of the body's mass is hardly a challenge. Even when he specifies right or left, the youth follows through with relative ease. The stomach and liver present smaller profiles, but still well within Zakkai's abilities.

When Folabi calls out "right kidney" and nudges the dummy toward Zakkai, he squints and leaps sideways to evade the incoming shaft. He squints at the organs painted on the body and glances back up at a loss.

"On the back," Folabi barks.

"What?"

The elder steps over and taps the bean-shaped likeness on the figure's back. "Right here."

"How was I supposed to see that from the front?"

"You were not. To hit that target, you had to slip around behind the dummy and attack from there."

"If this were a real opponent, would I not simply thrust deep into the flesh to puncture a kidney?"

"Yes, but this is an exercise with accuracy, and being nimble enough to circumvent a man's defenses quickly and attack from behind may come into play in a real combat scenario. Again!"

For whatever twisted reason, Folabi repeats the kidney exercise several dozen times, sometimes calling out "left" instead of "right", but always shoving the dummy at him and expecting this miraculous maneuver Zakkai simply cannot execute. Multiple times, he dodges too slow to get around the figure, getting a jab in the ribs from its spear shaft. Other attempts, he simply stumbles over his own feet and misses.

Finally, gritting his teeth in frustration, Zakkai squares up on the dummy for perhaps the fiftieth time. Its wheels scratch against the flooring. The shaft races for Zakkai's belly. A swift sideways step and a deft spin places the youth behind his untiring foe. His eyes narrow on the elusive bean painted on its back. Drawing his arm back, he thrusts with all his might.

The narrow point of Zakkai's spear impales the kidney, earning a "well done" from Folabi over his shoulder. Cracking into a victorious grin, he hoists his spear over his head and lets out a sigh of relief. The difficulty of the challenge only makes the win all the sweeter.

"You have made exceptional progress for one morning of practice," Folabi says. "I would say you have earned the right to join me on my errand after all."

"Will you tell me now where this adventure will take us?"

"As a matter of fact, we will be headed somewhere which should hold some significance to you now."

"Mejanno? Is Elder Okafor in need of reinforcements?"

Folabi shakes his head. "I am needed at the outpost in Pagaso."