AFTER DROPPING OFF the bundle of spears in his room and changing into a clean tunic not reeking of smoke, Zakkai ambles out to the railed walkway providing access to the four sections belonging to the Rukisu Bladesmen, Guardsmen, Librarians, and Healers respectively. Brushing his finger along the balustrade as he walks, he rounds one corner, passes the entrance to the Guardsmen's quarter, and makes one more turn. Then, pushing open a noisy, rickety door, he gains access to the library.

The mingled scents of wood varnish and old books welcome Zakkai in. He smiles at the homier ambience which greets him here, warm lighting flickering on paneled walls. Having overheard enough conversations from mature Rukisu over the months, he now understands the jests that the Librarians live easy lives compared to the others. Sorting books and occasionally advising the queen based on the knowledge stored in their pages can hardly compare to the peril of patrolling outposts or shielding her majesty from a riot.

That said, the ancients wisely said that knowledge is power, and cliche as the saying has become, any Rukisu assigned here is granted an opportunity to wield a great deal of it. Zakkai picks a direction at random and treads toward the bookshelves on that side of the library.

Along the way, he nearly passes a neatly organized desk where a bald man sits, adorned in the robes of an elder—Elder Karuhk, if memory serves. His garments are dyed a deep shade of magenta, contrasted by swirling yellow spirals along the hems. The cloth itself appears to be a finer silk than any of the others wear.

Karuhk offers Zakkai an unsteady smile. "Welcome, young man. Have you been sent with an assignment?"

"No, my elder. I have been granted some free time and thought I would browse."

"May I help you find anything?"

"No, thank you. I am content to see where fancy takes me."

"Very well. Among these shelves, you cannot err."

With a slight bow, Zakkai continues on his way, soon surrounded by a wall of books on his left and another to his right. Handwritten labels dangle from certain shelves to indicate broad topics such as "history" or "agriculture", but beyond this, one must pluck a volume out to read the cover and discover its specific subject matter. Out east, nearly every book gets its title etched into the spine with expressive calligraphy, but these tomes simply bear the same handsome hues from front to back cover.

Perusing the topic labels on the shelves, Zakkai chuckles to himself, for he has given himself so much to whimsy he has no clue what he desires to read. A section on warfare catches his interest, and he pulls out a few volumes, only to put each back. He almost takes a book titled "Strategies of the Foreigner and How to Overcome Them" to find a chair and study, intrigued by its premise, but the vague yet nagging suspicion of something more tantalizing down the aisle draws him to return it to its place.

He reaches the end of one bookcase, pauses for a moment, and rounds the corner to explore what he might find on its opposite side. Here, he peers down the way and finds he is not alone among the shelves. A few sections ahead, the enigmatic Healer named Furaha browses, face scrunched up in concentration. He had met her once at the celebration for the anniversary of the queen's birth and not again afterward, so catching up on the happenings of the past three or so months becomes an inviting potential.

Furaha looks up at the sound of his incoming footfalls, and a smile of recognition lights up her features. "Look who it is, our very own future eastern Bladesman. Fancy seeing you here."

"Indeed," he agrees. "Too long since our paths have crossed."

"Too long. I hope all is well?"

"Relatively speaking, yes. Say, how come I never see you around here? Not even in the dining hall?"

"Likely because I am busy sweating in the kitchen by midday."

"Ah, I should have realized. I knew you Healers cook and balance our diet as part of your duties, but somehow I never connected... anyway, that makes sense."

"Some of the recipes are my own," Furaha says with a smirk.

"I realized some of the meals stand head and shoulders above the rest. Now I know why."

"Never forget it. I heard your class shrunk today. How did that come about?"

Zakkai's eyes widen. "Word gets around fast."

"Well, Desta hears everything, and he can never stop himself from running to me with his gossip, so here we are."

"Fair enough. The short of it is I am good at nothing if not ruffling feathers, and my fellow pupil Nika could no longer endure it."

"It was Ifa he ended up with?" Furaha asks, and when Zakkai confirms with a nod, she shrugs. "He could be worse off. You want to know something funny?"

"What is that?"

"Your teacher insisted Desta should take him on, which nobody agreed to, but Desta did say he would consider having me complete his training and show him the ropes in our arena."

Zakkai snorts. "What did they say to that?"

"The elders kept saying 'it is not done'. Makes no sense to me; it has been done before."

"You have taught before?"

"No, I mean if you read the histories, teaching has never been exclusively the arena of the elders. There used to be thousands of Rukisu, and this building once housed only the Bladesmen. Our rank and file used to recruit and train new members all the time, but if you stay here long enough, you will learn how our elders have a selective memory when it comes to history."

"Interesting. Do you think you would enjoy teaching?"

Furaha pauses momentarily before answering. "I think I could get used to it. I have a lot of little sisters, so helping someone learn to walk is an art I am no stranger to."

"Well, trust me, you would have had a handful, taking Nika on. He would try to outwit you at every turn."

"But I like smart people."

"Is that why we get along so well?"

"Do not flatter yourself," Furaha remarks with an arched brow. "What brings you here, anyway?"

"I was granted some free time, so I figured I would seek some enrichment. How about yourself?"

"Actually, I came here to find Desta's book, believe it or not."

Zakkai leans over to the label on the shelf, titled "herbal remedies", and laughs. "He lost a book here?"

"No, no, he told me this morning that he wrote one years ago, half as a joke, and it sits collecting dust in our library. When I told him he was lying, he started giggling to himself and told me to see for myself. So far, I have not seen."

"Somehow, I have a hard time believing him myself," Zakkai says, reaching for the nearest volume and sliding it out. "I do not know him well, but he hardly seems a writer."

"Not at all. He may know the art of medicine from head to toe, but I cannot see him sitting down for long enough to write a whole book, let alone to settle a bet."

"That is his specialty? Medicine?"

Furaha nods. "He gets lost in the kitchen, so we shoo him away. But any pain, discomfort, or swelling you end up with, he somehow knows some concoction of herbs, leaves, and roots to soothe it away." She reaches over and shuts the book Zakkai has been thumbing through. "Put that away. Those are formulas for witches."

"Why do we have a copy here, then?"

"So we know what specifically we pray against to remove a curse."

"That makes sense. Know your enemy's weaponry, and you are better able to overcome him."

"Something like that. So there are five of you left under Okafor's wing? You, Ejike... I forget the other names."

"Really only me, Ejike, and Bahran," Zakkai says. "The other two are not nearly as far along. I doubt Elder Enu will keep them for much longer. But out of us three, he promised a promotion in less than two months."

"I know the first one was around the corner when we last spoke. Even Desta was surprised Enu picked that lad Rafiki."

"Really? I thought they were close."

"They are, but Enu sometimes jumps off a cliff just to remind himself which way air falls." Furaha closes her eyes and laughs to herself.

"What do you find so funny?"

"Nothing, just your teacher and his antics. But like I was saying, Rafiki was a surprising choice the first time around. I wonder which sword Enu will pull from his scabbard this time."

"I know Ejike and Bahran have made up their minds to ensure it is not me. To tell you the truth, I think they have stopped caring about their own victory and only wish to see me fall."

"Desta has never said a word about Bahran, but that sounds like the Ejike I hear about. You had better watch your step."

Zakkai glances up suddenly from the book in his hand, a resource on plants fit and unfit for consumption in the wilderness. "Why do you say that?"

"Simple. If someone wants you to fall, they are likely to trip you."

"True. They would not dare do anything too drastic under Elder Enu's watch, though. He heard their threats."

"They threatened you in front of him?" Furaha's expression hardens into grave seriousness. "Then they will not be afraid to trip you in front of him. If it is as you say, and they desire your downfall more than their own success, watch your back."

"Most certainly."

"Do not think I kid. Watch your every step around those two."

Zakkai gulps. "I will be careful."