ZAKKAI BOUNDS OUT of his room the following morning full of energy. At last, his diligence is paying off, and he will be able to show his fellow initiates the great fighter he is. Esrayan refinement will mingle with Zafanyan power in his own unique style, he has decided. Surely he is the prophesied warrior the Council spoke of, for he is combining east and west and will use the strength of both to conquer the entire continent.

His first victory will be prevailing against his classmates.

When he strides into the practice chamber with his head held high, his attention comes to rest on the grouping of eight initiates. (One had walked away yesterday after telling Okafor his lessons are too harsh.) The youths are currently embroiled in an argument over who gets their first pick of the wooden swords in the barrel.

Jabari argues that he has been with Okafor the longest, so he should have his choice. Ejike claims his noble blood entitles him to certain privileges. Rafi reminds him that he was disowned, so that claim holds little weight. Ejike taunts he can beat either of them in a fight, even without a weapon, and one of the other initiates says he should do it. Another student worries aloud about their teacher finding them standing around arguing unproductively.

Zakkai steps forward, nudges two of his fellows aside, and reaches into the barrel. He removes the longest wooden weapon from the pile and holds its point high. He eyes Ejike challengingly.

"Good morning, Kai!" Rafi greets, somehow oblivious to the antagonistic energy buzzing in front of him.

"Good morning. Our teacher says I am to spar with you all today."

Ejike snarls, yanking his own sword from the pile. "He must be ready to see you walk away too, then."

"As a matter of fact, he specifically told me 'go in there and show Ejike how things must be done around here'."

"I know that to be a lie! He told me that I have more promise than any swordsman he has ever seen!"

Jabari shakes his head on them both. "Elder Okafor hardly ever utters so much as a 'well done'. He would never hand out such lofty compliments."

"He also has never had a student like me." Zakkai and Ejike say together, both glaring at one another afterward.

"Show the foreigner how things are done around here, Ejike!" shouts one student.

"Send him back where he came from!" cries another.

Rafi waves his hands back and forth. "This is no way to treat one anoth—"

"Knock off the prince's crown!" a third initiate calls out.

Ejike grins while their classmates back away from the armed pair. "I will gladly send you back with your tail tucked between your legs."

Zakkai smirks, lifting his wooden blade into a high guard. "You will find me to be full of surprises."

It is Ejike who charges first, throwing a crazed strike overhead which Zakkai would have to be blind not to deflect. A solid three seconds of telegraphing precede the strike, allowing for a solid defense. Zakkai bats him away and winds back around with a parry that forces his opponent to gain some distance.

He analyzes Ejike's stance. The placement of his feet is terrible, far too much weight on the right foot and none on the left. His body pulsates with power, but he is too foolish to use it properly. When he starts into a charge, this is a move Zakkai could have predicted just by the tension in his legs.

Zakkai simply dodges Ejike's incoming attack, doomed from the start for its predictability. He comes in with a sideways swipe which knocks Ejike off his feet. That off-balance stance had been too obvious a weakness not to exploit.

Ejike's knees hit the tile, and he lets out a loud cry. Growling in pain and anger together, he hops back up and immediately rushes in with a thrust. This is Zakkai's specialty. He angles his blade forward to catch the incoming point and then uses Ejike's edge as a pivot. The tip of his wooden weapon nails the raging youth in the chest.

Even more wrathful than before, Ejike races forward and bashes Zakkai's sword again and again, missing opportunities to attempt an attack on his person as he is so focused on taking his anger out on the weapon that had poked him.

Zakkai hops a step back to disengage, forcing Ejike also to reconsider his strategy. This time, the exiled prince takes the offensive, throwing an elegant attack over his shoulder. Ejike deflects this with gusto. He shoulders Zakkai and lunges forward with another thrust. This one connects.

The wooden tip jabs Zakkai in the hip bone. He hisses, clutching the spot with one hand while raising his sword to knock aside another attack already incoming. Poor sportsmanship not to let a sparring partner recover. Yet the intensity excites their classmates. Chanting Ejike's name and clapping, their clamor bounces off the hollow walls.

Zakkai and Ejike battle one another with ferocity, learning to take advantage of the other's weakness. Ejike is easy to throw off balance, but Zakkai is easy to overpower. Their blades lock together in a pushing match in which the exiled prince gradually loses leverage.

"Why were you cast out, anyway?" Ejike asks, still pushing. "Did you fail to put your toys away?"

Zakkai grits his teeth, renewing his effort to resist being overpowered. "My father saw me as a threat. As should you."

"You, a threat? What did you do, catch him in bed with another woman?"

Ejike prevails, knocking the sword clean out of Zakkai's hands. Enraged by the snide comment, Zakkai retaliates by diving forward and knocking his foe onto his back. Holding his sword arm down with one hand, the prince clenches his fist and rains punches on the other youth's face. Blow after blow, he feels his body surge with strength.

Then two hands grasp his shoulders from behind. He is hoisted up and hurled a ways off, smacking his back into the barrel of swords. Zakkai's eyes shoot open to see Elder Okafor towering over him, fuming. He cowers in sheer terror.

"What is this about?" he demands.

"He ... called my father ... a—"

"He can call your father an inbred jackal for all I care! This is not to be tolerated in the least bit! Do you understand me?"

"I do, my elder, I—"

"To your feet, boy!"

Before Zakkai can weakly comply, Okafor reaches down and yanks him up by his collar. Grasping him roughly by the ear, he drags him out of the practice chamber, into the corridor beyond, and slams his back against a wall. His heart hammers in his chest as he gapes up at the furious elder.

"You are not welcome in my cell if this behavior repeats itself, ever. Do you understand me?" Okafor jabs the youth's chest with his finger. "Do you?"

"Yes, my elder, I do. My profusest apologies—"

"If such things are acceptable in Esraya, then perhaps you ought to go back there. But I suspect you would be ashamed to act so brutishly there also. What got into you?"

Zakkai gulps. "He accused my father ... of adultery."

"And does he know your father?"

"No, my elder."

"Then who cares what he accuses your father of? His taunts are ignorant and lack culture. You must be above these things!"

"I understand, my elder. I—"

Okafor cuts him off. "You could have shown him to be a fool by not allowing his ignorant japes to shake you. Instead, you stooped to his level—no, below it—and now you are the fool. I expected better out of you!"

"I should have done better. I am sorry to have disappointed you, my elder. I am unworthy to remain under your tutelage."

"On the contrary, you have only shown me how direly you need it."

"I swear to you that I will not disappoint you so ever again."

"If you do, I will send you walking back the way you came. With a limp this time."

"I understand, my elder."

"Now, you go back in there and apologize. To all of them. Go!"

Zakkai hangs his head and shuffles back into the practice chamber, where Ejike now sits up on the floor surrounded by initiates. He leers up at the scolded youth, lips twitching, but he says nothing. Okafor's presence likely muzzles him.

"I have erred in my judgement, and I am sorry." Zakkai mumbles. He turns to walk away.

Okafor grasps Zakkai's shoulder and turns him back around. "Address him by name and explain what you are sorry for!"

"I displayed brutality in my holding you down and beating your face, Ejike. That was unacceptable, and I apologize for my lapse in judgement. I also apologize to you my fellow students that you were forced to bear witness to this shameful display."

Ejike spits on the floor at Zakkai's feet. "I do not forgive you."

"Go to your rooms," Okafor says, "all of you except Ejike. I must speak to you as well."

Zakkai treads slowly out of the practice room, shaking from a mixture of anger, shame, and fear. His only reassurance is the hope that Okafor will scold the impetuous Ejike just as harshly. If that vexing nobleman's son remains in the class with him, one of them will surely soon walk away from it all, and Zakkai has no intention of being the one to withdraw.

* * *

Later in the day, Zakkai wanders the halls of the Rukisu's base, coming to the railed walkway where he had seen Okafor and Ayodele speak on the prophecy days prior. Moping, he comes to lean against the balustrade and watch the foot traffic in the courtyard below. Mostly, simply dressed warriors in the traditional Zafanyan tunic and trousers tread the space, but at one point, Riuki crosses the tiles, deep in whispers with a bald figure in pink robes ornamented by forest green stripes.

Zakkai jumps at a hand on his shoulder, spinning around to find Elder Okafor standing over him. He winces, not ready to face his teacher after the incident this morning, but there is no escape. His lips tighten into something like a smile, but it is unconvincing.

"Ejike has been dealt with," Okafor says.

Hope rises in Zakkai's heart. Perhaps he has been cast out after all. Maybe the nobleman's brat has been cut loose to—

"His sparring privileges are revoked for the next week, as are yours," the elder continues. "I must be honest with you about something, however."

"What is that?"

"I told you earlier that I expect better from you. That is not all. I need better from you."

Zakkai's brow furrows. "For what reason?"

"I already knew Ejike was a troublemaker. Not one of us could have missed the signs. But you need to be better. A class this large is uncommon. Usually, students trickle in, learn the required skills, and are students no longer. But with a class this large, I need one of you to be a role model. Something to aspire to, and someone to compete with, constructively."

"And you see me as that role model?"

"You are no role model. Not yet." Okafor clasps his hands behind his back and paces forward. Zakkai follows. "I need you to become one."

"I will do my best. I hope I have not destroyed your faith in me, my elder."

"Not fully. There remains much potential."

Zakkai sucks in a deep breath. This is the time. "I have heard rumor in these walls about a final prophecy incomplete. Something about a time of peace across the continent and a newcomer playing some role in that process. What is this about?"

Okafor does not answer right away. His red garment swishes against the posts of the balustrade, black and green embroidery dancing as he walks. The patterns swim in a sea of scarlet fabric.

"You have heard murmurs of the last prophecy of Queen Ayo," he finally says. "Her symbolism can be difficult to interpret, but where the wording is clear, she has never been proven wrong as history rolls along. 362 of her prophecies have been fulfilled already, leaving one final thread hanging."

"What does the prophecy say, exactly?"

"It speaks of a time of signs and wonders. Incredible happenings which no man would believe unless he saw them with his own eyes. Unnatural things will become commonplace. During this time, a foreigner is to walk among the queen's warriors and proceed to bring peace to Teipora."

Zakkai rubs at the back of his neck. "I certainly would not have believed your report of a resurrected warlord unless I saw him with my own eyes."

"Indeed. It would appear that time is upon us."

"Am I the only foreigner to walk among the Rukisu?"

"You are not."

"Who else?"

"I am no Zafanyan."

"You are not?" Zakkai glances up sharply. "Then how—"

"I am a son of T'kalla. Riuki recruited me while Zafanya was engaged in war with my homeland."

"How did that come about?"

"He had just won a battle, but had lost his unit and was injured. Our paths crossed. I gave him shelter, and given his weapon had been destroyed in battle, he paid me to forge him a new sword. He ended out bringing me back to Zafanya with him."

"Was this a different sword to the one I held earlier?"

"I have forged five different swords for Riuki." Okafor chuckles. "He has a tendency not to treat them well."

"So ... are you and I the only foreigners among the Rukisu?"

"We are. When I was first recruited, rumors abounded that I was the man of prophecy, but the theory relied too much on Queen Ayo's symbolism and neglected her clear meaning. The war was a great war, but in retrospect, there was nothing unnatural about the numbers of men assembled to fight Zafanya's forces. Great numbers hardly count as signs and wonders."

Zakkai nods. "So, do you believe the prophecy is now being fulfilled?"

Okafor peers down at Zakkai. "It appears that way. But we have been overly zealous to see the book of Queen Ayo closed before."

"So you cannot confidently guess?"

"The Lord moves as He wills. When the man of prophecy arrives, we will not doubt. Until then, I expect you to focus on your training more than dreaming of some grand future."

"Of course. The man of prophecy must be well trained, after all."

"As must any Rukisu warrior. You may find that in the pursuit of glory, one can find themselves tumbling down the wrong path. Take care, lest you fall."