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manage to hit the target-sometimes. I persevered, spending hours of my limited sleeping time practicing. Slowly, my accuracy improved, and I could consistently hit the target, if not the fatal areas.
    On our final shootout in the field, Jessie and I were the last ones remaining. I had eliminated one and Jessie had eliminated the others. When I saw him, I deliberately darted behind a tree, knowing that normally it would be a foolish move. He would wait for me to show myself and wouldn't miss. I would lose because I would be a couple of seconds slower. It was time to test my roll-and-shoot technique. I dove from behind the tree, shooting as I rolled along the ground. In the end, the judges determined we had killed each other.
    Our last test was up close with batons. In the end, Jessie and I were the only survivors over the two days of contests. We went at it like it was real; however, neither of us seemed able to deliver a disabling blow, although we continued to land blow after blow.
    "Stop," our instructor shouted. "You two idiots are going to kill each other and waste seven years of our time. Jessie, Lynn, and Cory will stay. The rest of you get packed."
    I heard the chop-chop of the helicopter as it landed just before sunrise. It was the only way on or off the Hill, without climbing up it. The helicopter had now claimed fifteen of the eighteen candidates who had survived the first challenge seven years ago. Over the years, the sound had always been evil, like a giant dragon descending upon the Hill looking to snatch up unsuspecting students.
    ***

    The training didn't end as we had expected. They gave us two weeks to rest. We thought it was to heal, but it was to bring up three young women. They were going to simulate clients. One of them was a young newspaper reporter who was preparing to write a series of articles on the Kazaks. The reporter, Clare, had assumed she would watch the training; however, the masters would permit her to stay only if she agreed to participate. To my surprise, she was assigned to me.
    Clare found out first hand that having a Kazak for protection was unlike having any other kind of bodyguard. I stayed with her day and night, seven days a week. She accompanied me to my classes, ate meals with me, and slept in the same room. While I was learning to protect my client's life, in this case Clare, she was learning what it would be like to have a Kazak bodyguard. At random times, a master or two would attack Clare and I was expected to protect her. They appeared while we ate, slept, and were going from one place to another.
    "Well, Clare. What do you think of this assignment and Kazak training?" I asked one night several months into her assignment.
    "Besides being terrified all the time, it's been enlightening. I had reservations when they insisted I participate, but they were right. Watching your training and being part of it are not the same. And being a client has given me a unique insight into a Kazak's life."
    I was sad to see Clare leave after only six months. She and I had become good friends. As soon as she left, they assigned me another young woman. She and the other women participated on a regular basis, because the money was good.
    During those two years with simulated clients, I learned to wake at the slightest noise, to stay awake and alert for seventy-two hours, to remain functional indefinitely on only four hours of sleep, to eat standing and not care what I ate, to be aware of every detail of my environment, and to recognize the smallest indication of potential trouble. Those two years were the difference between a well-trained Army Ranger or Navy Seal and a Kazak.
    ***

    On our final day, the Master Johar, the senior Kazak master, led Jessie, Cory, and me up the Hill to what I considered a temple-my sanctuary over the years. It was just a small empty marble building, but inside a silence prevailed that was so intense it seeped into my bones. I, like others, went there to meditate, which