The Marksmanship Lesson Contents . Kelmeril Brin had very definite opinions on how things should be done . Every slave he bought on the day he bought him or her was soundly whipped in the courtyard for a period of one to three hours , depending on the individual degree of independent spirit . The whip he used — or had his castellan use — was of wet , knotted cloth , which regularly drew blood but very seldom maimed . To his great satisfaction and personal pride , few slaves ever needed to be whipped more than once . The memory of their first day , and the sight and sound of every subsequent slave ' s first day , stayed with them throughout their lives . When Brin bought his first Bosmer slave , he ordered his castellan to whip him only for an hour . The creature , which Brin had named Dob , seemed so much more delicate than the Argonian and Khajiit i and Orcs who made up the bulk of his slaves . Dob was clearly ill suited for work in the mines or in the fields , but he seemed presentable enough for domestic service . Dob did his work quietly and tolerably well . Brin occasionally had to correct him by refusing him food , but the punishment never needed to go further . Whenever guests arrived at the plantation , the sight of the exotic and elegant addition to Brin ' s household staff always impressed them . " Here , you , " said Genethah Illoc , a minor but still noble member of the House Indoriil ( sic ) , as Dob presented her with a glass of wine . " Were you born a slave ? " " No , sedura , " Dob answered with a bow . " I used to rob nice ladies like you on the road . " The company all laughed with delight , but Kelmeril Brin checked with the slave trader from whom he had bought Dob , and found that the story was true . The Bosmer had been a highwayman , though not one of any great notoriety , before he had been caught and sold into slavery as punishment . It seemed so extraordinary that a quiet fellow like Dob , who always looked respectfully downward at the sight of his superiors , could have been a criminal . Brin made up his mind to question him about it . “ You must have used some sort of weapon when you were robbing all those pilgrims and merchants , ” Brin grinned as he watched Dob mop . “ Yes , sedura , ” Dob replied humbly . “ A bow . ” “ Of course . You Bosmeri are supposed to be very handy with those , ” Brin thought a moment and then asked : “ A bit of a marksman , were you ? ” Dob nodded humbly . “ You will tutor my son Wodilic in archery , ” the master said after another moment ' s pause . Wodilic was twelve years of age and had been rather sadly spoiled by his mother , Brin ' s late wife . The boy was useless at swordplay , fearful of being cut . He embarrassed his father ' s pride , but the personality defect seemed ideally suited to the bow . Brin had his castellan purchase a finely wrought bow , several quivers of arrows , and ordered targets to be set up in the wildflower field next to the plantation house . In a few days time , the lessons began . For the first few days , the master watched Wodilic and Dob to be certain that the slave knew how to teach . He was pleased to see the boy learn the grips and the different stances . Business concerns , however , had to take precedence . Brin only had time to see to it that the lessons were continuing , but not how well they were progressing . It was a month ' s time before the issue was reexamined . Brin and his castellan were reviewing the plantation ' s earnings and expenses , and they had come to the area of miscellaneous household costs . “ You might also check to see how many targets in the field need to be repaired . ” “ I have already anticipated that , sedura , ” said the castellan . “ They are in pristine condition . ” “ How is that possible ? ” Brin shook his head . “ I ' ve seen targets fall apart after only a few good shots . There shouldn ' t be anything left after a month ' s worth of lessons . ” “ There are no holes of any kind in the targets , sedura . See for yourself . ” As it happened at that hour , the marksmanship lesson was underway . Brin walked across the field , watching Dob guide Wodilic ' s arm as the boy took aim at the sky . The arrow flew up into an arc , over the top of the target , burying itself in the ground . Brin examined the target and found it to be , as his castellan said , in pristine condition . No arrow had touched it . “ Master Wodilic , you must pull your right arm down further , ” Dob was saying . “ And the follow - through is essential if you expect your arrow to gain any height . ” “ Height ? ” Brin snarled . “ What about accuracy ? Unless he ' s been secretly racking up a high kill ratio on birds , you haven ' t taught my son a thing about marksmanship . ” Dob bowed humbly . “ Sedura , first Master Wodilic must become comfortable with the weapon before he need worry about accuracy . In Valenwood , we learn by watching the bolt arc at different levels , in different winds , before we try very hard to strike targets . ” Brin ' s face turned purple with fury : “ I ' m not a fool ! I should have known not to trust a slave with my boy ' s education ! ” The master grabbed Dob and shoved him toward the plantation house . Dob , head down , began the humble , shuffling walk he had learned in his domestic duties . Wodilic , tears streaming down his face , tried to follow . “ You stay and practice ! ” roared his father . “ Try aiming at the target itself , not at the sky ! You are not coming back into the house until there is one hole in that damned bullseye ! ” The boy tearfully returned to practice , while Brin brought Dob into the courtyard and called for his whip . Dob suddenly broke away and scrambled to hide between some barrels in the center of the yard . “ Take your punishment , slave ! I should have never shown you mercy the day I bought you ! ” Brin bellowed , bringing the whip down on Dob ' s exposed back again and again . “ I have to toughen you up ! There ' ll be no more soft jobs as tutor and valet in your future ! ” Wodilic ' s plaintive yell drifted in from the meadow : “ I can ' t ! Father , I can ' t hit it ! ” “ Master Wodilic ! ” Dob cried back as loud as he could , his voice shaking with pain . “ Keep your left arm straight and aim slightly east ! The wind has changed ! ” “ Stop confusing my son ! ” Brin screamed . “ You ' ll be in the saltrice fields if I don ' t beat you to death first ! Like you deserve ! ” “ Dob ! ” the boy wailed , far away . “ I still can ' t hit it ! ” “ Master Wodilic ! Take four steps back , aim east , and don ' t be afraid of the height ! ” Dob tore away from the barrels , hiding under a cart near the wall . Brin pursued him , raining down blows . The boy ' s arrow sailed high over the target and kept climbing , reaching a pinnacle at the edge of the plantation house before coming down in a magnificent arc . Brin tasted the blood before he realized he ' d been hit . Gingerly , he raised his hands and felt the arrowhead protruding out of the back of his neck . He looked at Dob crouching under the wagon , and thought he saw a thin smile cross the slave ' s lips . Just for an instant before he died , Brin saw the face of the rogue highwayman on Dob . “ Bullseye , Master Wodilic ! ” Dob crowed .