I stepped out from my hiding place. “Yes, Master.”

“Where are we to go?”

“The cave of Dotan, Master.”

Uriel nodded solemnly. “A choice with wisdom. How many are already assembled there?”

“Thirty.”

“There will be more.”

“Dotan?” Shimon said, digging his heels into the rocky soil. “That’s north of Shomron. Did Ovadia say how we’re to get there?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

Yonaton stepped toward the entrance. “We shouldn’t leave Balaam where he could draw attention. I’ll retrieve him.”

Uriel waved his hand in answer. “Balaam is fine where he is. It was wise to approach on foot.” His eyes grew narrow. “Now the plan.”

I’d rehearsed my speech at least ten times in my head on the ride back from Shomron—but the words evaporated in my master’s presence.

Uriel fixed me with a piercing stare. “Are we to join the pilgrims returning from Beit El?”

My chest froze, anticipating the prophet’s angry protest. “Ovadia says it’s the best way. Hopefully, no one will—”

Uriel cut me off. “Very well. So we will do.”

My breath seeped out in relief. That part at least was easier than I feared.

Shimon’s hand grew white on the hilt of his sword. “We will be considered among those who bowed to the Calf!”

Uriel shook his head. “I will walk hooded and cloaked. You may do the same. No one will know us. If any do, the faithful judge the prophets with favor. They will understand we are seeking the cover of the crowd. But even if they do believe we bowed, it is worth the risk. As Lev said, it is the best way.”

“I agree, Master Uriel, that we must reach Dotan,” Shimon said, “but perhaps you should seek vision before you decide how. The Holy One may grant us guidance whether this path is really the—”

“It is not the time for vision.”

“But why not? Couldn’t—”

“I never use prophecy to question my heart. This is true now more than ever. We are being carried by a powerful stream of events—ascending now could make me deaf to the voice of my own heart.”

“Which is what?”

“We were told to seek Ovadia—we must heed his advice. Traveling with those returning from Beit El is the safest way to get to Dotan.”

Yonaton sighed in my ear, but Uriel wasn’t done. “The only difficulty is the delay. It is essential we get to Dotan quickly. Even now they may be forming plans to resist Izevel. They will need our guidance.”

I sucked in my breath again.

The sound drew Uriel’s attention. “Is there more, Lev?”

There was no need for Uriel to know the next part until we reached Dotan, but Yonaton was right—he’d know if I was hiding anything. “They are not seeking guidance, Master.”

“Then the resistance has already begun? All the more so, they will need leadership.”

“No, Master, they seek no leader.”

“No leader? What then?”

My throat clenched, so tight I could barely answer. Uriel studied me as I sputtered. “There is to be no resistance.”

“No resistance?”

“No, Master.”

“Then why assemble in Dotan?”

I swallowed hard. I needed Ovadia here for this.

Uriel held my gaze. “To hide?”

“Yes, Master.”

The prophet shook his head. “I am too old to bury myself in a cave. There is no point in dying hidden. Even being struck down by the sword is better than that; then the people might see the brutality of their so-called Queen and rise up against her.”

Shimon stepped between the prophet and me. “Then what shall we do, Master?”

“You were right—I must seek vision. Lev, your kinnor.” Uriel lowered himself to the stone ground.

I hesitated. Two oaths: one to serve Uriel, one to bring Uriel to Dotan. All that day I pondered what I would do should those two vows conflict. I felt my master’s presence, firm on the floor. Was he set on resistance even if his death would only be a symbol? At the very least, Dotan would extend my master’s life, whether he wanted that or not. And what if Ovadia was right? What if my master would prove pivotal once the war was over? I saw now why Ovadia made me swear; the oath’s power tied me to his purpose. I swallowed again and made my choice. “No, Master.”

Uriel raised an eyebrow.

I gripped my tunic in my fists. “You said it yourself, Master, now is not the time for vision. There must be others resisting Izevel, but the Holy One didn’t send us to them. We were sent to Ovadia—we should heed his advice.”

I felt the heat of Shimon’s glare—he would welcome another fight. But I focused on my master, still crouched on the ground.

Fire rose in Uriel’s eyes, flashed, and then extinguished. “Perhaps you are correct, Lev, and I should heed Ovadia’s word without pursuing further guidance.” He stared down at his hands, limp between his knees. “And perhaps you are wrong.”

The uncertainty in my master’s voice unsettled me. Uriel reached out to Yonaton to help him to his feet. “You boys have traveled far today—I have demanded enough words for now. To sleep. Let us each seek the counsel of our dreams.”

The exhaustion of my body overwhelmed the restlessness of my mind, and I quickly fell into a deep slumber. Riding Balaam, it took much of the day to travel from Shomron, but my dreams returned me there in an instant.

The throne room glowed. Oil lamps surrounded the Queen and ringed Yambalya as he knelt before her. It could have been daylight if not for the nearly full moon shining through the eastern windows.

“We killed their prophets and still they resist!” Izevel’s voice was shrill.