Yambalya placed his hand on his disciple’s shoulder. “Trust your instincts. Was this old man a prophet or no?”

The priest lowered his head. “I expect he was, Master.”

Yambalya’s hands closed on his neck and lifted him clear off the ground. “You let him pass through alive?”

“We couldn’t kill all who refused to bow,” the young priest said. “Sixty men waited to get through.”

“Those men would have done nothing had it not been for the boy.” The soldier grimaced. “He was the one who roused them to resist.”

Yambalya released the priest, who fell to the floor.

“Agreed.” The priest nodded at the soldier, the unlikely ally who had come to his defense. “Once provoked, we could not have handled them all. Even if our soldiers had won the battle, we could have sparked a rebellion.”

“Did you not think to follow them?” Yambalya asked the soldier. “Kill the old man and the boy where no one would see?”

“There were too many men on the road,” the soldier replied. Not all the mistakes belonged to the priest. “Someone would have seen.”

“Fool! You let a prophet escape?” The Queen turned her wrath on the soldier. “Now he’s perhaps in Shomron itself. He could be rallying others around him even as we speak.”

“There is nothing to fear, my Queen.” The soldier straightened. “These prophets are far easier to kill than we feared. Many are old, most unarmed. Some even came out to greet us when we arrived.”

“So much for their prophecy,” Yambalya said. “Their powersare as false as their god.”

“Are they?” The Queen’s eyes burned at the high priest. “What of Eliyahu? Even you acknowledge he holds back the rains.”

“Indeed.” Yambalya’s face grew dark. “But once the storm god asserts dominion over the land, we will have nothing to fear from Eliyahu’s drought.”

“There is still no news from the hunt?” the Queen asked.

“None, my Queen,” Yambalya replied. “He has not been seen since issuing his curse.”

“Now we have another prophet to track.” The Queen turned on the soldier. “Do not underestimate them. I will not have a prophet in Shomron.”

“I will hunt him myself,” the soldier said. “Shall I seek the boy as well?”

“There are too many prophets running free to worry about a child. If you find him with the old man, kill them both. Otherwise, leave him. There’s nothing a boy can do to harm us.”

As water reflects a face back to a face, so one’s heart is reflected back by another.

Proverbs 27:19

1

The Grinding Stones

As warm light touched my face, I opened my eyes expecting to see the dawn of a new day. But the sun was nowhere to be seen. A thick fog surrounded me, a grey cloud dry to the touch. I squinted in the shimmering light as a figure approached through the haze. I had never seen the man who approached, yet everything about him was familiar. My gaze flitted from his curly grey hair to his lanky frame, coming to rest on his eyes.

“You look as I did at your age,” he said.

My ache at hearing his voice. “Father?”

“I am here, Lev.”

Tears clouded my vision. My whole life had unfolded without his guidance. Why had he come now? The question had hardly arisen before the words I could not share with anyone else came tumbling out. “Father, I failed. I killed Shimon.”

His smile disappeared as he shook his head. “Shimon was murdered by a soldier of Tzidon, Lev. You are not to blame.”

I wanted to believe him, but I knew better. “He died because he listened to me. It was my idea to pass the roadblock without fighting.”

He seemed to float closer through the fog. “There were nine soldiers at the roadblock, all trained killers. Had a battle begun, there is no telling how many would have died. You and Uriel might now lie among them.”

“He saved us the last time. The spirit of the Holy One filled him, and none could stand before him.” My heart pounded. I tried to lift my hand and reach out to him, but I was frozen in place.

“The Holy One gives the gift of prophecy with an open hand, Lev, yet few are blessed to receive it even once in a lifetime. You cannot know if he would have saved you again. You did the best you could for him. As I tried to do for you.”

Hot tears stung my eyes. “Why did you have to leave me so soon?”

I heard my own voice in his sigh. “I wanted better for you, Lev. I did not want my battles to become yours. Certainly not when you were so young. Now you find yourself at the center of a war larger than any I ever fought.”

“I don’t want it.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “I want to go home.”

His eyes lifted to a spot above my head. “You may return to your uncle if you wish. None will begrudge you leaving after all you’ve been through. You may still be safe there.”

“I’m no use to anyone here anyway. Not in any meaningful way.”

His eyes caught mine and it was like staring at my reflection. “You have more power than you imagine.”

“The power to get my friends killed?”

“Forget how Shimon died. Think instead about how he lived.”

His words sank in. “He gave everything for the prophets.”

“Indeed.” The fog swirled, and suddenly I could only hear his voice. “If you choose, so can you.”

“But who am I?”

“Who was Joseph? He was the lowest of us all, a prisoner and a slave. From those depths, he rose to save the entire nation.”

I looked down at my travel-stained tunic. “He was a son of Jacob.”

“You are a descendant of Aaron the Kohen.” His voice was next to me now. “It’s not humility to make yourself smaller than you are.”

“I’m a boy, not even of age.”

“Even King David was twelve once. There is greatness inside you, Lev. You only need to awaken your will. Your ratzon.”

“Awaken my ratzon? How do I do that?”