“Afraid the Queen’s soldiers had discovered you already?” I asked.

My question was met with laughter. “No, I knew from your footsteps you were a boy, but I don’t know what I would have done if you were a stranger who stumbled upon us. Could I spill the blood of the innocent to preserve our secret?”

My eyes adjusted to the dim light of the passageway revealing two disciples before me, both a few years older than myself. The one who had been silent laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He’s never held a sword before.”

“How did I do?” The sword bearer ran his fingers through his scraggly beard. “Did I sound frightening?”

“You scared me,” I said truthfully.

“Really?” His chest expanded. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Oh no, I was definitely scared.”

“Ha!” He raised the sword again toward the empty entranceway. “Let all who enter tremble before Peleh, guardian of the gate.” He lowered the blade. “I will guard this entranceway valiantly as long as no true enemies attempt to enter.” His shoulders drooped as he looked at his companion. “Not sure what I would do then.”

“If you’ve never held a sword,” I asked, “why are you the guardian of the gate?”

“It’s the only place where there’s enough light for Sadya and myself to learn the ancient scrolls. You’re the first person who’s entered today, so guarding has been light duty.”

I cringed at the mention of learning. Master Uriel had told me I could begin my studies in the cave and that as a Kohen it was not my place to serve others. Yet, here I was, baking and delivering bread to others so they could learn. “You’re lucky,” I muttered.

Sadya shot me a quizzical look. He was broader shouldered and darker skinned than Peleh and stood like one who knew how to hold either plow or sword. His strong hands held a scroll, browned at the edges from age. “You bring bread?” He pointed to the saddlebags. Without waiting for an answer, he rolled his scroll and grabbed the saddlebag with one hand, easily carrying it into the cave.

I stepped in after him. The prophets in the main room gathered around Sadya to receive their portions. Uriel stood to one side, his eyes on me. “Come with me, Lev.”

I followed my master away from the broad cavern into the dark passageways. He took a lit lamp from a niche in the wall and led me into the recesses of the cave. He ducked his head to enter his low quarters and sat on his sleeping mat. I lowered myself to the ground before him, and he held the lamp aloft between us.

“So,” he began, “you believe those of us hiding in the cave to be lucky?”

I dropped my eyes to the ground. “No, Master.”

“Do not hide from your feelings, Lev. Speak only the truth.”

“No, Master, I do not consider you lucky.”

“Why not?” he asked.

I lifted my eyes to meet his. “You are a prophet of Israel. You traveled the Kingdom, giving guidance to the people. Now you must live like an animal in a cage.”

“Ah, so for me you feel sympathy and even anger at those who’ve put me in such a place. But for Sadya and Peleh?”

I dropped my eyes again. “I only want to learn as well.”

His wrinkles were deep in the lamplight. “Then rejoice, for you are learning right now.”

“Rejoice?” I gave a dry laugh. “Rejoice in a few moments between baking and delivering the bread?”

“Of course. If learning is what you desire, rejoice when you have it, rather than lamenting that you don’t have more.”

His words stung, but I would not show it. “It is so little, Master. You told me when we arrived at the cave that you would begin my instruction.”

“I’m teaching you now, Lev. The question is—do you want to learn?” He held my eyes until I looked away. “You think I have much to tell. In truth, my most important teachings are few.”

“Then why must the disciples study for so many years? Why do so many fail?”

“Because it is not enough to learn the teachings, you must live them. Most lack the ratzon, the deep will.” His words echoed in my dream and held me fast. “Even those who find the will to learn may discover along the way that it is not their deepest desire. They will run out of years before they succeed in embodying the words of the prophets. I will give you what words I can when you come to me, but only you know whether you have the ratzon, the will, to live them.”

Uriel paused, and I felt an invitation in his silence. “Master, you told me Kohanim were not meant to serve.”

“I spoke the truth. The Kohen serves only the Holy One. Tell me, Lev, can you think of any greater service to the Holy One right now than keeping the prophets alive?”

My ears grew hot with shame. I could not hold back the words on my heart. “Ovadia tricked me.”

My master’s eyes grew wide. “Tricked you? How?”

“He told me I must persuade you to come to the cave, even against your will.”

“Which you did.”

“Yes, but he let me believe I’d be able to hide with you.”

“Did he ever say this to you?”

I paused. It had only been a week since Ovadia told me to bring Uriel to the cave, but it already felt like another lifetime. “No, but he never told me I would be his servant either.”

“Had he told you this, would you have brought me here?”

I frowned. “No, Master.”

“Then he was wise to remain silent. The fool sees only what is in front of him, the wise anticipate what will come to be.”

“So I am a fool?”

Uriel placed his hand on my knee. “You have not learned to see as far ahead as Ovadia. Indeed, for him to remain in the palace and keep all of us alive, he would soon perish were it not for his wisdom.”

“I still don’t like being tricked.”

“You are too quick to cast blame, Lev.” He tapped my knee so I would look up. “Was it a trick that he allowed you to hear what you wanted to? Ovadia does not need any more mouths to feed—he needs more hands to help.”

I balled my fists but kept my face calm. Ovadia had outsmarted me, and now I was his slave.

“You cannot change the past, Lev. All you can do is choose how to approach the future. I feel your anger toward Ovadia. You even directed it toward Peleh and Sadya, who have done nothing but help the prophets and learn our ways.”

“Didn’t you say I shouldn’t hide my feelings, Master?”

“You must not hide from your feelings. Only by acknowledging them can you hope to change them.”

“Isn’t changing my anger simply another way to hide from it?”