His smile returned at Ovadia’s name, and he rubbed his hands together. “Two days. If it’s pressing, I can squeeze it into one.”

“Make it one,” Dov said. “Lev, come to me at the palace once you have your garments. I leave you in good hands.” He slapped my shoulder and hurried out of the stall.

The cloth cutter picked up his measuring rope. “I’ve been cutting the musicians’ clothing since King Omri first moved the capital to Shomron. I’ve never fit anyone of your age before.”

I bit my lower lip. Would my age draw the Queen’s notice as well? “I played during the King’s wedding,” I said. “Master Dov invited me to return.”

“Ah, you must be talented indeed.” His words were truer than he knew—more than my success as a musician depended on my talent. “Stand over here.” He stretched his rope across my shoulders. “I’m going to make them extra big. They’ll still look right if you keep the sash tight, but they’re too precious to replace at the rate you’ll be growing.”

As he looped his rope around my waist, his hand brushed the bulge under my tunic. “What is this?”

My heart raced at the question. Out of laziness, I’d taken to keeping my knife with me rather than hiding it after each journey. “It is my knife,” I said, unable to think of a good excuse why I wore it under my tunic instead of around my waist as normal.

“Hmm,” he said, still staring at the bulge. “There is more to you than there seems. It will stick out even more under the new linen garments. Leave it behind if you don’t want anyone to notice it.”

I nodded eagerly. “I’ll do that tomorrow.”

He knelt and measured from my foot to my waist. “That’s a beautiful kinnor you have. Where did a boy dressed like you come by such a fine instrument?”

Once again I was caught without a story. “It was my uncle’s. He gave it to me.”

The cloth cutter’s eyes went back and forth from the instrument to me. “A generous gift,” he said at last. “That is all I need.” He folded the rope between his hands. “You may return at this time tomorrow.”

I stepped out of his stall, my face pale. I needed to make some changes. From this point on, I would leave my knife behind at Ovadia’s. The clothing would help me blend in with the other musicians, but there was nothing I could do about my age. The only way to make up for looking too young was to play my kinnor perfectly, so anyone hearing me would know I belonged. Without a chance to learn the melodies in advance, that would be impossible.

“Fear not, my servant Jacob,” Peleh called to me when I arrived with the bread.

“Why are you calling me Jacob?” I asked.

“Why do you look so afraid?”

There was nothing Peleh could do to help me, and I was in no mood for his talk, so I ignored his goading. Sadya removed the saddlebags from the donkey and replaced them with a second set of saddlebags filled with grain from the stores we kept at the cave.

Peleh caught my eye as I turned the donkey for the return trip. “Don’t let worry too deep into your heart, Lev. Never forget that a power greater than any of us is in control.”

I held my silence. If the power was so great, why was Peleh hiding in a cave? I returned the donkey to Ovadia’s and dragged my feet each step of the short walk to the musicians’ quarters. At least if I were well rested, I might make less of a fool of myself the next day in the Throne Room, but with musicians coming in at all hours of the night, there was little chance of that.

I stepped into our one-room house and found Betzalel hurrying to leave. “I’m playing a banquet tonight,” he said. “There’s room if you want to join.”

Other than the first night with Zim, I hadn’t played my kinnor in weeks. Nothing would feel better than playing, but it wouldn’t help me be ready for the Throne Room, nor make me better rested. “I’d better not.”

“As you like.” Betzalel shrugged and disappeared out the door.

Zim sat up on his sleeping mat. “You’d better not? You’re a musician. There’s nothing better you can do. How do you expect to eat?”

“Eating is my last concern. Master Dov took me on as a Court musician today.”

“The Throne Room?” Zim whistled. “I didn’t take you for one to chase the glory of Kings.”

I couldn’t help grinning at his reaction. “You dreamed of this once yourself.”

“True, but that was before I’d arrived in Shomron. I’d rather play my music before Baal than Dov’s melodies before the King.”

“His melodies weren’t so bad at the wedding.”

“There won’t be wedding music in the Throne Room.”

“I wish there was.” At least I already knew the wedding music.

Zim squinted at me. “What’s wrong, Lev? You say you’re not worried about eating, but you look sick to your stomach.”

I couldn’t tell him about my real concern, but the flood of words I’d held back from Peleh came tumbling out. “I’m going to make a fool of myself. I’m the youngest musician ever to play in the King’s Court, and I’m being thrown in without a single rehearsal. I haven’t even heard the melodies. At the first missed note, the Queen will ask Dov why he brought some talentless boy before her. I’ll be lucky to make it through my first day.”

Zim’s head dropped back on his sleeping mat as he laughed. “Nervous, are you?”

I regretted my words, but at least they’d let something out. I already breathed deeper. “I am.”

Zim jumped up and grabbed his drum. “Bring your kinnor,” was all he said as he headed out the door.

“I don’t want to play for Yambalya tonight,” I said as I hurried behind.

“Don’t worry so much.”

He led me further down the hill, where small, mud-brick houses lined the alleys. At this hour before evening, the air was heavy with the smell of burning dung. Zim stopped in front of a house that looked much like all the others, where a baby cried within. “Peretz!” he called out.

A man with a closely cropped beard pushed aside the reed mat covering the entrance. “Yambalya looking for another musician tonight?” he asked. “It’s a little early for him, isn’t it?”

“I’m the one looking tonight, Peretz. I’ve come to collect a favor. Allow me to introduce Lev, who joins the King’s Court tomorrow. He’s…” Zim caught my eye, “he’s eager to make a good first impression.”

Peretz’s gaze was kind and knowing. “Shalom, Lev, I remember you from the wedding. You played well enough then. You’ll find the music in the Throne Room far easier.”

The blood rushed to my cheeks. “It’s only the first day that worries me. I’ve never even heard the music of the Throne Room, and Master Dov said I’m expected to perform right away before the Queen.”

“The King as well,” Peretz said, “not to mention nobility, army generals, foreign dignitaries, and a load of commoners. But you’re right, the Queen is the only one you must please. Here, come in and sit, both of you.”

The single room barely held us all. We took seats against the back wall. Peretz picked up his daughter and stilled her cry with a gentle bounce. He returned her to the floor and pulled his halil from a niche in the wall. He blew a soft melody, which had none of the complexity of the songs we played at the wedding. I listened through one round, then swung my kinnor around for the second. The instrument sounded awful, and I broke off playing to tune it, stretching and tightening the sheep-gut strings until its voice rang true.

Zim tried to join us but soon gave up. “Yambalya will be expecting me,” he said.

Peretz removed his halil from his lips. “You can go. I’ll sit with Lev a while longer.” When Zim left, Peretz said, “It’s still early. The priests of the Baal never begin until after dark.”

“He’s not running toward the Baal; he’s running from this music.”

“It’s just as well. Master Dov does not allow drums in the Throne Room.” Peretz lay his halil in his lap. “You speak as one who knows Zim well. Where did you meet?”

I regretted having spoken. “At a gathering for the prophets.”