For the next week Ethan stuck close to his family’s tent. His father helped him carve three new ground pegs from the tree branch he and Melki had found. Then father and son dug up the old pegs, anchored the new ones with rocks, and repacked the dirt on top.

His father never mentioned the nighttime intrusion, so Ethan didn’t say anything about it either. What was there to say? Aaron had the earrings and was using them to make an idol. There was nothing anyone could do about it.

There’s nothing I can do about anything, Ethan thought, slumping in front of the tent with his knife in one hand and a leftover piece of tree branch in the other. I can’t climb the mountain. I can’t play with Melki anymore. I can’t go exploring ’cause I might run into Ptah and those guys.

I’ll never be free, he thought. I’m more of a slave than ever.

All he could do was try to carve this stupid chunk of wood. He held it up and looked at it from different angles, trying to picture a shape he could turn it into. A goose? No, too hard. A fish, maybe?

He sighed. Fish made him think of water. He looked around at the flat, broiling desert and shook his head.

Suddenly his mother emerged from the tent, carrying a pitcher. “I’m going to take some water over to Nathiel. She’s been sick for the past couple of days and needs some help. Your father’s still at his meeting, and your sister’s taking a nap. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

“Sure,” Ethan said. But he swallowed and looked around for Ptah and his gang.

Noticing that most of the tents seemed deserted, he shifted nervously. “Where is everybody, anyway?”

“Probably at the dedication ceremony for the idol,” his mother answered. Her large brown eyes looked sad, but there was an angry edge in her voice.

Ethan sat up, surprised. “The idol is finished already?”

“They’ve had people working on it night and day,” his mother said, staring off toward the mountain. “I heard they melted down the gold and then hammered it into sheets and put those around a piece of wood they carved.”

Ethan looked down at the chunk of branch in his hand. For a second he wanted to hide it but wasn’t sure why.

There was a pause, and finally his mother spoke. “They asked your father to speak at the dedication.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. “Your father told Elizah no.”

“Elizah the Judge?” Ethan asked. “He’s helping with the idol?”

His mother nodded.

Then why aren’t we helping? Ethan wanted to ask. If people like Aaron and Elizah think the idol is a good idea, why can’t we just accept it? Why does our family always have to be the outcasts? How long are we going to be slaves to God’s rules?

But he knew those questions would hurt his mother. So all he asked was, “Then what are we going to do?”

She looked as if she was trying to smile, but it wasn’t working. “That’s what your father’s meeting with four of the elders is about.” She hoisted the water pitcher to her shoulder. “I’d better go see Nathiel. Don’t cut off your finger with that knife while I’m gone, all right?” she said.

“All right,” Ethan repeated. He couldn’t think of anything else to say as she turned and started the long trek to the southern part of camp.

As soon as she was gone, Ethan heard a rustling sound behind him. Ptah! he thought, and his stomach grabbed. But when he turned, all he saw was Leah poking her head out of the tent.

“I thought you were taking a nap,” he mumbled.

“No time to talk,” she said loftily, stepping outside and heading for the main path.

“Where are you going?” Ethan called.

“For a walk!” she called back.

Thunder rumbled from the top of the mountain. “No, you’re not!” he yelled. “You’re going to see the idol!”

She stopped walking.

Aha! he thought. I was right! Throwing down the knife and wood, he ran after her. “You’re going to get in trouble!” he said. “I never thought I’d get to say this to you, but you’re breaking the rules!”

“No, I’m not!” she cried, putting her hands on her hips. “Father never said I couldn’t go.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” he said. “If it’s not wrong for you, it’s not wrong for me.” And besides, he thought, I don’t want to stay here all by myself and get pounded.

“Do what you please,” she said, sounding disgusted. “You always do.” She started toward the mountain again, and Ethan followed.

The dedication site was only about fifty paces in front of the boundary marker. A huge crowd had gathered, but no one seemed to know whether to stand or sit. Ethan squeezed his way to a spot near the front and then groaned when he noticed Leah still at his side.

Aaron, dressed in a fancy yellow robe, stood on a platform that was about five feet high. The only other thing on the platform was a wooden altar about half the size of a family tent, covered by a red cloth. Ethan guessed that the idol was under the cloth.

Aaron, his voice deep but a bit shaky, said a few words about “new beginnings” and “showing us the way out of this wilderness.” Ethan only half listened, concentrating instead on looking around for Melki and his Mountain-of-the-Gods friends.

When Ethan glanced back at the platform, he noticed that Aaron was praying. Leah didn’t have her head bowed or her eyes closed, so Ethan didn’t do those things either.

After the prayer, Aaron walked over to the altar and pulled the cloth away. A cheer went up from the crowd, though Ethan and Leah didn’t join in.

The sun, reflecting off the idol’s gold surface, shot a blinding glare into Ethan’s eyes. He squinted and tried to shield his face, but it didn’t work. “What is it, a mountain lion?” he asked Leah.

“A mountain lion?” a nearby woman said with more than a little scorn. “It’s a calf!”

“How is a cow going to help us get out of the desert?” Leah asked. She didn’t seem to be talking to anyone in particular but spoke loudly enough for everyone around them to hear.

Ethan nudged her with his elbow and gave her a look that he hoped would shut her up.

“It’s a calf,” the woman repeated.

“Oh, excuse me,” Leah said. “How is a baby cow going to get us out of the desert?”

Ethan began to perspire, and it wasn’t just the heat. “Come on, Leah,” he whispered, pulling at her elbow. “Don’t cause a scene.”

“I’m not making a scene!” she cried, loudly enough to make Ethan grimace. “I just want to know how a cow that’s made out of my earrings is going to save us!”

Two men in front of them turned and stared at Leah. Neither of them looked happy.

Ethan tried to smile at them. “Uh . . . don’t listen to her,” he said. “She . . . uh . . . hit her head on the way here, and she’s not thinking clearly.”

“Then get her out of here!” one of the men barked.

“Yes, sir!” Ethan said quickly. His hands were trembling as he grabbed her arm. “Come on, Leah, you heard the man. Let’s go home and put you to bed. You need your rest.”

He pulled her away. She didn’t fight as they made their way back through the crowd —but she didn’t go quietly either. “This is wrong, and you all know it!” she shouted.

Ethan didn’t turn around to see how many people heard her. He didn’t really want to know.

When they got to the main path, Leah looked over at him, her nostrils flaring. “Why didn’t you stand up for what you believe back there?” she asked.

“How do you know what I believe?” he shot back.

“Do you think those people are doing the right thing?” Her tone made him think that if he said yes, she might pick up a rock and try to stone him on the spot.

He threw up his hands. “I don’t know what to think!” he cried. “All I know is that we’ve had a God who gave us rule after rule —and look where it’s gotten us.” He paused, waiting for the first rock to be thrown. “What if this new god doesn’t give us as many rules, and things get better around here?”

Leah looked at him with an expression he couldn’t name. It wasn’t anger or sadness or disappointment, but a mix of all three.

She didn’t say a word the rest of the way home.

And that made Ethan nervous —very nervous.