I am Bat-Shachar, daughter of Tzaddok, the scholar and priest. While Father studies daily with my brothers and boys from our village, I spin, grind flour, and bake bread. What fuels that fire in Father's eyes? What does he do in the Tabernacle? Why does he scoff at me when I ask of his teachings?

 I am Basmat, servant in the home of Tzaddok. When the slave traders took me from my home, Mother hung an ivory Astarte figure on a leather cord around my neck. "Remember our ways," she said. I work all day with Bat-Shachar. We've grown up together, like sisters. I've found groups of my people nearby, close to Tzaddok's household. I'm drawn to them like a thirsty man to water.

 I am Tzuriel, son of Assaf of the tribe of Ephraim. I will dedicate my whole being to making sturdy weapons for the Israelite nation. I helped a healer dress the raw wounds of men butchered in an attack by marauders. Their groans and grimaces are imprinted on me. I will do anything, even sneak into Philistine territory, to learn the secrets of iron smithing and sword-making.