“Well, Mika, what do you say? Go to war or stay home?”
Mikayhu crouched in front of the two kings. He floated his head forward and back while he clicked his fingers to a beat. This young man had grown taller but hadn’t lost his charm.
Jehoshaphat scooted forward on his throne and bobbed with him. Then snapped his fingers.
A slow grin warmed the face of General Jehu. Chariot captains wagged their heads and rolled their shoulders, while servers at the edge of the threshing floor twitched their knees. Across the crowd, heads moved, fingers clicked, hips wiggled.
When King Jehoshaphat had firm control of the beat, Mikayhu chanted.
Sure thing, King.
Yeah, I mean bring.
Bring it on. War.
War, of course.
Chariot and horse.
Attack ’em. Smack ’em.
Easy vict’ry.
Hold out your hand.
For success!
Ahab hurled his wine cup to the threshing floor.
Jehoshaphat’s beat lay dead among the pieces. He turned on his throne and stared at Ahab. “Who is this boy?”
Ahab ignored him. “Cut the song and dance, Mika. Just tell us what the Lord showed you.”
