But then he stopped. The alchemist probably already knew all that.
“I have known true alchemists,” the alchemist continued. “They locked themselves in their laboratories, and tried to evolve, as gold had. And they found the Philosopher’s Stone, because they understood that when something evolves, everything around that thing evolves as well.
“Others stumbled upon the stone by accident. They already had the gift, and their souls were readier for such things than the souls of others. But they don’t count. They’re quite rare.
“And then there were the others, who were interested only in gold. They never found the secret. They forgot that lead, copper, and iron have their own Personal Legends to fulfill. And anyone who interferes with the Personal Legend of another thing never will discover his own.”
The alchemist’s words echoed out like a curse. He reached over and picked up a shell from the ground.
“This desert was once a sea,” he said.
“I noticed that,” the boy answered.
The alchemist told the boy to place the shell over his ear. He had done that many times when he was a child, and had heard the sound of the sea.
“The sea has lived on in this shell, because that’s its Personal Legend. And it will never cease doing so until the desert is once again covered by water.”
They mounted their horses, and rode out in the direction of the Pyramids of Egypt.
THE SUN WAS SETTING WHEN THE BOY’S HEART SOUNDED a danger signal.
They were surrounded by gigantic dunes, and the boy looked at the alchemist to see whether he had sensed anything. But he appeared to be unaware of any danger. Five minutes later, the boy saw two horsemen waiting ahead of them. Before he could say anything to the alchemist, the two horsemen had become ten, and then a hundred. And then they were everywhere in the dunes.
They were tribesmen dressed in blue, with black rings surrounding their turbans. Their faces were hidden behind blue veils, with only their eyes showing.
Even from a distance, their eyes conveyed the strength of their souls. And their eyes spoke of death.
THE TWO WERE TAKEN TO A NEARBY MILITARY CAMP. A soldier shoved the boy and the alchemist into a tent where the chief was holding a meeting with his staff.
“These are the spies,” said one of the men.
“We’re just travelers,” the alchemist answered.
“You were seen at the enemy camp three days ago. And you were talking with one of the troops there.”
“I’m just a man who wanders the desert and knows the stars,”
said the alchemist. “I have no information about troops or about the movement of the tribes. I was simply acting as a guide for my friend here.”
“Who is your friend?” the chief asked.
“An alchemist,” said the alchemist. “He understands the forces of nature. And he wants to show you his extraordinary powers.”
The boy listened quietly. And fearfully.
“What is a foreigner doing here?” asked another of the men.
“He has brought money to give to your tribe,” said the alchemist, before the boy could say a word. And seizing the boy’s bag, the alchemist gave the gold coins to the chief.
The Arab accepted them without a word. There was enough there to buy a lot of weapons.
“What is an alchemist?” he asked, finally.
“It’s a man who understands nature and the world. If he wanted to, he could destroy this camp just with the force of the wind.”
The men laughed. They were used to the ravages of war, and knew that the wind could not deliver them a fatal blow. Yet each felt his heart beat a bit faster. They were men of the desert, and they were fearful of sorcerers.
“I want to see him do it,” said the chief.
“He needs three days,” answered the alchemist. “He is going to transform himself into the wind, just to demonstrate his powers. If he can’t do so, we humbly offer you our lives, for the honor of your tribe.”
“You can’t offer me something that is already mine,” the chief said, arrogantly. But he granted the travelers three days.
The boy was shaking with fear, but the alchemist helped him out of the tent.
“Don’t let them see that you’re afraid,” the alchemist said. “They are brave men, and they despise cowards.”
But the boy couldn’t even speak. He was able to do so only after they had walked through the center of the camp. There was no need to imprison them: the Arabs simply confiscated their horses. So, once again, the world had demonstrated its many languages: the desert only moments ago had been endless and free, and now it was an impenetrable wall.
“You gave them everything I had!” the boy said. “Everything I’ve saved in my entire life!”
“Well, what good would it be to you if you had to die?” the alchemist answered. “Your money saved us for three days. It’s not often that money saves a person’s life.”
But the boy was too frightened to listen to words of wisdom. He had no idea how he was going to transform himself into the wind.
He wasn’t an alchemist!
The alchemist asked one of the soldiers for some tea, and poured some on the boy’s wrists. A wave of relief washed over him, and the alchemist muttered some words that the boy didn’t understand.
