+ The boy reached through to the Soul of the World, and saw that +it was a part of the Soul of God. And he saw that the Soul of God was +his own soul. And that he, a boy, could perform miracles. +THE SIMUM BLEW THAT DAY AS IT HAD NEVER BLOWN before. For +generations thereafter, the Arabs recounted the legend of a boy who +had turned himself into the wind, almost destroying a military +camp, in defiance of the most powerful chief in the desert. +When the simum ceased to blow, everyone looked to the place +where the boy had been. But he was no longer there; he was +standing next to a sand-covered sentinel, on the far side of the +camp. +The men were terrified at his sorcery. But there were two +people who were smiling: the alchemist, because he had found his +perfect disciple, and the chief, because that disciple had understood +the glory of God. +The following day, the general bade the boy and the alchemist +farewell, and provided them with an escort party to accompany +them as far as they chose. +THEY RODE FOR THE ENTIRE DAY. TOWARD THE END OF the afternoon, they +came upon a Coptic monastery. The alchemist dismounted, and told +the escorts they could return to the camp. +“From here on, you will be alone,” the alchemist said. “You are +only three hours from the Pyramids.” +“Thank you,” said the boy. “You taught me the Language of the +World.” +“I only invoked what you already knew.” +The alchemist knocked on the gate of the monastery. A monk +dressed in black came to the gates. They spoke for a few minutes in +the Coptic tongue, and the alchemist bade the boy enter. +“I asked him to let me use the kitchen for a while,” the alchemist +smiled. +They went to the kitchen at the back of the monastery. The +alchemist lighted the fire, and the monk brought him some lead, +which the alchemist placed in an iron pan. When the lead had +become liquid, the alchemist took from his pouch the strange yellow +egg. He scraped from it a sliver as thin as a hair, wrapped it in wax, +and added it to the pan in which the lead had melted. +The mixture took on a reddish color, almost the color of blood. +The alchemist removed the pan from the fire, and set it aside to cool. +As he did so, he talked with the monk about the tribal wars. +“I think they’re going to last for a long time,” he said to the monk. +The monk was irritated. The caravans had been stopped at Giza +for some time, waiting for the wars to end. “But God’s will be done,” +the monk said. +“Exactly,” answered the alchemist. +When the pan had cooled, the monk and the boy looked at it, +dazzled. The lead had dried into the shape of the pan, but it was no +longer lead. It was gold. +“Will I learn to do that someday?” the boy asked. +“This was my Personal Legend, not yours,” the alchemist +answered. “But I wanted to show you that it was possible.” +They returned to the gates of the monastery. There, the +alchemist separated the disk into four parts. +“This is for you,” he said, holding one of the parts out to the +monk. “It’s for your generosity to the pilgrims.” +“But this payment goes well beyond my generosity,” the monk +responded. +“Don’t say that again. Life might be listening, and give you less +the next time.” +The alchemist turned to the boy. “This is for you. To make up for +what you gave to the general.” +The boy was about to say that it was much more than he had +given the general. But he kept quiet, because he had heard what the +alchemist said to the monk. +
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