+ “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. +“Don’t give in to your fears,” said the alchemist, in a strangely +gentle voice. “If you do, you won’t be able to talk to your heart.” +“But I have no idea how to turn myself into the wind.” +“If a person is living out his Personal Legend, he knows +everything he needs to know. There is only one thing that makes a +dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.” +“I’m not afraid of failing. It’s just that I don’t know how to turn +myself into the wind.” +“Well, you’ll have to learn; your life depends on it.” +“But what if I can’t?” +“Then you’ll die in the midst of trying to realize your Personal +Legend. That’s a lot better than dying like millions of other people, +who never even knew what their Personal Legends were. +“But don’t worry,” the alchemist continued. “Usually the threat +of death makes people a lot more aware of their lives.” +THE FIRST DAY PASSED. THERE WAS A MAJOR BATTLE nearby, and a +number of wounded were brought back to the camp. The dead +soldiers were replaced by others, and life went on. Death doesn’t +change anything, the boy thought. +“You could have died later on,” a soldier said to the body of one +of his companions. “You could have died after peace had been +declared. But, in any case, you were going to die.” +At the end of the day, the boy went looking for the alchemist, +who had taken his falcon out into the desert. +“I still have no idea how to turn myself into the wind,” the boy +repeated. +“Remember what I told you: the world is only the visible aspect +of God. And that what alchemy does is to bring spiritual perfection +into contact with the material plane.” +“What are you doing?” +“Feeding my falcon.” +“If I’m not able to turn myself into the wind, we’re going to die,” +the boy said. “Why feed your falcon?” +“You’re the one who may die,” the alchemist said. “I already +know how to turn myself into the wind.” +ON THE SECOND DAY, THE BOY CLIMBED TO THE TOP OF A cliff near the +camp. The sentinels allowed him to go; they had already heard +about the sorcerer who could turn himself into the wind, and they +didn’t want to go near him. In any case, the desert was impassable. +He spent the entire afternoon of the second day looking out over +the desert, and listening to his heart. The boy knew the desert +sensed his fear. +They both spoke the same language. +ON THE THIRD DAY, THE CHIEF MET WITH HIS OFFICERS. He called the +alchemist to the meeting and said, “Let’s go see the boy who turns +himself into the wind.” +“Let’s,” the alchemist answered. +
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