+ THE BOY WENT TO HIS ROOM AND PACKED HIS BELONGINGS. They filled three +sacks. As he was leaving, he saw, in the corner of the room, his old +shepherd’s pouch. It was bunched up, and he had hardly thought of +it for a long time. As he took his jacket out of the pouch, thinking to +give it to someone in the street, the two stones fell to the floor. Urim +and Thummim. +It made the boy think of the old king, and it startled him to +realize how long it had been since he had thought of him. For nearly +a year, he had been working incessantly, thinking only of putting +aside enough money so that he could return to Spain with pride. +“Never stop dreaming,” the old king had said. “Follow the +omens.” +The boy picked up Urim and Thummim, and, once again, had the +strange sensation that the old king was nearby. He had worked hard +for a year, and the omens were that it was time to go. +I’m going to go back to doing just what I did before, the boy +thought. Even though the sheep didn’t teach me to speak Arabic. +But the sheep had taught him something even more important: +that there was a language in the world that everyone understood, a +language the boy had used throughout the time that he was trying +to improve things at the shop. It was the language of enthusiasm, of +things accomplished with love and purpose, and as part of a search +for something believed in and desired. Tangier was no longer a +strange city, and he felt that, just as he had conquered this place, he +could conquer the world. +“When you want something, all the universe conspires to help +you achieve it,” the old king had said. +But the old king hadn’t said anything about being robbed, or +about endless deserts, or about people who know what their +dreams are but don’t want to realize them. The old king hadn’t told +him that the Pyramids were just a pile of stones, or that anyone +could build one in his backyard. And he had forgotten to mention +that, when you have enough money to buy a flock larger than the +one you had before, you should buy it. +The boy picked up his pouch and put it with his other things. He +went down the stairs and found the merchant waiting on a foreign +couple, while two other customers walked about the shop, drinking +tea from crystal glasses. It was more activity than usual for this time +of the morning. From where he stood, he saw for the first time that +the old merchant’s hair was very much like the hair of the old king. +He remembered the smile of the candy seller, on his first day in +Tangier, when he had nothing to eat and nowhere to go—that smile +had also been like the old king’s smile. +It’s almost as if he had been here and left his mark, he thought. +And yet, none of these people has ever met the old king. On the +other hand, he said that he always appeared to help those who are +trying to realize their Personal Legend. +He left without saying good-bye to the crystal merchant. He +didn’t want to cry with the other people there. He was going to miss +the place and all the good things he had learned. He was more +confident in himself, though, and felt as though he could conquer +the world. +“But I’m going back to the fields that I know, to take care of my +flock again.” He said that to himself with certainty, but he was no +longer happy with his decision. He had worked for an entire year to +make a dream come true, and that dream, minute by minute, was +becoming less important. Maybe because that wasn’t really his +dream. +Who knows…maybe it’s better to be like the crystal merchant: +never go to Mecca, and just go through life wanting to do so, he +thought, again trying to convince himself. But as he held Urim and +Thummim in his hand, they had transmitted to him the strength and +will of the old king. By coincidence—or maybe it was an omen, the +boy thought—he came to the bar he had entered on his first day +there. The thief wasn’t there, and the owner brought him a cup of +tea. +
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