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,
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