boy's head. Then, taking his sheep, he walked away.

don't know his house.'

"Relieved, the boy picked up the spoon and returned to his exploration of the palace, this time observing

all of the works of art on the ceilings and the walls. He saw the gardens, the mountains all around him, the

beauty of the flowers, and the taste with which everything had been selected. Upon returning to the wise

man, he related in detail everything he had seen.

" 'But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?' asked the wise man.

"Looking down at the spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was gone.

" 'Well, there is only one piece of advice I can give you,' said the wisest of wise men. 'The secret of

happiness is to see all the marvels of the world, and never to forget the drops of oil on the spoon.' "

The shepherd said nothing. He had understood the story the old king had told him. A shepherd may like

to travel, but he should never forget about his sheep.

The old man looked at the boy and, with his hands held together, made several strange gestures over the

boy's head. Then, taking his sheep, he walked away.

At the highest point in Tarifa there is an old fort, built by the Moors. From atop its walls, one can catch a

glimpse of Africa. Melchizedek, the king of Salem, sat on the wall of the fort that afternoon, and felt the

levanter blowing in his face. The sheep fidgeted nearby, uneasy with their new owner and excited by so

much change. All they wanted was food and water.

Melchizedek watched a small ship that was plowing its way out of the port. He would never again see

the boy, just as he had never seen Abraham again after having charged him his one-tenth fee. That was

his work.

The gods should not have desires, because they don't have destinies. But the king of Salem hoped

desperately that the boy would be successful.

It's too bad that he's quickly going to forget my name, he thought. I should have repeated it for him.

Then when he spoke about me he would say that I am Melchizedek, the king of Salem.

He looked to the skies, feeling a bit abashed, and said, "I know it's the vanity of vanities, as you said, my

Lord. But an old king sometimes has to take some pride in himself."

How strange Africa is, thought the boy.

He was sitting in a bar very much like the other bars he had seen along the narrow streets of Tangier.

Some men were smoking from a gigantic pipe that they passed from one to the other. In just a few hours

he had seen men walking hand in hand, women with their faces covered, and priests that climbed to the

tops of towers and chanted—as everyone about him went to their knees and placed their foreheads on