he heard a voice ask him in Spanish

A practice of infidels," he said to himself. As a child in church, he had always looked at the image of

Saint Santiago Matamoros on his white horse, his sword unsheathed, and figures such as these kneeling

at his feet. The boy felt ill and terribly alone. The infidels had an evil look about them.

Besides this, in the rush of his travels he had forgotten a detail, just one detail, which could keep him

from his treasure for a long time: only Arabic was spoken in this country.

The owner of the bar approached him, and the boy pointed to a drink that had been served at the next

table. It turned out to be a bitter tea. The boy preferred wine.

But he didn't need to worry about that right now. What he had to be concerned about was his treasure,

and how he was going to go about getting it. The sale of his sheep had left him with enough money in his

pouch, and the boy knew that in money there was magic; whoever has money is never really alone.

Before long, maybe in just a few days, he would be at the Pyramids. An old man, with a breastplate of

gold, wouldn't have lied just to acquire six sheep.

The old man had spoken about signs and omens, and, as the boy was crossing the strait, he had thought

about omens. Yes, the old man had known what he was talking about: during the time the boy had spent

in the fields of Andalusia, he had become used to learning which path he should take by observing the

ground and the sky. He had discovered that the presence of a certain bird meant that a snake was

nearby, and that a certain shrub was a sign that there was water in the area. The sheep had taught him

that.

If God leads the sheep so well, he will also lead a man, he thought, and that made him feel better. The

tea seemed less bitter.

"Who are you?" he heard a voice ask him in Spanish.

The boy was relieved. He was thinking about omens, and someone had appeared.

"How come you speak Spanish?" he asked. The new arrival was a young man in Western dress, but the

color of his skin suggested he was from this city. He was about the same age and height as the boy.

"Almost everyone here speaks Spanish. We're only two hours from Spain."

"Sit down, and let me treat you to something," said the boy. "And ask for a glass of wine for me. I hate

this tea."

"There is no wine in this country," the young man said. "The religion here forbids it."

The boy told him then that he needed to get to the Pyramids. He almost began to tell about his treasure,

but decided not to do so. If he did, it was possible that the Arab would want a part of it as payment for

taking him there. He remembered what the old man had said about offering something you didn't even

have yet.

"I'd like you to take me there if you can. I can pay you to serve as my guide."

"Do you have any idea how to get there?" the newcomer asked.