with a second payment underneath it. This went on every day. They never announced their coming, as if to make sure they didn’t interrupt me. And they never asked me for anything in return, but I felt it right to pay them. The food was different from anything I had been accustomed to. But over time I grew accustomed to it, and it kept me alive.”
“That’s why he told you to go there, to stay by the camp . . . so you would survive.”
“That was one reason. The next morning, I began exploring the area, being careful to keep my bearings and not wander too far away from the tent.”
“Did you find anything?”
“Valleys, plains, and mountains but no sign of anything else. This went on for several days. But then something happened. It was morning. I emerged from my tent to discover I had company.”
“Who?”
“A little boy dressed in brown cloth. He was sitting in the distance outside my tent, as if waiting for me to come out.”
“Where did he come from?”
“Maybe from the encampment, maybe from another encampment, from a family of nomads. I don’t know. As with those in the tent village, we didn’t speak the same language. He got up and motioned for me to follow him. I wasn’t sure if I should. On the other hand, I didn’t think I had anything to lose by doing so. So I began walking behind him. He would occasionally stop and look back, just to make sure I was there or to allow me time to catch up.
“I couldn’t tell which was more absurd, the fact that a little boy was leading me or the fact that I was following him. There was always the possibility that I was being led nowhere in the middle of a barren wilderness. All the more, I tried my best to keep track of all the turns and landmarks along the way. But the bottom line was I had nothing else to go on.
“He led me through a valley, a deep, winding ravine, a plain, and finally to the bottom of the mountain, where he paused to allow me to catch up. Then we began the ascent. His steps followed the outline of a winding mountain path. The terrain was such that I often lost sight of the boy before spotting him again on the other side of a bend or ledge.
“Finally we arrived at the top. It was then that I saw the figure of a man sitting on a large rock near the mountain’s pinnacle. At first I could only see his outline, a silhouette against the sunlight. The boy receded to the side as if to indicate that I was to approach the man on my own. So I did. When I looked back, the boy had vanished. I continued the approach. The man was turned away from me, looking into the light of the desert landscape. I don’t know if he heard me coming or not, but it was just at that moment that he turned around. He said nothing. But I couldn’t hold back.”
“Are you the one I’ve been seeking?”
“That would depend,” he replied.
“The one who can answer my questions.”
“How could I answer before hearing them?”
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m known by many names,” he replied.
“What do the people of this region call you?”
“Most of them have no idea who I am.”
“But those that do, do they have a name for you?”
“I’ve heard they do.”
“What is it?”
“The Oracle.”
Chapter 4
THE ORACLE
HE WASN’T YOUNG. That much I expected. The legend of the Oracle had been around for some time. And as I had expected, he had a distinctly mystical appearance. The hair on his head was snow white, as was his beard. He was wearing an off-white robe-like garment on top of an off-white inner garment, what you might expect to see in ancient times or on a member of some religious order.
“There was a rock opposite the one on which he was sitting. He motioned for me to sit there. So I did.”
“You’ve been searching for how long?” he asked.
“On foot,” I said, “for several weeks and, before that, several months.”
“How did you hear of me?”
“I read about you in an article.”
“There couldn’t have been much. There isn’t much known of me . . . and I don’t give interviews.”
“No,” I replied, “it wasn’t much. It spoke more of your legend than of you.”
“So how did you know I was real?”
“I wasn’t sure. I believed you were.”
“You came