the boy had been working for the crystal merchant for almost a month, and he could see that it wasn't exactly the kind of job that would make him happy. the merchant spent the entire day mumbling behind the counter, telling the boy to be careful with the pieces and not to break anything.
but he stayed with the job because the merchant, although he was an old grouch, treated him fairly; the boy received a good commission for each piece he sold, and had already been able to put some money aside. that morning he had done some calculating: if he continued to work every day as he had been, he would need a whole year to be able to buy some sheep.
"i'd like to build a display case for the crystal," the boy said to the merchant. "we could place it outside, and attract those people who pass at the bottom of the hill."
"i've never had one before," the merchant answered. "people will pass by and bump into it, and pieces will be broken."
"well, when i took my sheep through the fields some of them might have died if we had come upon a snake. but that's the way life is with sheep and with shepherds."
the merchant turned to a customer who wanted three crystal glasses. he was selling better than ever… as if time had turned back to the old days when the street had been one of tangier's major attractions.
"business has really improved," he said to the boy, after the customer had left. "i'm doing much better, and soon you'll be able to return to your sheep. why ask more out of life?"
"because we have to respond to omens," the boy said, almost without meaning to; then he regretted what he had said, because the merchant had never met the king.
"it's called the principle of favorability, beginner's luck. because life wants you to achieve your destiny," the old king had said.
but the merchant understood what the boy had said. the boy's very presence in the shop was an omen, and, as time passed and money was pouring into the cash drawer, he had no regrets about having hired the boy. the boy was being paid more money than he deserved, because the merchant, thinking that sales wouldn't amount to much, had offered the boy a high commission rate. he had assumed he would soon return to his sheep.
"why did you want to get to the pyramids?" he asked, to get away from the business of the display.
"because i've always heard about them," the boy answered, saying nothing about his dream. the treasure was now nothing but a painful memory, and he tried to avoid thinking about it.
"i don't know anyone around here who would want to cross the desert just to see the pyramids," said the merchant. "they're just a pile of stones. you could build one in your backyard."
"you've never had dreams of travel," said the boy, turning to wait on a customer who had entered the shop.
two days later, the merchant spoke to the boy about the display.
