Where was the enemy's sword? Where was his horse? What kind of blow should one deliver next in order to remain alive? The camel driver was not a fighter, and he had consulted with seers. Many of them had been right about what they said, while some had been wrong. Then, one day, the oldest seer he had ever sought out (and the one most to be feared) had asked why the camel driver was so interested in the future.
'Well… so I can do things,' he had responded. 'And so I can change those things that I don't want to happen.'
'But then they wouldn't be a part of your future,' the seer had said.
'Well, maybe I just want to know the future so I can prepare myself for what's coming.'
'If good things are coming, they will be a pleasant surprise,' said the seer. 'If bad things are, and you know in advance, you will suffer greatly before they even occur.'
'I want to know about the future because I'm a man,' the camel driver had said to the seer. 'And men always live their lives based on the future.'
The seer was a specialist in the casting of twigs; he threw them on the ground, and made interpretations based on how they fell. That day, he didn't make a cast. He wrapped the twigs in a piece of cloth and put them back in his bag.
'I make my living forecasting the future for people,' he said. 'I know the science of the twigs, and I know how to use them to penetrate to the place where all is written. There, I can read the past, discover what has already been forgotten, and understand the omens that are here in the present.
'When people consult me, it's not that I'm reading the future; I am guessing at the future. The future belongs to God, and it is only he who reveals it, under extraordinary circumstances. How do I guess at the future? Based on the omens of the present. The secret is here in the present. If you pay attention to the present, you can improve upon it. And, if you improve on the present, what comes later will also be better. Forget about the future, and live each day according to the teachings, confident that God loves his children. Each day, in itself, brings with it an eternity.'
The camel driver had asked what the circumstances were under which God would allow him to see the future.
'Only when he, himself, reveals it. And God only rarely reveals the future. When he does so, it is for only one reason: it's a future that was written so as to be altered.'
God had shown the boy a part of the future, the camel driver thought. Why was it that he wanted the boy to serve as his instrument?
'Go and speak to the tribal chieftains,' said the camel driver. 'Tell them about the armies that are approaching.'
'They'll laugh at me.'
'They are men of the desert, and the men of the desert are used to dealing with omens.'
'Well, then, they probably already know.'
'They're not concerned with that right now. They believe that if they have to know about something Allah wants them to know, someone will tell them about it. It has happened many times before. But, this time, the person is you.'
The boy thought of Fatima. And he decided he would go to see the chiefs of the tribes.
*
The boy approached the guard at the front of the huge white tent at the center of the oasis.
'I want to see the chieftains. I've brought omens from the desert.'
Without responding, the guard entered the tent, where he remained for some time. When he emerged, it was with a young Arab, dressed in white and gold. The boy told the younger man what he had seen, and the man asked him to wait there. He disappeared into the tent.
Night fell, and an assortment of fighting men and merchants entered and exited the tent. One by one, the campfires were extinguished, and the oasis fell as quiet as the desert. Only the lights in the great tent remained. During all this time, the boy thought about Fatima, and he was still unable to understand his last conversation with her.
Finally, after hours of waiting, the guard bade the boy enter. The boy was astonished by what he saw inside. Never could he have imagined that, there in the middle of the desert, there existed a tent like this one. The ground was covered with the most beautiful carpets he had ever walked upon, and from the top of the structure hung lamps of hand-wrought gold, each with a lighted candle. The tribal chieftains were seated at the back of the tent in a semicircle, resting upon richly embroidered silk cushions. Servants came and went with silver trays laden with spices and tea. Other servants maintained the fires in the hookahs. The atmosphere was suffused with the sweet scent of smoke.
There were eight chieftains, but the boy could see immediately which of them was the most important: an Arab dressed in white and gold, seated at the center of the semicircle. At his side was the young Arab the boy had spoken with earlier.
'Who is this stranger who speaks of omens?' asked one of the chieftains, eyeing the boy.
'It is I,' the boy answered. And he told what he had seen.
'Why would the desert reveal such things to a stranger, when it knows that we have been here for generations?' said another of the chieftains.
'Because my eyes are not yet accustomed to the desert,' the boy said. 'I can see things that eyes habituated to the desert might not see.'
And also because I know about the Soul of the World, he thought to himself.
'The oasis is neutral ground. No one attacks an oasis,' said a third chieftain.
'I can only tell you what I saw. If you don't want to believe me, you don't have to do anything about it.'
