The Valkyries

Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 44 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 45 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 46 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 47 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 48 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 49 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 50 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 51 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 52 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 53 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 54 (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by Paulo Coelho (#litres_trial_promo)

AUTHOR’S NOTE (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About The Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

PROLOGUE (#ulink_1e8dcd56-e7af-5210-8b48-f5a8bab34b21)

“Something that is of great importance to me?” J. thought for a few moments before responding. “Magic.”

“No, something else,” Paulo insisted.

“Women,” J. said. “Magic and women.” Paulo laughed.

“They’re important to me, too,” he said. “Although marriage has slowed me down a bit.”

It was J.’s turn to laugh.

“A bit,” he said. “Just a bit.”

Paulo filled his master’s glass with wine. It had been four months since they had seen each other, and this was a quite special night. Paulo wanted to talk for a while longer, build the suspense, before giving J. the package he had brought.

“I used to imagine the great masters as people who were far removed from the world,” he said to J. “If you had answered me that way a few years ago, I think I would have abandoned my apprenticeship.”

“You should have done that,” J. said, sipping at his wine. “And I would have found a beautiful woman disciple to take your place.”

They drank the entire bottle of wine as they sat talking in the restaurant located on the top floor of J.’s hotel. They spoke of work, magic, and women. J. was euphoric about the huge contract he had just negotiated for the Dutch multinational for which he worked. And Paulo was excited about the package he had brought with him.

“Let’s have another bottle,” Paulo said.

“In honor of what?”

“Your coming to Rio de Janeiro … The beautiful view from the window over there … And the present I’ve brought you.”

J. looked out the window to see Copacabana beach sparkling below. “The view deserves a toast,” he said, signaling to the waiter.

When they were halfway through the second bottle, Paulo placed the package on the table.

Looking at J., he said, “If you were to ask me what is important to me, I would say: my master. It was he who taught me to understand that love is the only thing that never fails. He who had the patience to lead me along the intricate paths of magic. He who had the courage and dignity, despite his powers, to present himself always as a person with some doubts and with certain weaknesses. He who helped me to understand the forces that can transform our lives.”

“We’ve had a lot of wine,” J. said. “I don’t want to get serious.”

“I’m not talking about serious things. I’m talking about joyful things. I’m talking about love.”

He pushed the package to J.’s side of the table. “Open it.”

“What is this?”

“A way of saying thank you. And of passing on to others all the love you taught me.”

J. opened the package. It contained almost two hundred typed pages, on the first of which was written “The Alchemist.”

Paulo’s eyes were gleaming.

“It’s a new book,” he said. “Look at the next page.”