ous revitalization.  He  jumped  to  his  feet  and
stomped on the floor.
     "What the hell do you want?" he yelled in a shrill, nervous voice. "Why
are you snooping around?"
     La  Gorda addressed me as if  he  did not exist. She politely said that
she was going to Soledad's house.
     "What the hell do we care where you go?" he yelled. "You can go to hell
for that matter."
     He stomped on the floor like a spoiled child while la Gorda stood there
laughing.
     "Let's get out of this house. Maestro," he said loudly.
     His  sudden shift  from  sadness  to  anger  fascinated  me.  I  became
engrossed in watching him. One of the features that I had always admired was
his nimbleness; even when he stomped his feet his movements had grace.
     He suddenly reached across the table and nearly snatched my writing pad
away  from me.  He grabbed it  with the  thumb and index finger of his  left
hand. I had  to hold  onto it with both  hands, using all my strength. There
was such an extraordinary force in his  pull that if he had really wanted to
take it he could have easily jerked it away from my grip. He let go, and  as
he  retrieved his hand I  saw a  fleeting image of  an extension to  it.  It
happened so fast that I could have explained it as a visual distortion on my
part, a  product of the jolt  of having to  stand up halfway,  drawn by  the
force of his pull. But I  had  learned by then  that  I could neither behave
with those people in my accustomed manner, nor could  I explain anything  in
my accustomed manner, so I did not even try.
     "What's that in your hand, Pablito?" I asked.
     He  recoiled in surprise  and hid his  hand  behind his  back. He had a
blank expression and mumbled that he wanted us  to leave that  house because
he was becoming dizzy.
     La  Gorda began to  laugh  loudly and said that Pablito  was  as good a
deceiver as Josefina,  maybe even better, and that if I  pressed him to tell
me what was in his hand he would faint and Nestor would have to tend to  him
for months.
     Pablito began  to choke. His face  became almost purple.  La Gorda told
him in a nonchalant tone to cut out the acting because he had  no  audience;
she was leaving and I did not have much patience. She then turned to  me and
told me  in a most commanding tone  to stay there and not go to the Genaros'
house.
     "Why in the  hell not?" Pablito yelled and jumped in front of her as if
trying to stop her from leaving. "What gall! Telling the Maestro what to do!
"
     "We had a bout with the allies in your house last night," la Gorda said
to Pablito matter-of-factly. "The Nagual and  I are still weak from that. If
I were you, Pablito, I would put my attention to work. Things have  changed.
Everything has changed since he came."
     La Gorda left through  the front door. I became aware then that  indeed
she looked very  tired. Her shoes seemed too  tight, or perhaps she  was  so
weak that her feet dragged a little bit. She seemed small and frail.
     I thought that I must have looked as tired. Since there were no mirrors
in their house, I had the urge to go outside and look at  myself in the side
mirror of my  car. I perhaps would  have done it but Pablito thwarted me. He
asked me in the most earnest tone not to believe a word of what she had said
about his being a deceiver. I told him not to worry about that.
     "You don't like la Gorda at all, do you?" I asked.
     "You can say  that again," he replied  with  a fierce  look. "You  know
better than  anyone alive the  kind of monsters those women  are. The Nagual
told us that  one  day you were going to come here just to  fall into  their
trap. He begged us to be on the alert  and warn you about their designs. The
Nagual said that you had one out  of four chances: If out power was  high we
could  bring you here ourselves and warn you and save you; if our  power was
low we ourselves would  arrive  here just in  time to see  your corpse;  the
third chance  was to find you either the  slave to  the witch Soledad or the
slave of those disgusting, mannish women; the fourth chance and the faintest
one of all was to find you alive and well.
     "The Nagual  told us that  in case you survived, you  would then be the
Nagual and we should trust you because only you could help us."
     "I'll do anything for you, Pablito. You know that."
     "Not just for me. I'm  not alone.  The Witness and Benigno are with me.
We are together and you have to help all of us."
     "Of course, Pablito. That goes without saying."
     "People around here have never bothered us. Our problems are with those
ugly, mannish freaks. We don't know what to do with them. The Nagual gave us
orders to stay around them no  matter what. He  gave me a  personal task but
I've failed at it. I was very happy before. You  remember. Now  I can't seem
to manage my life anymore."
     "What happened, Pablito?"
     "Those witches drove me from my house. They took over and pushed me out
like trash. I now live in Genaro's house with  Nestor and Benigno.  We  even
have to cook our  own meals. The Nagual knew that this might happen and gave
la Gorda the task  of  mediating between  us and those three bitches. But la
Gorda  is still what  the Nagual used  to call her,  Two Hundred and  Twenty
Buttocks. That was her nickname  for years and years, because she tipped the
scales at two hundred and twenty pounds."
     Pablito chuckled at his recollection of la Gorda.
     "She was the  fattest,  smelliest slob you'd ever want to see," he went
on.  "Today she's half her  real size,  but  she's still the same fat,  slow
woman up there in her head, and she can't do a thing for us. But you're here
now. Maestro, and our worries are over. Now we are four against four."
     I wanted to interject a comment but he stopped me.
     "Let me finish what I have to say before that witch comes back to throw
me out," he said as he nervously looked at the door.
     "I  know  that they have told you that the  five  of  you are  the same
because you are the  Nagual's children. That's a lie! You're also  like  us,
the Genaros, because  Genaro also helped to make your luminosity. You're one
of us too. See what  I mean? So, don't  you believe what  they tell you. You
also  belong  to  us.  The  witches don't  know  that  the  Nagual  told  us
everything. They think  that they are the only  ones who  know. It took  two
Toltecs to make us. We are the children of both. Those witches. .."
     "Wait, wait, Pablito," I said, putting my hand over his mouth.
     He stood up, apparently frightened by my sudden movement.
     "What do you mean that it took two Toltecs to make us?"
     "The Nagual told us that we are Toltecs. All of us are Toltecs. He said
that a Toltec is the receiver and holder of mysteries. The Nagual and Genaro
are Toltecs. They  gave us  their special luminosity and their mysteries. We
received their mysteries and now we hold them."
     His usage of the word  Toltec baffled me.  I was familiar only with its
anthropological meaning. In  that context, it always refers to a  culture of
Nahuatl-speaking people in  central  and southern  Mexico which was  already
extinct at the time of the Conquest.
     "Why did he call us Toltecs?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.
     "Because that's what we are. Instead of saying that we are sorcerers or
witches, he said that we are Toltecs."
     "If that's the case, why do you call the little sisters witches?"
     "Oh,  that's because I hate them.  That has  nothing to do with what we
are."
     "Did the Nagual tell that to everyone?"
     "Why, certainly. Everyone knows."
     "But he never told me that."
     "Oh,  that's  because  you  are  a  very  educated  man and  are always
discussing stupid things."
     He laughed in a forced, high-pitched tone and patted me on the back.
     "Did the  Nagual by any chance  tell  you that the Toltecs were ancient
people that lived in this part of Mexico?" I asked.
     "See,  there  you go.  That's  why  he didn't  tell you. The  old  crow
probably didn't know that they were ancient people."
     He rocked in his  chair  as he  laughed. His laughter was very pleasing
and very contagious.
     "We are the  Toltecs,  Maestro," he  said.  "Rest  assured that we are.
That's all I know. But you can ask the Witness. He knows. I lost my interest
a long time ago."
     He stood up  and went over to the stove. I followed him.  He examined a
pot of food cooking on  a  low fire. He asked me if I knew who had made that
food. I was pretty sure that la Gorda had made it, but I said that I did not
know. He sniffed it four or five  times in short inhalations,  like  a  dog.
Then  he announced that his  nose told him that  la Gorda had cooked it.  He
asked me if I had had  some, and when I said that I had finished eating just
before he  arrived, he  took a bowl  from  a shelf and helped himself to  an
enormous portion. He recommended in very strong terms that I should eat food
cooked only by la Gorda and that  I should  only use her bowl, as he himself
was doing. I told him that la Gorda and the little sisters had served me  my
food in a dark bowl that they kept on a shelf apart from the others. He said
that that bowl belonged to  the Nagual.  We  went back  to the table. He ate
very slowly and did not talk at all. His total  absorption in eating made me
realize that all of them did the same thing: they ate in complete silence.
     "La Gorda  is a great cook," he said as he finished his food. "She used
to  feed me. That  was  ages  ago,  before she hated me, before she became a
witch, I mean a Toltec."
     He looked at me with a glint in his eye and winked.
     I felt  obligated to comment that  la Gorda  did not strike me as being
capable of hating anyone. I asked him if he knew that she had lost her form.
     "That's a lot of baloney!" he exclaimed.
     He stared at  me as if measuring my  look of surprise and  then hid his
face under his arm and giggled like an embarrassed child.
     "Well, she actually did do that," he added. "She's just great."
     "Why do you dislike her, then?"
     "I'm going to tell you something, Maestro, because I trust you. I don't
dislike  her  at all.  She's the very best. She's the Nagual's woman. I just
act that way with  her because I like her  to pamper me, and  she  does. She
never gets mad at  me. I could do anything. Sometimes I get carried away and
I get physical with her and want to strike her. When that happens  she  just
jumps  out  of the way,  like the  Nagual used to do.  The  next  minute she
doesn't even  remember what I did.  That's a true formless warrior for  you.
She does  the same thing with everyone. But the rest of us are a sorry mess.
We are truly bad. Those three witches hate us and we hate them back."
     "You are sorcerers, Pablito; can't you stop all this bickering?"
     "Sure  we can,  but we don't want to. What do you  expect us  to do, be
like brothers and sisters?"
     I did not know what to say.
     "They were the Nagual's women," he went on. "And yet everybody expected
me  to take them. How in  heaven's name am I going to do  that! I tried with
one  of them and instead of helping me the bastardly witch nearly killed me.
So  now every one of  those  women is after my hide as  if I had committed a
crime. All  I did was to follow the Nagual's instructions. He told me that I
had to be intimate with each of them, one by one, until I could  hold all of
them at once. But I couldn't be intimate with even one."
     I wanted  to ask him  about his  mother, dona  Soledad, but I could not
figure  out a way to bring her into  the conversation at that point. We were
quiet for a moment.
     "Do you hate them for what they tried to do to you?" he  asked all of a
sudden.
     I saw my chance.
     "No, not at all,"  I said. "La Gorda explained to me their reasons. But
dona Soledad's attack was very scary. Do you see much of her?"
     He did not answer. He looked at the ceiling. I  repeated my question. I
noticed then that his eyes were filled with tears. His body shook, convulsed
by quiet sobs.
     He  said  that  once he  had had a beautiful mother, whom, no doubt,  I
could still remember. Her name was Manuelita, a saintly woman who raised two
children,  working  like a  mule to support them. He  felt the most profound
veneration  for that mother who  had loved and reared him. But one  horrible
day his fate was fulfilled and he  had the misfortune to meet Genaro and the
Nagual,  and between the  two of them  they  destroyed his  life.  In a very
emotional  tone  Pablito said that  the two  devils took  his  soul and  his
mother's  soul. They killed his Manuelita  and left  behind that  horrendous
witch, Soledad.  He peered at me with eyes flooded with tears and said  that
that  hideous woman  was  not  his  mother.  She  could not  possibly be his
Manuelita.
     He sobbed  uncontrollably. I did  not know  what  to say. His emotional
outburst was so genuine  and his contentions so truthful that I  felt swayed
by a  tide of sentiment. Thinking as an average civilized man I had to agree
with him. It certainly looked as if it was a great misfortune for Pablito to
have crossed the path of don Juan and don Genaro.
     I put my arm around his shoulders and almost wept myself. After a  long
silence  he stood up and went out to  the back. I heard him blowing his nose
and washing his face in  a pail of water. When he returned he was calmer. He
was even smiling.
     "Don't get me  wrong. Maestro," he said. "I don't blame anyone for what
has  happened to me. It was my fate. Genaro  and  the Nagual acted  like the
impeccable warriors they were. I'm just  weak, that's all. And I have failed
in my task. The  Nagual said that my only chance to avoid the attack of that
horrendous witch was to  corral the four winds,  and make them into my  four
corners. But  I failed. Those women were in cahoots  with that witch Soledad
and didn't want to help me. They wanted me dead.
     "The Nagual also told me that if  I failed, you wouldn't stand a chance
yourself. He said that if she killed you, I had to flee and run for my life.
He doubted that I could even get  as far as the road. He said that with your
power and with  what the witch already knows, she would have  been peerless.
So, when  I felt  I had failed to corral the four winds, I considered myself
dead.  And of course I hated  those women. But today, Maestro, you bring  me
new hope."
     I told him that his feelings for his mother had touched me very deeply.
I was in fact appalled by all that had happened but I doubted intensely that
I had brought hope of any kind to him.
     "You have!"  he exclaimed with great certainty. "I've felt terrible all
this time. To have your  own mother coming after you with an  ax is  nothing
anyone can feel happy about. But now she's out of the way, thanks to you and
whatever you did.
     "Those women hate  me because they're convinced I'm a coward. They just
can't  get it through their thick heads that we are different. You and those
four women are  different  than  me  and  the  Witness  and  Benigno  in one
important way. All five of you were pretty much dead before the Nagual found
you. He told us that once you  had even tried to kill yourself. We were  not
that way. We were well and  alive and happy. We are the opposite of you. You
are desperate people; we arc not. If Genaro hadn't come my way I  would be a
happy  carpenter today. Or perhaps I would have  died.  It doesn't matter. I
would've done what I could and that would have been fine."
     His words plunged me into a curious mood.  I had  to admit that he  was
right in that those women and myself were indeed desperate  people. If I had
not  met  don Juan I would no doubt be dead, but I could not say, as Pablito
had, that it would have been fine with me either way. Don  Juan had  brought
life and vigor to my body and freedom to my spirit.
     Pablito's statements  made  me remember something don Juan had told  me
once when we were talking about an old man, a  friend of mine. Don  Juan had
said  in very  emphatic  terms  that  the  old man's life  or  death  had no
significance  whatsoever.  I  felt  a  bit  cross at  what  I thought  to be
redundance on don Juan's part. I  told him that it went without saying  that
the life and death of that old man had no significance, since nothing in the
world  could  possibly  have  any significance  except  to  each  one of  us
personally.
     "You said it!" he exclaimed, and  laughed. "That's exactly what I mean.
That old man's life and death have  no significance  to  him  personally. He
could have died  in  nineteen twenty-nine, or in nineteen fifty, or he could
live until nineteen  ninety-five. It doesn't matter.  Everything is stupidly
the same to him."
     My  life  before I  met don Juan  had been that  way. Nothing  had ever
mattered to me. I used to act as if certain things affected me, but that was
only a calculated ploy to appear as a sensitive man.
     Pablito spoke to me and disrupted my reflections. He wanted  to know if
he had  hurt my feelings. I assured him that  it  was nothing.  In order  to
start up the conversation again, I asked him where he had met don Genaro.
     "My fate was that my boss got ill," he said.  "And I had to  go to  the
city market in his place to build a new section of clothing booths. I worked
there for two months. While I  was there I met the daughter of the  owner of
one of  the booths. We fell in love. I  built  her father's  stand  a little
bigger than the  others so I could  make love to her under the counter while
her sister took care of the customers.
     "One day Genaro brought a sack of medicinal plants to a retailer across
the aisle,  and while  they were talking he noticed that  the clothing stand
was shaking. He  looked carefully at the  stand but  he only  saw the sister
sitting on a chair half-asleep. The man told Genaro that every day the stand
shook like that around that  hour. The next day Genaro brought the Nagual to
watch the stand shaking, and  sure enough that day it shook. They came  back
the next day and it shook again. So they waited there until I came out. That
day I made their acquaintance, and  soon after Genaro told me that he was an
herbalist  and  proposed to make me a potion that no  woman could resist.  I
liked women so  I  fell for it.  He certainly made the potion for me, but it
took him ten years. In the meantime  I got to know him very well, and I grew
to love him more  than  if he  were my own brother. And now  I miss him like
hell. So you see, he tricked me. Sometimes I'm glad that he did; most of the
time I resent it, though."
     "Don  Juan told  me that  sorcerers  have  to have  an omen before they
choose someone. Was there something of that sort with you, Pablito?"
     "Yes.  Genaro  said that he got curious watching  the stand shaking and
then he saw that  two  people were making love under  the counter. So he sat
down to wait  for the people to come out; he wanted  to  see who  they were.
After a while the girl appeared in the stand but he missed me. He thought it
was very strange that he would miss me after being so determined to set eyes
on me. The  next day  he  came  back  with the  Nagual. He also saw that two
people were  making love, but when it was time to catch me, they both missed
me. They came back again the next day; Genaro went around to the back of the
stand while the Nagual stayed out in front. I bumped into Genaro while I was
crawling out. I  thought he hadn't  seen me because I was  still  behind the
piece of cloth  that  covered  a small square opening I had made on the side
wall.  I began to bark to make  him think  there was  a small dog under  the
drape.  He  growled  and barked back at me and  really made me believe  that
there was a huge mad dog on  the other side. I  got so scared I ran out  the
other way  and crashed into the Nagual. If  he  would  have been an ordinary
man, I would have thrown him to the ground because I ran right into him, but
instead, he lifted me up like  a child. I was absolutely flabbergasted.  For
being  such  an old man he  was truly strong. I thought I could use a strong
man like that to carry  lumber for me. Besides  I  didn't want  to lose face
with the people who had seen me running out from under the counter.  I asked
him if  he would like to work  for me. He said yes. That same day he went to
the shop  and started to work as my assistant. He worked there every day for
two months. I didn't have a chance with those two devils."
     The  incongruous  image  of  don Juan working for Pablito was extremely
humorous to me. Pablito began to imitate the way don  Juan carried lumber on
his  shoulders. I had to agree with  la Gorda that  Pablito was  as good  an
actor as Josefina.
     "Why did they go to all that trouble, Pablito?"
     "They had  to trick me.  You don't think that I would go with them just
like that, do you? I've heard all my  life  about  sorcerers  and curers and
witches and spirits, and I never believed  a word of  it.  Those who  talked
about things like that were just ignorant people. If Genaro had told me that
he and his friend  were sorcerers,  I would've walked out on  them. But they
were  too clever  for me. Those two foxes were  really sly. They  were in no
hurry.  Genaro said that he would've  waited for  me  if it took him  twenty
years. That's why the Nagual went to work for me. I asked him to, so  it was
really me who gave them the key.
     "The Nagual  was a diligent worker. I was a  little bit of  a rascal in
those  days and  I  thought I was the one playing a trick on him. I believed
that the Nagual was just a stupid old Indian so I told him that I was  going
to tell the boss that he was my  grandpa, otherwise  they wouldn't hire him,
but  I had  to get a  percentage of his salary.  The Nagual said that it was
fine with him. He gave me something out of the few pesos he made each day.
     "My boss was very impressed with my  grandpa because he was such a hard
worker. But the other guys made fun of him. As you know, he had the habit of
cracking all his joints from time to time. In the shop he cracked them every
time he carried anything. People naturally thought that  he was so  old that
when he carried something on his back his whole body creaked.
     "I  was  pretty  miserable with  the Nagual as my grandpa. But  by then
Genaro had already prevailed on my greedy  side. He had told me that he  was
feeding the Nagual a special formula made out of plants and that it made him
strong as a  bull.  Every day he used  to bring a small  bundle of mashed-up
green leaves  and  feed it  to him. Genaro said that his  friend was nothing
without his  concoction, and to prove  it to me he didn't give it to him for
two days. Without  the  green stuff  the Nagual seemed  to  be just a plain,
ordinary old man.  Genaro told me that I  could also  use his  concoction to
make women love me. I got very interested in it and he said that we could be
partners if I would help  him prepare his formula and give it to his friend.
One day he showed  me some American money and told me  he had sold his first
batch to an American. That hooked me and I became his partner.
     "My partner Genaro  and I had great designs. He said that I should have
my own shop, because with the money  that we  were  going to  make  with his
formula, I  could afford anything.  I bought a shop and my partner  paid for
it. So I went wild. I knew  that my partner was for real and I began to work
making his green stuff."
     I  had the strange conviction at  that point  that don Genaro must have
used psychotropic  plants in  making his concoction. I reasoned that he must
have tricked Pablito into ingesting it in order to assure his compliance.
     "Did he give you power plants, Pablito?" I asked.
     "Sure," he replied. "He gave me his green stuff. I ate tons of it."
     He described and imitated  how don Juan  would sit by the front door of
don  Genaro's house in a state of profound lethargy and then spring to  life
as soon  as his  lips touched the  concoction. Pablito said that  in view of
such a transformation he was forced to try it himself.
     "What was in that formula?" I asked.
     "Green leaves," he replied. "Any  green leaves  he could get a hold of.
That was the kind of devil Genaro was. He used to talk about his formula and
make me laugh  until  I  was as high as  a kite.  God,  I really loved those
days."
     I laughed out of nervousness. Pablito shook his head from side to  side
and cleared his throat two or three times. He seemed to be struggling not to
weep.
     "As I've already said. Maestro," he went on, "I was driven by  greed. I
secretly planned to dump my partner once I had learned how to make the green
stuff myself. Genaro must have always known the designs I had in those days,
and just before he left he hugged me and told me that it was time to fulfill
my  wish; it  was time to dump my partner, for I had already learned to make
the green stuff."
     Pablito stood up. His eyes were filled with tears.
     "That son of a gun Genaro," he said softly. "That rotten devil. I truly
loved him,  and if I weren't the coward  I am, I would be  making his  green
stuff today."
     I  didn't want to write  anymore.  To dispel my sadness  I told Pablito
that we should go look for Nestor.
     I was  arranging my notebooks in order to leave when the front door was
flung open with  a  loud bang. Pablito  and  I  jumped  up involuntarily and
quickly  turned to look.  Nestor was standing at the door. I  ran to him. We
met in the middle of the front room. He sort of leaped on me and shook me by
the shoulders. He looked taller  and stronger  than the last time I had seen
him. His long, lean body had acquired an  almost feline smoothness. Somehow,
the person facing  me,  peering  at me, was not  the  Nestor I had known.  I
remembered him as  a very shy man  who was embarrassed to  smile because  of
crooked teeth, a man  who was entrusted to Pablito  for his care. The Nestor
who was looking at  me was a mixture of don Juan and don Genaro. He was wiry
and agile like don Genaro, but had the mesmeric command that don Juan had. I
wanted to indulge in being perplexed, but all I could do was laugh with him.
He patted me on the back. He took off his hat.  Only then did I realize that
Pablito did not have one. I  also noticed that Nestor was  much darker,  and
more rugged.  Next  to him  Pablito looked almost frail. Both  of  them wore
American Levi's, heavy jackets and crepe-soled shoes.
     Nestor's presence  in  the  house  lightened  up  the  oppressive  mood
instantly. I asked him to join us in the kitchen.
     "You came right in time," Pablito said to Nestor with an enormous smile
as we sat down. "The Maestro and I were weeping here, remembering the Toltec
devils."
     "Were yon really crying.  Maestro?"  Nestor asked with a malicious grin
on his face.
     "You bet he was," Pablito replied.
     A very soft  cracking noise at  the  front door made Pablito and Nestor
stop talking.  If I had  been by myself  I would not have  noticed or  heard
anything.  Pablito and Nestor stood up; I  did the  same. We  looked at  the
front door; it was being  opened in  a  most careful manner.  I thought that
perhaps la Gorda had returned and was quietly opening the door so as  not to
disturb us. When the door was finally opened wide enough to allow one person
to go through, Benigno came in as  if he were sneaking into a dark room. His
eyes were shut and he was walking on the tips of his toes. He reminded me of
a kid sneaking into a  movie theater through  an unlocked exit door in order
to  see a matinee, not daring  to  make any noise  and at the same  time not
capable of seeing a thing in the dark.
     Everybody was quietly looking at Benigno. He opened one eye just enough
to peek out of  it and orient himself  and  then he tiptoed across the front
room  to the  kitchen. He stood by the  table for  a moment  with  his  eyes
closed. Pablito  and Nestor sat down and signaled me to do the same. Benigno
then slid next  to me on the bench. He gently shoved  my  shoulder  with his
head; it was a light tap in order  for me to move over  to make room for him
on the bench; then he sat down comfortably with his eyes still closed.
     He  was dressed in Levi's like Pablito and Nestor. His face had  filled
out a bit since the last time I had seen him, years before, and his hairline
was different, but I  could not tell how. He had a lighter complexion than I
remembered,  very  small teeth, full lips, high cheekbones, a small nose and
big ears. He  had always  seemed  to  me like a child whose features had not
matured.
     Pablito  and Nestor, who had interrupted what they were saying to watch
Benigno's entrance, resumed talking as soon as he sat down as though nothing
had happened.
     "Sure, he was crying with me," Pablito said.
     "He's not a crybaby like you," Nestor said to Pablito.
     Then he turned to me and embraced me.
     "I'm so glad you're alive," he said. "We've just talked to la Gorda and
she said that you were the Nagual, but she didn't tell us how  you survived.
How did you survive, Maestro?"
     At that point I had a strange choice. I could have followed my rational
path, as I had  always done, and said that I did  not have the vaguest idea,
and I  would have been truthful at that. Or I could have said that my double
had extricated me from the grip of those women. I was  measuring in my  mind
the possible effect of each alternative when I was distracted by Benigno. He
opened one eye a little bit and looked at me and then giggled and buried his
head in his arms.
     "Benigno, don't you want to talk to me?" I asked.
     He shook his head negatively.
     I felt  self-conscious with him next to  me and decided to ask what was
the matter with him.
     "What's he doing?" I asked Nestor in a low voice.
     Nestor rubbed Benigno's head and shook him. Benigno opened his eyes and
then closed them again.
     "He's that  way, you  know," Nestor  said to me.  "He's extremely  shy.
He'll open his  eyes sooner or  later. Don't pay any attention to him. If he
gets bored he'll go to sleep."
     Benigno shook his head affirmatively without opening his eyes.
     "Well, how did you get out?" Nestor insisted.
     "Don't you want to tell us?" Pablito asked.
     I deliberately said that my double had come out from the top of my head
three times. I gave them an account of what had happened.
     They did not seem in  the  least surprised and  took  my  account as  a
matter of course. Pablito became delighted  with his  own speculations  that
dona Soledad might not recover and  might eventually die. He wanted  to know
if I had struck Lidia as well. Nestor made an imperative gesture for him  to
be quiet and Pablito meekly stopped in the middle of a sentence.
     "I'm sorry. Maestro," Nestor said, "but that was not your double."
     "But everyone said that it was my double."
     "I know for  a fact that you misunderstood la Gorda, because as Benigno
and I were walking to Genaro's house,  la Gorda overtook us on  the road and
told  us  that you and Pablito were here  in this house. She called  you the
Nagual. Do you know why?"
     I laughed and said that I believed it was due to her  notion that I had
gotten most of the Nagual's luminosity.
     "One of us  here is a  fool!" Benigno said  in a booming  voice without
opening his eyes.
     The sound of his voice was so  outlandish that I jumped  away from him.
His  thoroughly unexpected  statement, plus  my reaction to  it, made all of
them laugh. Benigno opened one eye and looked  at me for an instant and then
buried his face in his arms.
     "Do you know why we called Juan Matus the Nagual?" Nestor asked me.
     I said that  I  had  always  thought that that  was  their nice way  of
calling don Juan a sorcerer.
     Benigno laughed  so loudly  that the sound of his laughter  drowned out
everybody else's. He seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. He rested  his
head on my shoulder as if it were a heavy object he could no longer support.
     "The reason we called him the  Nagual," Nestor went on,  "is because he
was split  in two.  In other words, any time he needed to, he could get into
another track that we don't have ourselves; something would come out of him,
something that was not a double but a horrendous, menacing shape that looked
like him but was  twice his size. We call that shape the nagual  and anybody
who has it is, of course, the Nagual.
     "The Nagual  told us that  all of us can  have that shape coming out of
our  heads if we wanted to, but  chances are  that none of us would want to.
Genaro didn't  want it,  so I  think we don't want it, either. So it appears
that you're the one who's stuck with it."
     They  cackled  and  yelled as if  they were corraling a herd of cattle.
Benigno put  his  arms  around  my shoulders  without opening  his eyes  and
laughed until tears were rolling down his cheeks.
     "Why do you say that I am stuck with it?" I asked Nestor.
     "It takes too much energy," he  said, "too  much work. I don't know how
you can still be standing.
     "The  Nagual and Genaro split you  once  in the  eucalyptus grove. They
took you there because eucalyptuses are your trees. I was there myself and I
witnessed when they  split you and pulled  your nagual out. They pulled  you
apart by the ears until  they had split your luminosity and you were  not an
egg anymore, but two  long chunks of  luminosity. Then they put you together
again, but  any sorcerer that sees can tell that there is a huge gap in  the
middle."
     "What's the advantage of being split?"
     "You  have  one  car that  hears  everything  and  one  eye  that  sees
everything and you will  always  be  able to go an extra mile in a moment of
need. That  splitting is also the reason  why  they told us that you are the
Maestro.
     "They  tried to split  Pablito  but it  looks like it failed. He's  too
pampered and has always indulged like a bastard.  That's why he's so screwed
up now."
     "What's a double then?"
     "A double is the other, the  body that one gets in dreaming.  It  looks
exactly like oneself."
     "Do all of you have a double?"
     Nestor scrutinized me with a look of surprise.
     "Hey, Pablito, tell the Maestro about our doubles," he said laughing.
     Pablito reached across the table and shook Benigno.
     "You tell him, Benigno," he said. "Better yet, show it to him."
     Benigno stood up, opened his eyes as wide as he could and looked at the
roof, then he pulled down his pants and showed me his penis.
     The Genaros went wild with laughter.
     "Did  you really mean it when you asked that, Maestro?" Nestor asked me
with a nervous expression.
     I assured him that I  was deadly serious in my desire to  know anything
related to their  knowledge. I went into a long elucidation of how  don Juan
had kept  me  outside of their realm for  reasons I could  not fathom,  thus
preventing me from knowing more about them.
     "Think of this," I said. "I didn't know until three days ago that those
four girls were the Nagual's apprentices, or that Benigno  was  don Genaro's
apprentice."
     Benigno opened his eyes.
     "Think of  this yourself," he  said. "I didn't  know until now that you
were so stupid."
     He  closed  his  eyes  again and all of them laughed insanely. I had no
choice but to join them.
     "We were just teasing you. Maestro,"  Nestor said in way of an apology.
"We thought that you were teasing us, rubbing it in. The Nagual told us that
you see. If you do, you can tell that  we are a sorry lot. We don't have the
body of dreaming. None of us has a double."
     In a  very serious and  earnest manner Nestor said that  something  had
come in between them and their desire  to have a double. I understood him as
saying that a sort of barrier had been created since don Juan and don Genaro
had left.  He  thought that it  might be the result of  Pablito flubbing his
task. Pablito added  that since the  Nagual  and Genaro had  gone, something
seemed to  be  chasing  them,  and  even Benigno,  who  was  living  in  the
southernmost tip of Mexico at that time, had to return. Only when the  three
of them were together did they feel at ease.
     "What do you think it is?" I asked Nestor.
     "There is something out there in that immensity  that's pulling us," he
replied. "Pablito thinks it's his fault for antagonizing those women."
     Pablito turned to me. There was an intense glare in his eyes.
     "They've put a curse on me. Maestro," he  said.  "I know that the cause
of  all our trouble  is me. I wanted to disappear  from these parts after my
fight  with Lidia, and a few  months later I  took off  for Veracruz. I  was
actually very happy there with a girl I wanted to marry. I got a job and was
doing fine until  one  day  I came  home  and  found that those four mannish
freaks,  like beasts of prey, had tracked me down by my scent. They  were in
my  house tormenting my woman.  That  bitch  Rosa  put her  ugly  hand on my
woman's belly  and made her shit  in the bed, just  like that. Their leader.
Two  Hundred  and Twenty Buttocks, told  me  that they had walked across the
continent looking for me. She just grabbed me by the belt and pulled me out.
They  pushed me to the  bus depot to  bring me here. I got madder  than  the
devil but I was no  match for Two Hundred and Twenty Buttocks. She put me on
the bus. But on our way here I ran away. I ran through bushes and over hills
until  my feet got  so swollen that I  couldn't get my  shoes  off. I nearly
died. I  was ill for nine  months. If the Witness hadn't  found  me, I would
have died."
     "I  didn't find him," Nestor said to me. "La  Gorda found him. She took
me to where he was and between the two of  us we carried  him to the bus and
brought him here. He was delirious and we  had to  pay an extra fare so that
the bus driver would let him stay on the bus."
     In a most dramatic  tone Pablito said that he had not changed his mind;
he still wanted to die.
     "But why?" I asked him.
     Benigno answered for him in a booming, guttural voice.
     "Because his pecker doesn't work," he said.
     The sound of his voice was so extraordinary that for an  instant I  had
the  impression  that  he was  talking  inside a  cavern.  It  was  at  once
frightening and incongruous. I laughed almost out of control.
     Nestor  said  that  Pablito  had  attempted  to  fulfill  his  task  of
establishing  sexual  relations  with the  women,  in  accordance  with  the
Nagual's instructions.  He  had  told Pablito that  the four corners of  his
world were already set in  position and all he had to  do was to claim them.
But when  Pablito went to  claim  his first corner, Lidia, she nearly killed
him. Nestor added that it was his personal opinion as a witness of the event
that the reason Lidia rammed him with her head was because Pablito could not
perform as a man, and rather than being embarrassed by  the whole thing, she
hit him.
     "Did Pablito  really  get  sick as a  result of  that  blow  or was  he
pretending?" I asked half in jest.
     Benigno answered again in the same booming voice.
     "He was just pretending!" he said.  "All he got was a bump on the head!
"
     Pablito and Nestor cackled and yelled.
     "We don't blame Pablito for being afraid of those women,"  Nestor said.
"They  are all like the Nagual himself, fearsome warriors. They're  mean and
crazy."
     "Do you really think they're that bad?" I asked him.
     "To say they're bad is only one part of the whole truth,"  Nestor said.
"They're just like  the  Nagual. They're serious and gloomy. When the Nagual
was around, they used to sit close to  him and stare into the  distance with
half-closed eyes for hours, sometimes for days."
     "Is it true that Josefina was really crazy a long time ago?" I asked.
     "That's a laugh," Pablito said. "Not a long time ago; she's crazy  now.
She's the most insane of the bunch."
     I  told them  what she had  done  to me.  I  thought  that  they  would
appreciate the humor of her magnificent performance. But my  story seemed to
affect  them the wrong way. They  listened  to me like frightened  children;
even Benigno opened his eyes to listen to my account.
     "Wow!" Pablito exclaimed. "Those bitches are really awful. And you know
that their  leader is Two  Hundred and Twenty Buttocks.  She's the one  that
throws the  rock  and then hides her hand  and pretends  to be  an  innocent
little girl. Be careful of her, Maestro."
     "The Nagual trained Josefina  to be anything," Nestor said. "She can do
anything you wan