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 em-
barrassed 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 lis-
tened to me like frightened children; even Benigno opened his
eyes to listen to my account.
Wow! Pablito exclaimed. Those bitches are really aw-
ful. 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 want: cry, laugh, get angry, any-
thing.
But what is she like when she is not acting? I asked
Nestor.
She’s just crazier than a bat, Benigno answered in a soft
voice. I met Josefina the first day she arrived. I had to carry
her into the house. The Nagual and I used to tie her down to
her bed all the time. Once she began to cry for her friend, a
little girl she used to play with. She cried for three days.
Pablito consoled her and fed her like a baby. She’s like him.
Both of them don’t know how to stop once they begin.
Benigno suddenly began to sniff the air. He stood up and
went over to the stove.
Is he really shy? I asked Nestor.
He’s shy and eccentric, Pablito answered. He’ll be that
way until he loses his form. Genaro told us that we will lose
our form sooner or later, so there is no point in making our-
selves miserable in trying to change ourselves the way the
Nagual told us to. Genaro told us to enjoy ourselves and not
worry about anything. You and the women worry and try;
we on the other hand, enjoy. You don’t know how to enjoy
things and we don’t know how to make ourselves miserable.
The Nagual called making yourself miserable, impeccability;
we call it stupidity, don’t we?
You are speaking for yourself, Pablito, Nestor said.
Benigno and I don’t feel that way.
Benigno brought a bowl of food over and placed it in front
of me. He served everyone. Pablito examined the bowls and
asked Benigno where he had found them. Benigno said that
they were in a box where la Gorda had told him she had
stored them. Pablito confided in me that those bowls used to
belong to them before their split.
We have to be careful, Pablito said in a nervous tone.
These bowls are no doubt bewitched. Those bitches put
something in them. I’d rather eat out of la Gorda’s bowl.
Nestor and Benigno began to eat. I noticed then that
Benigno had given me the brown bowl. Pablito seemed to be
in a great turmoil. I wanted to put him at ease but Nestor
stopped me.
Don’t take him so seriously, he said. He loves to be that
way. He’ll sit down and eat. This is where you and the women
fail. There is no way for you to understand that Pablito is like
that. You expect everybody to be like the Nagual. La Gorda is
the only one who’s unruffled by him, not because she under-
stands but because she has lost her form.
Pablito sat down to eat and among the four of us we finished
a whole pot of food. Benigno washed the bowls and carefully
put them back in the box and then all of us sat down comfort-
ably around the table.
Nestor proposed that as soon as it got dark we should all go
for a walk in a ravine nearby, where don Juan, don Genaro
and I used to go. I felt somehow reluctant. I did not feel con-
fident enough in their company. Nestor said that they were
used to walking in the darkness and that the art of a sorcerer
was to be inconspicuous even in the midst of people. I told him
what don Juan had once said to me, before he had left me in a
deserted place in the mountains not too far from there. He had
demanded that I concentrate totally on trying not to be ob-
vious. He said that the people of the area knew everyone by
sight. There were not very many people, but those who lived
there walked around all the time and could spot a stranger
from miles away. He told me that many of those people had
firearms and would have thought nothing of shooting me.
Don’t be concerned with beings from the other world,
don Juan had said laughing. The dangerous ones are the
Mexicans.
That’s still valid, Nestor said. That has been valid all the
time. That’s why the Nagual and Genaro were the artists they
were. They learned to become unnoticeable in the middle of
all this. They knew the art of stalking.
It was still too early for our walk in the dark. I wanted to
use the time to ask Nestor my critical question. I had been
avoiding it all along; some strange feeling had prevented me
from asking. It was as if I had exhausted my interest after
Pablito’s reply. But Pablito himself came to my aid and all of
a sudden he brought up the subject as if he had been reading
my mind.
Nestor also jumped into the abyss the same day we did,
he said. And in that way he became the Witness, you became
the Maestro and I became the village idiot.
In a casual manner I asked Nestor to tell me about his jump
into the abyss. I tried to sound only mildly interested. But
Pablito was aware of the true nature of my forced indiffer-
ence. He laughed and told Nestor that I was being cautious
because I had been deeply disappointed with his own account
of the event.
I went over after you two did, Nestor said, and looked at
me as if waiting for another question.
Did you jump immediately after us? I asked.
No. It took me quite a while to get ready, he said. Ge-
naro and the Nagual didn’t tell me what to do. That day was
a test day for all of us.
Pablito seemed despondent. He stood up from his chair and
paced the room. He sat down again, shaking his head in a
gesture of despair.
Did you actually see us going over the edge? I asked
Nestor.
I am the Witness, he said. To witness was my path of
knowledge; to tell you impeccably what I witness is my
task.
But what did you really see? I asked.
I saw you two holding each other and running toward the
edge, he said. And then I saw you both like two kites against
the sky. Pablito moved farther out in a straight line and then
fell down. You went up a little and then you moved away
from the edge a short distance, before falling down.
But, did we jump with our bodies? I asked.
Well, I don’t think there was another way to do it, he
said, and laughed.
Could it have been an illusion? I asked.
What are you trying to say. Maestro? he asked in a dry
tone.
I want to know what really happened, I said.
Did you by any chance black out, like Pablito? Nestor
asked with a glint in his eye.
I tried to explain to him the nature of my quandary about