When last seen, Carlos was backing out of the chapparal, away from Ixtlan and the two old dons, and we understood that he wouldn't be back again. So he said, in tones of mature resolution; yet there were those among us who had our doubts, and sure enough, here he is, having entertained some questions of his own about, appropriately enough, his personal power. We're glad in any case -- it was almost as if our own vacations had been canceled -- but especially since some critical points had been left uncovered. . . for example, the last two dots on that diagram that Don Juan sketched, oh so socratically, way back when. These subsequently turn out to represent the ultimate division of the human being, two distinct, related orders of existence and capacity that together comprise the whole of experience, as a number of similar dualities were said to do in ancient European tradition, not to mention the Orient. (If you keep up with science, you may want to equate them with right and left brain lobes.) But all such articulated pairs, Don Juan would sweep off onto the tonal, his lighter side, which he likens amiably enough to a tabletop (though it is anything but quiescent). The nagual, its opposite, is really out there. In fact it seems to be by definition the realm of that which is not discussed, a point that Don Juan, even Don Juan, does not finesse quite successfully, although it's a little late for logical objections now. Anyway, there is a license for sorcery, and some kind of sorcery is going on here, whether or not it originates with Don Juan. He continues to be one of the livest persons in print (turning up this time in a natty tan suit that frightens Carlitos more than anything yet) and his instructions continue to provoke in Carlos (who would rank with the Don as a creation if this were fiction) a range and variety of psychomotor manifestations that approaches art.