CHAPTER 11: LAW OF SYNTHESIS

"Any two opposing forces may be unified in a force which will contain both the original opposites."

(Whitcomb 14)

Present Day—Nita's POV

Nita was confused and voiced as much, "Carl? Tom? Is there something you're not telling me?" She looked between the two, eyes settling on Tom. "What makes Carl's and your power so special?"

Tom held his head in his hands.

"Not yet, Nita, just not yet..." he whispered.

"It'll come in its time, hon, secrets always do." Carl scooted closer to Tom, put his arm around him, and gave him a friendly hug.

"Now, where'd we leave off last?" Carl asked, looking off into the distance.

"The One only knows," Tom remarked bitterly.

He stood up. "I'm sorry Nita; this is getting to be a bit much for me. I need to get some air." And with that he walked over to the sliding glass door, opened it, and stepped outside.

Carl followed him with a gesture for Nita to stay where she was.

In the meantime Nita, patiently waiting, called on her own Manual, So You Want To Be A Wizard, from subspace.

A Wizard's Companion, that's what Carl and Tom's Manuals were called, she reflected.

Holding her own Manual in her hands, and running her fingers over the cover words, she wondered what it meant, if anything, that their Manuals were named differently.

"Oh, it means something all right."

Carl had come back in.

"Why don't we all go out there?" He motioned to the sliding glass door.

"It's cold though..."

Carl gave her a look. "We're Wizards hun, we can make a warm eco bubble for a while. Just expand the one around the fish pond really."

Nita nodded then needed a little help off the chair she was sitting in. They made their way to join Tom by waterfall in the backyard.

"The only way you can change the Absolute, Nita, is the same as making another draft for a book... You rewrite It."

Tom's sudden talking startled Nita.

She jumped.

"Then the original is gone, like it never happened... because it didn't." Tom finished, not looking at Nita.

Nita hesitantly voiced a question. "Sort of like The Book Of Night With Moon then?"

"Sort of," Tom looked grave.

"But not really?"

"That book makes changes to the world directly... we're talking indirectly." Carl rebutted gently. Then, "We're talking about a series of events that changes the pasts and futures of everybody on this planet—in this universe in fact."

"You have no idea," Tom went on, "what happens when one person no longer exists..."

"What changes would it bring about Nita?" Carl adds in, "For instance, what would happen if there were no human Wizards in this galaxy? Could it still exist?"

Nita shuddered to think... then stopped and wondered.

"Just one person?" She asked dubiously. "How can the whole of the universe become off balanced by the loss of just one person?"

"Because 'one grain of rice can tip the scale.' That's an old human saying..." Tom added.

"There's a Plan, Nita." Carl went on. "A natural Order to Life. And when that Order is violated... Chaos ensues. Until Order is reestablished by the One... or in some rare cases, by someone else."

"Order?" Nita flashed back to the conversation she'd had in her Dream. "Like the 'Order' Ponch was talking about?"

Carl nodded. "The very same."

"Nita, you can't even begin to imagine what it takes to reseal Chaos..."

"Did you know Tom? That all this would happen?"

Tom shook his head, "No—eventually I found out—but not then. Even if I had, however, I would've done the same thing." He finished vehemently.

Nita looked between the two of them in awe. There was just something about this that she couldn't place...

"So if one man could cause a whole race to disappear, what do you think a whole race disappearing would do to the universe?"

"But people die all the time!" She protested.

"They die, not cease existing..."

She shook her head.

"It sounds impossible!"

"It's improbable, but not impossible... nothing is impossible..." Tom trailed off.

"Now," Carl hunkered down. "Back to the story..."

Past—Carl's POV

The day would come when he would remember, Carl figured.

It had to. He had to.

For now, all he knew he knew in dreams.

Yet it seemed he had an ally in the matter.

Carl—released from the hospital a month after being struck by lightning, burn marks fading but skin still sickly yellow and mottled with unattractive purple and blue streaks that wouldn't fade with time—carried that blue feather, jammed in his left pocket, with him wherever he went. He even twiddled it between his fingers from time to time. He knew it meant something, he just wasn't sure what.

His being alone in the middle of Central Park in the middle of the night meant something too.

But he didn't know where in Central Park he had been and he didn't know what the feather belonged to.

He had asked the nursing staff if any of them had pet parrots but he'd only gotten strange looks in return.

So he was back to square one.

Only, he didn't even know where square one was.

So he takes a walk through Central Park at night with a flashlight, even though he doesn't know where he's going or what he'll do when he gets there.

After a while, he spots a flicker of color in the corner of his eye.

Spinning around, he shines his light and looked carefully into the barren skeletons the trees had become for winter.

Sure enough, as though expecting him, there is-in majestic blue, gold, and scarlet-a macaw watching him from a low branch.

They look at each other, sizing each other up for several seconds until Carl, feeling very foolish, offers his arm to the bird, fully expecting it to fly away.

He gasps when the macaw alights on his outstretched wrist.

She's a gorgeous bird—he doesn't know how to tell if a bird is male or female, so he'll just speculate female—and she gazes at him calmly through dark beady eyes

Eyes so dark he can almost recall something...

Then the bird takes flight... "Wait! Don't go yet!" Carl shouts at her, and then feels foolish because obviously a bird won't understand him...

Except she lands in a nearby tree, gazing at him in an expectant manner.

Carl isn't sure what to think.

He just knows he doesn't believe in coincidences.

There was a macaw feather under his pillow and there is a macaw watching him now.

So, trying not to question it too much, he follows the macaw's lead.

And where she leads him is deeper and deeper into the heart of Central Park.

Eventually, Carl has to cut off the paved path and make his way through a thicket of brush, which was thornier than before the leaves had fallen off.

It's strange. He knows he wasn't found here—it seems that nothing and no one has been here—except...

Something catches his eye in the bushes.

He picks out a piece of green cloth on one protruding limb.

The same kind of cloth he's wearing now...

He looks at his jacket and sees that there is indeed a tear in one of his sleeves.

So he has been here before.

He isn't sure what to make of this revelation. He only knows that something deep inside is driving him forward, giving him the will and vitality to keep going.

With newfound resilience he fights his way through the shrubbery.

He was never alone while he worked through it; the bird never once left him. She was always in sight, colors unmissable against the white snow.

Finally he stumbles into a clearing.

And stops before a circle.

It's eerily quiet where he arrived. The scene before him is almost perfectly preserved. Not a creature or a leaf seems to have disturbed the circle that lay in front of him, as though time in this area had stopped.

There wasn't any snow here either.

He's stunned.

Carl stands just outside the circle, starting when the scarlet macaw lands on his shoulder.

He looks around and, seeing nothing, steps inside the circle.

"You broke the first rule of Wizardry, Carl, 'Don't Summon what you can't Banish...'"

Carl spins around, heart pounding, causing the macaw to squawk in protest and dig her claws in painfully for stability.

But Carl doesn't feel any of it. His attention is drawn to a boy his age stepping out of the shadows... and Carl has the unnerving feeling he's been there the whole time.

That's impossible, Carl's logical mind protests.

"Who—who are you? How do you know my name?"

"My name is Jacob, but Tom used to call me Jake."

Tom. The name resonates, like a string being plucked on a harp that has never before been played, and Carl doesn't understand why.

Jacob looks at Carl as if this should have some significance, and then sighs when Carl fails to produce the reaction he was searching for...

"You really don't remember, do you," It isn't a question. Jacob shakes his head in what Carl perceives as pity. "Either way, I've been expecting you."

With a wave of his hand he indicates the drawings and symbols inside the circle.

"This work of yours was crude, but effective—too effective actually."

"Wait a second," Carl briefly breaks out of his astonishment to ask a burning question, "Are you saying all this is my doing?"

"Yes, unfortunately. However, you didn't set your intentions right. So that night you got three Powers instead of just one."

"Three what?" Carl asks, confused, but Jacob ignores him.

"You got the Lone Power, who erased your memories. You got the One's Champion, who has been protecting you from anymore of the Lone One's meddling. And then you got me."

"And what are you supposed to do?"

"I'm supposed to lead you the way home."

"I don't understand." Carl says earnestly.

"No, of course not. How could you?" Jacob replies quietly.

Silence ensues.

Jacob begins anew. "Did you ever feel like something wasn't right with the world? Ever feel incomplete? Like something or someone was missing?"

Carl doesn't have an immediate answer to that, and Jacob presses on before he could formulate one.

"The truth is..." Jacob pauses for a moment, then shakes his head, "Never mind what the truth is, the point is..."

"Wait," Carl interrupts, finally feeling like he's on to something, "What is the truth?"

"'What' indeed?" Jacob stares him down. "How are you so certain the truth is a 'what' and not a 'who'?"

"Is this some kind of trick question?"

"Is it? You tell me." And Jacob's face is a study in impassivity.

Carl opens then closes his mouth, speechless. What was there to say?

"What indeed."

Carl's eyebrows shoot straight up, "Are you reading my mind?" he demands, before realizing how foolish that sounds.

When Jacob still doesn't say anything, Carl tries another approach, confessing. "I have no idea what you're talking about; can you explain all this to me?"

Jacob shakes his head. Why does he look so sad? Carl wonders.

"Most things in this world cannot be explained. In this case especially, you must come to your own conclusions."

"Then can you at least give me the..."

Jacob holds up a hand to stall him. "There are no facts. Just questions that need answering..."

He looks down at the circle and then up at Carl expectantly. "Would you care to let me in?"

And Carl is at a loss again. "You mean you can't enter by yourself?"

"No."

Carl hesitates, then... "Fine, you can come in."

Jacob doesn't move.

Carl's forehead wrinkles when he frowns, wondering if he's done something wrong...

"It's not that you've done anything wrong, it's that you didn't do it right... You have to cut me in."

Carl takes a step back, "No way, not going to do it, no blood!"

"STOP!" Jacob commands.

Carl freezes.

"If you break this circle it's all over. You won't ever find him. And greater consequences than that will occur for all of us."

Carl quickly steps into his previous position. He doesn't know who "he" is or what "all of us" entails but something tells him he really doesn't want to find out that way.

What is this? What's going on? Are the thoughts that swim through his mind, finally ending with, do I even want to know this?

"How do I let you into the circle?" Carl asks finally, sounding braver than he's feeling.

"Use the athame."

"The what?"

"The knife."

Carl takes a deep breath and picks up the athame gently from its place on the wooden altar. It could be just his imagination but it feels strangely warm to the touch.

"This circle is alive Carl and encompassing all of you. Now imagine you're making a doorway. Use that athame and part the air with a cutting motion going first horizontally, and then vertically."

Feeling slightly silly, Carl does as he's told and... is he imagining things? Or does the air really feel thicker beneath his hands?

This is all impossible. He doesn't believe in witchcraft.

"But you do believe in the Unknown." Jacob steps forward into the circle. "That's how I'm here."

Jacob sits down on the ground cross-legged, then looks up at Carl expectantly.

"Close the circle first," Jacob tells him.

Carl looks at Jacob blankly. Jacob sighs, "Reverse whatever you did to open it. And don't forget to visualize, that's more important than the movements."

Carl does as he's told and, once finished, faces Jacob for further instruction.

Jacob motions to the floor in front of him, "Sit down."

Carl sits.

He doesn't know how long they stay like that, staring each other down, but apparently Carl passes some kind of test because Jacob nods resolutely.

Jacob begins, "I cannot give you your memories back Carl, so what you have to do you'll have to do in blind faith or not at all..."

Carl nods, still unsure.

Jacob abruptly changes the subject, "What I am about to tell you now is to remain secret, something that will be kept between you and I alone. It is about Time and Its manipulation."

Jacob's outlook turns grave. "Listen closely now Carl, this is important and you must understand all of it. You see in Time there is no distinction between past, present, and future, they all flow together. That means that one can be accessed just as readily as the other. For instance, what we do now affects your future and past, and what I say in the next five minutes—and the decisions that you will make hereafter—will ultimately change not only your fate but the fate of this Earth, and many other Earths to come..."

Carl doesn't know what to say to that.

"However," Jacob clears his throat, "those who can make such an impression, and use such power, are very rare. I only know of one other, and even he cannot do what you are about to do."

"Tom...?" Carl asks uneasily.

Jacob nods.