Oh, sir  Mr. Dean  I really think youve exaggerated the seriousness of that situation What I remember, Eddie said, still without looking up, is the smell of the gasoline. I fired my dinhs gun, do you recall that? I suppose we were lucky there were no fumes, and that I fired it in the right direction. They poured gasoline all over the corner where you keep your desk. They were going to burn your favorite books  or should I say your best friends, your family? Because thats what they are to you, arent they? And Deepneau, who the fuck is he? Just some old guy full of cancer who ran north with you when you needed a running buddy. Youd leave him dying in a ditch if someone offered you a first edition of Shakespeare or some special Ernest Hemingway. I resent that! Tower cried. I happen to know that my bookshop has been burned flat, and through an oversight its uninsured! Im ruined, and its all your fault! I want you out of here! You defaulted on the insurance when you needed cash to buy that Hopalong Cassidy collection from the Clarence Mulford estate last year, Aaron Deepneau said mildly. You told me that insurance lapse was only temporary, but It was! Tower said. He sounded both injured and surprised, as if he had never expected betrayal from this quarter. Probably he hadnt. It was only temporary, goddammit! but to blame this young man, Deepneau went on in that same composed but regretful voice, seems most unfair. I want you out of here! Tower snarled at Eddie. You and your friend, as well! I have no wish to do business with you! If you ever thought I did, it was a  a misapprehension! He seized upon this last word as though upon a prize, and nearly shouted it out. Eddie clasped his hands more tightly yet. He had never been more aware of the gun he was wearing; it had gained a kind of balefully lively weight. He reeked with sweat; he could smell it. And now drops of blood began to ooze out from between his palms and fall to the floor. He could feel his teeth beginning to sink into his tongue. Well, it was certainly a way to forget the pain in ones leg. Eddie decided to give the tongue in question another brief conditional parole. What I remember most clearly about my visit to you You have some books that belong to me, Tower said. I want them back. I insist on Shut up, Cal, Deepneau said. What? Tower did not sound wounded now; he sounded shocked. Almost breathless. Stop squirming. Youve earned this scolding, and you know it. If youre lucky, a scolding is all it will be. So shut up and for once in your life take it like a man. Hear him very well, Roland said in a tone of dry approval. What I remember most clearly, Eddie pushed on, is how horrified you were by what I told Jackabout how I and my friends would fill Grand Army Plaza with corpses if he didnt lay off. Some of them women and children. You didnt like that, but do you know what, Cal? Jack Andolinis here, right now, in East Stoneham. You lie! Tower said. He drew in breath as he said it, turning the words into an inhaled scream. God, Eddie replied, if only I did. I saw two innocent women die, Cal. In the general store, this was. Andolini set an ambush, and if you were a praying manI suppose youre not, unless theres some first edition you feel in danger of losing, but if you wereyou might want to get down on your knees and pray to the god of selfish, obsessed, greedy, uncaring dishonest bookstore owners that it was a woman named Mia who told Balazars dinh where we were probably going to end up, her, not you. Because if they followed you, Calvin, those two womens blood is on your hands! His voice was rising steadily, and although Eddie was still looking steadfastly down, his whole body had begun to tremble. He could feel his eyes bulging in their sockets and the cords of strain standing out on his neck. He could feel his balls drawn all the way up, as small and as hard as peachpits. Most of all he could feel the desire to spring across the room, as effortless as a ballet dancer, and bury his hands in Calvin Towers fat white throat. He was waiting for Roland to intervenehoping for Roland to intervenebut the gunslinger did not, and Eddies voice continued to rise toward the inevitable scream of fury. One of those women went right down but the other  she stayed up for a couple of seconds. A bullet took off the top of her head. I think it was a machinegun bullet, and for the couple of seconds she stayed on her feet, she looked like a volcano. Only she was blowing blood instead of lava. Well, but it was probably Mia who ratted. Ive got a feeling about that. Its not entirely logical, but luckily for you, its strong. Mia using what Susannah knew and protecting her chap. Mia? Young manMr. DeanI know no Shut up! Eddie cried. Shut up, you rat! You lying, reneging weasel! You greedy, grasping, piggy excuse for a man! Why didnt you take out a few billboards? HI, IM CAL TOWER! IM STAYING ON THE ROCKET ROAD IN EAST STONEHAM! WHY DONT YOU COME SEE ME AND MY FRIEND, AARON! BRING GUNS! Slowly, Eddie looked up. Tears of rage were rolling down his face. Tower had backed up against the wall to one side of the door, his eyes huge and moist in his round face. Sweat stood out on his brow. He held his bag of freshly acquired books against his chest like a shield. Eddie looked at him steadily. Blood dripped from between his tightly clasped hands; the spot of blood on the arm of his shirt had begun to spread again; now a trickle of blood ran from the left side of his mouth, as well. And he supposed he understood Rolands silence. This was Eddie Deans job. Because he knew Tower inside as well as out, didnt he? Knew him very well. Once upon a time not so long ago hadnt he himself thought everything in the world but heroin pale and unimportant? Hadnt he believed everything in the world that wasnt heroin up for barter or sale? Had he not come to a point when he would literally have pimped his own mother in order to get the next fix? Wasnt that why he was so angry? That lot on the corner of Second Avenue and Fortysixth Street was never yours, Eddie said. Not your fathers, or his fathers, all the way back to Stefan Toren. You were only custodians, the same way Im custodian of the gun I wear. I deny that! Do you? Aaron asked. How strange. Ive heard you speak of that piece of land in almost those exact words Aaron, shut up! many times, Deepneau finished calmly. There was a pop. Eddie jumped, sending a fresh throb of pain up his leg from the hole in his shin. It was a match. Roland was lighting another cigarette. The filter lay on the oilcloth covering the table with two others. They looked like little pills. Here is what you said to me, Eddie said, and all at once he was calm. The rage was out of him, like poison drawn from a snakebite. Roland had let him do that much, and despite his bleeding tongue and bleeding palms, he was grateful. Anything I said  I was under stress  I was afraid you might kill me yourself! You said you had an envelope from March of 1846. You said there was a sheet of paper in the envelope, and a name written on the paper. You said I deny You said that if I could tell you the name written on that piece of paper, youd sell me the lot. For one dollar. And with the understanding that youd be getting a great deal moremillionsbetween now and  1985, lets say. Tower barked a laugh. Why not offer me the Brooklyn Bridge while youre at it? You made a promise. And now your father watches you attempt to break it. Calvin Tower shrieked I DENY EVERY WORD YOU SAY! Deny and be damned, Eddie said. And now Im going to tell you something, Cal, something I know from my own beatup but still beating heart. Youre eating a bitter meal. You dont know that because someone told you it was sweet and your own tastebuds are numb. I have no idea what youre talking about! Youre crazy! No, Aaron said. Hes not. Youre the one whos crazy if you dont listen to him. I think  I think hes giving you a chance to redeem the purpose of your life. Give it up, Eddie said. Just once listen to the better angel instead of to the other one. That other one hates you, Cal. It only wants to kill you. Believe me, I know. Silence in the cabin. From the pond came the cry of a loon. From across it came the less lovely sound of sirens. Calvin Tower licked his lips and said, Are you telling the truth about Andolini? Is he really in this town? Yes, Eddie said. Now he could hear the whuppawhuppawhup of an approaching helicopter. A TV news chopper? Wasnt this still about five years too early for such things, especially up here in the boondocks? The bookstore owners eyes shifted to Roland. Tower had been surprised, and hed been guilttripped with a vengeance, but the man was already regaining some of his composure. Eddie could see it, and he reflected (not for the first time) on how much simpler life would be if people would stay in the pigeonholes where you originally put them. He did not want to waste time thinking of Calvin Tower as a brave man, or as even second cousin to the good guys, but maybe he was both those things. Damn him. Youre truly Roland of Gilead? Roland regarded him through rising membranes of cigarette smoke. You say true, I say thank ya. Roland of the Eld? Yes. Son of Steven? Yes. Grandson of Alaric? Rolands eyes flickered with what was probably surprise. Eddie himself was surprised, but what he mostly felt was a kind of tired relief. The questions Tower was asking could mean only two things. First, more had been passed down to him than just Rolands name and trade of hand. Second, he was coming around. Of Alaric, aye, Roland said, him of the red hair. I dont know anything about his hair, but I know why he went to Garlan. Do you? To slay a dragon. And did he? No, he was too late. The last in that part of the world had been slain by another king, one who was later murdered. Now, to Eddies even greater surprise, Tower haltingly addressed Roland in a language that was a second cousin to English at best. What Eddie heard was something like Had heet Roluh, fa heet gun, fa heet hak, fahad gun? Roland nodded and replied in the same tongue, speaking slowly and carefully. When he was finished, Tower sagged against the wall and dropped his bag of books unheeded to the floor. Ive been a fool, he said. No one contradicted him. Roland, would you step outside with me? I need  I  need  Tower began to cry. He said something else in that notEnglish language, once more ending on a rising inflection, as if asking a question. Roland got up without replying. Eddie also got up, wincing at the pain in his leg. There was a slug in there, all right, he could feel it. He grabbed Rolands arm, pulled him down, and whispered in the gunslingers ear Dont forget that Tower and Deepneau have an appointment at the Turtle Bay Washateria, four years from now. Tell him Fortyseventh Street, between Second and First. He probably knows the place. Tower and Deepneau were  are  will be the ones who save Don Callahans life. Im almost sure of it. Roland nodded, then crossed to Tower, who initially cringed away and then straightened with a conscious effort. Roland took his hand in the way of the Calla, and led him outside. When they were gone, Eddie said to Deepneau, Draw up the contract. Hes selling. Deepneau regarded him skeptically. You really think so? Yeah, Eddie said. I really do. SEVEN Drawing the contract didnt take long. Deepneau found a pad in the kitchen (there was a cartoon beaver on top of each sheet, and the legend DAM IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO) and wrote it on that, pausing every now and then to ask Eddie a question. When they were finished, Deepneau looked at Eddies sweatshiny face and said, I have some Percocet tablets. Would you like some? You bet, Eddie said. If he took them now, he thoughthopedhe would be ready for what he wanted Roland to do when Roland got back. The bullet was still in there, in there for sure, and it had to come out. How about four? Deepneaus eyes measured him. I know what Im doing, Eddie said. Then added Unfortunately. EIGHT Aaron found a couple of childrens BandAids in the cabins medicine chest (Snow White on one, Bambi on another) and put them over the hole in Eddies arm after pouring another shot of disinfectant into the wounds entry and exit points. Then, while drawing a glass of water to go with the painkillers, he asked Eddie where he came from. Because, he said, although you wear that gun with authority, you sound a lot more like Cal and me than you do him. Eddie grinned. Theres a perfectly good reason for that. I grew up in Brooklyn. CoOp City. And thought Suppose I were to tell you that Im there right now, as a matter of fact? Eddie Dean, the worlds horniest fifteenyearold, running wild in the streets? For that Eddie Dean, the most important thing in the world is getting laid. Such things as the fall of the Dark Tower and some ultimate baddie named the Crimson King wont bother me for another Then he saw the way Aaron Deepneau was looking at him and came out of his own head in a hurry. What? Have I got a booger hanging out of my nose, or something? CoOp Citys not in Brooklyn, Deepneau said. He spoke as one does to a small child. CoOp Citys in the Bronx. Always has been. Thats Eddie began, meaning to add ridiculous, but before he could get it out, the world seemed to waver on its axis. Again he was overwhelmed by that sense of fragility, that sense of the entire universe (or an entire continuum of universes) made of crystal instead of steel. There was no way to speak rationally of what he was feeling, because there was nothing rational about what was happening. There are more worlds than these, he said. That was what Jake told Roland just before he died. Go, thenthere are other worlds than these. And he must have been right, because he came back. Mr. Dean? Deepneau looked concerned. I dont understand what youre talking about, but youve come over very pale. I think you should sit down. Eddie allowed himself to be led back into the cabins combination kitchen and sitting room. Did he himself understand what he was talking about? Or how Aaron Deepneaupresumably a lifelong New Yorkercould assert with such casual assurance that CoOp City was in the Bronx when Eddie knew it to be in Brooklyn? Not entirely, but he understood enough to scare the hell out of him. Other worlds. Perhaps an infinite number of worlds, all of them spinning on the axle that was the Tower. All of them were similar, but there were differences. Different politicians on the currency. Different makes of automobilesTakuro Spirits instead of Datsuns, for instanceand different major league baseball teams. In these worlds, one of which had been decimated by a plague called the superflu, you could timehop back and forth, past and future. Because  Because in some vital way, they arent the real world. Or if theyre real, theyre not the key world. Yes, that felt closer. He had come from one of those other worlds, he was convinced of it. So had Susannah. And Jakes One and Two, the one who had fallen and the one who had been literally pulled out of the monsters mouth and saved. But this world was the key world. And he knew it because he was a keymaker by trade Dadachum, dadachee, not to worry, youve got the key. Beryl Evans? Not quite real. Claudia y Inez Bachman? Real. World with CoOp City in Brooklyn? Not quite real. World with CoOp City in the Bronx? Real, hard as it was to swallow. And he had an idea that Callahan had crossed over from the real world to one of the others long before he had embarked on his highways in hiding; had crossed without even knowing it. Hed said something about officiating at some little boys funeral, and how, after that  After that he said everything changed, Eddie said as he sat down. That everything changed. Yes, yes, Aaron Deepneau said, patting him on the shoulder. Sit quietly now. Pere went from a seminary in Boston to Lowell, real. Salems Lot, not real. Made up by a writer named Im going to get a cold compress for your forehead. Good idea, Eddie said, closing his eyes. His mind was whirling. Real, not real. Live, Memorex. John Cullums retired professor friend was right the column of truth did have a hole in it. Eddie wondered if anyone knew how deep that hole went. NINE It was a different Calvin Tower who came back to the cabin with Roland fifteen minutes later, a quiet and chastened Calvin Tower. He asked Deepneau if Deepneau had written a bill of sale, and when Deepneau nodded, Tower said nothing, only nodded back. He went to the fridge and returned with several cans of Blue Ribbon beer and handed them around. Eddie refused, not wanting to put alcohol on top of the Percs. Tower did not offer a toast, but drank off half his beer at a single go. It isnt every day I get called the scum of the earth by a man who promises to make me a millionaire and also to relieve me of my hearts heaviest burden. Aaron, will this thing stand up in court? Aaron Deepneau nodded. Rather regretfully, Eddie thought. All right, then, Tower said. Then, after a pause All right, lets do it. But still he didnt sign. Roland spoke to him in that other language. Tower flinched, then signed his name in a quick scrawl, his lips tucked into a line so narrow his mouth seemed almost not to be there. Eddie signed for the Tet Corporation, marveling at how strange the pen felt in his handhe couldnt remember when last he had held one. When the thing was done, sai Tower revertedlooked at Eddie and cried in a cracked voice that was almost a shriek, There! Im a pauper! Give me my dollar! Im promised a dollar! I feel a need to take a shit coming on and I need something to wipe my ass with! Then he put his hands over his face. He sat like that for several seconds, while Roland folded the signed paper (Deepneau had witnessed both signatures) and put it in his pocket. When Tower lowered his hands again, his eyes were dry and his face was composed. There even seemed to be a touch of color in his formerly ashy cheeks. I think I actually do feel a little better, he said. He turned to Aaron. Do you suppose these two cockuhs might be right? I think its a real possibility, Aaron said, smiling. Eddie, meanwhile, had thought of a way to find out for sure if it really was these two men who would save Callahan from the Hitler Brothersor almost for sure. One of them had said  Listen, he said. Theres a certain phrase, Yiddish, I think. Gai cocknif en yom. Do you know what it means? Either of you? Deepneau threw back his head and laughed. Yeah, its Yiddish, all right. My Ma used to say it all the time when she was mad at us. It means go shit in the ocean. Eddie nodded at Roland. In the next couple of years, one of these menprobably Towerwould buy a ring with the words Ex Libris carved into it. Maybehow crazy was thisbecause Eddie Dean himself had put the idea into Cal Towers head. And Towerselfish, acquisitive, miserly, bookgreedy Calvin Towerwould save Father Callahans life while that ring was on his finger. He was going to be shitscared (Deepneau, too), but he was going to do it. And At that point Eddie happened to look at the pen with which Tower had signed the bill of sale, a perfectly ordinary Bic Clic, and the enormous truth of what had just happened struck home. They owned it. They owned the vacant lot. They, not the Sombra Corporation. They owned the rose! He felt as if hed just taken a hard shot to the head. The rose belonged to the Tet Corporation, which was the firm of Deschain, Dean, Dean, Chambers  Oy. It was now their responsibility, for better or for worse. This round they had won. Which did not change the fact that he had a bullet in his leg. Roland, he said, theres something you have to do for me. TEN Five minutes later Eddie lay on the cabins linoleum floor in his ridiculous kneelength Calla Bryn Sturgis underbritches. In one hand he held a leather belt which had spent its previous life holding up various pairs of Aaron Deepneaus pants. Beside him was a basin filled with a dark brown fluid. The hole in his leg was about three inches below his knee and a little bit to the right of the shinbone. The flesh around it had risen up in a hard little cone. This miniature volcanos caldera was currently plugged with a shiny redpurple clot of blood. Two folded towels had been laid beneath Eddies calf. Are you going to hypnotize me? he asked Roland. Then he looked at the belt he was holding and knew the answer. Ah, shit, youre not, are you? No time. Roland had been rummaging in the junkdrawer to the left of the sink. Now he approached Eddie with a pair of pliers in one hand and a paring knife in the other. Eddie thought they made an exceedingly ugly combo. The gunslinger dropped to one knee beside him. Tower and Deepneau stood in the living area, side by side, watching with big eyes. There was a thing Cort told us when we were boys, Roland said. Will I tell it to you, Eddie? If you think itll help, sure. Pain rises. From the heart to the head, pain rises. Double up sai Aarons belt and put it in your mouth. Eddie did as Roland said, feeling very foolish and very scared. In how many Western movies had he seen a version of this scene? Sometimes John Wayne bit a stick and sometimes Clint Eastwood bit a bullet, and he believed that in some TV show or other, Robert Culp had actually bitten a belt. But of course we have to remove the bullet, Eddie thought. No story of this type would be complete without at least one scene where A sudden memory, shocking in its brilliance, struck him and the belt tumbled from his mouth. He actually cried out. Roland had been about to dip his rude operating instruments in the basin, which held the rest of the disinfectant. Now he looked at Eddie, concerned. What is it? For a moment Eddie couldnt reply. His breath was quite literally gone, his lungs as flat as old inner tubes. He was remembering a movie the Dean boys had watched one afternoon on TV in their apartment, the one in (Brooklyn) (the Bronx) CoOp City. Henry mostly got to pick what they watched because he was bigger and older. Eddie didnt protest too often or too much; he idolized his big brother. (When he did protest too much he was apt to get the old Indian Rope Burn or maybe a Dutch Rub up the back of his neck.) What Henry liked was Westerns. The sort of movies where, sooner or later, some character had to bite the stick or belt or bullet. Roland, he said. His voice was just a faint wheeze to start with. Roland, listen. I hear you very well. There was a movie. I told you about movies, right? Stories told in moving pictures. Sometimes Henry and I used to stay in and watch them on TV. Televisions basically a home moviemachine. A shitmachine, some would say, Tower put in. Eddie ignored him. One of the movies we watched was about these Mexican peasantsfolken, if it does yawho hired some gunslingers to protect them from the bandidos who came every year to raid their village and steal their crops. Does any of this ring a bell? Roland looked at him with gravity and what might have been sadness. Yes. Indeed it does. And the name of Tians village. I always knew it sounded familiar, but I didnt know why. Now I do. The movie was called The Magnificent Seven, and just by the way, Roland, how many of us were in the ditch that day, waiting for the Wolves? Would you boys mind telling us what youre talking about? Deepneau asked. But although he asked politely, both Roland and Eddie ignored him, too. Roland took a moment to cull his memory, then said You, me, Susannah, Jake, Margaret, Zalia, and Rosa. There were morethe Tavery twins and Ben Slightmans boybut seven fighters. Yes. And the link I couldnt quite make was to the movies director. When youre making a movie, you need a director to run things. Hes the dinh. Roland nodded. The dinh of The Magnificent Seven was a man named John Sturges. Roland sat a moment longer, thinking. Then he said Ka. Eddie burst out laughing. He simply couldnt help it. Roland always had the answer. ELEVEN In order to catch the pain, Roland said, you have to clamp down on the belt at the instant you feel it. Do you understand? The very instant. Pin it with your teeth. Gotcha. Just make it quick. Ill do the best I can. Roland dipped first the pliers and then the knife into the disinfectant. Eddie waited with the belt in his mouth, lying across his teeth. Yes, once you saw the basic pattern, you couldnt unsee it, could you? Roland was the hero of the piece, the grizzled old warrior whod be played by some grizzled but vital star like Paul Newman or maybe Eastwood in the Hollywood version. He himself was the young buck, played by the hot young boy star of the moment. Tom Cruise, Emilio Estevez, Rob Lowe, someone like that. And heres a set we all know, a cabin in the woods, and a situation weve seen many times before but still relish, Pulling the Bullet. All that was missing was the ominous sound of drums in the distance. And, Eddie realized, probably the drums were missing because theyd already been through the Ominous Drums part of the story the goddrums. They had turned out to be an amplified version of a Z.Z. Top song being broadcast through streetcorner speakers in the City of Lud. Their situation was becoming ever harder to deny they were characters in someones story. This whole world I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that I was raised in Brooklyn simply because of some writers mistake, something that will eventually be fixed in the second draft. Hey, Pere, Im with youI refuse to believe Im a character. This is my fucking life! Go on, Roland, he said. Get that thing outta me. The gunslinger poured some of the disinfectant from the bowl over Eddies shin, then used the tip of the knife to flick the clot out of the wound. With that done, he lowered the pliers. Be ready to bite the pain, Eddie, he murmured, and a moment later Eddie did. TWELVE Roland knew what he was doing, had done it before, and the bullet hadnt gone deep. The whole thing was over in ninety seconds, but it was the longest minute and a half in Eddies life. At last Roland tapped the pliers on one of Eddies closed hands. When Eddie managed to unroll his fingers, the gunslinger dropped a flattened slug into it. Souvenir, he said. Stopped right on the bone. That was the scraping that you heard. Eddie looked at the mashed piece of lead, then flicked it across the linoleum floor like a marble. Dont want it, he said, and wiped his brow. Tower, ever the collector, picked up the castoff slug. Deepneau, meanwhile, was examining the toothmarks in his belt with silent fascination. Cal, Eddie said, getting up on his elbows. You had a book in your case I want those books back, Tower said immediately. You better be taking care of them, young man. Im sure theyre in great condition, Eddie said, telling himself once more to bite his tongue if he had to. Or grab Aarons belt and bite that again, if your tongue wont do. They better be, young man; now theyre all I have left. Yes, along with the forty or so in your various safe deposit boxes, Aaron Deepneau said, completely ignoring the vile look his friend shot him. The signed Ulysses is probably the best, but there are several gorgeous Shakespeare folios, a complete set of signed Faulkners Aaron, would you please be quiet? and a Huckleberry Finn that you could turn into a MercedesBenz sedan any day of the week, Deepneau finished. In any case, one of them was a book called Salems Lot, Eddie said. By a man named Stephen King, Tower finished. He gave the slug a final look, then put it on the kitchen table next to the sugarbowl. Ive been told he lives close to here. Ive picked up two copies of Lot and also three copies of his first novel, Carrie. I was hoping to take a trip to Bridgton and get them signed. I suppose now that wont happen. I dont understand what makes it so valuable, Eddie said, and then Ouch, Roland, that hurts! Roland was checking the makeshift bandage around the wound in Eddies leg. Be still, he said. Tower paid no attention to this. Eddie had turned him once more in the direction of his favorite subject, his obsession, his darling. What Eddie supposed Gollum in the Tolkien books would have called his precious. Do you remember what I told you when we were discussing The Hogan, Mr. Dean? Or The Dogan, if you prefer? I said that the value of a rare booklike that of a rare coin or a rare stampis created in different ways. Sometimes its just an autograph Your copy of Salems Lot isnt signed. No, because this particular author is very young and not very well known. He may amount to something one day, or he may not. Tower shrugged, almost as if to say that was up to ka. But this particular book  well, the first edition was only seventyfive hundred copies, and almost all of them sold in New England. Why? Because the guy who wrote it is from New England? Yes. As so often happens, the books value was created entirely by accident. A local chain decided to promote it heavily. They even produced a TV commercial, which is almost unheardof at the local retail level. And it worked. Bookland of Maine ordered five thousand copies of the first editionalmost seventy per centand sold nearly every single one. Also, as with The Hogan, there were misprints in the front matter. Not the title, in this case, but on the flap. You can tell an authentic first of Salems Lot by the clipped priceat the last minute, Doubleday decided to raise the price from sevenninetyfive to eightninetyfiveand by the name of the priest in the flap copy. Roland looked up. What about the name of the priest? In the book, its Father Callahan. But on the flap someone wrote Father Cody, which is actually the name of the towns doctor. And thats all it took to bump the price of a copy from nine bucks to nine hundred and fifty, Eddie marveled. Tower nodded. Thats allscarcity, clipped flap, misprint. But theres also an element of speculation in collecting rare editions which I find  quite exciting. Thats one word for it, Deepneau said dryly. For instance, suppose this man King becomes famous or critically acclaimed? I admit the chances are small, but suppose that did happen? Available first editions of his second book are so rare that, instead of being worth seven hundred and fifty dollars, my copy might be worth ten times that. He frowned at Eddie. So youd better be taking good care of it. Im sure itll be fine, Eddie said, and wondered what Calvin Tower would think if he knew that one of the books characters had it on a shelf in his arguably fictional rectory. Said rectory in a town that was the fraternal twin of one in an old movie starring Yul Brynner as Rolands twin, and introducing Horst Buchholz as Eddies. Hed think you were crazy, thats what hed think. Eddie got to his feet, swayed a little, and gripped the kitchen table. After a few moments the world steadied. Can you walk on it? Roland asked. I was before, wasnt I? No one was digging around in there before. Eddie took a few experimental steps, then nodded. His shin flared with pain each time he shifted his weight to his right leg, but yeshe could walk on it. Ill give you the rest of my Percocet, Aaron said. I can get more. Eddie opened his mouth to say yeah, sure, bring it on, and then saw Roland looking at him. If Eddie said yes to Deepneaus offer, the gunslinger wouldnt speak up and cause Eddie to lose face  but yes, his dinh was watching. Eddie thought of the speech hed made to Tower, all that poetic stuff about how Calvin was eating a bitter meal. It was true, poetic or not. But that apparently wouldnt stop Eddie from sitting back down to that same dinner himself. First a few Percodan, then a few Percocet. Both of them too much like horse for comfort. So how long would it be before he got tired of kissing his sister and started looking for some real pain relief? I think Ill skip the Percs, Eddie said. Were going to Bridgton Roland looked at him, surprised. We are? We are. I can pick up some aspirin on the way.


Astin, Roland said, with unmistakable affection. Are you sure? Deepneau asked. Yeah, Eddie said. I am. He paused, then added Say sorry. THIRTEEN Five minutes later the four of them stood in the needlecarpeted dooryard, listening to sirens and looking at the smoke, which had now begun to thin. Eddie was bouncing the keys to John Cullums Ford impatiently in one hand. Roland had asked him twice if this trip to Bridgton was necessary, and Eddie had told him twice that he was almost sure it was. The second time hed added (almost hopefully) that as dinh, Roland could overrule him, if he wished. No. If you think we should go see this talespinner, we will. I only wish you knew why. I think that when we get there, well both understand. Roland nodded, but still looked dissatisfied. I know youre as anxious as I am to leave this worldthis level of the Tower. For you to want to go against that, your intuition must be strong. It was, but there was something else, as well hed heard from Susannah again, the message once more coming from her version of the Dogan. She was a prisoner in her own bodyat least Eddie thought that was what she was trying to tell himbut she was in the year 1999 and she was all right. This had happened while Roland was thanking Tower and Deepneau for their help. Eddie was in the bathroom. Hed gone in to take a leak, but suddenly forgot all about that and simply sat on the toilets closed lid, head bent, eyes closed. Trying to send a message back to her. Trying to tell her to slow Mia down if she possibly could. Hed gotten the sense of daylight from herNew York in the afternoonand that was bad. Jake and Callahan had gone through the Unfound Door into New York at night; this Eddie had seen with his own eyes. They might be able to help her, but only if she could slow Mia down. Burn up the day, he sent to Susannah  or tried to. You have to burn up the day before she takes you to wherever shes supposed to have the kid. Do you hear me? Suze, do you hear me? Answer if you hear me! Jake and Pere Callahan are coming and you have to hold on! June, a sighing voice had replied. June of 1999. The girls walk around with their bellies showing and Then came Rolands knock on the bathroom door, and Rolands voice asking if Eddie was ready to roll. Before the day was over theyd make their way to Turtleback Lane in the town of Lovella place where walkins were common, according to John Cullum, and reality was apt to be correspondingly thinbut first they were going to make a trip to Bridgton, and hopefully meet the man who seemed to have created Donald Callahan and the town of Salems Lot. Be a hoot if King was out in California, writing the movie version, or something, Eddie thought, but he didnt believe that was going to be the case. They were still on the Path of the Beam, in the way of ka. So, presumably, was sai King. You boys want to take it very easy, Deepneau told them. There are going to be a lot of cops around. Not to mention Jack Andolini and whatever remains of his merry band. Speaking of Andolini, Roland said, I think the time has come for the two of you to go somewhere he isnt. Tower bristled. Eddie could have predicted it. Go now? You must be joking! I have a list of almost a dozen people in the area who collect booksbuy, sell, trade. Some know what theyre doing, but others  He made a clipping gesture, as if shearing an invisible sheep. Therell be people selling old books out of their barns over in Vermont, too, Eddie said. And you want to remember how easy it was for us to find you. It was you who made it easy, Cal. Hes right, Aaron said, and when Calvin Tower made no reply, only turned his sulky face down to regard his shoes, Deepneau looked at Eddie again. But at least Cal and I have drivers licenses to show, should we be stopped by the local or the state police. Im guessing neither of you do. That would be correct, Eddie said. And I very much doubt if you could show a permit to carry those frighteningly large handguns, either. Eddie glanced down at the bigand incredibly ancientrevolver riding just below his hip, then looked back up at Deepneau, amused. That would also be correct, he said. Then be careful. Youll be leaving East Stoneham, so youll probably be okay if you are. Thanks, Eddie said, and stuck out his hand. Long days and pleasant nights. Deepneau shook. Thats a lovely thing to say, son, but Im afraid my nights havent been especially pleasant just lately, and if things on the medical front dont take a turn for the better soon, my days arent apt to be especially long, either. Theyre going to be longer than you might think, Eddie said. I have good reason to believe youve got at least another four years in you. Deepneau touched a finger to his lips, then pointed at the sky. From the mouth of man to the ear of God. Eddie swung to Calvin Tower while Roland shook hands with Deepneau. For a moment Eddie didnt think the bookstore owner was going to shake with him, but at last he did. Grudgingly. Long days and pleasant nights, sai Tower. You did the right thing. I was coerced and you know it, Tower said. Store gone  property gone  about to be run off the first real vacation Ive had in ten years  Microsoft, Eddie said abruptly. And then Lemons. Tower blinked. Beg pardon? Lemons, Eddie repeated, and then he laughed out loud. FOURTEEN Toward the end of his mostly useless life, the great sage and eminent junkie Henry Dean had enjoyed two things above all others getting stoned; getting stoned and talking about how he was going to make a killing in the stock market. In investment matters, he considered himself a regular E. F. Hutton. One thing I would most definitely not invest in, bro, Henry told him once when they were up on the roof. Not long before Eddies trip to the Bahamas as a cocaine mule, this had been. One thing I would most applesolutely not sink my money into is all this computer shit, Microsoft, Macintosh, Sanyo, Sankyo, Pentium, all that. Seems pretty popular, Eddie had ventured. Not that hed much cared, but what the hell, it was a conversation. Microsoft, especially. The coming thing. Henry had laughed indulgently and made jackingoff gestures. My prick, thats the coming thing. But Yeah, yeah, I know, peoplere flocking to that crap. Driving all the prices up. And when I observe that action, do you know what I see? No, what? Lemons! Lemons? Eddie had asked. Hed thought he was following Henry, but he guessed he was lost, after all. Of course the sunset had been amazing that evening, and he had been most colossally fucked up. You heard me! Henry had said, warming to the subject. Fuckin lemons! Didnt they teach you anything in school, bro? Lemons are these little animals that live over in Switzerland, or someplace like that. And every now and thenI think its every ten years, Im not surethey get suicidal and throw themselves over the cliffs. Oh, Eddie said, biting hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into mad cackles. Those lemons. I thought you meant the ones you use to make lemonade. Fuckin wank, Henry said, but he spoke with the indulgent good nature the great and eminent sometimes reserve for the small and uninformed. Anyway, my point is that all these people who are flockin to invest in Microsoft and Macintosh and, I dont know, fuckin Nervous Norvus Speed Dial Chips, all theyre gonna do is make Bill Fuckin Gates and Steve Fuckin Jobsarino rich. This computer shit is gonna crash and burn by 1995, all the experts say so, and the people investin in it? Fuckin lemons, throwin themselves over the cliffs and into the fuckin ocean. Just fuckin lemons, Eddie agreed, and sprawled back on the stillwarm roof so Henry wouldnt see how close he was to losing it entirely. He was seeing billions of Sunkist lemons trotting toward these high cliffs, all of them wearing red jogging shorts and little white sneakers, like MMs in a TV ad. Yeah, but I wish Id gotten into that fuckin Microsoft in 82, Henry said. Do you realize that shares that were sellin for fifteen bucks back then are now sellin for thirtyfive? Oh, man! Lemons, Eddie had said dreamily, watching the sunsets colors begin to fade. At that point hed had less than a month to live in his worldthe one where CoOp City was in Brooklyn and always had beenand Henry had less than a month to live, period. Yeah, Henry had said, lying down beside him, but man, I wish I coulda gotten in back in 82. FIFTEEN Now, still holding Towers hand, he said Im from the future. You know that, dont you? I know that he says you are, yes. Tower jerked his head toward Roland, then tried to pull his hand free. Eddie held on. Listen to me, Cal. If you listen and then act on what I tell you, you can earn what that vacant lot of yours would be worth on the real estate market five, maybe even ten times over. Big talk from a man who isnt even wearing socks, Tower said, and once again tried to pull his hand free. Again Eddie held it. Once he supposed he wouldnt have been able to do that, but his hands were stronger now. So was his will. Big talk from a man whos seen the future, he corrected. And the future is computers, Cal. The future is Microsoft. Can you remember that? I can, Aaron said. Microsoft. Never heard of it, Tower said. No, Eddie agreed, I dont think it even exists yet. But it will, soon, and its going to be huge. Computers, okay? Computers for everybody, or at least that was the plan. Will be the plan. The guy in charge is Bill Gates. Always Bill, never William. It occurred to him briefly that since this world was different from the one in which he and Jake had grown upthe world of Claudia y Inez Bachman instead of Beryl Evansthat maybe the big computer genius here wouldnt be Gates; could be someone named Chin Ho Fuk, for all Eddie knew. But he also knew that wasnt likely. This world was very close to his same cars, same brand names (Coke and Pepsi rather than NozzALa), same people on the currency. He thought he could count on Bill Gates (not to mention Steve Jobsarino) showing up when he was supposed to. In one way, he didnt even care. Calvin Tower was in many respects a total shithead. On the other hand, Tower had stood up to Andolini and Balazar for as long as he had to. Hed held onto the vacant lot. And now Roland had the bill of sale in his pocket. They owed Tower a fair return for what hed sold them. It had nothing to do with how much or how little they liked the guy, which was probably a good thing for old Cal. This Microsoft stuff, Eddie said, you can pick it up for fifteen dollars a share in 1982. By 1987which is when I sort of went on permanent vacationthose shares will be worth thirtyfive apiece. Thats a hundred per cent gain. A little more. Says you, Tower said, and finally succeeded in pulling his hand free. If he says so, Roland said, its the truth. Say thanks, Eddie said. It occurred to him that he was suggesting that Tower take a fairly big leap based on a stone junkies observations, but he thought that in this case he could do that. Come on, Roland said, and made that twirling gesture with his fingers. If were going to see the writer, lets go. Eddie slid behind the wheel of Cullums car, suddenly sure that he would never see either Tower or Aaron Deepneau again. With the exception of Pere Callahan, none of them would. The partings had begun. Do well, he said to them. May ya do well. And you, Deepneau said. Yes, Tower said, and for once he didnt sound a bit grudging. Good luck to you both. Long days and happy nights, or whatever it is. There was just room to turn around without backing, and Eddie was gladhe wasnt quite ready for reverse, at least not yet. As Eddie drove back toward the Rocket Road, Roland looked over his shoulder and waved. This was highly unusual behavior for him, and the knowledge must have shown on Eddies face. Its the endgame now, Roland said. All Ive worked for and waited for all the long years. The end is coming. I feel it. Dont you? Eddie nodded. It was like that point in a piece of music when all the instruments begin rushing toward some inevitable crashing climax. Susannah? Roland asked. Still alive. Mia? Still in control. The baby? Still coming. And Jake? Father Callahan? Eddie stopped at the road, looked both ways, then made his turn. No, he said. From them I havent heard. What about you? Roland shook his own head. From Jake, somewhere in the future with just an exCatholic priest and a billybumbler for protection, there was only silence. Roland hoped the boy was all right. For the time being, he could do no more. STAVE Commalamemine You have to walk the line. When you finally get the thing you need It makes you feel so fine. RESPONSE Commalacomenine! It makes ya feel fine! But if youd have the thing you need You have to walk the line. 10TH STANZA SUSANNAHMIO, DIVIDED GIRL OF MINE ONE John Fitzgerald Kennedy died this afternoon at Parkland Memorial Hospital. This voice, this grieving voice Walter Cronkites voice, in a dream. Americas last gunslinger is dead. O Discordia! TWO As Mia left room 1919 of the New York PlazaPark (soon to be the Regal U.N. Plaza, a SombraNorth Central project, O Discordia), Susannah fell into a swoon. From a swoon she passed into a savage dream filled with savage news. THREE The next voice is that of Chet Huntley, coanchor of The HuntleyBrinkley Report. Its alsoin some way she cannot understandthe voice of Andrew, her chauffeur. Diem and Nhu are dead, says that voice. Now do slip the dogs of war, the tale of woe begins; from here the way to Jericho Hill is paved with blood and sin. Ah, Discordia! Charyou tree! Come, reap! Where am I? She looks around and sees a concrete wall packed with a jostling intaglio of names, slogans, and obscene drawings. In the middle, where anyone sitting on the bunk must see it, is this greeting HELLO NIGGER WELCOME TO OXFORD DONT LET THE SUN SET ON YOU HERE! The crotch of her slacks is damp. The underwear beneath is downright soaked, and she remembers why although the bail bondsman was notified well in advance, the cops held onto them as long as possible, cheerfully ignoring the increasing chorus of pleas for a bathroom break. No toilets in the cells; no sinks; not even a tin bucket. You didnt need to be a quizkid on Twentyone to figure it out; they were supposed to piss in their pants, supposed to get in touch with their essential animal natures, and eventually she had, she, Odetta Holmes No, she thinks, I am Susannah. Susannah Dean. Ive been taken prisoner again, jailed again, but I am still I. She hears voices from beyond this wing of jail cells, voices which for her sum up the present. Shes supposed to think theyre coming from a TV out in the jails office, she assumes, but its got to be a trick. Or some ghouls idea of a joke. Why else would Frank McGee be saying President Kennedys brother, Bobby, is dead? Why would Dave Garroway from the Today show be saying that the Presidents little boy is dead, that JohnJohn has been killed in a plane crash? What sort of awful lie is that to hear as you sit in a stinking southern jail with your wet underpants clinging to your crotch? Why is Buffalo Bob Smith of the Howdy Doody show yelling Cowabunga, kids, Martin Luther King is dead? And the kids all screaming back, CommalacomeYay! We love the things ya say! Only good niggers a dead nigger, so kill a coon today! The bail bondsman will be here soon. Thats what she needs to hold onto, that. She goes to the bars and grips them. Yes, this is Oxford Town, all right, Oxford all over again, two men dead by the light of the moon, somebody better investigate soon. But shes going to get out, and shell fly away, fly away, fly away home, and not long after that there will be an entirely new world to explore, with a new person to love and a new person to be. Commalacomecome, the journeys just begun. Oh, but thats a lie. The journey is almost over. Her heart knows this. Down the hall a door opens and footsteps come clicking toward her. She looks in that directioneagerly, hoping for the bondsman, or a deputy with a ring of keysbut instead its a black woman in a pair of stolen shoes. Its her old self. Its Odetta Holmes. Didnt go to Morehouse, but did go to Columbia. And to all those coffee houses down in the Village. And to the Castle on the Abyss, that house, too. Listen to me, Odetta says. No one can get you out of this but yourself, girl. You want to enjoy those legs while you got em, honey! The voice she hears coming out of her mouth is rough and confrontational on top, scared underneath. The voice of Detta Walker. You goan lose em fore long! They goan be cut off by the A train! That fabled A train! Man named Jack Mort goan push you off the platform in the Christopher Street station! Odetta looks at her calmly and says, The A train doesnt stop there. Its never stopped there. What the fuck you talkin about, bitch? Odetta is not fooled by the angry voice or the profanity. She knows who shes talking to. And she knows what shes talking about. The column of truth has a hole in it. These are not the voices of the gramophone but those of our dead friends. There are ghosts in the rooms of ruin. Go back to the Dogan, Susannah. And remember what I say only you can save yourself. Only you can lift yourself out of Discordia. FOUR Now its the voice of David Brinkley, saying that someone named Stephen King was struck and killed by a minivan while walking near his home in Lovell, a small town in western Maine. King was fiftytwo, he says, the author of many novels, most notably The Stand, The Shining, and Salems Lot. Ah Discordia, Brinkley says, the world grows darker. FIVE Odetta Holmes, the woman Susannah once was, points through the bars of the cell and past her. She says it again Only you can save yourself. But the way of the gun is the way of damnation as well as salvation; in the end there is no difference. Susannah turns to look where the finger is pointing, and is filled with horror at what she sees The blood! Dear God, the blood! There is a bowl filled with blood, and in it some monstrous dead thing, a dead baby thats not human, and has she killed it herself? No! she screams. No, I will never! I will NEVER! Then the gunslinger will die and the Dark Tower will fall, says the terrible woman standing in the corridor, the terrible woman who is wearing Trudy Damascuss shoes. Discordia indeed. Susannah closes her eyes. Can she make herself swoon? Can she swoon herself right out of this cell, this terrible world? She does. She falls forward into the darkness and the soft beeping of machinery and the last voice she hears is that of Walter Cronkite, telling her that Diem and Nhu are dead, astronaut Alan Shepard is dead, Lyndon Johnson is dead, Richard Nixon is dead, Elvis Presley is dead, Rock Hudson is dead, Roland of Gilead is dead, Eddie of New York is dead, Jake of New York is dead, the world is dead, the worlds, the Tower is falling, a trillion universes are merging, and all is Discordia, all is ruin, all is ended. SIX Susannah opened her eyes and looked around wildly, gasping for breath. She almost fell out of the chair in which she was sitting. It was one of those capable of rolling back and forth along the instrument panels filled with knobs and switches and blinking lights. Overhead were the blackandwhite TV screens. She was back in the Dogan. Oxford (Diem and Nhu are dead) had only been a dream. A dream within a dream, if you pleased. This was another, but marginally better. Most of the TV screens which had been showing pictures of Calla Bryn Sturgis the last time shed been here were now broadcasting either snow or testpatterns. On one, however, was the nineteenthfloor corridor of the PlazaPark Hotel. The camera rolled down it toward the elevators, and Susannah realized that these were Mias eyes she was looking through. My eyes, she thought. Her anger was thin, but she sensed it could be fed. Would have to be fed, if she was ever to regard the unspeakable thing shed seen in her dream. The thing in the corner of her Oxford jail cell. The thing in the bowl of blood. Theyre my eyes. She hijacked them, thats all. Another TV screen showed Mia arriving in the elevator lobby, examining the buttons, and then pushing the one marked with the DOWN arrow. Were off to see the midwife, Susannah thought, looking grimly up at the screen, and then barked a short, humorless laugh. Oh, were off to see the midwife, the wonderful midwife of Oz. Because because because because beCAUZZZ  Because of the wonderful things she does! Here were the dials shed reset at some considerable inconveniencehell, pain.EMOTIONAL TEMP still at 72. The toggleswitch marked CHAP still turned to ASLEEP, and in the monitor above it the chap thus still in blackandwhite like everything else no sign of those disquieting blue eyes. The absurd LABOR FORCE ovendial was still at 2, but she saw that most of the lights which had been amber the last time shed been in this room had now turned red. There were more cracks in the floor and the ancient dead soldier in the corner had lost his head the increasingly heavy vibration of the machinery had toppled the skull from the top of its spine, and it now laughed up at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. The needle on the SUSANNAHMIO readout had reached the end of the yellow zone; as Susannah watched, it edged into the red. Danger, danger, Diem and Nhu are dead. Papa Doc Duvalier is dead. Jackie Kennedy is dead. She tried the controls one after another, confirming what she already knew they were locked in place. Mia might not have been able to change the settings in the first place, but locking things up once those settings were to her liking? That much she had been able to do. There was a crackle and squall from the overhead speakers, loud enough to make her jump. Then, coming to her through heavy bursts of static, Eddies voice. Suze!  ay!  Ear me? Burn  ay! Do it before  ever  posed  id! Do you hear me? On the screen she thought of as MiaVision, the doors of the central elevator car opened. The hijacking mommybitch got on. Susannah barely noticed. She snatched up the microphone and pushed the toggleswitch on the side. Eddie! she shouted. Im in 1999! The girls walk around with their bellies showing and their brastraps Christ, what was she blathering on about? She made a mighty effort to sweep her mind clear. Eddie, I dont understand you! Say it again, sugar! For a moment there was nothing but more static, plus the occasional spooky wail of feedback. She was about to try the mike again when Eddies voice returned, this time a little clearer. Burn up  day! Jake  Pere Cal  hold on! Burn  before she  to wherever she  have the kid! If you  knowledge! I hear you, I acknowledge that much! she cried. She was clutching the silver mike so tightly that it trembled in her grasp. Im in 1999! June of 1999! But Im not understanding you as well as I need to, sug! Say again, and tell me if youre all right! But Eddie was gone. After calling for him half a dozen times and getting nothing but that blur of static, she set the microphone down again and tried to figure out what he had been trying to tell her. Trying also to set aside her joy just in knowing that Eddie could still try to tell her anything. Burn up day, she said. That part, at least, had come through loud and clear. Burn up the day. As in kill some time. She thought that almost had to be right. Eddie wanted Susannah to slow Mia down. Maybe because Jake and Pere Callahan were coming? About that part she wasnt so sure, and she didnt much like it, anyway. Jake was a gunslinger, all right, but he was also only a kid. And Susannah had an idea that the Dixie Pig was full of very nasty people. Meanwhile, on MiaVision, the elevator doors were opening again. The hijacking mommybitch had reached the lobby. For the time being Susannah put Eddie, Jake, and Pere Callahan out of her mind. She was recalling how Mia had refused to come forward, even when their SusannahMio legs were threatening to disappear right out from under their shared SusannahMio body. Because she was, to misquote some old poem or other, alone and afraid in a world she never made. Because she was shy. And my goodness, things in the lobby of the PlazaPark had changed while the hijacking mommybitch had been upstairs waiting for her phone call. They had changed a lot. Susannah leaned forward with her elbows propped on the edge of the Dogans main instrument panel and her chin propped on the palms of her hands. This might be interesting. SEVEN Mia stepped out of the elevator, then attempted to step right back in. She thumped against the doors instead, and hard enough to make her teeth come together with a little ivory click. She looked around, bewildered, at first not sure how it was that the little descending room had disappeared. Susannah! What happened to it? No answer from the darkskinned woman whose face she now wore, but Mia discovered she didnt actually need one. She could see the place where the door slid in and out. If she pushed the button the door would probably open again, but she had to conquer her sudden strong desire to go back up to Room 1919. Her business there was done. Her real business was somewhere beyond the lobby doors. She looked toward those doors with the sort of lipbiting dismay which may escalate into panic at a single rough word or angry look. Shed been upstairs for a little over an hour, and during that time the lobbys earlyafternoon lull had ended. Half a dozen taxis from La Guardia and Kennedy had pulled up in front of the hotel at roughly the same time; so had a Japanese tourbus from Newark Airport. The tour had originated in Sapporo and consisted of fifty couples with reservations at the PlazaPark. Now the lobby was rapidly filling with chattering people. Most had dark, slanted eyes and shiny black hair, and were wearing oblong objects around their necks on straps. Every now and then one would raise one of these objects and point it at someone else. There would be a brilliant flash, laughter, and cries of Domo! Domo! There were three lines forming at the desk. The beautiful woman whod checked Mia in during quieter times had been joined by two other clerks, all of them working like mad. The highceilinged lobby echoed with laughter and mingled conversation in some strange tongue that sounded to Mia like the twittering of birds. The banks of mirrorglass added to the general confusion by making the lobby seem twice as full as it actually was. Mia cringed back, wondering what to do. Front! yelled a desk clerk, and banged a bell. The sound seemed to shoot across Mias confused thoughts like a silver arrow. Front, please! A grinning manblack hair slicked against his skull, yellow skin, slanting eyes behind round spectaclescame rushing up to Mia, holding one of the oblong flashthings. Mia steeled herself to kill him if he attacked. Ahyoo takea pickcha me and my wife? Offering her the flashthing. Wanting her to take it from him. Mia cringed away, wondering if it ran on radiation, if the flashes might hurt her baby. Susannah! What do I do? No answer. Of course not, she really couldnt expect Susannahs help after what had just happened, but  The grinning man was still thrusting the flashmachine at her. He looked a trifle puzzled, but mostly undaunted. Yooo takeah pickcha, preese? And put the oblong thing in her hand. He stepped back and put his arm around a lady who looked exactly like him except for her shiny black hair, which was cut across her forehead in what Mia thought of as a wenchclip. Even the round glasses were the same. No, Mia said. No, cry pardon  no. The panic was very close now and very bright, whirling and gibbering right in front of her (yooo takeah pickcha, we killah baby) and Mias impulse was to drop the oblong flasher on the floor. That might break it, however, and release the deviltry that powered the flashes. She put it down carefully instead, smiling apologetically at the astonished Japanese couple (the man still had his arm around his wife), and hurried across the lobby in the direction of the little shop. Even the piano music had changed; instead of the former soothing melodies, it was pounding out something jagged and dissonant, a kind of musical headache. I need a shirt because theres blood on this one. Ill get the shirt and then Ill go to the Dixie Pig, Sixtyfirst and Lexingworth  Lexington, I mean, Lexington  and then Ill have my baby. Ill have my baby and all this confusion will end. Ill think of how I was afraid and Ill laugh. But the shop was also full. Japanese women examined souvenirs and twittered to each other in their birdlanguage while they waited for their husbands to get them checked in. Mia could see a counter stacked with shirts, but there were women all around it, examining them. And there was another line at the counter. Susannah, what should I do? Youve got to help me! No answer. She was in there, Mia could feel her, but she would not help. And really, she thought, would I, if I were in her position? Well, perhaps she would. Someone would have to offer her the right inducement, of course, but The only inducement I want from you is the truth, Susannah said coldly. Someone brushed against Mia as she stood in the door to the shop and she turned, her hands coming up. If it was an enemy, or some enemy of her chap, she would claw his eyes out. Solly, said a smiling blackhaired woman. Like the man, she was holding out one of the oblong flashthings. In the middle was a circular glass eye that stared at Mia. She could see her own face in it, small and dark and bewildered. You take pickcha, preese? Take pickcha me and my fliend? Mia had no idea what the woman was saying or what she wanted or what the flashmakers were supposed to do. She only knew that there were too many people, they were everywhere, this was a madhouse. Through the shop window she could see that the front of the hotel was likewise thronged. There were yellow cars and long black cars with windows you couldnt look into (although the people inside could doubtless look out), and a huge silver conveyance that sat rumbling at the curb. Two men in green uniforms were in the street, blowing silver whistles. Somewhere close by something began to rattle loudly. To Mia, who had never heard a jackhammer, it sounded like a speedshooter gun, but no one outside was throwing himself to the sidewalk; no one even looked alarmed. How was she supposed to get to the Dixie Pig on her own? Richard P. Sayre had said he was sure Susannah could help her find it, but Susannah had fallen stubbornly silent, and Mia herself was on the verge of losing control entirely. Then Susannah spoke up again. If I help you a little nowget you to a quiet place where you can catch your breath and at least do something about your shirtwill you give me some straight answers? About what? About the baby, Mia. And about the mother. About you. I did! I dont think so. I dont think youre any more elemental than  well, than I am. I want the truth. Why? I want the truth, Susannah repeated, and then fell silent, refusing to respond to any more of Mias questions. And when yet another grinning little man approached her with yet another flashthing, Mias nerve broke. Right now just getting across the hotel lobby looked like more than she could manage on her own; how was she supposed to get all the way to this Dixie Pig place? After so many years in (Fedic) (Discordia) (the Castle on the Abyss) to be among so many people made her feel like screaming. And after all, why not tell the darkskinned woman what little she knew? SheMia, daughter of none, mother of onewas firmly in charge. What harm in a little truthtelling? All right, she said. Ill do as you ask, Susannah or Odetta or whoever you are. Just help me. Get me out of here. Susannah Dean came forward. EIGHT There was a womens restroom adjacent to the hotel bar, around the corner from the piano player.


Two of the yellowskinned, blackhaired ladies with the tipped eyes were at the basins, one washing her hands, the other fixing her hair, both of them twittering in their birdylingo. Neither paid any attention to the kokujin lady who went past them and to the stalls. A moment later they left her in blessed silence except for the faint music drifting down from the overhead speakers. Mia saw how the latch worked and engaged it. She was about to sit down on the toilet seat when Susannah said Turn it inside out. What? The shirt, woman. Turn it inside out, for your fathers sake! For a moment Mia didnt. She was too stunned. The shirt was a roughwoven callumka, the sort of simple pullover favored by both sexes in the ricegrowing country during cooler weather. It had what Odetta Holmes would have called a boatneck. No buttons, so yes, it could very easily be turned inside out, but Susannah, clearly impatient Are you going to stand there commalamoon all day? Turn it inside out! And tuck it into your jeans this time. W  Why? Itll give you a different look, Susannah replied promptly, but that wasnt the reason. What she wanted was a look at herself below the waist. If her legs were Mias then they were quite probably white legs. She was fascinated (and a little sickened) by the idea that she had become a kind of tutone halfbreed. Mia paused a moment longer, fingertips rubbing the rough weave of the shirt above the worst of the bloodstains, which was over her left breast. Over her heart. Turn it inside out! In the lobby, a dozen halfbaked ideas had gone through her head (using the scrimshaw turtle to fascinate the people in the shop had probably been the only one even close to workable), but simply turning the damned thing inside out hadnt been one of them. Which only showed, she supposed, how close to total panic she had been. But now  Did she need Susannah for the brief time she would be in this overcrowded and disorienting city, which was so different from the quiet rooms of the castle and the quiet streets of Fedic? Just to get from here to Sixtyfirst Street and Lexingworth? Lexington, said the woman trapped inside her. Lexington. You keep forgetting that, dont you? Yes. Yes, she did. And there was no reason to forget such a simple thing, maybe she hadnt been to Morehouse, Morehouse or no house, but she wasnt stupid. So why What? she demanded suddenly. What are you smiling about? Nothing, said the woman inside  but she was still smiling. Almost grinning. Mia could feel it, and she didnt like it. Upstairs in Room 1919, Susannah had been screaming at her in a mixture of terror and fury, accusing Mia of betraying the man she loved and the one she followed. Which had been true enough to make Mia ashamed. She didnt enjoy feeling that way, but shed liked the woman inside better when she was howling and crying and totally discombobulated. The smile made her nervous. This version of the brownskinned woman was trying to turn the tables on her; maybe thought she had turned the tables. Which was impossible, of course, she was under the protection of the King, but  Tell me why youre smiling! Oh, it dont amount to much, Susannah said, only now she sounded like the other one, whose name was Detta. Mia did more than dislike that one. She was a little afraid of that one. Its just that there was this fella named Sigmund Freud, honeychilehonky muhfuh, but not stupid. And he said that when someone always be fgittin sumpin, might be because that person want to be fgittin it. Thats stupid, Mia said coldly. Beyond the stall where she was having this mental conversation, the door opened and two more ladies came inno, at least three and maybe fourtwittering in their birdylanguage and giggling in a way that made Mia clamp her teeth together. Why would I want to forget the place where theyre waiting to help me have my baby? Well, dis Freuddis smart cigarsmoking Viennese honky muhfuhhe claim dat we got dis mind under our mind, he call it the unconscious or subconscious or some fuckin conscious. Now I aint claimin dere is such a thing, only dat he say dere was. (Burn up the day, Eddie had told her, that much she was sure of, and she would do her best, only hoping that she wasnt working on getting Jake and Callahan killed by doing it.) Ole Honky Freud, Detta went on, he say in lots of ways de subconscious or unconscious mind smarter dan de one on top. Cut through de bullshit faster dan de one on top. An maybe yours understand what I been tellin you all along, that yo frien Sayre nothin but a lyin ratass muhfuh goan steal yo baby and, I dunno, maybe cut it up in dis bowl and den feed it to the vampires like dey was dawgs an dat baby nuffin but a bigass bowl o Alpo or Purina Vampire Ch Shut up! Shut up your lying face! Out at the basins, the birdywomen laughed so shrilly that Mia felt her eyeballs shiver and threaten to liquefy in their sockets. She wanted to rush out and seize their heads and drive them into the mirrors, wanted to do it again and again until their blood was splashed all the way up to the ceiling and their brains Temper, temper, said the woman inside, and now it sounded like Susannah again. She lies! That bitch LIES! No, Susannah replied, and the conviction in that single short word was enough to send an arrow of fear into Mias heart. She says whats on her mind, no argument there, but she doesnt lie. Go on, Mia, turn your shirt inside out. With a final eyewatering burst of laughter, the birdywomen left the bathroom. Mia pulled the shirt off over her head, baring Susannahs breasts, which were the color of coffee with just the smallest splash of milk added in. Her nipples, which had always been as small as berries, were now much larger. Nipples craving a mouth. There were only the faintest maroon spots on the inside of the shirt. Mia put it back on, then unbuttoned the front of her jeans so she could tuck it in. Susannah stared, fascinated, at the point just above her pubic thatch. Here her skin lightened to a color that might have been milk with the smallest splash of coffee added in. Below were the white legs of the woman shed met on the castle allure. Susannah knew that if Mia lowered her jeans all the way, shed see the scabbed and scratched shins she had already observed as Miathe real Mialooked out over Discordia toward the red glow marking the castle of the King. Something about this frightened Susannah terribly, and after a moments consideration (it took no longer), the reason came to her. If Mia had only replaced those parts of her legs that Odetta Holmes had lost to the subway train when Jack Mort pushed her onto the tracks she would have been white only from the knees or so down. But her thighs were white, too, and her groin area was turning. What strange lycanthropy was this? De bodystealin kind, Detta replied cheerfully. Pretty soon you be havin a white belly  white breass  white neck  white cheeks  Stop it, Susannah warned, but when had Detta Walker ever listened to her warnings? Hers or anybodys? And den, las of all, you have a white brain, girl! A Mia brain! And wont dat be fahn? Sho! You be all Mia den! Nobody give you no shit if you want to ride right up front on de bus! Then the shirt was drawn over her hips; the jeans were again buttoned up. Mia sat down on the toilet ring that way. In front of her, scrawled on the door, was this graffito BANGO SKANK AWAITS THE KING! Who is this Bango Skank? Mia asked. I have no idea. I think  It was hard, but Mia forced herself. I think I owe you a word of thanks. Susannahs response was cold and immediate. Thank me with the truth. First tell me why youd help me at all, after I  This time Mia couldnt finish. She liked to think of herself as braveas brave as she had to be in the service of her chap, at leastbut this time she couldnt finish. After you betrayed the man I love to men who are, when you get right down to it, footsoldiers of the Crimson King? After you decided it would be all right for them to kill mine so long as you could keep yours? Is that what you want to know? Mia hated to hear it spoken of that way, but bore it. Had to bear it. Yes, lady, if you like. It was the other one who replied this time, in that voiceharsh, cawing, laughing, triumphant, and hatefulthat was even worse than the shrill laughter of the birdywomen. Worse by far. Because mah boys got away, dass why! Fucked those honkies mos righteous! The ones dey didnt shoot all blowed to smithereens! Mia felt a deep stirring of unease. Whether it was true or not, the bad laughing woman clearly believed it was true. And if Roland and Eddie Dean were still out there, wasnt it possible the Crimson King wasnt as strong, as allpowerful, as she had been told? Wasnt it even possible that she had been misled about Stop it, stop it, you cant think that way! Theres another reason I helped. The harsh one was gone and the other was back. At least for now. What? Its my baby, too, Susannah said. I dont want it killed. I dont believe you. But she did. Because the woman inside was right Mordred Deschain of Gilead and Discordia belonged to both of them. The bad one might not care, but the other, Susannah, clearly felt the chaps tidal pull. And if she was right about Sayre and whoever waited for her at the Dixie Pig  if they were liars and cozeners  Stop it. Stop. I have nowhere else to go but to them. You do, Susannah said quickly. With Black Thirteen you can go anywhere. You dont understand. Hed follow me. Follow it. Youre right, I dont understand. She actually did, or thought she did, but  Burn up the day, hed said. All right, Ill try to explain. I dont understand everything myselfthere are things I dont knowbut Ill tell you what I can. Thank y Before she could finish, Susannah was falling again, like Alice down the rabbithole. Through the toilet, through the floor, through the pipes beneath the floor, and into another world. NINE No castle at the end of her drop, not this time. Roland had told them a few stories of his wandering yearsthe vampire nurses and little doctors of Eluria, the walking waters of East Downe, and, of course, the story of his doomed first loveand this was a little like falling into one of those tales. Or, perhaps, into one of the oatoperas (adult Westerns, as they were called) on the still relatively new ABCTV network Sugarfoot, with Ty Hardin, Maverick, with James Garner, orOdetta Holmess personal favoriteCheyenne, starring Clint Walker. (Odetta had once written a letter to ABC programming, suggesting they could simultaneously break new ground and open up a whole new audience if they did a series about a wandering Negro cowboy in the years after the Civil War. She never got an answer. She supposed writing the letter in the first place had been ridiculous, a waste of time.) There was a livery stable with a sign out front reading TACK MENDED CHEAP. The sign over the hotel promised QUIET ROOMS, GUD BEDS. There were at least five saloons. Outside one of them, a rusty robot that ran on squalling treads turned its bulb head back and forth, blaring a comeon to the empty town from the hornshaped speaker in the center of its rudimentary face Girls, girls, girls! Some are humie and some are cybie, but who cares, you cant tell the difference, they do what you want without complaint, wont is not in their voCABulary, they give satisfaction with every action! Girls, girls, girls! Some are cybie, some are real, you cant tell the difference when you cop a feel! They do what you want! They want what you want! Walking beside Susannah was the beautiful young white woman with the swollen belly, scratched legs, and shoulderlength black hair. Now, as they walked below the gaudy false front of THE FEDIC GOODTIME SALOON, BAR, AND DANCE EMPORIUM, she was wearing a faded plaid dress which advertised her advanced state of pregnancy in a way that made it seem freakish, almost a sign of the apocalypse. The huaraches of the castle allure had been replaced by scuffed and battered shorboots. Both of them were wearing shorboots, and the heels clumped hollowly on the boardwalk. From one of the deserted barrooms farther along came the herkyjerky jazz of a jagtime tune, and a snatch of some old poem came to Susannah A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute Saloon! She looked over the batwing doors and was not in the least surprised to see the words SERVICES MALAMUTE SALOON. She slowed long enough to peer over the batwing doors and saw a chrome piano playing itself, dusty keys popping up and down, just a mechanical musicbox no doubt built by the everpopular North Central Positronics, entertaining a room that was empty except for a dead robot and, in the far corner, two skeletons working through the process of final decomposition, the one that would take them from bone to dust. Farther along, at the end of the towns single street, loomed the castle wall. It was so high and so wide it blotted out most of the sky. Susannah abruptly knocked her fist against the side of her head. Then she held her hands out in front of her and snapped her fingers. What are you doing? Mia asked. Tell me, I beg. Making sure Im here. Physically here. You are. So it seems. But how can that be? Mia shook her head, indicating that she didnt know. On this, at least, Susannah was inclined to believe her. There was no dissenting word from Detta, either. This isnt what I expected, Susannah said, looking around. Its not what I expected at all. Nay? asked her companion (and without much interest). Mia was moving in that awkward but strangely endearing duckfooted waddle that seems to best suit women in the last stages of their carry. And what was it ye did expect, Susannah? Something more medieval, I guess. More like that. She pointed at the castle. Mia shrugged as if to say take it or leave it, and then said, Is the other one with you? The nasty one? Detta, she meant. Of course. Shes always with me. Shes a part of me just as your chap is a part of you. Although how Mia could be pregnant when it had been Susannah who caught the fuck was something Susannah was still dying to know. Ill soon be delivered of mine, Mia said. Will ya never be delivered of yours? I thought I was, Susannah said truthfully. She came back. Mostly, I think, to deal with you. I hate her. I know. And Susannah knew more. Mia feared Detta, as well. Feared her bigbig. If she speaks, our palaver ends. Susannah shrugged. She comes when she comes and speaks when she speaks. She doesnt ask my permission. Ahead of them on this side of the street was an arch with a sign above it FEDIC STATION MONO PATRICIA DISCONTINUED THUMBPRINT READER INOPERATIVE SHOW TICKET NORTH CENTRAL POSITRONICS THANKS YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE The sign didnt interest Susannah as much as the two things that lay on the filthy station platform beyond it a childs doll, decayed to little more than a head and one floppy arm, and, beyond it, a grinning mask. Although the mask appeared to be made of steel, a good deal of it seemed to have rotted like flesh. The teeth poking out of the grin were canine fangs. The eyes were glass. Lenses, Susannah felt sure, no doubt also crafted by North Central Positronics. Surrounding the mask were a few shreds and tatters of green cloth, what had undoubtedly once been this things hood. Susannah had no trouble putting together the remains of the doll and the remains of the Wolf; her mamma, as Detta sometimes liked to tell folks (especially horny boys in roadhouse parking lots), didnt raise no fools. This is where they brought them, she said. Where the Wolves brought the twins they stole from Calla Bryn Sturgis. Where theywhat?operated on them. Not just from Calla Bryn Sturgis, Mia said indifferently, but aye. And once the babbies were here, they were taken there. A place youll also recognize, Ive no doubt. She pointed across Fedics single street and farther up. The last building before the castle wall abruptly ended the town was a long Quonset hut with sides of filthy corrugated metal and a rusty curved roof. The windows running along the side Susannah could see had been boarded up. Also along that side was a steel hitching rail. To it were tied what looked like seventy horses, all of them gray. Some had fallen over and lay with their legs sticking straight out. One or two had turned their heads toward the womens voices and then seemed to freeze in that position. It was very unhorselike behavior, but of course these werent real horses. They were robots, or cyborgs, or whichever one of Rolands terms you might like to use. Many of them seemed to have run down or worn out. In front of this building was a sign on a rusting steel plate. It read NORTH CENTRAL POSITRONICS, LTD. Fedic Headquarters Arc 16 Experimental Station Maximum Security VERBAL ENTRY CODE REQUIRED EYEPRINT REQUIRED Its another Dogan, isnt it? Susannah asked. Well, yes and no, Mia said. Its the Dogan of all Dogans, actually. Where the Wolves brought the children. Aye, and will bring them again, Mia said. For the Kings work will go forward after this disturbance raised by your friend the gunslinger is past. I have no doubt of it. Susannah looked at her with real curiosity. How can you speak so cruel and yet be so serene? she asked. They bring children here and scoop out their heads like  like gourds. Children, whove harmed nobody! What they send back are great galumphing idiots who grow to their full size in agony and often die in much the same way. Would you be so sanguine, Mia, if your child was borne away across one of those saddles, shrieking for you and holding out his arms? Mia flushed, but was able to meet Susannahs gaze. Each must follow the road upon which ka has set her feet, Susannah of New York. Mine is to bear my chap, and raise him, and thus end your dinns quest. And his life. Its wonderful how everyone seems to think they know just what ka means for them, Susannah said. Dont you think thats wonderful? I think youre trying to make jest of me because you fear, Mia said levelly. If such makes you feel better, than aye, have on. She spread her arms and made a little sarcastic bow over her great belly. They had stopped on the boardwalk in front of a shop advertising MILLINERY  LADIES WEAR and across from the Fedic Dogan. Susannah thought Burn up the day, dont forget thats the other part of your job here. Kill time. Keep the oddity of a body we now seem to share in that womens restroom just as long as you possibly can. Im not making fun, Susannah said. Im only asking you to put yourself in the place of all those other mothers. Mia shook her head angrily, her inky hair flying around her ears and brushing at her shoulders. I did not make their fate, lady, nor did they make mine. Ill save my tears, thank you. Would you hear my tale or not? Yes, please. Then let us sit, for my legs are sorely tired. TEN In the GinPuppie Saloon, a few rickety storefronts back in the direction from which theyd come, they found chairs which would still bear their weight, but neither woman had any taste for the saloon itself, which smelled of dusty death. They dragged the chairs out to the boardwalk, where Mia sat with an audible sigh of relief. Soon, she said. Soon you shall be delivered, Susannah of New York, and so shall I. Maybe, but I dont understand any of this. Least of all why youre rushing to this guy Sayre when you must know he serves the Crimson King. Hush! Mia said. She sat with her legs apart and her huge belly rising before her, looking out across the empty street. Twas a man of the King who gave me a chance to fulfill the only destiny ka ever left me. Not Sayre but one much greater than he. Someone to whom Sayre answers. A man named Walter. Susannah started at the name of Rolands ancient nemesis. Mia looked at her, gave her a grim smile. You know the name, I see. Well, maybe thatll save some talk. Gods know theres been far too much talk for my taste, already; its not what I was made for. I was made to bear my chap and raise him, no more than that. And no less. Susannah offered no reply. Killing was supposedly her trade, killing time her current chore, but in truth she had begun to find Mias singlemindedness a trifle tiresome. Not to mention frightening. As if picking this thought up, Mia said I am what I am and I am content wi it. If others are not, whats that to me? Spit on em! Spoken like Detta Walker at her feistiest, Susannah thought, but made no reply. It seemed safer to remain quiet. After a pause, Mia went on. Yet Id be lying if I didnt say that being here brings back  certain memories. Yar! And, unexpectedly, she laughed. Just as unexpectedly, the sound was beautiful and melodic. Tell your tale, Susannah said. This time tell me all of it. We have time before the labor starts again. Do you say so? I do. Tell me. For a few moments Mia just looked out at the street with its dusty cover of oggan and its air of sad and ancient abandonment. As Susannah waited for storytime to commence, she for the first time became aware of the still, shadeless quality to Fedic. She could see everything very well, and there was no moon in the sky as on the castle allure, but she still hesitated to call this daytime. Its no time, a voice inside her whisperedshe knew not whose. This is a place between, Susannah; a place where shadows are cancelled and time holds its breath. Then Mia told her tale. It was shorter than Susannah had expected (shorter than she wanted, given Eddies abjuration to burn up the day), but it explained a great deal. More, actually, than Susannah had hoped for. She listened with growing rage, and why not? She had been more than raped that day in the ring of stones and bones, it seemed. She had been robbed, as wellthe strangest robbery to which any woman had ever been subject. And it was still going on. ELEVEN Look out there, may it do ya fine, said the bigbellied woman sitting beside Susannah on the boardwalk. Look out and see Mia before she gained her name. Susannah looked into the street. At first she saw nothing but a castoff waggonwheel, a splintered (and longdry) watering trough, and a starry silver thing that looked like the lost rowel from some cowpokes spur. Then, slowly, a misty figure formed. It was that of a nude woman. Her beauty was blindingeven before she had come fully into view, Susannah knew that. Her age was any. Her black hair brushed her shoulders. Her belly was flat, her navel a cunning cup into which any man who ever loved women would be happy to dip his tongue. Susannah (or perhaps it was Detta) thought, Hell, I could dip my own. Hidden between the ghostwomans thighs was a cunning cleft. Here was a different tidal pull. Thats me when I came here, said the pregnant version sitting beside Susannah. She spoke almost like a woman who is showing slides of her vacation. Thats me at the Grand Canyon, thats me in Seattle, thats me at Grand Coulee Dam; thats me on the Fedic high street, do it please ya. The pregnant woman was also beautiful, but not in the same eerie way as the shade in the street. The pregnant woman looked a certain age, for instancelate twentiesand her face had been marked by experience. Much of it painful. I said I was an elementalthe one who made love to your dinhbut that was a lie. As I think you suspected. I lied not out of hope of gain, but only  I dont know  from a kind of wishfulness, I suppose. I wanted the baby to be mine that way, too Yours from the start. Aye, from the startyou say true. They watched the nude woman walk up the street, arms swinging, muscles of her long back flexing, hips swaying from side to side in that eternal breathless clock of motion. She left no tracks on the oggan. I told you that the creatures of the invisible world were left behind when the Prim receded. Most died, as fishes and seaanimals will when cast up on a beach and left to strangle in the alien air. But there are always some who adapt, and I was one of those unfortunates. I wandered far and wide, and whenever I found men in the wastes, I took on the form you see. Like a model on a runway (one who has forgotten to actually put on the latest Paris fashion shes supposed to be displaying), the woman in the street pivoted on the balls of her feet, buttocks tensing with lovely silken ease, creating momentary crescentshaped hollows. She began to walk back, the eyes just below the straight cut of her bangs fixed on some distant horizon, her hair swinging beside ears that were without other ornament. When I found someone with a prick, I fucked him, Mia said. That much I had in common with the demon elemental who first tried to have congress with your soh and then did have congress with your dinh, and that also accounts for my lie, I suppose. And I found your dinh passing fair. The tiniest bit of greed roughened her voice as she said this. The Detta in Susannah found it sexy. The Detta in Susannah bared her lips in a grin of gruesome understanding. I fucked them, and if they couldnt break free I fucked them to death. Matteroffact. After the Grand Coulee, we went to Yosemite. Would you tell your dinh something for me, Susannah? If you see him again? Aye, if you like. Once he knew a mana bad mannamed Amos Depape, brother of the Roy Depape who ran with Eldred Jonas in Mejis. Your dinh believes Amos Depape was stung to death by a snake, and in a way he was  but the snake was me. Susannah said nothing. I didnt fuck them for sex, I didnt fuck them to kill them, although I didnt care when they died and their pricks finally wilted out of me like melting icicles. In truth I didnt know why I was fucking them, until I came here, to Fedic. In those early days there were still men and women here; the Red Death hadnt come, do ye ken. The crack in the earth beyond town was there, but the bridge over it still stood strong and true. Those folk were stubborn, trying not to let go, even when the rumors that Castle Discordia was haunted began. The trains still came, although on no regular schedule The children? Susannah asked. The twins? She paused. The Wolves? Nay, all of that was two dozen centuries later. Or more. But hear me now there was one couple in Fedic who had a baby. Youve no idea, Susannah of New York, how rare and wonderful that was in those days when most folk were as sterile as the elementals themselves, and those who werent more often than not produced either slow mutants or monsters so terrible they were killed by their parents if they took more than a single breath. Most of them didnt. But this baby! She clasped her hands. Her eyes shone. It was round and pink and unblemished by so much as a portwine stainperfectand I knew after a single look what Id been made for. I wasnt fucking for the sex of it, or because in coitus I was almost mortal, or because it brought death to most of my partners, but to have a baby like theirs. Like their Michael. She lowered her head slightly and said, I would have taken him, you know. Would have gone to the man, fucked him until he was crazy, then whispered in his ear that he should kill his molly. And when shed gone to the clearing at the end of the path, I would have fucked him dead and the babythat beautiful little pink babywould have been mine. Dyou see? Yes, Susannah said. She felt faintly sick. In front of them, in the middle of the street, the ghostly woman made yet another turn and started back again. Farther down, the hucksterrobot honked out his seemingly eternal spiel Girls, girls, girls! Some are humie and some are cybie, but who cares, you cant tell the difference! I discovered I couldnt go near them, Mia said. It was as though a magic circle had been drawn around them. It was the baby, I suppose. Then came the plague. The Red Death. Some folks said something had been opened in the castle, some jar of demonstuff that should have been left shut forever. Others said the plague came out of the crackwhat they called the Devils Arse. Either way, it was the end of life in Fedic, life on the edge of Discordia. Many left on foot or in waggons. Baby Michael and his parents stayed, hoping for a train. Each day I waited for them to sickenfor the red spots to show on the babys dear cheeks and fat little armsbut they never did; none of the three sickened. Perhaps they were in a magic circle. I think they must have been. And a train came. It was Patricia. The mono. Do ya ken Yes, Susannah said. She knew all she wanted to about Blaines companion mono. Once upon a time her route must have taken her over here as well as to Lud. Aye. They got on. I watched from the station platform, weeping my unseen tears and wailing my unseen cries. They got on with their sweet wee one  only by then he was three or four years old, walking and talking. And they went. I tried to follow them, and Susannah, I could not. I was a prisoner here. Knowing my purpose was what made me so. Susannah wondered about that, but decided not to comment. Years and decades and centuries went by. In Fedic there were by then only the robots and the unburied bodies left over from the Red Death, turning to skeletons, then to dust. Then men came again, but I didnt dare go near them because they were his men. She paused. Its men. The Crimson Kings. Aye, they with the endlessly bleeding holes on their foreheads. They went there. She pointed to the Fedic Doganthe Arc 16 Experimental Station. And soon their accursed machines were running again, just as if they still believed that machines could hold up the world. Not, ye ken, that holding it up is what they want to do! No, no, not they! They brought in beds Beds! Susannah said, startled. Beyond them, the ghostly woman in the street rose once more on the balls of her feet and made yet one more graceful pirouette. Aye, for the children, although this was still long years before the Wolves began to bring em here, and long before you were part of your dinhs story. Yet that time did draw nigh, and Walter came to me. Can you make that woman in the street disappear? Susannah asked abruptly (and rather crossly). I know shes a version of you, I get the idea, but she makes me  I dont know  nervous. Can you make her go away? Aye, if you like. Mia pursed her lips and blew. The disturbingly beautiful womanthe spirit without a namedisappeared like smoke. For several moments Mia was quiet, once more gathering the threads of her story. Then she said, Walter  saw me. Not like other men. Even the ones I fucked to death only saw what they wanted to see. Or what I wanted them to see. She smiled in unpleasant reminiscence. I made some of them die thinking they were fucking their own mothers! You should have seen their faces! Then the smile faded. But Walter saw me. What did he look like? Hard to tell, Susannah. He wore a hood, and inside it he grinnedsuch a grinning man he wasand he palavered with me. There. She pointed toward the Fedic GoodTime Saloon with a finger that trembled slightly. No mark on his forehead, though? Nay, Im sure not, for hes not one of what Pere Callahan calls the low men. Their job is the Breakers. The Breakers and no more. Susannah began to feel the anger then, although she tried not to show it. Mia had access to all her memories, which meant all the inmost workings and secrets of their katet. It was like discovering youd had a burglar in the house who had tried on your underwear as well as stealing your money and going through your most personal papers. It was awful. Walter is, I suppose, what youd call the Crimson Kings Prime Minister. He often travels in disguise, and is known in other worlds under other names, but always he is a grinning, laughing man I met him briefly, Susannah said, under the name of Flagg. I hope to meet him again. If you truly knew him, youd wish for no such thing. The Breakers you spoke ofwhere are they? Why  Thunderclap, doee not know? The shadowlands. Why do you ask? No reason but curiosity, Susannah said, and seemed to hear Eddie Ask any question shell answer. Burn up the day. Give us a chance to catch up.