Mias thievery had extended to every aspect of Susannahs personality, it seemed, and if Detta Walker was back, pumped up and ready to cut butt, that was in large part this unwelcome strangers doing. The gunslinger saw me there, Mia said. The boy, too. There was a pause. Then I have met them both before. Who? Jake and Roland? Aye, they. Where? When? How could y We cant speak here. Please. Let us go somewhere more private. Someplace with a phone, isnt that what you mean? So your friends can call you. I only know a little, Susannah of New York, but what little I know, I think you would hear. Susannah thought so, too. And although she didnt necessarily want Mia to realize it, she was also anxious to get off Second Avenue. The stuff on her shirt might look like spilled eggcream or dried coffee to the casual passerby, but Susannah herself was acutely aware of what it was not just blood, but the blood of a brave woman who had stood true on behalf of her towns children. And there were the bags spread around her feet. Shed seen plenty of bagfolken in New York, aye. Now she felt like one herself, and she didnt like the feeling. Shed been raised to better, as her mother would have said. Each time someone passing on the sidewalk or cutting through the little park gave her a glance, she felt like telling them she wasnt crazy in spite of how she looked stained shirt, dirty face, hair too long and in disarray, no purse, only those three bags at her feet. Homeless, ayehad anyone ever been as homeless as she, not just out of house but out of time itself?but in her right mind. She needed to palaver with Mia and get an understanding of what all this was about, that was true. What she wanted was much simpler to wash, to put on fresh clothes, and to be out of public view for at least a little while. Might as well wish for the moon, sugar, she told herself  and Mia, if Mia was listening. Privacy costs money. Youre in a version of New York where a single hamburger might cost as much as a dollar, crazy as that sounds. And you dont have a sou. Just a dozen or so sharpened plates and some kind of blackmagic ball. So what are you gonna do? Before she could get any further in her thinking, New York was swept away and she was back in the Doorway Cave. Shed been barely aware of her surroundings on her first visitMia had been in charge then, and in a hurry to make her getaway through the doorbut now they were very clear. Pere Callahan was here. So was Eddie. And Eddies brother, in a way. Susannah could hear Henry Deans voice floating up from the caves depths, both taunting and dismayed Im in hell, bro! Im in hell and I cant get a fix and its all your fault! Susannahs disorientation was nothing to the fury she felt at the sound of that nagging, hectoring voice. Most of what was wrong with Eddie was your fault! she screamed at him. You should have done everyone a favor and died young, Henry! Those in the cave didnt even look around at her. What was this? Had she come here todash from New York, just to add to the fun? If so, why hadnt she heard the chimes? Hush. Hush, love. That was Eddies voice in her mind, clear as day. Just watch. Do you hear him? she asked Mia. Do you Yes! Now shut up! How long will we have to be here, do you think? Eddie asked Callahan. Im afraid itll be awhile, Callahan replied, and Susannah understood she was seeing something that had already happened. Eddie and Callahan had gone up to the Doorway Cave to try to locate Calvin Tower and Towers friend, Deepneau. Just before the showdown with the Wolves, this had been. Callahan was the one whod gone through the door. Black Thirteen had captured Eddie while the Pere was gone. And almost killed him. Callahan had returned just in time to keep Eddie from hurling himself from the top of the bluff and into the draw far below. Right now, though, Eddie was dragging the bagpink, yes, shed been right about that, on the Calla side it had been pinkout from underneath the troublesome sai Towers bookcase of first editions. They needed the ball inside the bag for the same reason Mia had needed it because it opened the Unfound Door. Eddie lifted it, started to turn, then froze. He was frown What is it? Callahan asked. Theres something in here, Eddie replied. The box No, in the bag. Sewn into the lining. It feels like a little rock, or something. Suddenly he seemed to be looking directly at Susannah, and she was aware that she was sitting on a park bench. It was no longer voices from the depths of the cave she heard, but the watery hiss and plash of the fountain. The cave was fading. Eddie and Callahan were fading. She heard Eddies last words as if from a great distance Maybe theres a secret pocket. Then he was gone. TWO She hadnt gone todash at all, then. Her brief visit to the Doorway Cave had been some kind of vision. Had Eddie sent it to her? And if he had, did it mean hed gotten the message shed tried to send him from the Dogan? These were questions Susannah couldnt answer. If she saw him again, shed ask him. After shed kissed him a thousand times or so, that was. Mia picked up the red bag and ran her hands slowly down its sides. There was the shape of the box inside, yes. But halfway down there was something else, a small bulge. And Eddie was right it felt like a stone. Sheor perhaps it was they, it no longer mattered to herrolled the bag down, not liking the intensified pulse from the thing hidden inside but setting her mind against it. Here it was, right in here  and something that felt like a seam. She leaned closer and saw not a seam but some kind of a seal. She didnt recognize it, nor would Jake have done, but Eddie would have known Velcro when he saw it. She had heard a certain Z.Z. Top tribute to the stuff, a song called Velcro Fly. She got a fingernail into the seal and pulled with her fingertip. It came loose with a soft ripping sound, revealing a small pocket on the inside of the bag. What is it? Mia asked, fascinated in spite of herself. Well, lets just see. She reached in and brought out not a stone but a small scrimshaw turtle. Made of ivory, from the look of it. Each detail of the shell was tiny and precisely executed, although it had been marred by one tiny scratch that looked almost like a questionmark. The turtles head poked halfway out. Its eyes were tiny black dots of some tarry stuff, and looked incredibly alive. She saw another small imperfection in the turtles beaknot a scratch but a crack. Its old, she whispered aloud. So old. Yes, Mia whispered back. Holding it made Susannah feel incredibly good. It made her feel  safe, somehow. See the Turtle, she thought. See the Turtle of enormous girth, on his shell he holds the earth. Was that how it went? She thought it was at least close. And of course that was the Beam they had been following to the Tower. The Bear at one endShardik. The Turtle at the otherMaturin. She looked from the tiny totem shed found in the lining of the bag to the one beside the fountain. Barring the difference in materialsthe one beside her bench was made of dark metal with brighter coppery glintsthey were exactly the same, right down to the scratch on the shell and the tiny wedgeshaped break in the beak. For a moment her breath stopped, and her heart seemed to stop, also. She went along from moment to moment through this adventuresometimes even from day to daywithout thinking much but simply driven by events and what Roland insisted was ka. Then something like this would happen, and she would for a moment glimpse a far bigger picture, one that immobilized her with awe and wonder. She sensed forces beyond her ability to comprehend. Some, like the ball in the ghostwood box, were evil. But this  this  Wow, someone said. Almost sighed. She looked up and saw a businessmana very successful one, from the look of his suitstanding there by the bench. Hed been cutting through the park, probably on his way to someplace as important as he was, some sort of meeting or a conference, maybe even at the United Nations, which was close by (unless that had changed, too). Now, however, he had come to a dead stop. His expensive briefcase dangled from his right hand. His eyes were large and fixed on the turtle in SusannahMias hand. On his face was a large and rather dopey grin. Put it away! Mia cried, alarmed. Hell steal it! Like to see him try, Detta Walker replied. Her voice was relaxed and rather amused. The sun was out and sheall parts of shesuddenly realized that, all else aside, this day was beautiful. And precious. And gorgeous. Precious and beautiful and gorgeous, said the businessman (or perhaps he was a diplomat), who had forgotten all about his business. Was it the day he was talking about, or the scrimshaw turtle? Its both, Susannah thought. And suddenly she thought she understood this. Jake would have understood, toono one better! She laughed. Inside her, Detta and Mia also laughed, Mia a bit against her will. And the businessman or diplomat, he laughed, too. Yah, its both, the businessman said. In his faint Scandinavian accent, both came out boad. What a lovely thing you have! Whad a loffly thing! Yes, it was lovely. A lovely little treasure. And once upon a time, not so long ago, Jake Chambers had found something queerly similar. In Calvin Towers bookshop, Jake had bought a book called Charlie the ChooChoo, by Beryl Evans. Why? Because it had called to him. Latershortly before Rolands katet had come to Calla Bryn Sturgis, in factthe authors name had changed to Claudia y Inez Bachman, making her a member of the everexpanding KaTet of Nineteen. Jake had slipped a key into that book, and Eddie had whittled a double of it in MidWorld. Jakes version of the key had both fascinated the folks who saw it and made them extremely suggestible. Like Jakes key, the scrimshaw turtle had its double; she was sitting beside it. The question was if the turtle was like Jakes key in other ways. Judging from the fascinated way the Scandinavian businessman was looking at it, Susannah was pretty sure the answer was yes. She thought, Dadachuck, dadachurtle, dont worry, girl, you got the turtle! It was such a silly rhyme she almost laughed out loud. To Mia she said, Let me handle this. Handle what? I dont understand I know you dont. So let me handle it. Agreed? She didnt wait for Mias reply. She turned back to the businessman, smiling brightly, holding the turtle up where he could see it. She floated it from right to left and noted the way his eyes followed it, although his head, with its impressive mane of white hair, never moved. Whats your name, sai? Susannah asked. Mathiessen van Wyck, he said. His eyes rolled slowly in their sockets, watching the turtle. I am second assistant to the Swedish Ambassador to the United Nations. My wife has taken a lover. This makes me sad. My bowels are regular once again, the tea the hotel masseuse recommended worked for me, and this makes me happy. A pause. Then Your skldpadda makes me happy. Susannah was fascinated. If she asked this man to drop his trousers and evacuate his newly regularized bowels on the sidewalk, would he do it? Of course he would. She looked around quickly and saw no one in the immediate vicinity. That was good, but she thought it would still behoove her to transact her business here as quickly as she could. Jake had drawn quite the little crowd with his key. She had no urge to do the same, if she could avoid it. Mathiessen, she began, you mentioned Mats, he said. Beg your pardon? Call me Mats, if you would. I prefer it. All right, Mats, you mentioned a Do you speak Swedish? No, she said. Then we will speak English. Yes, Id prefer I have quite an important position, Mats said. His eyes never left the turtle. I am meeting many important peoples. I am going to cocktail parties where goodlooking women are wearing the little black dress. That must be quite a thrill for you. Mats, I want you to shut your trap and only open it to speak when I ask you a direct question. Will you do that? Mats closed his mouth. He even made a comical little zipping gesture across his lips, but his eyes never left the turtle. You mentioned a hotel. Do you stay at a hotel? Yah, I am staying at the New York PlazaPark Hyatt, at the corner of First and Fortysixth. Soon I am getting the condominium apartment Mats seemed to realize he was saying too much again and shut his mouth. Susannah thought furiously, holding the turtle in front of her breasts where her new friend could see it very well. Mats, listen to me, okay? I listen to hear, mistresssai, and hear to obey. That gave her a nasty jolt, especially coming out as it did in Matss cute little Scandihoovian accent. Do you have a credit card? Mats smiled proudly. I have many. I have American Express, MasterCard, and Visa. I have the EuroGold Card. I have Good, thats good. I want you to go down to the For a moment her mind blanked, and then it came. to the PlazaPark Hotel and rent a room. Rent it for a week. If they ask, tell them its for a friend of yours, a lady friend. An unpleasant possibility occurred to her. This was New York, the north, in the year 1999, and a person liked to believe that things continued to go in the right direction, but it was best to be sure. Will they make any unpleasantness about me being a Negro? No, of course not. He looked surprised. Rent the room in your name and tell the clerk that a woman named Susannah Mia Dean will be using it. Do you understand? Yah, Susannah Mia Dean. What else? Money, of course. She asked him if he had any. Her new friend removed his wallet and handed it to her. She continued to hold the turtle where he could see it in one hand while she riffled through the wallet, a very nice Lord Buxton, with the other. There was a wad of travelers checksno good to her, not with that insanely convoluted signatureand about two hundred dollars in good old American cabbage. She took it and dropped it into the Borders bag which had lately held the pair of shoes. When she looked up she was dismayed to see that a couple of Girl Scouts, maybe fourteen years old and both wearing backpacks, had joined the businessman. They were staring at the turtle with shiny eyes and wet lips. Susannah found herself remembering the girls in the audience on the night Elvis Presley had played The Ed Sullivan Show. Too coooool, one of them said, almost in a sigh. Totally awesome, said the other. You girls go on about your business, Susannah said. Their faces tucked in, assuming identical looks of sorrow. They could almost have been twins from the Calla. Do we have to? asked the first. Yes! Susannah said. Thankeesai, long days and pleasant nights, said the second. Tears had begun to roll down her cheeks. Her friend was also crying. Forget you saw me! Susannah called as they started away. She watched them nervously until they reached Second Avenue and headed uptown, then turned her attention back to Mats van Wyck. You get a wiggle on, too, Mats. Hoss your freight down to that hotel and rent a room. Tell them your friend Susannah will be right along. What is this freighthossing? I do not understand It means hurry up. She handed back his wallet, minus the cash, wishing she could have gotten a longer look at all those plastic cards, wondering why anyone would need so many. Once you have the room nailed down, go on to where you were going. Forget you ever saw me. Now, like the girls in their green uniforms, Mats began to weep. Must I also forget the skldpadda? Yes. Susannah remembered a hypnotist shed once seen performing on some TV variety show, maybe even Ed Sullivan. No turtle, but youre going to feel good the rest of the day, you hear me? Youre going to feel like  A million bucks might not mean that much to him, and for all she knew a million kroner wouldnt buy a haircut. Youre going to feel like the Swedish Ambassador himself. And youll stop worrying about your wifes fancyman. To hell with him, right? Yah, to hell wit dot guy! Mats cried, and although he was still weeping, he was now smiling, too. There was something divinely childish in that smile. It made Susannah feel happy and sad at the same time. She wanted to do something else for Mats van Wyck, if she could. And your bowels? Yah? Like clockwork for the rest of your life, Susannah said, holding the turtle up. Whats your usual time, Mats? I am going yust after breakfast. Then thats when itll be. For the rest of your life. Unless youre busy. If youre late for an appointment or something like that, just say  um  Maturin, and the urgell pass until the next day. Maturin. Correct. Go on, now. May I not take the skldpadda? No, you may not. Go on, now. He started away, then paused and looked back at her. Although his cheeks were wet, his expression was pixieish, a trifle sly. Perhaps I should take it, he said. Perhaps it is mine by right. Like to see you try, honky was Dettas thought, but Susannahwho felt more and more in charge of this wacky triad, at least for the time beingshushed her. Why would you say that, my friend? Tell, I beg. The sly look remained. Dont kid a kidder, it said. That was what it looked like to Susannah, anyway. Mats, Maturin, he said. Maturin, Mats. You see? Susannah did. She started to tell him it was just a coincidence and then thought Calla, Callahan. I see, she said, but the skldpadda isnt yours. Nor mine, either. Then whose? Plaintive. Den hoose? it sounded like. And before her conscious mind could stop her (or at least censor her), Susannah spoke the truth her heart and soul knew It belongs to the Tower, sai. The Dark Tower. And its to there Ill return it, ka willing. Gods be with you, ladysai. And you, Mats. Long days and pleasant nights. She watched the Swedish diplomat walk away, then looked down at the scrimshaw turtle and said, That was pretty amazing, Mats old buddy. Mia had no interest in the turtle; she had but a single object. This hotel, she said. Will there be a telephone? THREE SusannahMia put the turtle into the pocket of her bluejeans and forced herself to wait for twenty minutes on the park bench. She spent much of this time admiring her new lower legs (whoever they belonged to, they were pretty fine) and wiggling her new toes inside her new (stolen) shoes. Once she closed her eyes and summoned up the control room of the Dogan. More banks of warning lights had gone on there, and the machinery under the floor was throbbing louder than ever, but the needle of the dial marked SUSANNAHMIO was still just a little way into the yellow. Cracks in the floor had begun to appear, as she had known they would, but so far they didnt look serious. The situation wasnt that great, but she thought they could live with it for now. What are you waiting for? Mia demanded. Why are we just sitting here? Im giving the Swede a chance to do his business for us at the hotel and clear out, Susannah replied. And when she thought enough time had passed for him to have done that, she gathered her bags, got up, crossed Second Avenue, and started down Fortysixth Street to the PlazaPark Hotel. FOUR The lobby was full of pleasant afternoon light reflected by angles of green glass. Susannah had never seen such a beautiful roomoutside of St. Patricks, that wasbut there was something alien about it, too. Because its the future, she thought. God knew there were enough signs of that. The cars looked smaller, and entirely different. Many of the younger women she saw were walking around with their lower bellies exposed and their brastraps showing. Susannah had to see this latter phenomenon four or five times on her stroll down Fortysixth Street before she could completely convince herself that it was some sort of bizarre fashion fillip, and not a mistake. In her day, a woman with a brastrap showing (or an inch of slip, snowing down south they used to say) would have ducked into the nearest public restroom to pin it up, and at once. As for the deal with the nude bellies  Would have gotten you arrested anywhere but Coney Island, she thought. No doubt about it. But the thing which made the biggest impression was also the hardest thing to define the city just seemed bigger. It thundered and hummed all around her. It vibrated. Every breath of air was perfumed with its signature smell. The women waiting for taxis outside the hotel (with or without their brastraps showing) could only be New York women; the doormen (not one but two) flagging cabs could only be New York doormen; the cabbies (she was amazed by how many of them were darkskinned, and she saw one who was wearing a turban) could only be New York cabbies, but they were all  different. The world had moved on. It was as if her New York, that of 1964, had been a tripleA ballclub. This was the major leagues. She paused for a moment just inside the lobby, pulling the scrimshaw turtle out of her pocket and getting her bearings. To her left was a parlor area. Two women were sitting there, chatting, and Susannah stared at them for a moment, hardly able to credit how much leg they were showing under the hems of their skirts (what skirts, haha?). And they werent teenagers or kollege kuties, either; these were women in their thirties, at least (although she supposed they might be in their sixties, who knew what scientific advances there might have been over the last thirtyfive years). To the right was a little shop. Somewhere in the shadows behind it a piano was tinkling out something blessedly familiarNight and Dayand Susannah knew if she went toward the sound, shed find a lot of leather seats, a lot of sparkling bottles, and a gentleman in a white coat whod be happy to serve her even if it was only the middle of the afternoon. All this was a decided relief. Directly ahead of her was the reception desk, and behind it was the most exotic woman Susannah had ever seen in her life. She appeared to be white, black, and Chinese, all whipped together. In 1964, such a woman would undoubtedly have been called a mongrel, no matter how beautiful she might have been. Here she had been popped into an extremely handsome ladies suit and put behind the reception desk of a large firstclass hotel. The Dark Tower might be increasingly shaky, Susannah thought, and the world might be moving on, but she thought the lovely desk clerk was proof (if any were needed) that not everything was falling down or going in the wrong direction. She was talking to a customer who was complaining about his inroom movie bill, whatever that might be. Never mind, its the future, Susannah told herself once again. Its science fiction, like the City of Lud. Best leave it at that. I dont care what it is or when, Mia said. I want to be near a telephone. I want to see to my chap. Susannah walked past a sign on a tripod, then turned back and gave it a closer look. AS OF JULY 1ST, 1999, THE NEW YORK PLAZAPARK HYATT WILL BECOME THE REGAL U.N. PLAZA HOTEL ANOTHER GREAT SOMBRANORTH CENTRAL PROJECT!! Susannah thought, Sombra as in Turtle Bay Luxury Condominiums  which never got built, from the look of that blackglass needle back on the corner. And North Central as in North Central Positronics. Interesting. She felt a sudden twinge of pain go through her head. Twinge? Hell, a bolt. It made her eyes water. And she knew who had sent it. Mia, who had no interest in the Sombra Corporation, North Central Positronics, or the Dark Tower itself, was becoming impatient. Susannah knew shed have to change that, or at least try. Mia was focused blindly on her chap, but if she wanted to keep the chap, she might have to widen her field of vision a little bit. She fight you ever damn step of the way, Detta said. Her voice was shrewd and tough and cheerful. You know dat too, dont you? She did. Susannah waited until the man with the problem finished explaining how he had ordered some movie called XRated by accident, and he didnt mind paying as long as it wasnt on his bill, and then she stepped up to the desk herself. Her heart was pounding. I believe that my friend, Mathiessen van Wyck, has rented a room for me, she said. She saw the reception clerk looking at her stained shirt with wellbred disapproval, and laughed nervously. I really cant wait to take a shower and change my clothes. I had a small accident. At lunch. Yes, madam. Just let me check. The woman went to what looked like a small TV screen with a typewriter attached. She tapped a few keys, looked at the screen, and then said Susannah Mia Dean, is that correct? You say true, I say thank ya rose to her lips and she squelched it. Yes, thats right. May I see some identification, please? For a moment Susannah was flummoxed. Then she reached into the rush bag and took out an Oriza, being careful to hold it by the blunt curve. She found herself remembering something Roland had said to Wayne Overholser, the Callas big rancher We deal in lead. The Rizas werent bullets, but surely they were the equivalent. She held the plate up in one hand and the small carved turtle in the other. Will this do? she asked pleasantly. What the beautiful desk clerk began, then fell silent as her eyes shifted from the plate to the turtle. They grew wide and slightly glassy. Her lips, coated with an interesting pink gloss (it looked more like candy than lipstick to Susannah), parted. A soft sound came from between them ohhhh  Its my drivers license, Susannah said. Do you see? Luckily there was no one else around, not even a bellman. The lateday checkouts were on the sidewalk, fighting for hacks; in here, the lobby was adoze. From the bar beyond the gift shop, Night and Day gave way to a lazy and introspective version of Stardust. Drivers license, the desk clerk agreed in that same sighing, wondering voice. Good. Are you supposed to write anything down? No  Mr. Van Wyck rented the room  all I need is to  to check your  may I hold the turtle, maam? No, Susannah said, and the desk clerk began to weep. Susannah observed this phenomenon with bemusement. She didnt believe she had made so many people cry since her disastrous violin recital (both first and last) at the age of twelve. No, I may not hold it, the desk clerk said, weeping freely. No, no, I may not, may not hold it, ah, Discordia, I may not Hush up your snivel, Susannah said, and the desk clerk hushed at once. Give me the roomkey, please. But instead of a key, the Eurasian woman handed her a plastic card in a folder. Written on the inside of the folderso wouldbe thieves couldnt easily see it, presumablywas the number 1919. Which didnt surprise Susannah at all. Mia, of course, could not have cared less. She stumbled on her feet a little. Reeled a little. Had to wave one hand (the one holding her drivers license) for balance. There was a moment when she thought she might tumble to the floor, and then she was okay again. Maam? the desk clerk inquired. Looking remotelyvery remotelyconcerned. Are you feeling all right? Yeah, Susannah said. Only  lost my balance there for a second or two. Wondering, What in the blue hell just happened? Oh, but she knew the answer. Mia was the one with the legs, Mia. Susannah had been driving the bus ever since encountering old Mr. May I Not Take The Skldpadda, and this body was starting to revert to its leglessbelowtheknee state. Crazy but true. Her body was going Susannah on her. Mia, get up here. Take charge. I cant. Not yet. As soon as were alone I will. And dear Christ, Susannah recognized that tone of voice, recognized it very well. The bitch was shy. To the desk clerk, Susannah said, Whats this thing? Is it a key? Whyyes, sai. You use it in the elevator as well as to open your room. Just push it into the slot in the direction the arrows point. Remove it briskly. When the light on the door turns green, you may enter. I have slightly over eight thousand dollars in my cash drawer. Ill give it all to you for your pretty thing, your turtle, your skldpadda, your tortuga, your kavvit, your No, Susannah said, and staggered again. She clutched the edge of the desk. Her equilibrium was shot. Im going upstairs now. Shed meant to visit the gift shop first and spend some of Matss dough on a clean shirt, if they carried such things, but that would have to wait. Everything would have to wait. Yes, sai. No more maam, not now. The turtle was working on her. Sanding away the gap between the worlds. You just forget you saw me, all right? Yes, sai. Shall I put a donotdisturb on the phone? Mia clamored. Susannah didnt even bother paying attention. No, dont do that. Im expecting a call. As you like, sai. Eyes on the turtle. Ever on the turtle. Enjoy the PlazaPark. Would you like a bellman to assist you with your bags? Look like I need help with these three pukey lil things? Detta thought, but Susannah only shook her head. Very well. Susannah started to turn away, but the desk clerks next words swung her back in a hurry. Soon comes the King, he of the Eye. Susannah gaped at the woman, her surprise close to shock. She felt gooseflesh crawling up her arms. The desk clerks beautiful face, meanwhile, remained placid. Dark eyes on the scrimshaw turtle. Lips parted, now damp with spittle as well as gloss. If I stay here much longer, Susannah thought, shell start to drool. Susannah very much wanted to pursue the business of the King and the Eyeit was her businessand she could, she was the one up front and driving the bus, but she staggered again and knew she couldnt  unless, that was, she wanted to crawl to the elevator on her hands and knees with the empty lower legs of her jeans trailing out behind her. Maybe later, she thought, knowing that was unlikely; things were moving too fast now. She started across the lobby, walking with an educated stagger. The desk clerk spoke after her in a voice expressing pleasant regret, no more than that. When the King comes and the Tower falls, sai, all such pretty things as yours will be broken. Then there will be darkness and nothing but the howl of Discordia and the cries of the can toi. Susannah made no reply, although the gooseflesh was now all the way up the nape of her neck and she could feel her scalp tightening on her very skull. Her legs (someones legs, anyway) were rapidly losing all feeling. If shed been able to look at her bare skin, would she have seen her fine new legs going transparent? Would she have been able to see the blood flowing through her veins, bright red going down, darker and exhausted heading back up to her heart? The interwoven pigtails of muscle? She thought yes. She pushed the UP button and then put the Oriza back into its bag, praying one of the three elevator doors would open before she collapsed. The piano player had switched to Stormy Weather. The door of the middle car opened. SusannahMia stepped in and pushed 19. The door slid shut but the car went nowhere. The plastic card, she reminded herself. You have to use the card. She saw the slot and slid the card into it, being careful to push in the direction of the arrows. This time when she pushed 19, the number lit up. A moment later she was shoved rudely aside as Mia came forward. Susannah subsided at the back of her own mind with a kind of tired relief. Yes, let someone else take over, why not? Let someone else drive the bus for awhile. She could feel the strength and substance coming back into her legs, and that was enough for now. FIVE Mia might have been a stranger in a strange land, but she was a fast learner. In the nineteenthfloor lobby she located the arrow with 19111923 beneath it and walked briskly down the corridor to 1919. The carpet, some thick green stuff that was delightfully soft, whispered beneath her (their) stolen shoes. She inserted the keycard, opened the door, and stepped in. There were two beds. She put the bags on one of them, looked around without much interest, then fixed her gaze on the telephone. Susannah! Impatient. What? How do I make it ring? Susannah laughed with genuine amusement. Honey, you arent the first person to ask that question, believe me. Or the millionth.


It either will or it wont. In its own good time. Meanwhile, why dont you have a look around. See if you cant find a place to store your gunna. She expected an argument but didnt get one. Mia prowled the room (not bothering to open the drapes, although Susannah very much wanted to see the city from this height), peeked into the bathroom (palatial, with what looked like a marble basin and mirrors everywhere), then looked into the closet. Here, sitting on a shelf with some plastic bags for drycleaning on top, was a safe. There was a sign on it, but Mia couldnt read it. Roland had had similar problems from time to time, but his had been caused by the difference between the English language alphabet and InWorlds great letters. Susannah had an idea that Mias problems were a lot more basic; although her kidnapper clearly knew numbers, Susannah didnt think the chaps mother could read at all. Susannah came forward, but not all the way. For a moment she was looking through two sets of eyes at two signs, the sensation so peculiar that it made her feel nauseated. Then the images came together and she could read the message THIS SAFE IS PROVIDED FOR YOUR PERSONAL BELONGINGS THE MANAGEMENT OF THE PLAZAPARK HYATT ASSUMES NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR ITEMS LEFT HERE CASH AND JEWELRY SHOULD BE DEPOSITED IN THE HOTEL SAFE DOWNSTAIRS TO SET CODE, PUNCH IN FOUR NUMBERS PLUS ENTER TO OPEN, ENTER YOUR FOURNUMBER CODE AND PUSH OPEN Susannah retired and let Mia select four numbers. They turned out to be a one and three nines. It was the current year and might be one of the first combinations a room burglar would try, but at least it wasnt quite the room number itself. Besides, they were the right numbers. Numbers of power. A sigul. They both knew it. Mia tried the safe after programming it, found it locked tightly, then followed the directions for opening it. There was a whirring noise from somewhere inside and the door popped ajar. She put in the faded red MIDTOWN LANES bagthe box inside just fit on the shelfand then the bag of Oriza plates. She closed and locked the safes door again, tried the handle, found it tight, and nodded. The Borders bag was still on the bed. She took the wad of cash out of it and tucked it into the right front pocket of her jeans, along with the turtle. Have to get a clean shirt, Susannah reminded her unwelcome guest. Mia, daughter of none, made no reply. She clearly cared bupkes for shirts, clean or dirty. Mia was looking at the telephone. For the time being, with her labor on hold, the phone was all she cared about. Now we palaver, Susannah said. You promised, and its a promise youre going to keep. But not in that banquet room. She shuddered. Somewhere outside, hear me I beg. I want fresh air. That banqueting hall smelled of death. Mia didnt argue. Susannah got a vague sense of the other woman riffling through various files of memoryexamining, rejecting, examining, rejectingand at last finding something that would serve. How do we go there? Mia asked indifferently. The black woman who was now two women (again) sat on one of the beds and folded her hands in her lap. Like on a sled, the womans Susannah part said. Ill push, you steer. And remember, SusannahMio, if you want my cooperation, you give me some straight answers. I will, the other replied. Just dont expect to like them. Or even understand them. What do you Never mind! Gods, I never met anyone who could ask so many questions! Time is short! When the telephone rings, our palaver ends! So if youd palaver at all Susannah didnt bother giving her a chance to finish. She closed her eyes and let herself fall back. No bed stopped that fall; she went right through it. She was falling for real, falling through space. She could hear the jangle of the todash chimes, dim and far. Here I go again, she thought. And Eddie, I love you. STAVE Commalaginjive Aint it grand to be alive? To look out on Discordia When the Demon Moon arrives. RESPONSE Commalacomefive! Even when the shadows rise! To see the world and walk the world Makes ya glad to be alive. 6TH STANZA THE CASTLE ALLURE ONE All at once she was falling into her body again and the sensation provoked a memory of blinding brilliance Odetta Holmes at sixteen, sitting on her bed in her slip, sitting in a brilliant bar of sun and pulling up a silk stocking. For the moment this memory held, she could smell White Shoulders perfume and Ponds Beauty Bar, her mothers soap and her mothers borrowed perfume, so grownup to be allowed perfume, and she thought Its the Spring Hop! Im going with Nathan Freeman! Then it was gone. The sweet smell of Ponds soap was replaced by a clean and cold (but somehow dank) night breeze, and all that remained was that sense, so queer and perfect, of stretching into a new body as if it were a stocking one was pulling up over ones calf and knee. She opened her eyes. The wind gusted, blowing a fine grit in her face. She squinted against it, grimacing and raising an arm, as if she might have to ward off a blow. Over here! a womans voice called. It wasnt the voice Susannah would have expected. Not strident, not a triumphant caw. Over here, out of the wind! She looked and saw a tall and comely woman beckoning to her. Susannahs first look at Mia in the flesh astounded her, because the chaps mother was white. Apparently Odettathatwas now had a Caucasian side to her personality, and how that must frost Detta Walkers racially sensitive butt! She herself was legless again, and sitting in a kind of rude oneperson cart. It had been parked at a notch in a low parapet wall. She looked out at the most fearsome, forbidding stretch of countryside she had ever seen in her life. Huge rock formations sawed at the sky and jostled into the distance. They glistened like alien bone beneath the glare of a savage sickle moon. Away from the glare of that lunar grin, a billion stars burned like hot ice. Amid the rocks with their broken edges and gaping crevices, a single narrow path wound into the distance. Looking at it, Susannah thought that a party would have to travel that path in single file. And bring plenty of supplies. No mushrooms to pick along the way; no pokeberries, either. And in the distancedim and baleful, its source somewhere over the horizona dark crimson light waxed and waned. Heart of the rose, she thought, and then No, not that. Forge of the King. She looked at the pulsing sullen light with helpless, horrified fascination. Flex  and loosen. Wax  and wane. An infection announcing itself to the sky. Come to me now, if youd come at all, Susannah of New York, said Mia. She was dressed in a heavy serape and what looked like leather pants that stopped just below the knee. Her shins were scabbed and scratched. She wore thicksoled huaraches on her feet. For the King can fascinate, even at a distance. Were on the Discordia side of the Castle. Would you like to end your life on the needles at the foot of this wall? If he fascinates you and tells you to jump, youll do just that. Your bossy gunslingermen arent here to help you now, are they? Nay, nay. Youre on your own, so yare. Susannah tried to pull her gaze from that steadily pulsing glow and at first couldnt do it. Panic bloomed in her mind (if he fascinates you and tells you to jump) and she seized it as a tool, compressing it to an edge with which to cut through her frightened immobility. For a moment nothing happened, and then she threw herself backward so violently in the shabby little cart that she had to clutch the edge in order to keep herself from tumbling to the cobbles. The wind gusted again, blowing stonedust and grit against her face and into her hair, seeming to mock her. But that pull  fascination  glammer  whatever it had been, it was gone. She looked at the dogcart (so she thought it, whether that was the right name or not) and saw at once how it worked. Simple enough, too. With no mule to draw it, she was the mule. It was miles from the sweet, light little chair theyd found in Topeka, and lightyears from being able to walk on the strong legs that had conveyed her from the little park to the hotel. God, she missed having legs. Missed it already. But you made do. She seized hold of the carts wooden wheels, strained, produced no movement, strained harder. Just as she was deciding shed have to get out of the chair and hopcrawl her ignominious way to where Mia waited, the wheels turned with a groaning, oilless creak. She rumbled toward Mia, who was standing behind a squat stone pillar. There were a great many of these, marching away into the dark along a curve. Susannah supposed that once upon a time (before the world had moved on), archers would have stood behind them for protection while the assaulting army fired their arrows or redhot catapults or whatever you called them. Then theyd step into the gaps and fire their own weapons. How long ago had that been? What world was this? And how close to the Dark Tower? Susannah had an idea it might be very close indeed. She pushed the balky, gawky, protesting cart out of the wind and looked at the woman in the serape, ashamed to be so out of breath after moving less than a dozen yards but unable to help panting. She drew down deep breaths of the dank and somehow stony air. The pillarsshe had an idea they were called merlons, or something like thatwere on her right. On her left was a circular pool of darkness surrounded by crumbling stone walls. Across the way, two towers rose high above the outer wall, but one had been shattered, as if by lightning or some powerful explosive. This where we stand is the allure, Mia said. The wallwalk of the Castle on the Abyss, once known as Castle Discordia. You said you wanted fresh air. I hope this does ya, as they say in the Calla. This is far beyond there, Susannah, this is deep in EndWorld, near the place where your quest ends, for good or for ill. She paused and then said, For ill, almost surely. Yet I care nothing for that, no, not I. I am Mia, daughter of none, mother of one. I care for my chap and nothing more. Chap be enough for me, aye! Would you palaver? Fine. Ill tell you what I may and be true. Why not? What is it to me, one way or the other? Susannah looked around. When she faced in toward the center of the castlewhat she supposed was the courtyardshe caught an aroma of ancient rot. Mia saw her wrinkle her nose and smiled. Aye, theyre long gone, and the machines the later ones left behind are mostly stilled, but the smell of their dying lingers, doesnt it? The smell of death always does. Ask your friend the gunslinger, the true gunslinger. He knows, for hes dealt his share of it. He is responsible for much, Susannah of New York. The guilt of worlds hangs around his neck like a rotting corpse. Yet hes gone far enough with his dry and lusty determination to finally draw the eyes of the great. He will be destroyed, aye, and all those who stand with him. I carry his doom in my own belly, and I care not. Her chin jutted forward in the starlight. Beneath the serape her breasts heaved  and, Susannah saw, her belly curved. In this world, at least, Mia was very clearly pregnant. Ready to burst, in fact. Ask your questions, have at me, Mia said. Just remember, we exist in the other world, too, the one where were bound together. Were lying on a bed in the inn, as if asleep  but we dont sleep, do we, Susannah? Nay. And when the telephone rings, when my friends call, we leave this place and go to them. If your questions have been asked and answered, fine. If not, thats also fine. Ask. Or  are you not a gunslinger? Her lips curved in a disdainful smile. Susannah thought she was pert, yes, pert indeed. Especially for someone who wouldnt be able to find her way from Fortysixth Street to Fortyseventh in the world they had to go back to. So shoot! I should say. Susannah looked once more into the darkened, broken well that was the castles soft center, where lay its keeps and lists, its barbicans and murder holes, its Godknewwhat. She had taken a course in medieval history and knew some of the terms, but that had been long ago. Surely there was a banqueting hall somewhere down there, one that she herself had supplied with food, at least for awhile. But her catering days were done. If Mia tried to push her too hard or too far, shed find that out for herself. Meantime, she thought shed start with something relatively easy. If this is the Castle on the Abyss, she said, wheres the Abyss? I dont see anything out that way except for a minefield of rocks. And that red glow on the horizon. Mia, her shoulderlength black hair flying out behind her (not a bit of kink in that hair, as there was in Susannahs; Mias was like silk), pointed across the inner chasm below them to the far wall, where the towers rose and the allure continued its curve. This is the inner keep, she said. Beyond it is the village of Fedic, now deserted, all dead of the Red Death a thousand years ago and more. Beyond that The Red Death? Susannah asked, startled (also frightened in spite of herself). Poes Red Death? Like in the story? And why not? Hadnt they already wandered intoand then back out ofL. Frank Baums Oz? What came next? The White Rabbit and the Red Queen? Lady, I know not. All I can tell you is that beyond the deserted village is the outer wall, and beyond the outer wall is a great crack in the earth filled with monsters that cozen, diddle, increase, and plot to escape. Once there was a bridge across, but it fell long ago. In the time before counting, as tis said. Theyre horrors that might drive an ordinary man or woman mad at a glance. She favored Susannah with a glance of her own. A decidedly satiric one. But not a gunslinger. Surely not one such as thee. Why do you mock me? Susannah asked quietly. Mia looked startled, then grim. Was it my idea to come here? To stand in this miserable cold where the Kings Eye dirties the horizon and sullies the very cheek of the moon with its filthy light? Nay, lady! Twas you, so harry me not with your tongue! Susannah could have responded that it hadnt been her idea to catch preg with a demons baby in the first place, but this would be a terrible time to get into one of those yesyoudid, noIdidnt squabbles. I wasnt scolding, Susannah said, only asking. Mia made an impatient shooing gesture with her hand as if to say Dont split hairs, and halfturned away. Under her breath she said, I didnt go to Morehouse or no house. And in any case Ill bear my chap, do you hear? Whichever way the cards fall. Bear him and feed him! All at once Susannah understood a great deal. Mia mocked because she was afraid. In spite of all she knew, so much of her was Susannah. I didnt go to Morehouse or no house, for instance; that was from Invisible Man, by Ralph Ellison. When Mia had bought into Susannah, she had purchased at least two personalities for the price of one. It was Mia, after all, whod brought Detta out of retirement (or perhaps deep hibernation), and it was Detta who was particularly fond of that line, which expressed so much of the Negros deepheld disdain for and suspicion of what was sometimes called the finer postwar Negro education. Not to Morehouse or no house; I know what I know, in other words, I heard it through the grapevine, I got it on the earie, dearie, I picked it up on the jungle telegraph. Mia, she said now. Whose chap is it besides yours? What demon was his father, do you know? Mia grinned. It wasnt a grin Susannah liked. There was too much Detta in it; too much laughing, bitter knowledge. Aye, lady, I know. And youre right. It was a demon got him on you, a very great demon indeed, say true! A human one! It had to have been so, for know you that true demons, those left on the shore of these worlds which spin around the Tower when the Prim receded, are sterile. And for a very good reason. Then how Your dinh is the father of my chap, Mia said. Roland of Gilead, aye, he. Steven Deschain finally has his grandson, although he lies rotten in his grave and knows it not. Susannah was goggling at her, unmindful of the cold wind rushing out of the Discordia wilderness. Roland ? It cant be! He was beside me when the demon was in me, he was pulling Jake through from the house on Dutch Hill and fucking was the last thing on his mind  She trailed off, thinking of the baby shed seen in the Dogan. Thinking of those eyes. Those blue bombardiers eyes. No. No, I refuse to believe it. All the same, Roland is his father, Mia insisted. And when the chap comes, I shall name him from your own mind, Susannah of New York; from what you learned at the same time you learned of merlons and courtyards and trebouchets and barbicans. Why not? Tis a good name, and fair. Professor Murrays Introduction to Medieval History, thats what shes talking about. I will name him Mordred, said she. Hell grow quickly, my darling boy, quicker than human, after his demon nature. Hell grow strong. The avatar of every gunslinger that ever was. And so, like the Mordred of your tale, will he slay his father. And with that, Mia, daughter of none, raised her arms to the starshot sky and screamed, although whether in sorrow, terror, or joy, Susannah could not tell. TWO Hunker, Mia said. I have this. From beneath her serape she produced a bundle of grapes and a paper sack filled with orange pokeberries as swollen as her belly. Where, Susannah wondered, had the fruit come from? Was their shared body sleepwalking back in the PlazaPark Hotel? Had there perhaps been a fruit basket she hadnt noticed? Or were these the fruits of pure imagination? Not that it mattered. Any appetite she might have had was gone, robbed by Mias claim. The fact that it was impossible somehow only added to the monstrosity of the idea. And she couldnt stop thinking of the baby shed seen in utero on one of those TV screens. Those blue eyes. No. It cant be, do you hear? It cannot be! The wind coming through the notches between the merlons was chilling her to the bone. She swung off the seat of the cart and settled herself against the allure wall beside Mia, listening to the winds constant whine and looking up at the alien stars. Mia was cramming her mouth with grapes. Juice ran from one corner of her mouth while she spat seeds from the other corner with the rapidity of machinegun bullets. She swallowed, wiped her chin, and said It can. It can be. And more it is. Are you still glad you came, Susannah of New York, or do you wish youd left your curiosity unsatisfied? If Im gonna have a baby I didnt hump for, Im gonna know everything about that baby that I can. Do you understand that? Mia blinked at the deliberate crudity, then nodded. If you like. Tell me how it can be Rolands. And if you want me to believe anything you tell me, you better start by making me believe this. Mia dug her fingernails into the skin of a pokeberry, stripped it away in one quick gesture, and ate the fruit down greedily. She considered opening another, then simply rolled it between her palms (those disconcertingly white palms), warming it. After enough of this, Susannah knew, the fruit would split its skin on its own. Then she began. THREE How many Beams do there be, Susannah of New York? Six, Susannah said. At least, there were. I guess now there are only two that Mia waved a hand impatiently, as if to say Dont waste my time. Six, aye. And when the Beams were created out of that greater Discordia, the soup of creation some (including the Manni) call the Over and some call the Prim, what made them? I dont know, Susannah said. Was it God, do you think? Perhaps there is a God, but the Beams rose from the Prim on the airs of magic, Susannah, the true magic which passed long ago. Was it God that made magic, or was it magic that made God? I know not. Its a question for philosophers, and motherings my job. But once upon a time all was Discordia and from it, strong and all crossing at a single unifying point, came the six Beams. There was magic to hold them steady for eternity, but when the magic left from all there is but the Dark Tower, which some have called Can Calyx, the Hall of Resumption, men despaired. When the Age of Magic passed, the Age of Machines came. North Central Positronics, Susannah murmured. Dipolar computers. Slotrans engines. She paused. Blaine the Mono. But not in our world. No? Do you say your world is exempt? What about the sign in the hotel lobby? The pokeberry popped. Mia stripped it and gobbled it, drizzling juice through a knowing grin. I had an idea you couldnt read, Susannah said. This was beside the point, but it was all she could think of to say. Her mind kept returning to the image of the baby; to those brilliant blue eyes. Gunslingers eyes. Aye, but I know my numbers, and when it comes to your mind, I read very well. Do you say you dont recall the sign in the hotel lobby? Will you tell me that? Of course she remembered. According to the sign, the PlazaPark would be part of an organization called SombraNorth Central in just another month. And when shed said Not in our world, of course she had been thinking of 1964the world of blackandwhite television, absurdly bulky roomsized computers, and Alabama cops more than willing to sic the dogs on black marchers for voting rights. Things had changed greatly in the intervening thirtyfive years. The Eurasian desk clerks combination TV and typewriter, for instancehow did Susannah know that wasnt a dipolar computer run by some form of slotrans engine? She did not. Go on, she told Mia. Mia shrugged. You doom yourselves, Susannah. You seem positively bent on it, and the root is always the same your faith fails you, and you replace it with rational thought. But there is no love in thought, nothing that lasts in deduction, only death in rationalism. What does this have to do with your chap? I dont know. Theres much I dont know. She raised a hand, forestalling Susannah before Susannah could speak. And no, Im not playing for time, or trying to lead you away from what youd know; Im speaking as my heart tells me. Would you hear or not? Susannah nodded. Shed hear this  for a little longer, at least. But if it didnt turn back to the baby soon, shed turn it back in that direction herself. The magic went away. Maerlyn retired to his cave in one world, the sword of Eld gave way to the pistols of the gunslingers in another, and the magic went away. And across the arc of years, great alchemists, great scientists, and greatwhat?technicians, I think? Great men of thought, anyway, thats what I mean, great men of deductionthese came together and created the machines which ran the Beams. They were great machines but they were mortal machines. They replaced the magic with machines, do ya kennit, and now the machines are failing. In some worlds, great plagues have decimated whole populations. Susannah nodded. We saw one of those, she said quietly. They called it the superflu. The Crimson Kings Breakers are only hurrying along a process thats already in train. The machines are going mad. Youve seen this for yourself. The men believed there would always be more men like them to make more machines. None of them foresaw whats happened. This  this universal exhaustion. The world has moved on. Aye, lady. It has. And left no one to replace the machines which hold up the last magic in creation, for the Prim has receded long since. The magic is gone and the machines are failing. Soon enough the Dark Tower will fall. Perhaps therell be time for one splendid moment of universal rational thought before the darkness rules forever. Wouldnt that be nice? Wont the Crimson King be destroyed, too, when the Tower falls? Him and all his crew? The guys with the bleeding holes in their foreheads? He has been promised his own kingdom, where hell rule forever, tasting his own special pleasures. Distaste had crept into Mias voice. Fear, too, perhaps. Promised? Promised by whom? Who is more powerful than he? Lady, I know not. Perhaps this is only what he has promised himself. Mia shrugged. Her eyes wouldnt quite meet Susannahs. Can nothing prevent the fall of the Tower? Not even your gunslinger friend hopes to prevent it, Mia said, only to slow it down by freeing the Breakers andperhapsslaying the Crimson King. Save it! Save it, O delight! Did he ever tell you that was his quest? Susannah considered this and shook her head. If Roland had ever said that, in so many words, she couldnt remember. And she was sure she would have. No, Mia went on, for he wont lie to his katet unless he has to, tis his pride. What he wants of the Tower is only to see it. Then she added, rather grudgingly Oh, perhaps to enter it, and climb to the room at the top, his ambition may strike so far. He may dream of standing on its allure as we hunker on this one, and chant the names of his fallen comrades, and of his line all the way back to Arthur Eld. But save it? No, good lady! Only a return of the magic could possibly save it, andas you yourself well knowyour dinh deals only in lead. Never since crossing the worlds had Susannah heard Rolands trade of hand cast in such a paltry light. It made her feel sad and angry, but she hid her feelings as best she could. Tell me how your chap can be Rolands son, for I would hear. Aye, tis a good trick, but one the old people of River Crossing could have explained to you, Ive no doubt. Susannah started at that. How do you know so much of me? Because you are possessed, Mia said, and I am your possessor, sure. I can look through any of your memories that I like. I can read what your eyes see. Now be quiet and listen if you would learn, for I sense our time has grown short. FOUR This is what Susannahs demon told her. There are six Beams, as you did say, but there are twelve Guardians, one for each end of each Beam. Thisfor were still on itis the Beam of Shardik. Were you to go beyond the Tower, it would become the Beam of Maturin, the great turtle upon whose shell the world rests. Similarly, there are but six demon elementals, one for each Beam. Below them is the whole invisible world, those creatures left behind on the beach of existence when the Prim receded. There are speaking demons, demons of house which some call ghosts, illsick demons which somemakers of machines and worshippers of the great false god rationality, if it does yacall disease. Many small demons but only six demon elementals. Yet as there are twelve Guardians for the six Beams, there are twelve demon aspects, for each demon elemental is both male and female. Susannah began to see where this was going, and felt a sudden sinking in her guts. From the naked bristle of rocks beyond the allure, in what Mia called the Discordia, there came a dry, feverish cackle of laughter. This unseen humorist was joined by a second, a third, a fourth and fifth. Suddenly it seemed that the whole world was laughing at her. And perhaps with good reason, for it was a good joke. But how could she have known? As the hyenasor whatever they werecackled, she said Youre telling me that the demon elementals are hermaphrodites. Thats why theyre sterile, because theyre both. Aye. In the place of the Oracle, your dinh had intercourse with one of these demon elementals in order to gain information, whats called prophecy in the High Speech. He had no reason to think the Oracle was anything but a succubus, such as those that sometimes exist in the lonely places Right, Susannah said, just a runofthemill demon sexpot. If you like, Mia said, and this time when she offered Susannah a pokeberry, Susannah took it and began to roll it between her palms, warming the skin. She still wasnt hungry, but her mouth was dry. So dry. The demon took the gunslingers seed as female, and gave it back to you as male. When we were in the speaking ring, Susannah said dismally. She was remembering how the pouring rain had pounded against her upturned face, the sense of invisible hands on her shoulders, and then the things engorgement filling her up and at the same time seeming to tear her apart. The worst part had been the coldness of the enormous cock inside her. At the time, shed thought it was like being fucked by an icicle. And how had she gotten through it? By summoning Detta, of course. By calling on the bitch, victor in a hundred nasty little sexskirmishes fought in the parking lots of two dozen roadhouses and countyline honkytonks. Detta, who had trapped it It tried to get away, she told Mia. Once it figured out it had its cock caught in a damn Chinese fingerpuller, it tried to get away. If it had wanted to get away, Mia said quietly, it would have. Why would it bother fooling me? Susannah asked, but she didnt need Mia to answer that question, not now. Because it had needed her, of course. It had needed her to carry the baby. Rolands baby. Rolands doom. You know everything you need to know about the chap, Mia said. Dont you? Susannah supposed she did. A demon had taken in Rolands seed while female; had stored it, somehow; and then shot it into Susannah Dean as male. Mia was right. She knew what she needed to know. Ive kept my promise, Mia said. Lets go back. The colds not good for the chap. Just a minute longer, Susannah said. She held up the pokeberry. Golden fruit now bulged through ruptures in the orange skin. My berry just popped. Let me eat it. I have another question. Eat and ask and be quick about both. Who are you? Who are you really? Are you this demon? Does she have a name, by the way? She and he, do they have a name? No, Mia said. Elementals have no need of names; they are what they are. Am I a demon? Is that what youd know? Yar, I suppose I am. Or I was. All that is vague now, like a dream. And youre not me  or are you? Mia didnt answer. And Susannah realized that she probably didnt know. Mia? Low. Musing. Mia was hunkering against the merlon with her serape tucked between her knees. Susannah could see that her ankles were swollen and felt a moments pity for the woman. Then she squashed it. This was no time for pity, for there was no truth in it. You aint nothing but the babysitter, girl. The reaction was all shed hoped for, and more. Mias face registered shock, then anger. Hell, fury. You lie! Im this chaps mother! And when he comes, Susannah, there will be no more combing the world for Breakers, for my chap will be the greatest of them all, able to break both of the remaining Beams all by himself! Her voice had filled with pride that sounded alarmingly close to insanity. My Mordred! Do you hear me? Oh, yes, Susannah said. I hear. And youre actually going to go trotting right to those whove made it their business to pull down the Tower, arent you? They call, you come. She paused, then finished with deliberate softness. And when you get to them, theyll take your chap, and thank you very much, and then send you back into the soup you came from. Nay! I shall have the raising of him, for so they have promised! Mia crossed her arms protectively over her belly. Hes mine, Im his mother and I shall have the raising of him! Girl, why dont you get real? Do you think theyll keep their word? Them? How can you see so much and not see that? Susannah knew the answer, of course. Motherhood itself had deluded her. Why would they not let me raise him? Mia asked shrilly. Who better? Who better than Mia, who was made for only two things, to bear a son and raise him? But youre not just you, Susannah said. Youre like the children of the Calla, and just about everything else my friends and I have run into along the way. Youre a twin, Mia! Im your other half, your lifeline. You see the world through my eyes and breathe through my lungs. I had to carry the chap, because you couldnt, could you? Youre as sterile as the big boys. And once theyve got your kid, their Abomb of a Breaker, theyll get rid of you if only so they can get rid of me. I have their promise, she said. Her face was downcast, set in its stubbornness. Turn it around, Susannah said. Turn it around, I beg.


If I were in your place and you in mine, what would you think if I spoke of such a promise? Id tell you to stop your blabbering tongue! Who are you, really? Where in the hell did they get you? Was it like a newspaper ad you answered, Surrogate Mother Wanted, Good Benefits, Short Term of Employment? Who are you, really? Shut up! Susannah leaned forward on her haunches. This position was ordinarily exquisitely uncomfortable for her, but shed forgotten both her discomfort and the halfeaten pokeberry in her hand. Come on! she said, her voice taking on the rasping tones of Detta Walker. Come on and take off yo blindfold, honeybunch, jus like you made me take off mine! Tell the truth and spit in the devils eye! Who the fuck are you? I dont know! Mia screamed, and below them the jackals hidden in the rocks screamed back, only their screams were laughter. I dont know, I dont know who I am, does that satisfy? It did not, and Susannah was about to press on and press harder when Detta Walker spoke up. FIVE This is what Susannahs other demon told her. Babydoll, you need to think bout this a little, seem to me. She caint, she stone dumb, caint read, caint cipher more than just a little, aint been to Morehouse, aint been to no house, but you have, Miss OhDetta Holmes been to Columbeeya, lahdedah, de Gem ob de Ocean, aint we jus so fine. You need to think bout how she pregnant, for one thing. She say she done fucked Roland out of his jizz, then turn male, into the Demon of the Ring, and shot it into you, and den you carryin it, you tossin all those nasty things she made you eat down yo throat, so where she in all this now, dat what Detta like to know. How come she settin there pregnant under dat greaser blanket she wearin? Is it more of dat  what you call it  visualization technique? Susannah didnt know. She only knew that Mia was looking at her with suddenly narrowed eyes. She was doubtless picking up some of this monologue. How much? Not much at all, that was Susannahs bet; maybe a word here and there, but mostly it was just quack. And in any case, Mia certainly acted like the babys mother. Baby Mordred! It was like a Charles Addams cartoon. Dat she do, Detta mused. She ack like a Mommy, she wrapped around it root and branch, you right bout dat much. But maybe, Susannah thought, that was just her nature. Maybe once you got beyond the mothering instinct, there was no Mia. A cold hand reached out and seized Susannahs wrist. Who is it? Is it that nastytalking one? If it is, banish her. She scares me. She still scared Susannah a little, in all truth, but not as much as when shed first come to accept that Detta was real. They hadnt become friends and probably never would, but it was clear that Detta Walker could be a powerful ally. She was more than mean. Once you got past the idiotic Butterfly McQueen accent, she was shrewd. Dis Mia make a mighty powful ally her ownself, if you cd get her on yo side. Aint hardly nothin in the world as powful as a pissedoff Mommy. Were going back, Mia said. Ive answered your questions, the colds bad for the baby, and the mean ones here. Palavers done. But Susannah shook off her grip and moved back a little, out of Mias immediate reach. In the gap between the merlons the cold wind knifed through her light shirt, but it also seemed to clear her mind and refresh her thinking. Part of her is me, because she has access to my memories. Eddies ring, the people of River Crossing, Blaine the Mono. But shes got to be more than me as well, because  because  Go on, girl, you aint doin bad, but you slow. Because she knows all this other stuff, as well. She knows about the demons, both the little ones and the elementals. She knows how the Beams came into beingsort ofand about this magical soup of creation, the Prim. As far as I ever knew, prims a word you use for girls who are always yanking their skirts down over their knees. She didnt get that other meaning from me. It occurred to her what this conversation was like parents studying their new baby. Their new chap. Hes got your nose, Yes but hes got your eyes, and But my goodness, where did he get that hair? Detta said And she also got friens back in New York, dont forget dat. Least she want to think they her friens. So shes someone or something else, as well. Someone from the invisible world of house demons and illsicks. But who? Is she really one of the elementals? Detta laughed. She say so, but she lyin bout dat, sugar! I know she is! Then what is she? What was she, before she was Mia? All at once a phone, amplified to almost earsplitting shrillness, began to ring. It was so out of place on this abandoned castle tower that at first Susannah didnt know what it was. The things out there in the Discordiajackals, hyenas, whatever they werehad been subsiding, but with the advent of this sound they began to cackle and shriek again. Mia, daughter of none, mother of Mordred, knew that ringing for what it was immediately, however. She came forward. Susannah at once felt this world waver and lose its reality. It seemed almost to freeze and become something like a painting. Not a very good one, either. No! she shouted, and threw herself at Mia. But Miapregnant or not, scratched up or not, swollen ankles or no swollen anklesoverpowered her easily. Roland had shown them several handtohand tricks (the Detta part of her had crowed with delight at the nastiness of them), but they were useless against Mia; she parried each before Susannah had done more than get started. Sure, yes, of course, she knows your tricks just like she knows about Aunt Talitha in River Crossing and Topsy the Sailor in Lud, because she has access to your memories, because she is, at least to some extent, you And here her thoughts ended, because Mia had twisted her arms up behind her and oh dear God the pain was enormous. Aint you just the most babyish cunt, Detta said with a kind of genial, panting contempt, and before Susannah could reply, an amazing thing happened the world ripped open like a brittle piece of paper. This rip extended from the dirty cobbles of the allures floor to the nearest merlon and then on up into the sky. It raced into that starshot firmament and tore the crescent moon in two. There was a moment for Susannah to think that this was it, one or both of the final two Beams had snapped and the Tower had fallen. Then, through the rip, she saw two women lying on one of the twin beds in room 1919 of the PlazaPark Hotel. Their arms were around each other and their eyes were shut. They were dressed in identical bloodstained shirts and bluejeans. Their features were the same, but one had legs below the knee and straight silky hair and white skin. Dont you mess with me! Mia panted in her ear. Susannah could feel a fine, tickling spray of saliva. Dont you mess with me or with my chap. Because Im stronger, do you hear? Im stronger! There was no doubt about that, Susannah thought as she was propelled toward the widening hole. At least for now. She was pushed through the rip in reality. For a moment her skin seemed simultaneously on fire and coated with ice. Somewhere the todash chimes were ringing, and then SIX she sat up on the bed. One woman, not two, but at least one with legs. Susannah was shoved, reeling, to the back. Mia in charge now. Mia reaching for the phone, at first getting it wrongwayup and then reversing it. Hello? Hello! Hello, Mia. My name is She overrode him. Are you going to let me keep my baby? This bitch inside me says youre not! There was a pause, first long and then too long. Susannah felt Mias fear, first a rivulet and then a flood. You dont have to feel that way, she tried to tell her. Youre the one with what they want, with what they need, dont you see that? Hello, are you there? Gods, are you there? PLEASE TELL ME YOURE STILL THERE! Im here, the mans voice said calmly. Shall we start again, Mia, daughter of none? Or shall I ring off until youre feeling  a little more yourself? No! No, dont do that, dont do that I beg! You wont interrupt me again? Because theres no reason for unseemliness. I promise! My name is Richard P. Sayre. A name Susannah knew, but from where? You know where you need to go, dont you? Yes! Eager now. Eager to please. The Dixie Pig, Sixtyfirst and Lexingworth. Lexington, Sayre said. Odetta Holmes can help you find it, Im sure. Susannah wanted to scream Thats not my name! She kept silent instead. This Sayre would like her to scream, wouldnt he? Would like her to lose control. Are you there, Odetta? Pleasantly teasing. Are you there, you interfering bitch? She kept silent. Shes in there, Mia said. I dont know why shes not answering, Im not holding her just now. Oh, I think I know why, Sayre said indulgently. She doesnt like that name, for one thing. Then, in a reference Susannah didnt get Dont call me Clay no more, Clay my slave name, call me Muhammad Ali! Right, Susannah? Or was that after your time? A little after, I think. Sorry. Time can be so confusing, cant it? Never mind. I have something to tell you in a minute, my dear. You wont like it very much, I fear, but I think you should know. Susannah kept silent. It was getting harder. As for the immediate future of your chap, Mia, Im surprised youd even feel it necessary to ask, Sayre told her. He was a smoothie, whoever he was, his voice containing exactly the right amount of outrage. The King keeps his promises, unlike some I could name. And, issues of our integrity aside, think of the practical issues! Who else should have the keeping of perhaps the most important child to ever be born  including Christ, including Buddha, including the Prophet Muhammad? To who elses breast, if I may be crude, would we trust his suck? Music to her ears, Susannah thought dismally. All the things shes been thirsting to hear. And why? Because she is Mother. Youd trust him to me! Mia cried. Only to me, of course! Thank you! Thank you! Susannah spoke at last. Told her not to trust him. And was, of course, roundly ignored. Id no more lie to you than break a promise to my own mother, said the voice on the phone. (Did you ever have one, sugar? Detta wanted to know.) Even though the truth sometimes hurts, lies have a way of coming back to bite us, dont they? The truth of this matter is you wont have your chap for long, Mia, his childhood wont be like that of other children, normal children I know! Oh, I know! but for the five years you do have him  or perhaps seven, it might be as many as seven  hell have the best of everything. From you, of course, but also from us. Our interference will be minimal Detta Walker leaped forward, as quick and as nasty as a greaseburn. She was only able to take possession of Susannah Deans vocal cords for a moment, but it was a precious moment. Dass raht, dahlin, dass raht, she cackled, he wont come in yo mouf or get it in you hair! Shut that bitch UP! Sayre whipcracked, and Susannah felt the jolt as Mia shoved Detta head over heelsbut still cacklingto the back of their shared mind again. Once more into the brig. Had mah say, though, damn if I didnt! Detta cried. Ah tole that honky muhfuh! Sayres voice in the telephones earpiece was cold and clear. Mia, do you have control or not? Yes! Yes, I do! Then dont let that happen again. I wont! And somewhereit felt like above her, although there were no real directions here at the back of the shared mindsomething clanged shut. It sounded like iron. We really are in the brig, she told Detta, but Detta just went on laughing. Susannah thought Im pretty sure I know who she is, anyway. Besides me, that is. This truth seemed obvious to her. The part of Mia that wasnt either Susannah or something summoned from the void world to do the Crimson Kings bidding  surely the third part really was the Oracle, elemental or not; the female force that had at first tried to molest Jake and then had taken Roland, instead. That sad, craving spirit. She finally had the body she needed. One capable of carrying the chap. Odetta? Sayres voice, teasing and cruel. Or Susannah, if you like that better? I promised you news, didnt I? Its kind of a good newsbad news thing, Im afraid. Would you like to hear it? Susannah held her silence. The bad news is that Mias chap may not be able to fulfill the destiny of his name by killing his father, after all. The good news is that Roland will almost surely be dead in the next few minutes. As for Eddie, Im afraid theres no question. He doesnt have either your dinhs reflexes or his battle experience. My dear, youre going to be a widow very soon. Thats the bad news. She could hold her silence no longer, and Mia let her speak. You lie! About everything! Not at all, Sayre said calmly, and Susannah realized where she knew that name from the end of Callahans story. Detroit. Where hed violated his churchs most sacred teaching and committed suicide to keep from falling into the hands of the vampires. Callahan had jumped out of a skyscraper window to avoid that particular fate. He had landed first in MidWorld, and gone from there, via the Unfound Door, into the Calla Borderlands. And what hed been thinking, the Pere had told them, was They dont get to win, they dont get to win. And he was right about that, right, goddammit. But if Eddie died We knew where your dinh and your husband would be most likely to end up, should they be swept through a certain doorway, Sayre told her. And calling certain people, beginning with a chap named Enrico Balazar  I assure you, Susannah, that was easy. Susannah heard the sincerity in his voice. If he didnt mean what he said, then he was the worlds best liar. How could you find such a thing out? Susannah asked. When there was no answer she opened her mouth to ask the question again. Before she could, she was tumbled backward once more. Whatever Mia might have been once, she had grown to incredible strength inside Susannah. Is she gone? Sayre was asking. Yes, gone, in the back. Servile. Eager to please. Then come to us, Mia. The sooner you come to us, the sooner you can look your chap in the face! Yes! Mia cried, delirious with joy, and Susannah caught a sudden brilliant glimpse of something. It was like peeking beneath the hem of a circus tent at some bright wonder. Or a dark one. What she saw was as simple as it was terrible Pere Callahan, buying a piece of salami from a shopkeeper. A Yankee shopkeeper. One who ran a certain general store in the town of East Stoneham, Maine, in the year of 1977. Callahan had told them all this story in the rectory  and Mia had been listening. Comprehension came like a red sun rising on a field where thousands have been slaughtered. Susannah rushed forward again, unmindful of Mias strength, screaming it over and over again Bitch! Betraying bitch! Murdering bitch! You told them where the Door would send them! Where it would send Eddie and Roland! Oh you BITCH! SEVEN Mia was strong, but unprepared for this new attack. It was especially ferocious because Detta had joined her own murderous energy to Susannahs understanding. For a moment the interloper was pushed backward, eyes wide. In the hotel room, the telephone dropped from Mias hand. She staggered drunkenly across the carpet, almost tripped over one of the beds, then whirled about like a tipsy dancer. Susannah slapped at her and red marks appeared on her cheek like exclamation points. Slapping myself, thats all Im doing, Susannah thought. Beating up the equipment, how stupid is that? But she couldnt help it. The enormity of what Mia had done, the betraying enormity Inside, in some battlering which was not quite physical (but not entirely mental, either), Mia was finally able to clutch SusannahDetta by the throat and drive her back. Mias eyes were still wide with shock at the ferocity of the assault. And perhaps with shame, as well. Susannah hoped she was able to feel shame, that she hadnt gone beyond that. I did what I had to do, Mia repeated as she forced Susannah back into the brig. Its my chap, every hand is against me, I did what I had to do. You traded Eddie and Roland for your monster, thats what you did! Susannah screamed. Based on what you overheard and then passed on, Sayre was sure theyd use the Door to go after Tower, wasnt he? And how many has he set against them? The only answer was that iron clang. Only this time it was followed by a second. And a third. Mia had had the hands of her hostess clamped around her throat and was consequently taking no chances. This time the brigs door had been triplelocked. Brig? Hell, might as well call it the Black Hole of Calcutta. When I get out of here, Ill go back to the Dogan and disable all the switches! she cried. I cant believe I tried to help you! Well, fuck that! Have it on the street, for all of me! You cant get out, Mia replied, almost apologetically. Later, if I can, Ill leave you in peace What kind of peace will there be for me with Eddie dead? No wonder you wanted to take his ring off! How could you bear to have it lie against your skin, knowing what youd done? Mia picked up the telephone and listened, but Richard P. Sayre was no longer there. Probably had places to go and diseases to spread, Susannah thought. Mia replaced the telephone in its cradle, looked around at the empty, sterile room the way people do when they wont be coming back to a place and want to make sure theyve taken everything that matters. She patted one pocket of her jeans and felt the little wad of cash. Touched the other and felt the lump that was the turtle, the skldpadda. Im sorry, Mia said. I have to take care of my chap. Every hand is against me now. Thats not true, Susannah said from the locked room where Mia had thrown her. And where was it, really? In the deepest, darkest dungeons of the Castle on the Abyss? Probably. Did it matter? I was on your side. I helped you. I stopped your damn labor when you needed it stopped. And look what you did. How could you ever be so cowardly and low? Mia paused with her hand on the rooms doorknob, her cheeks flushing a dull red. Yes, she was ashamed, all right. But shame wouldnt stop her. Nothing would stop her. Until, that was, she found herself betrayed in turn by Sayre and his friends. Thinking of that inevitability gave Susannah no satisfaction at all. Youre damned, she said. You know that, dont you? I dont care, Mia said. An eternity in hells a fair price to pay for one look in my chaps face. Hear me well, I beg. And then, carrying Susannah and Detta with her, Mia opened the hotel room door, reentered the corridor, and took her first steps on her course toward the Dixie Pig, where terrible surgeons waited to deliver her of her equally terrible chap. STAVE Commalamoxnix! Youre in a nasty fix! To take the hand in a traitors glove Is to grasp a sheaf of sticks! RESPONSE Commalacomesix! Nothing there but thorns and sticks! When you find your hand in a traitors glove Youre in a nasty fix. 7TH STANZA THE AMBUSH ONE Roland Deschain was the last of Gileads last great band of warriors, for good reason; with his queerly romantic nature, his lack of imagination, and his deadly hands, he had ever been the best of them. Now he had been invaded by arthritis, but there was no dry twist in his ears or eyes. He heard the thud of Eddies head against the side of the Unfound Door as they were sucked through (and, ducking down at the last split second, only just avoided having his own skull broken in by the Doors top jamb). He heard the sound of birds, at first strange and distant, like birds singing in a dream, then immediate and prosaic and completely there. Sunlight struck his face and should have dazzled him blind, coming as he was from the dimness of the cave. But Roland had turned his eyes into slits the moment hed seen that bright light, had done it without thinking. Had he not, he surely would have missed the circular flash from two oclock as they landed on hardpacked, oildarkened earth. Eddie would have died for sure. Maybe both of them would have died. In Rolands experience, only two things glared with that perfect brilliant circularity eyeglasses and the long sight of a weapon. The gunslinger grabbed Eddie beneath the arm as unthinkingly as hed slitted his eyes against the glare of onrushing sunlight. Hed felt the tension in the younger mans muscles as their feet left the rockand bonelittered floor of the Doorway Cave, and he felt them go slack when Eddies head connected with the side of the Unfound Door. But Eddie was groaning, still trying to talk, so he was at least partly aware. Eddie, to me! Roland bellowed, scrambling to his feet. Bitter agony exploded in his right hip and raced almost all the way down to his knee, but he gave no sign. Barely registered it, in fact. He hauled Eddie with him toward a building, some building, and past what even Roland recognized as oil or gasoline pumps. These were marked MOBIL instead of CITGO or SUNOCO, two other names with which the gunslinger was familiar. Eddie was semiconscious at best. His left cheek was drenched with blood from a laceration in his scalp. Nevertheless, he put his legs to work as best he could and stumbled up three wooden steps to what Roland now recognized as a general store. It was quite a bit smaller than Tooks, but otherwise not much d A limber whipcrack of sound came from behind and slightly to the right. The shooter was close enough for Roland to feel confident that if he had heard the sound of the shot, the man with the rifle had already missed. Something passed within an inch of his ear, making its own perfectly clear sound Mizzzzzz! The glass in the little mercantiles front door shattered inward. The sign which had been hanging there (WERE OPEN, SO COME IN N VISIT) jumped and twisted. Rolan  Eddies voice, weak and distant, sounded as if it were coming through a mouthful of mush. Rolan wha  who  OWF! This last a grunt of surprise as Roland threw him flat inside the door and landed on top of him. Now came another of those limber whipcracks; there was a gunner with an extremely highpowered rifle out there. Roland heard someone shout Aw, fuck at, Jack! and a moment later a speedshooterwhat Eddie and Jake called a machinegunopened up. The dirty display windows on both sides of the door came crashing down in bright shards. The paperwork which had been posted inside the glasstown notices, Roland had no doubtwent flying. Two women and a gent of goingonelderly years were the only customers in the stores aisles. All three were turned toward the fronttoward Roland and Eddieand on their faces was the eternal uncomprehending look of the gunless civilian. Roland sometimes thought it a grasseating look, as though such folkthose in Calla Bryn Sturgis mostly no differentwere sheep instead of people. Down! Roland bellowed from where he lay on his semiconscious (and now breathless) companion. For the love of your gods get DOWN! The goingonelderly gent, who was wearing a checked flannel shirt in spite of the stores warmth, let go of the can hed been holding (there was a picture of a tomato on it) and dropped. The two women did not, and the speedshooters second burst killed them both, caving in the chest of one and blowing off the top of the others head. The chestshot woman went down like a sack of grain. The one whod been headshot took two blind, blundering steps toward Roland, blood spewing from where her hair had been like lava from an erupting volcano. Outside the store a second and third speedshooter began, filling the day with noise, filling the air above them with a deadly crisscross of slugs. The woman whod lost the top of her head spun around twice in a final dancestep, arms flailing, and then collapsed. Roland went for his gun and was relieved to find it still in its holster the reassuring sandalwood grip. So that much was well. The gamble had paid off. And he and Eddie certainly werent todash. The gunners had seen them, seen them very well. More. Had been waiting for them. Move in! someone was screaming. Move in, move in, dont give em a chance to find their peckers, move in, you catzarros! Eddie! Roland roared. Eddie, you have to help me now! Hizz ? Faint. Bemused. Eddie looking at him with only one eye, the right. The left was temporarily drowned in blood from his scalpwound. Roland reached out and slapped him hard enough to make blood fly from his hair. Harriers! Coming to kill us! Kill all here! Eddies visible eye cleared. It happened fast. Roland saw the effort that tooknot to regain his wits but to regain them at such speed, and despite a head that must be pounding monstrouslyand took a moment to be proud of Eddie. He was Cuthbert Allgood all over again, Cuthbert to the life. What the hells this? someone called in a cracked, excited voice. Just what in the blue hell is this? Down, Roland said, without looking around. If you want to live, get on the floor. Do what he says, Chip, someone else repliedprobably, Roland thought, the man whod been holding the can with the tomato on it. Roland crawled through litters of broken glass from the door, feeling pricks and prinks of pain as some cut his knees and knuckles, not caring. A bullet buzzed past his temple. Roland ignored that, too. Outside was a brilliant summer day. In the foreground were the two oilpumps with MOBIL printed on them. To one side was an old car, probably belonging to either the women shoppers (whod never need it again) or to Mr. Flannel Shirt. Beyond the pumps and the oiled dirt of the parking area was a paved country road, and on the other side of that a little cluster of buildings painted a uniform gray. One was marked TOWN OFFICE, one STONEHAM FIRE AND RESCUE. The third and largest was the TOWN GARAGE. The parking area in front of these buildings was also paved (metaled was Rolands word for it), and a number of vehicles had been parked there, one the size of a large buckawaggon. From behind them came more than half a dozen men at full charge. One hung back and Roland recognized him Enrico Balazars ugly lieutenant, Jack Andolini. The gunslinger had seen this man die, gunshot and then eaten alive by the carnivorous lobstrosities which lived in the shallow waters of the Western Sea, but here he was again. Because infinite worlds spun on the axle which was the Dark Tower, and here was another of them. Yet only one world was true; only one where, when things were finished, they stayed finished. It might be this one; it might not be. In either case, this was no time to worry about it. Up on his knees, Roland opened fire, fanning the trigger of his revolver with the hard ridge of his right hand, aiming first at the boys with the speedshooters. One of them dropped dead on the country roads white centerline with blood boiling out of his throat. The second was flung backward all the way to the roads dirt shoulder with a hole between his eyes. Then Eddie was beside him, also on his knees, fanning the trigger of Rolands other gun. He missed at least two of his targets, which wasnt surprising, given his condition. Three others dropped to the road, two dead and one screaming Im hit! Ah, Jack, help me, Im hit in the guts! Someone grabbed Rolands shoulder, unaware of what a dangerous thing that was to do to a gunslinger, especially one in a firefight. Mister, what in the hell Roland took a quick look, saw a fortyish man wearing both a tie and a butchers apron, had time to think, Shopkeeper, probably the one who gave Pere directions to the post office, and then shoved the man violently backward. A split second later, blood dashed backward from the left side of the mans head. Grooved, the gunslinger judged, but not seriously hurt, at least not yet. If Roland hadnt pushed him, however Eddie was reloading. Roland did the same, taking a bit longer thanks to the missing fingers on his right hand. Meanwhile, two of the surviving harriers had taken cover behind one of the old cars on this side of the road. Too close. Not good. Roland could hear the rumble of an approaching motor. He looked back at the fellow whod been quickwitted enough to drop when Roland told him to, thus avoiding the fate of the ladies. You! Roland said. Do you have a gun? The man in the flannel shirt shook his head. His eyes were a brilliant blue. Frightened, but not, Roland judged, panicky. In front of this customer, the shopkeeper was sitting up, spreadlegged, looking with sickened amazement at the red droplets pattering down and spreading on his white apron. Shopkeeper, do you keep a gun? Roland asked. Before the shopkeeper could answerif he was capable of answeringEddie grabbed Rolands shoulder. Charge of the Light Brigade, he said. The words came out mushysharr uvva lie briggaybut Roland wouldnt have understood the reference in any case. The important thing was that Eddie had seen another six men dashing across the road. This time they were spread out and zigzagging from side to side. Vai, vai, vai! Andolini bawled from behind them, sweeping both hands in the air. Christ, Roland, thats Tricks Postino, Eddie said. Tricks was once more toting an extremely large weapon, although Eddie couldnt be sure it was the oversized M16 hed called The Wonderful Rambo Machine. In any case, he was no luckier here than hed been in the shootout at the Leaning Tower Eddie fired and Tricks went down on top of one of the guys already lying in the road, still firing his assault weapon at them as he did so. This was probably nothing more heroic than a fingerspasm, final signals sent from a dying brain, but Roland and Eddie had to throw themselves flat again, and the other five outlaws reached cover behind the old cars on this side of the road. Worse still. Backed by covering fire from the vehicles across the streetthe vehicles these boys had come in, Roland was quite surethey would soon be able to turn this little store into a shooting gallery without too much danger to themselves. All of this was too close to what had happened at Jericho Hill. It was time to beat a retreat. The sound of the approaching vehicle continued to swella big engine, laboring under a heavy load, from the sound. What topped the rise to the left of the store was a gigantic truck filled with enormous cut trees. Roland saw the drivers eyes widen and his mouth drop open, and why not? Here in front of this smalltown mercantile where he had doubtless stopped many times for a bottle of beer or ale at the end of a long, hot day in the woods, lay half a dozen bleeding bodies scattered in the road like soldiers killed in a battle. Which was, Roland knew, exactly what they were. The big trucks front brakes shrieked. From the rear came the angrydragon chuff of the airbrakes. There was an accompanying scream of huge rubber tires first locking and then smoking black tracks on the metaled surface of the road. The trucks multiton load began to slew sideways. Roland saw splinters flying from the trees and into the blue sky as the outlaws on the far side of the road continued to fire heedlessly. There was something almost hypnotic about all this, like watching one of the Lost Beasts of Eld come tumbling out of the sky with its wings on fire. The trucks horseless front end ran over the first of the bodies. Guts flew in red ropes and splashed the dirt of the shoulder. Legs and arms were torn off. A wheel squashed Tricks Postinos head, the sound of his imploding skull like a chestnut bursting in a hot fire. The trucks load broached sideways and began to totter. Wheels fully as high as Rolands shoulders dug in and tossed up clouds of bloody dirt. The truck slid by the store with a majestic lack of speed. The driver was no longer visible in the cab. For a moment the store and the people inside it were blocked from the superior firepower on the other side of the road. The shopkeeperChipand the surviving customerMr. Flannel Shirtwere staring at the broaching truck with identical expressions of helpless amazement. The shopkeeper absently wiped blood from the side of his head and flicked it onto the floor like water.