Whatevah they see down theah, tell em to just ignore it. He raised an arm to motion his men onward, greatly relieved by what Lam had told him. Because they had to press the chase, didnt they? Sayre (or Walter o Dim, who was even worse) would very likely kill the lot of them if they failed to stop yon snotbabby. And Flaherty really did fear the idea of dragons, that was the other thing; had ever since his father had read him a story about such when he was a boy. The taheen stopped him before he could complete the letsgo gesture. What now, Lam? Flaherty snarled. You dont understand. Whats down there is real enough to kill you. To kill all of us. What do you see, then? This was no time to be curious, but that had always been Conor Flahertys curse. Lamla lowered his head. I dont like to say. Tis bad enough. The point is, sai, well die down there if were not careful. What happened to you might look like a stroke or a heart attack to a cutemup man, but twould be whatever you see down there. Anyone who doesnt think the imagination can kill is a fool. The rest had gathered behind the taheen now. They were alternating glances into the hazy clearing with looks at Lamla. Flaherty didnt like what he saw on their faces, not a bit. Killing one or two of those least willing to veil their sullen eyes might restore the enthusiasm of the rest, but what good would that do if Lamla was right? Cursed old people, always leaving their toys behind! Dangerous toys! How they complicated a mans life! A pox on every last one! Then how do we get past? Flaherty cried. For that mattah, how did the brat get past? Dunno about the brat, Lamla said, but all we need to do is shoot the projectors. What shitting projectors? Lamla pointed below  or along the course of the corridor, if what the ugly bastard said was true. There, Lam said. I know you cant see em, but take my word for it, theyre there. Either side. Flaherty was watching with a certain fascination as Jakes misty jungle clearing continued to change before his eyes into the deep dark forest, as in Once upon a time when everyone lived in the deep dark forest and nobody lived anywhere else, a dragon came to rampage. Flaherty didnt know what Lamla and the rest of them were seeing, but before his eyes the dragon (which had been a Tyrannasorbet Wrecks not so long ago) obediently rampaged, setting trees on fire and looking for little Catholic boys to eat. I see NOTHING! he shouted at Lamla. I think youah out of your shitting MIND! Ive seen em turned off, Lamla said quietly, and can recall near about where they lie. If youll let me bring up four men and set em shooting on either side, I dont believe it will take long to shut em down. And what will Sayre say when I tell him we shot the hell out of his precious mindtrap? Flaherty could have said. What will Walter o Dim say, for that mattah? For whats roont can never be fixed, not by such as us who know how to rub two sticks together and make a fire but not much more. Could have said but didnt. Because getting the boy was more important than any antique gadget of the old people, even one as amazing as yon mindtrap. And Sayre was the one who turned it on, wasnt he? Say aye! If there was explaining to be done, let Sayre do it! Let him make his knee to the big boys and talk till they shut him up! Meanwhile, the godsdamned snotbabby continued to rebuild the lead that Flaherty (whod had visions of being honored for stepping so promptly into the breach) and his men had so radically reduced. If only one of them had been lucky enough to hit the kid when he and his little furbag friend had been in view! Ah, but wish in one hand, shit in the other! See which one fills up first! Bring youah best shots, Flaherty said in his Back BayJohn F. Kennedy accent. Have at it. Lamla ordered three low men and one of the vamps forward, put two on each side, and talked to them rapidly in another language. Flaherty gathered that a couple of them had already been down here and, like Lam, remembered about where the projectors lay hidden in the walls. Meanwhile, Flahertys dragonor, more properly speaking, his das dragoncontinued to rampage in the deep dark forest (the jungle was completely gone now) and set things on fire. At lastalthough it seemed a very long time to Flaherty, it was probably less than thirty seconds  the sharpshooters began to fire. Almost immediately both forest and dragon paled before Flahertys eyes, turned into something that looked like overexposed movie footage. Thats one of em, cullies! Lamla yelled in a voice that became unfortunately ovine when it was raised. Pour it on! Pour it on for the love of your fathers! Half this crew probably never had such a thing, Flaherty thought morosely. Then came the clearly audible shattersound of breaking glass and the dragon froze in place with billows of flame issuing from its mouth and nostrils, as well as from the gills on the sides of its armored throat. Encouraged, the sharpshooters began firing faster, and a few moments later the clearing and the frozen dragon both disappeared. Where they had been was only more tiled hallway, with the tracks of those who had recently passed this way marking the dust. On either side were the shattered projector portals. All right! Flaherty yelled after giving Lamla an approving nod. Now were going after the kid, and were going to doubletime it, and were going to catch him, and were going to bring him back with his head on a stick! Are you with me? They roared savage agreement, none louder than Lamla, whose eyes glowed the same baleful yelloworange as the dragons breath. Good, then! Flaherty set off, roaring a tune any Marine drillcorps would have recognized We dont care how far you run WE DONT CARE HOW FAR YOU RUN! they bawled back as they trotted four abreast through the place where Jakes jungle had been. Their feet crunched in the shattered glass. Well bring you back before were done! WELL BRING YOU BACK BEFORE WERE DONE! You can run to Cain or Lud YOU CAN RUN TO CAIN OR LUD! Well eat your balls and drink your blood! They called it in return, and Flaherty picked up the pace yet a little more. ELEVEN Jake heard them coming again, comecomecommala. Heard them promising to eat his balls and drink his blood. Brag, brag, brag, he thought, but tried to run faster, anyway. He was alarmed to find he couldnt. Doing the mindswap with Oy had tired him out quite a little b No. Roland had taught him that selfdeception was nothing but pride in disguise, an indulgence to be denied. Jake had done his best to heed this advice, and as a result admitted that being tired no longer described his situation. The stitch in his side had grown fangs that had sunk deep into his armpit. He knew he had gained on his pursuers; he also knew from the shouted cadencechant that they were making up the distance theyd lost. Soon they would be shooting at him and Oy again, and while men didnt shoot for shit while they were running, someone could always get lucky. Now he saw something up ahead, blocking the corridor. A door. As he approached it, Jake allowed himself to wonder what hed do if Susannah wasnt on the other side. Or if she was there but didnt know how to help him. Well, he and Oy would make a stand, that was all. No cover, no way to reenact Thermopylae Pass this time, but hed throw plates and take heads until they brought him down. If he needed to, that was. Maybe he would not. Jake pounded toward the door, his breath now hot in his throat  close to burning  and thought, Its just as well. I couldnt have run much further, anyway. Oy got there first. He put his front paws on the ghostwood and looked up as if reading the words stamped into the door and the message flashing below them. Then he looked back at Jake, who came panting up with one hand pressed against his armpit and the remaining Orizas clanging loudly back and forth in their bag. NORTH CENTRAL POSITRONICS, LTD. New YorkFedic Maximum Security VERBAL ENTRY CODE REQUIRED 9 FINAL DEFAULT He tried the doorknob, but that was only a formality. When the chilly metal refused to turn in his grip, he didnt bother trying again but hammered the heels of both hands against the wood, instead. Susannah! he shouted. If youre there, let me in! Not by the hair of my chinnychinchin he heard his father say, and his mother, much more gravely, as if she knew storytelling was serious business I heard a fly buzz  when I died. From behind the door there was nothing. From behind Jake, the chanting voices of the Crimson Kings posse swept closer. Susannah! he bawled, and when there was no answer this time he turned, put his back to the door (hadnt he always known it would end just this way, with his back to a locked door?), and seized an Oriza in each hand. Oy stood between his feet, and now his fur was bushed out, now the velvetysoft skin of his muzzle wrinkled back to show his teeth. Jake crossed his arms, assuming the load. Come on then, you bastards, he said. For Gilead and the Eld. For Roland, son of Steven. For me and Oy. At first he was too fiercely concentrated on dying well, of taking at least one of them with him (the fellow whod told him the Faddah was dinnah would be his personal preference) and more if he could, to realize the voice he was hearing had come from the other side of the door rather than from his own mind. Jake! Is it really you, sugarpie? His eyes widened. Oh please let it not be a trick. If it was, Jake reckoned that he would never be played another. Susannah, theyre coming! Do you know how Yes! Should still be chassit, do you hear me? If Nigels right, the word should still be cha Jake didnt give her a chance to finish saying it again. Now he could see them sweeping toward him, running fullout. Some waving guns and already shooting into the air. Chassit! he yelled. Chassit for the Tower! Open! Open, you son of a bitch! Behind his pressing back the door between New York and Fedic clicked open. At the head of the charging posse, Flaherty saw it happen, uttered the bitterest curse in his lexicon, and fired a single bullet. He was a good shot, and all the force of his not inconsiderable will went with that particular slug, guiding it. No doubt it would have punched through Jakes forehead above the left eye, entering his brain and ending his life, had not a strong, brownfingered hand seized Jake by the collar at that very moment and yanked him backward through the shrill elevatorshaft whistle that sounds endlessly between the levels of the Dark Tower. The bullet buzzed by his head instead of entering it. Oy came with him, barking his friends name shrilly  AkeAke, AkeAke!and the door slammed shut behind them. Flaherty reached it twenty seconds later and hammered on it until his fists bled (when Lamla tried to restrain him, Flaherty thrust him back with such ferocity that the taheen went asprawl), but there was nothing he could do. Hammering did not work; cursing did not work; nothing worked. At the very last minute, the boy and the bumbler had eluded them. For yet a little while longer the core of Rolands katet remained unbroken. CHAPTER VI ON TURTLEBACK LANE  ONE See this, I do beg ya, and see it very well, for its one of the most beautiful places that still remain in America. Id show you a homely dirt lane running along a heavily wooded switchback ridge in western Maine, its north and south ends spilling onto Route 7 about two miles apart. Just west of this ridge, like a jewelers setting, is a deep green dimple in the landscape. At the bottom of itthe stone in the settingis Kezar Lake. Like all mountain lakes, it may change its aspect half a dozen times in the course of a single day, for here the weather is beyond prankish; you could call it halfmad and be perfectly accurate. The locals will be happy to tell you about icecream snow flurries that came to this part of the world once in late August (that would be 1948) and once spang on the Glorious Fourth (1959). Theyll be even more delighted to tell you about the tornado that came blasting across the lakes frozen surface in January of 1971, sucking up snow and creating a whirling miniblizzard that crackled with thunder in its middle. Hard to believe such crazyjane weather, but you could go and see Gary Barker, if you dont believe me; hes got the pictures to prove it. Today the lake at the bottom of the dimple is blacker than homemade sin, not just reflecting the thunderheads massing overhead but amplifying their mood. Every now and then a splinter of silver streaks across that obsidian lookingglass as lightning stabs out of the clouds overhead. The sound of thunder rolls through the congested sky west to east, like the wheels of some great stone bucka rolling down an alley in the sky. The pines and oaks and birches are still and all the world holds its breath. All shadows have disappeared. The birds have fallen silent. Overhead another of those great waggons rolls its solemn course, and in its wakehark!we hear an engine. Soon enough John Cullums dusty Ford Galaxie appears with Eddie Deans anxious face rising behind the wheel and the headlights shining in the premature gathering dark. TWO Eddie opened his mouth to ask Roland how far they were going, but of course he knew. Turtleback Lanes south end was marked by a sign bearing a large black 1, and each of the driveways splitting off lakeward to their left bore another, higher number. They caught glimpses of the water through the trees, but the houses themselves were below them on the slope and tucked out of sight. Eddie seemed to taste ozone and electric grease with every breath he drew, and twice patted the hair on the nape of his neck, sure it would be standing on end. It wasnt, but knowing it didnt change the nervous, witchy feeling of exhilaration that kept sweeping through him, lighting up his solar plexus like an overloaded circuitbreaker and spreading out from there. It was the storm, of course; he just happened to be one of those people who feel them coming along the ends of their nerves. But never ones approach as strongly as this. Its not all the storm, and you know it. No, of course not. Although he thought all those wild volts might somehow have facilitated his contact with Susannah. It came and went like the reception you sometimes got from distant radio stations at night, but since their meeting with (Ye Child of Roderick, ye spoiled, ye lost ) Chevin of Chayven, it had become much stronger. Because this whole part of Maine was thin, he suspected, and close to many worlds. Just as their katet was close to whole again. For Jake was with Susannah, and the two of them seemed to be safe enough for the time being, with a solid door between them and their pursuers. Yet there was something ahead of those two, as wellsomething Susannah either didnt want to talk about or couldnt make clear. Even so, Eddie had sensed both her horror of it and her terror that it might come back, and he thought he knew what it was Mias baby. Which had been Susannahs as well in some way he still didnt fully understand. Why an armed woman should be afraid of an infant, Eddie didnt know, but he was sure that if she was, there must be a good reason for it. They passed a sign that said FENN, 11, and another that said ISRAEL, 12. Then they came around a curve and Eddie stamped on the Galaxies brakes, bringing the car to a hard and dusty stop. Parked at the side of the road beside a sign reading BECKHARDT, 13, was a familiar Ford pickup truck and an even more familiar man leaning nonchalantly against the trucks rustspotted longbed, dressed in cuffed bluejeans and an ironed blue chambray shirt buttoned all the way to the closeshaved, wattled neck. He also wore a Boston Red Sox cap tilted just a little to one side as if to say I got the drop on you, partner. He was smoking a pipe, the blue smoke rising and seeming to hang suspended around his seamed and goodhumored face on the breathless prestorm air. All this Eddie saw with the clarity of his ampedup nerves, aware that he was smiling as you do when you come across an old friend in a strange placethe Pyramids of Egypt, the marketplace in old Tangiers, maybe an island off the coast of Formosa, or Turtleback Lane in Lovell on a thunderstruck afternoon in the summer of 1977. And Roland was also smiling. Old long, tall, and uglysmiling! Wonders never ceased, it seemed. They got out of the car and approached John Cullum. Roland raised a fist to his forehead and bent his knee a little. Hile, John! I see you very well. Ayuh, see you, too, John Cullum said. Clear as day. He skimmed a salute outward from beneath the brim of his cap and above the tangle of his eyebrows. Then he dipped his chin in Eddies direction. Young fella. Long days and pleasant nights, Eddie said, and touched his knuckles to his brow. He was not from this world, not anymore, and it was a relief to give up the pretense. Thats a pretty thing to say, John remarked. Then I beat you here. Kinda thought I might. Roland looked around at the woods on both sides of the road, and at the lane of gathering darkness in the sky above it. I dont think this is quite the place  ? In his voice was the barest touch of a question. Nope, it aint quite the place you want to finish up, John agreed, puffing his pipe. I passed where you want to finish up on mway in, and I tell you this if you mean to palaver, we better do it here rather than there. You go up there, you wont be able tdo nawthin but gape. I tell you, I aint never seen the beat of it. For a moment his face shone like the face of a child whos caught his first firefly in a jar and Eddie saw that he meant every word. Why? he asked. Whats up there? Is it walkins? Or is it a door? The idea occurred to him  and then seized him. It is a door, isnt it? And its open! John began to shake his head, then appeared to reconsider. Might be a door, he said, stretching the noun out until it became something luxurious, like a sigh at the end of a long hard day doeahh. Doesnt exactly look like a door, but  ayuh. Could be. Somewhere in that light? He appeared to calculate. Ayuh. But I think you boys want to palaver, and if we go up there to Cara Laughs, there wont be no palaver; just you standin there with your jaws dropped. Cullum threw back his head and laughed. Me, too! Whats Cara Laughs? Eddie asked. John shrugged. A lot of folks with lakefront properties name their houses. I think its because they pay smuch for em, they want a little more back. Anyway, Caras empty right now. Family named McCray from Washington D.C. owns it, but they gut it up for sale. Theyve run onto some hard luck. Fella had a stroke, and she  He made a bottletipping motion. Eddie nodded. There was a great deal about this Towerchasing business he didnt understand, but there were also things he knew without asking. One was that the core of the walkin activity in this part of the world was the house on Turtle back Lane John Cullum had identified as Cara Laughs. And when they got there, theyd find the identifying number at the head of the driveway was 19. He looked up and saw the stormclouds moving steadily west above Kezar Lake. West toward the White Mountains, too what was almost surely called the Discordia in a world not far from hereand along the Path of the Beam. Always along the Path of the Beam. What do you suggest, John? Roland asked. Cullum nodded at the sign reading BECKHARDT. Ive caretook for Dick Beckhardt since the late fifties, he said. Helluva nice man. Hes in Wasinton now, doin something with the Carter administration. Caaatah. I got a key. I think maybe we ought to go on down there. Its warm n dry, and I dont think its gonna be either one out here before long. You boys cn tell your tale, and I cn listenwhich is a thing I do tolably welland then we can all take a run up to Cara. I  well I just never He shook his head, took his pipe out of his mouth, and looked at them with naked wonder. I never seen the beat of it, I tell you. It was like I didnt even know how to look at it. Come on, Roland said. Well all ride down in your cartomobile, if it does ya. Does me just fine, John said, and got into the back. THREE Dick Beckhardts cottage was half a mile down, pinewalled, cozy. There was a potbellied stove in the living room and a braided rug on the floor. The westfacing wall was glass from end to end and Eddie had to stand there for a moment, looking out, in spite of the urgency of their errand. The lake had gone a shade of dead ebony that was somehow frighteninglike the eye of a zombie, he thought, and had no idea why he thought it. He had an idea that if the wind picked up (as it would surely do when the rain came), the whitecaps would ruffle the surface and make it easier to look at. Would take away that look of something looking back at you. John Cullum sat at Dick Beckhardts table of polished pine, took off his hat, and held it in the bunched fingers of his right hand. He looked at Roland and Eddie gravely. We know each other pretty damn well for folks who havent known each other very damn long, he said. Wouldnt you say thats so? They nodded. Eddie kept expecting the wind to begin outside, but the world went on holding its breath. He was willing to bet it was going to be one hellacious storm when it came. Folks gut tknow each other that way in the Army, John said. In the war. Aaamy. And war too Yankee for representation. Way it always is when the chipsre down, I shd judge. Aye, Roland agreed. Gunfire makes close relations, we say. Do ya? Now I know you gut things to tell me, but before you start, theres one thing I gut to tell you. And I shd smile n kiss a pig if it dont please you good n hard. What? Eddie asked. County Sheriff Eldon Royster took four fellas into custody over in Auburn couple of hours ago. Seems as though they was tryin to sneak past a police roadblock on a woods road and gut stuck for their trouble. John put his pipe in his mouth, took a wooden match from his breast pocket, and set his thumb against the tip. For the moment, however, he didnt flick it; only held it there. Reason they us tryin to sneak around is they seemed to have quite a fair amount of firepower. Fiahpowah. Machineguns, grenades, and some of that stuff they call C4. One of em was a fella I blieve you mentionedJack Andolini? And with that he popped the Diamond Bluetip alight. Eddie collapsed back in one of sai Beckhardts prim Shaker chairs, turned his head up to the ceiling, and bellowed laughter at the rafters. When he was tickled, Roland reflected, no one could laugh like Eddie Dean. At least not since Cuthbert Allgood had passed into the clearing. Handsome Jack Andolini, sitting in a county hoosegow in the State of Maine! he said. Roll me in sugar and call me a fuckin jellydoughnut! If only my brother Henry was alive to see it. Then Eddie realized that Henry probably was alive right nowsome version of him, anyway. Assuming the Dean brothers existed in this world. Ayuh, thought thatd please ya, John said, drawing the flame of the rapidly blackening match down into the bowl of his pipe. It clearly pleased him, too. He was grinning almost too hard to kindle his tobacco. Oh dearydear, Eddie said, wiping his eyes. That makes my day. Almost makes my year. I gut somethin else for ya, John said, but well let her be for now. The pipe was at last going to his satisfaction and he settled back, eyes shifting between the two strange, wandering men he had met earlier that day. Men whose ka was now entwined with his own, for better or worse, and richer or poorer. Right now Id like thear your story. And just what it is youd have me do. How old are you, John? Roland asked him. Not s old I dont still have a little get up n go, John replied, a trifle coldly. What about yself, chummy? How many times you ducked under the pole? Roland gave him a smilethe kind that said point taken, now lets change the subject. Eddie will speak for both of us, he said. They had decided on this during their ride from Bridgton. My own tales too long. Do you say so, John remarked. I do, Roland said. Let Eddie tell you his story, as much as he has time for, and well both tell what wed have you do, and then, if you agree, hell give you one thing to take to a man named Moses Carver  and Ill give you another. John Cullum considered this, then nodded. He turned to Eddie. Eddie took a deep breath. The first thing you ought to know is that I met this guy here in a middle of an airplane flight from Nassau, the Bahamas, to Kennedy Airport in New York. I was hooked on heroin at the time, and so was my brother. I was muling a load of cocaine. And when might this have been, son? John Cullum asked. The summer of 1987. They saw wonder on Cullums face but no shade of disbelief. So you do come from the future! Gorry! He leaned forward through the fragrant pipesmoke. Son, he said, tell your tale. And dontcha skip a goddam word. FOUR It took Eddie almost an hour and a halfand in the cause of brevity he did skip some of the things that had happened to them. By the time hed finished, a premature night had settled on the lake below them. And still the threatening storm neither broke nor moved on. Above Dick Beckhardts cottage thunder sometimes rumbled and sometimes cracked so sharply they all jumped. A stroke of lightning jabbed directly into the center of the narrow lake below them, briefly illuminating the entire surface a delicate nacreous purple. Once the wind arose, making voices move through the trees, and Eddie thought Itll come now, surely it will come now, but it did not. Nor did the impending storm leave, and this queer suspension, like a sword hanging by the thinnest of threads, made him think of Susannahs long, strange pregnancy, now terminated. At around seven oclock the power went out and John looked through the kitchen cabinets for a supply of candles while Eddie talked onthe old people of River Crossing, the mad people in the city of Lud, the terrified people of Calla Bryn Sturgis, where theyd met a former priest who seemed to have stepped directly out of a book. John put the candles on the table, along with crackers and cheese and a bottle of Red Zinger iced tea. Eddie finished with their visit to Stephen King, telling how the gunslinger had hypnotized the writer to forget their visit, how they had briefly seen their friend Susannah, and how they had called John Cullum because, as Roland said, there was no one else in this part of the world they could call. When Eddie fell silent, Roland told of meeting Chevin of Chayven on their way to Turtleback Lane. The gunslinger laid the silver cross hed shown Chevin on the table by the plate of cheese, and John poked the fine links of the chain with one thick thumbnail. Then, for a long time, there was silence. When he could bear it no longer, Eddie asked the old caretaker how much of the tale he believed. All of it, John said without hesitation. You gut to take care of that rose in New York, dont you? Yes, Roland said. Because thats whats kep one of those Beams safe while most of the others has been broken down by these whatdoyoucallem telepathics, the Breakers. Eddie was amazed at how quickly and easily Cullum had grasped that, but perhaps there was no reason to be. Fresh eyes see clear, Susannah liked to say. And Cullum was very much what the grays of Lud would have called a trig cove. Yes, Roland said. You say true. The rose is takin care of one Beam. Stephen Kings in charge of the other un. Least, thats what you think. Eddie said, Hed bear watching, Johnall else aside, hes got some lousy habitsbut once we leave this worlds 1977, we can never come back and check on him. King doesnt exist in any of these other worlds? John asked. Almost surely not, Roland said. Even if he does, Eddie put in, what he does in them doesnt matter. This is the key world. This, and the one Roland came from. This world and that one are twins. He looked at Roland for confirmation. Roland nodded and lit the last of the cigarettes John had given him earlier. I might be able to keep an eye on Stephen King, John said. He dont need to know Im doin it, either. That is, if I get back from doin your cussed business in New York. I gut me a pretty good idear what it is, but maybe youd better spell it out. From his back pocket he took a battered notepad with the words Mead Memo written on the green cover. He paged most of the way through it, found a blank sheet, produced a pencil from his breast pocket, licked the tip (Eddie restrained a shudder), and then looked at them as expectantly as any freshman on the first day of high school. Now, dearies, he said, why dont you tell your Uncle John the rest. FIVE This time Roland did most of the talking, and although he had less to say than Eddie, it still took him half an hour, for he spoke with great caution, every now and then turning to Eddie for help with a word or phrase. Eddie had already seen the killer and the diplomat who lived inside Roland of Gilead, but this was his first clear look at the envoy, a messenger who meant to get every word right. Outside, the storm still refused to break or to go away. At last the gunslinger sat back. In the yellow glow of the candles, his face appeared both ancient and strangely lovely. Looking at him, Eddie for the first time suspected there might be more wrong with him than what Rosalita Munoz had called the dry twist. Roland had lost weight, and the dark circles beneath his eyes whispered of illness. He drank off a whole glass of the red tea at a single draught, and asked Do you understand the things Ive told you? Ayuh. No more than that. Ken it very well, do ya? Roland pressed. No questions? Dont think so. Tell it back to us, then. John had filled two pages with notes in his looping scrawl. Now he paged back and forth between them, nodding to himself a couple of times. Then he grunted and returned the pad to his hip pocket. He may be a country cousin, but hes a long way from stupid, Eddie thought. And meeting him was a long way from just luck; that was ka having a very good day. Go to New York, John said. Find this fella Aaron Deepneau. Keep his buddy out of it. Convince Deepneau that takin care of the rose in that vacant lot is just about the most important job in the world. You can cut the justabout, Eddie said. John nodded as if that went without saying. He picked up the piece of notepaper with the cartoon beaver on top and tucked it into his voluminous wallet. Passing the bill of sale to him had been one of the harder things Eddie Dean had had to do since being sucked through the unfound door and into East Stoneham, and he came close to snatching it back before it could disappear into the caretakers battered old Lord Buxton. He thought he understood much better now about how Calvin Tower had felt. Because you boys now own the lot, you own the rose, John said. The Tet Corporation now owns the rose, Eddie said. A corporation of which youre about to become executive vicepresident. John Cullum looked unimpressed with his putative new title. He said, Deepneaus supposed to draw up articles of incorporation and make sure Tets legal. Then we go to see this fella Moses Carver and make sure he gets on board. Thats apt to be the hard part Haaaad paaaat but well give it our best go. Put Aunties cross around your neck, Roland said, and when you meet with sai Carver, show it to him. It may go a long way toward convincing him youre on the straight. But first you must blow on it, like this. On their ride from Bridgton, Roland had asked Eddie if he could think of any secretno matter how trivial or great which Susannah and her godfather might have shared in common. As a matter of fact Eddie did know such a secret, and he was now astounded to hear Susannah speak it from the cross which lay on Dick Beckhardts pine table. We buried Pimsy under the apple tree, where he could watch the blossoms fall in the spring, her voice said.


And Daddy Mose told me not to cry anymore, because God thinks to mourn a pet too long  Here the words faded away, first to a mutter and then to nothing at all. But Eddie remembered the rest and repeated it now  to mourn a pet too longs a sin. She said Daddy Mose told her she could go to Pimsys grave once in awhile and whis per Be happy in heaven but never to tell anyone else, because preachers dont hold much with the idea of animals going to heaven. And she kept the secret. I was the only one she ever told. Eddie, perhaps remembering that postcoital confidence in the dark of night, was smiling painfully. John Cullum looked at the cross, then up at Roland, wideeyed. What is it? Some kind of tape recorder? It aint, is it? Its a sigul, Roland said patiently. One that may help you with this fellow Carver, if he turns out to be what Eddie calls a hardass. The gunslinger smiled a little. Hardass was a term he liked. One he understood. Put it on. But Cullum didnt, at least not at once. For the first time since the old fellow had come into their acquaintanceincluding that period when theyd been under fire in the General Storehe looked genuinely discomposed. Is it magic? he asked. Roland shrugged impatiently, as if to tell John that the word had no useful meaning in this context, and merely repeated Put it on. Gingerly, as if he thought Aunt Talithas cross might glow redhot at any moment and give him a serious burn, John Cullum did as bid. He bent his head to look down at it (momentarily giving his long Yankee face an amusing burghers double chin), then tucked it into his shirt. Gorry, he said again, very softly. SIX Aware that he was speaking now as once hed been spoken to, Eddie Dean said Tell the rest of your lesson, John of East Stoneham, and be true. Cullum had gotten out of bed that morning no more than a country caretaker, one of the worlds unknown and unseen. Hed go to bed tonight with the potential of becoming one of the worlds most important people, a true prince of the Earth. If he was afraid of the idea, it didnt show. Perhaps he hadnt grasped it yet. But Eddie didnt believe that. This was the man ka had put in their road, and he was both trig and brave. If Eddie had been Walter at this moment (or Flagg, as Walter sometimes called himself), he believed he would have trembled. Well, John said, it dont mind a mite to ya who runs the company, but you want Tet to swallow up Holmes, because from now on the job doesnt have anything to do with makin toothpaste and cappin teeth, although it may go on lookin that way yet awhile. And whats Eddie got no further. John raised a gnarled hand to stop him. Eddie tried to imagine a Texas Instruments calculator in that hand and discovered he could, and quite easily. Weird. Gimme a chance, youngster, and Ill tell you. Eddie sat back, making a zipping motion across his lips. Keep the rose safe, thats first. Keep the writah safe, thats second. But beyond that, me and this guy Deepneau and this other guy Carver are sposed to build up one of the worlds most powerful corporations. We trade in real estate, we work with uh He pulled out the battered green pad, consulted it quickly, and put it away. We work with software developers, whatever they are, because theyre gonna be the next wave of technology. Were supposed to remember three words. He ticked them off. Microsoft. Microchips. Intel. And nmatter how big we growor how fastour three real jobs are the same protect the rose, protect Stephen King, and try to screw over two other companies every chance we get. Ones called Sombra. Others  There was the slightest of hesitations. The others North Central Positronics. Sombras mostly interested in proppity, accordin to you fellas. Positronics  well, science and gadgets, thats obvious even to me. If Sombra wants a piece of land, Tet tries tget it first. If North Central wants a patent, we try to get it first, or at least to frig it up for them. Throw it to a third party if it comes to that. Eddie was nodding approval. He hadnt told John that last, the old guy had come up with it on his own. Were the Three Toothless Musketeers, the Old Farts of the Apocalypse, and were supposed to keep those two outfits from gettin what they want, by fair means or foul. Dirty tricks most definitely allowed. John grinned. I never been to Harvard Business SchoolHaavid Biness Schoolbut I guess I can kick a fella in the crotch as wells anyone. Good, Roland said. He started to get up. I think its time we Eddie raised a hand to stop him. Yes, he wanted to get to Susannah and Jake; couldnt wait to sweep his darling into his arms and cover her face with kisses. It seemed years since he had last seen her on the East Road in Calla Bryn Sturgis. Yet he couldnt leave it at this as easily as Roland, who had spent his life being obeyed and had come to take the deathallegiance of complete strangers as a matter of course. What Eddie saw on the other side of Dick Beckhardts table wasnt another tool but an independent Yankee who was toughminded and smart as a whip  but really too old for what they were asking. And speaking of too old, what about Aaron Deepneau, the Chemotherapy Kid? My friend wants to get moving and so do I, Eddie said. Weve got miles to go yet. I know that. Its on your face, son. Like a scar. Eddie was fascinated by the idea of duty and ka as something that left a mark, something that might look like decoration to one eye and disfigurement to another. Outside, thunder cracked and lightning flashed. But why would you do this? Eddie asked. I have to know that. Why would you take all this on for two men you just met? John thought it over. He touched the cross he wore now and would wear until his death in the year of 1989the cross given to Roland by an old woman in a forgotten town. He would touch it just that way in the years ahead when contemplating some big decision (the biggest might have been the one to sever Tets connection with IBM, a company that had shown an everincreasing willingness to do business with North Central Positronics) or preparing for some covert action (the fire bombing of Sombra Enterprises in New Delhi, for instance, in the year before he died). The cross spoke to Moses Carver and never spoke again in Cullums presence no matter how much he blew on it, but sometimes, drifting to sleep with his hand clasped around it, he would think Tis a sigul. Tis a sigul, dearsomething that came from another world. If he had regrets toward the end (other than about some of the tricks, which were filthy indeed and cost more than one man his life), it was that he never got a chance to visit the world on the other side, which he glimpsed one stormy evening on Turtleback Lane in the town of Lovell. From time to time Rolands sigul sent him dreams of a field filled with roses, and a sootyblack tower. Sometimes he was visited by terrible visions of two crimson eyes, floating unattached to any body and relentlessly scanning the horizon. Sometimes there were dreams in which he heard the sound of a man relentlessly winding his horn. From these latter dreams he would awake with tears on his cheeks, those of longing and loss and love. He would awake with his hand closed around the cross, thinking I denied Discordia and regret nothing; I have spat into the bodiless eyes of the Crimson King and rejoice; I threw my lot with the gunslingers katet and the White and never once questioned the choice. Yet for all that he wished he could have walked out, just once, into that other land the one beyond the door. Now he said You boys want all the right things. I cant put it any clearer than that. I believe you. He hesitated. I believe in you. What I see in your eyes is true. Eddie thought he was done, and then Cullum grinned like a boy. Also it pears to me youre offerin the keys to one humongous great engine. Engyne. Who wouldnt want to turn it on, and see what it does? Are you scared? Roland asked. John Cullum considered the question, then nodded. Ayuh, he said. Roland nodded. Good, he said. SEVEN They drove back up to Turtleback Lane in Cullums car beneath a black, boiling sky. Although this was the height of the summer season and most of the cottages on Kezar were probably occupied, they saw not a single car moving in either direction. All the boats on the lake had long since run for cover. Said I had somethin else for ya, John said, and went to the back of his truck, where there was a steel lockbox snugged up against the cab. Now the wind had begun to blow. It swirled his scanty fluff of white hair around his head. He ran a combination, popped a padlock, and swung back the lockboxs lid. From inside he brought out two dusty bags the wanderers knew well. One looked almost new compared to the other, which was the scuffed nocolor of desert dust and laced its long length with rawhide. Our gunna! Eddie cried, so delightedand so amazed that the words almost came out in a scream. How in the name of hell? John offered them a smile that augured well for his future as a dirty trickster bemused on the surface, sly beneath. Nice surprise, aint it? Thought so mself. I went back to get a look at Chips storewhat us left of itwhile there was still a lot of confusion. People runnin hither, thither, and yon is what I mean to say; coverin bodies, stringin that yella tape, takin pitchers. Somebodyd put those bags off to one side and they looked just a dight lonely, so I  He shrugged one bony shoulder. I scooped em up. This would have been while we were visiting with Calvin Tower and Aaron Deepneau in their rented cabin, Eddie said. After you went back home, supposedly to pack for Vermont. Is that right? He was stroking the side of his bag. He knew that smooth surface very well; hadnt he shot the deer it had come from and scraped off the hair with Rolands knife and stitched the hide himself, with Susannah to help him? Not long after the great robot bear Shardik had almost unzipped Eddies guts, that had been. Sometime in the last century, it seemed. Yuh, Cullum said, and when the old fellows smile sweetened, Eddies last doubts about him departed. They had found the right man for this world. Say true and thank Gan bigbig. Strap on your gun, Eddie, Roland said, holding out the revolver with the worn sandalwood grips. Mine. Now he calls it mine. Eddie felt a small chill. I thought we were going to Susannah and Jake. But he took the revolver and belted it on willingly enough. Roland nodded. But I believe we have a little work to do first, against those who killed Callahan and then tried to kill Jake. His face didnt change as he spoke, but both Eddie Dean and John Cullum felt a chill. For a moment it was almost impossible to look at the gunslinger. So camealthough they did not know it, which was likely more mercy than such as they deservedthe death sentence of Flaherty, the taheen Lamla, and their katet. EIGHT Oh my God, Eddie tried to say, but no sound came out. He had seen brightness growing ahead of them as they drove north along Turtleback Lane, following the one working taillight of Cullums truck. At first he thought it might be the carriagelamps guarding some rich mans driveway, then perhaps floodlights. But the glow kept strengthening, a bluegolden brilliance to their left, where the ridge sloped down to the lake. As they approached the source of the light (Cullums pickup now barely crawling), Eddie gasped and pointed as a circle of radiance broke free of the main body and flew toward them, changing colors as it came blue to gold to red, red to green to gold and back to blue. In the center of it was something that looked like an insect with four wings. Then, as it soared above the bed of Cullums truck and into the dark woods on the east side of the road, it looked toward them and Eddie saw the insect had a human face. What  dear God, Roland, what Taheen, Roland said, and said no more. In the growing brilliance his face was calm and tired. More circles of light broke free of the main body and streamed across the road in cometary splendor. Eddie saw flies and tiny jeweled hummingbirds and what appeared to be winged frogs. Beyond them  The taillight of Cullums truck flashed bright, but Eddie was so busy goggling that he would have rearended the man had Roland not spoken to him sharply. Eddie threw the Galaxie into Park without bothering to either set the emergency brake or turn off the engine. Then he got out and walked toward the blacktop driveway that descended the steep wooded slope. His eyes were huge in the delicate light, his mouth hung open. Cullum joined him and stood looking down. The driveway was flanked by two signs CARA LAUGHS on the left and 19 on the right. Somethin, aint it? Cullum asked quietly. You got that right, Eddie tried to reply, and still no words would come out of his mouth, only a breathless wheeze. Most of the light was coming from the woods to the east of the road and to the left of the Cara Laughs driveway. Here the treesmostly pines, spruces, and birches bent from a latewinter ice stormwere spread far apart, and hundreds of figures walked solemnly among them as though in a rustic ballroom, their bare feet scuffing through the leaves. Some were pretty clearly Children of Roderick, and as roont as Chevin of Chayven. Their skins were covered with the sores of radiation sickness and very few had more than a straggle of hair, but the light in which they walked gave them a beauty that was almost too great to look upon. Eddie saw a oneeyed woman carrying what appeared to be a dead child. She looked at him with an expression of sorrow and her mouth moved, but Eddie could hear nothing. He raised his fist to his forehead and bent his leg. Then he touched the corner of one eye and pointed to her. I see you, the gesture said  or so he hoped. I see you very well. The woman bearing the dead or sleeping child returned the gesture, and then passed from sight. Overhead, thunder cracked sharply and lightning flashed down into the center of the glow. An ancient fir tree, its lusty trunk girdled with moss, took the bolt and split apart down its center, falling half one way and half the other. The inside was on fire. And a great gust of sparksnot fire, not this, but something with the ethereal quality of swamplightwent twisting up toward the hanging swags of the clouds. In those sparks Eddie saw tiny dancing bodies, and for a moment he couldnt breathe. It was like watching a squadron of Tinker Bells, there and then gone. Look at em, John said reverently. Walkins! Gorry, theres hundreds! I wish my friend Donnie was here to see. Eddie thought he was probably right hundreds of men, women, and children were walking through the woods below them, walking through the light, appearing and disappearing and then appearing again. As he watched, he felt a cold drop of water splash his neck, followed by a second and a third. The wind swooped down through the trees, provoking another upward gush of those fairylike creatures and turning the tree that had been halved by lightning into a pair of vast crackling torches. Come on, Roland said, grabbing Eddies arm. Its going to come a downpour and thisll go out like a candle. If were still on this side when it does, well be stuck here. Where Eddie began, and then he saw. Near the foot of the driveway, where the forest cover gave way to a tumble of rocks falling down to the lake, was the core of the glow, for the time being too bright to look at. Roland dragged him in that direction. John Cullum remained hypnotized for a moment longer by the walkins, then tried to follow them. No! Roland called over his shoulder. The rain was falling harder now, the drops cold on his skin and the size of coins. You have your work, John! Fare you well! And you, boys! John called back. He stopped and raised his hand in a wave. A bolt of electricity cut across the sky, momentarily lighting his face in brilliant blue and deepest black. And you! Eddie, were going to run into the core of the light, Roland said. Its not a door of the old people but of the Prim that is magic, do ye ken. Itll take us to the place we want, if we concentrate hard enough. Where Theres no time! Jakes told me where, by touch! Only hold my hand and keep your mind blank! I can take us! Eddie wanted to ask him if he was absolutely sure of that, but there was no time. Roland broke into a run. Eddie joined him. They sprinted down the slope and into the light. Eddie felt it breathing over his skin like a million small mouths. Their boots crackled in the deep leaf cover. To his right was the burning tree. He could smell the sap and the sizzle of its cooking bark. Now they closed in on the core of the light. At first Eddie could see Kezar Lake through it and then he felt an enormous force grip him and pull him forward through the cold rain and into that brilliant murmuring glare. For just a moment he glimpsed the shape of a doorway. Then he redoubled his grip on Rolands hand and closed his eyes. The leaflittered ground ran out beneath his feet and they were flying. CHAPTER VII REUNION  ONE Flaherty stood at the New YorkFedic door, which had been scarred by several gunshots but otherwise stood whole against them, an impassable barrier which the shitting kid had somehow passed. Lamla stood silent beside him, waiting for Flahertys rage to exhaust itself. The others also waited, maintaining the same prudent silence. Finally the blows Flaherty had been raining on the door began to slow. He administered one final overhand smash, and Lamla winced as blood flew from the humes knuckles. What? Flaherty asked, catching his grimace. What? Do you have something to say? Lamla cared not at all for the white circles around Flahertys eyes and the hard red roses in Flahertys cheeks. Least of all for the way Flahertys hand had risen to the butt of the Glock automatic hanging beneath his armpit. No, he said. No, sai. Go on, say whats on your mind, do it please ya, Flaherty persisted. He tried to smile and produced a gruesome grin insteadthe leer of a madman. Quietly, with barely a rustle, the rest pulled back. Others will have plenty to say; why shouldnt you start, my cully? I lost him! Be the first to carp, you ugly motherfucker! Im dead, Lamla thought. After a life of service to the King, one unguarded expression in the presence of a man who needs a scapegoat, and Im dead. He looked around, verifying that none of the others would step in for him, and then said Flaherty, if Ive offended you in some way Im sor Oh, youve offended me, sure enough! Flaherty shrieked, his Boston accent growing thicker as his rage escalated. Im sure Ill pay for tonights work, aye, but I think youll pay fir There was a kind of gasp in the air around them, as if the corridor itself had inhaled sharply. Flahertys hair and Lamlas fur rippled. Flahertys posse of low men and vampires began to turn. Suddenly one of them, a vamp named Albrecht, shrieked and bolted forward, allowing Flaherty a view of two newcomers, men with raindrops still fresh and dark on their jeans and boots and shirts. There was traildusty gunnagar at their feet and revolvers hung at their hips. Flaherty saw the sandalwood grips in the instant before the younger one drew, faster than blue blazes, and understood at once why Albrecht had run. Only one sort of man carried guns that looked like that. The young one fired a single shot. Albrechts blond hair jumped as if flicked by an invisible hand and then he collapsed forward, fading within his clothes as he did so. Hile, you bondsmen of the King, the older one said. He spoke in a purely conversational tone. Flahertyhis hands still bleeding from his extravagant drumming on the door through which the snotbabby had disappearedcould not seem to get the sense of him. It was the one of whom they had been warned, surely it was Roland of Gilead, but how had he gotten here, and on their blindside? How? Rolands cold blue eyes surveyed them. Which of this sorry herd calls himself dinh? Will that one honor us by stepping forward or not? Not? His eyes surveyed them; his left hand departed the vicinity of his gun and journeyed to the corner of his mouth, where a small sarcastic smile had bloomed. Not? Too bad. Thart cowards after all, Im sorry to see. Theed kill a priest and chase a lad but not stand and claim thy days work. Thart cowards and the sons of cow Flaherty stepped forward with his bleeding right hand clasped loosely around the butt of the gun that hung below his left armpit in a dockers clutch. That would be me, RolandofSteven. You know my name, do you? Aye! I know your name by your face, and your face by your mouth. Tis the same as the mouth of your mother, who did suck John Farson with such glee until he spewed is Flaherty drew as he spoke, a bushwhackers trick hed no doubt practiced and used before to advantage. And although he was fast and the forefinger of Rolands left hand still touched the side of his mouth when Flahertys draw began, the gunslinger beat him easily. His first bullet passed between the lips of Jakes chief harrier, exploding the teeth at the front of his upper jaw to bone fragments which Flaherty drew down his throat with his dying breath. His second pierced Flahertys forehead between the eyebrows and he was flung back against the New YorkFedic door with the unfired Glock spilling from his hand to discharge a final time on the hallway floor. Most of the others drew a splitsecond later. Eddie killed the six in front, having taken time to reload the chamber hed fired at Albrecht. When the revolver was empty, he rolled behind his dinh to reload, as he had been taught. Roland picked off the next five, then rolled smoothly behind Eddie, who took out the rest save one. Lamla had been too cunning to try and so was the last standing. He raised his empty hands, the fingers furry and the palms smooth. Will ye grant me parole, gunslinger, if I promise ye peace? Not a bit, Roland said, and cocked his revolver. Be damned to you, then, charyka, said the taheen, and Roland of Gilead shot him where he stood, and Lamla of Galee fell down dead. TWO Flahertys posse lay stacked in front of the door like cordwood, Lamla facedown in front. Not a single one had had a chance to fire. The tilethroated corridor stank of the gunsmoke which hung in a blue layer. Then the purifiers kicked in, chugging wearily in the wall, and the gunslingers felt the air first stirred into motion and then sucked across their faces. Eddie reloaded the gunhis, now, so he had been told and dropped it back into its holster. Then he went to the dead and yanked four of them absently aside so he could get to the door. Susannah! Suze, are you there? Do any of us, except in our dreams, truly expect to be reunited with our hearts deepest loves, even when they leave us only for minutes, and on the most mundane of errands? No, not at all. Each time they go from our sight we in our secret hearts count them as dead. Having been given so much, we reason, how could we expect not to be brought as low as Lucifer for the staggering presumption of our love? So Eddie didnt expect her to answer until she didfrom another world, and through a single thickness of wood. Eddie? Sugar, is it you? Eddies head, which had seemed perfectly normal only seconds before, was suddenly too heavy to hold up. He leaned it against the door. His eyes were similarly too heavy to hold open and so he closed them. The weight must have been tears, for suddenly he was swimming in them. He could feel them rolling down his cheeks, warm as blood. And Rolands hand, touching his back. Susannah, Eddie said. His eyes were still closed. His fingers were splayed on the door. Can you open it? Jake answered. No, but you can. What word? Roland asked. He had been alternating glances at the door with looks behind him, almost hoping for reinforcements (for his blood was up), but the tiled corridor was empty. What word, Jake? There was a pause  brief, but it seemed very long to Eddieand then both spoke together. Chassit, they said. Eddie didnt trust himself to say it; his throat was too full of tears. Roland had no such problem. He hauled several more bodies away from the door (including Flahertys, his face still fixed in its final snarl) and then spoke the word. Once again the door between the worlds clicked open. It was Eddie who opened it wide and then the four of them were facetoface again, Susannah and Jake in one world, Roland and Eddie in another, and between them a shimmering transparent membrane like living mica. Susannah held out her hands and they plunged through the membrane like hands emerging from a body of water that had been somehow magically turned on its side. Eddie took them. He let her fingers close over his and draw him into Fedic. THREE By the time Roland stepped through, Eddie had already lifted Susannah and was holding her in his arms. The boy looked up at the gunslinger. Neither of them smiled. Oy sat at Jakes feet and smiled for both of them. Hile, Jake, Roland said. Hile, Father. Will you call me so? Jake nodded. Yes, if I may. Such would please me ever, Roland said. Then, slowlyas one performs an action with which hes unfamiliarhe held out his arms. Looking up at him solemnly, never taking his eyes from Rolands face, the boy Jake moved between those killers hands and waited until they locked at his back. He had had dreams of this that he would never have dared to tell. Susannah, meanwhile, was covering Eddies face with kisses. They almost got Jake, she was saying. I sat down on my side of the door  and I was so tired I nodded off. He musta called me three, four times before I  Later he would hear her tale, every word and to the end. Later there would be time for palaver. For now he cupped her breastthe left one, so he could feel the strong, steady beat of her heartand then stopped her speech with his mouth. Jake, meanwhile, said nothing. He stood with his head turned so his cheek rested against Rolands midsection. His eyes were closed. He could smell rain and dust and blood on the gunslingers shirt. He thought of his parents, who were lost; his friend Benny, who was dead; the Pere, who had been overrun by all those from whom he had so long fled. The man he held had betrayed him once for the Tower, had let him fall, and Jake couldnt say the same might not happen again. Certainly there were miles ahead, and they would be hard ones. Still, for now, he was content. His mind was quiet and his sore heart was at peace. It was enough to hold and be held. Enough to stand here with his eyes shut and to think My father has come for me.  CHAPTER I THE DEVARTETE  ONE The four reunited travelers (five, counting Oy of MidWorld) stood at the foot of Mias bed, looking at what remained of Susannahs twim, which was to say her twin. Without the deflated clothes to give the corpse some definition, probably none of them could have said for certain what it had once been. Even the snarl of hair above the split gourd of Mias head looked like nothing human; it could have been an exceptionally large dustbunny. Roland looked down at the disappearing features, wondering that so little remained of the woman whose obsessionthe chap, the chap, always the chaphad come so near to wrecking their enterprise for good. And without them, who would remain to stand against the Crimson King and his infernally clever chancellor? John Cullum, Aaron Deepneau, and Moses Carver. Three old men, one of them with blackmouth disease, which Eddie called cant, sir. So much you did, he thought, gazing raptly at the dusty, dissolving face. So much you did and so much more you would have done, aye, and all without a check or qualm, and so will the world end, I think, a victim of love rather than hate. For loves ever been the more destructive weapon, sure. He leaned forward, smelling what could have been old flowers or ancient spices, and exhaled. The thing that looked vaguely like a head even now blew away like milkweed fluff or a dandyo ball. She meant no harm to the universe, Susannah said, her voice not quite steady. She only wanted any womans privilege to have a baby. Someone to love and raise. Aye, Roland agreed, you say true. Which is what makes her end so black. Eddie said, Sometimes I think wed all be better off if the people who mean well would just creep away and die. Thatd be the end of us, Big Ed, Jake pointed out. They all considered this, and Eddie found himself wondering how many theyd already killed with their wellintentioned meddling. The bad ones he didnt care about, but there had been others, tooRolands lost love, Susan, was only one. Then Roland left the powdery remains of Mias corpse and came to Susannah, who was sitting on one of the nearby beds with her hands clasped between her thighs. Tell me everything that befell since you left us on the East Road, after the battle, he said. We need to Roland, I never meant to leave you. It was Mia. She took over. If I hadnt had a place to goa Doganshe mightve taken over completely. Roland nodded to show he understood that. Nevertheless, tell me how you came to this devartete. And Jake, Id hear the same from you. Devartete, Eddie said. The phrase held some faint familiarity. Did it have something to do with Chevin of Chayven, the slow mutie Roland had put out of its misery in Lovell? He thought so. Whats that? Roland swept a hand at the room with all its beds, each with its helmetlike machine and segmented steel hose; beds where the gods only knew how many children from the Callas had lain, and been ruined. It means little prison, or torturechamber. Doesnt look so little to me, Jake said. He couldnt tell how many beds there were, but he guessed the number at three hundred. Three hundred at least. Mayhap well come upon a larger one before were finished. Tell your tale, Susannah, and you too, Jake. Where do we go from here? Eddie asked. Perhaps the tale will tell, Roland answered. TWO Roland and Eddie listened in silent fascination as Susannah and Jake recounted their adventures, turn and turn about. Roland first halted Susannah while she was telling them of Mathiessen van Wyck, who had given her his money and rented her a hotel room. The gunslinger asked Eddie about the turtle in the lining of the bag. I didnt know it was a turtle. I thought it might be a stone. If youd tell this part again, Id hear, Roland said. So, thinking carefully, trying to remember completely (for it all seemed a very long time ago), Eddie related how he and Pere Callahan had gone up to the Doorway Cave and opened the ghostwood box with Black Thirteen inside. Theyd expected Black Thirteen to open the door, and so it had, but first We put the box in the bag, Eddie said. The one that said NOTHING BUT STRIKES AT MIDTOWN LANES in New York and NOTHING BUT STRIKES AT MIDWORLD LANES on the Calla Bryn Sturgis side. Remember? They all did. And I felt something in the lining of the bag. I told Callahan, and he said  Eddie mulled it over. He said, This isnt the time to investigate it. Or something like that. I agreed. I remember thinking we had enough mysteries on our hands already, wed save this one for another day. Roland, who in Gods name put that thing in the bag, do you think? For that matter, who left the bag in the vacant lot? Susannah asked. Or the key? Jake chimed in. I found the key to the house in Dutch Hill in that same lot. Was it the rose? Did the rose somehow I dunno  make them? Roland thought about it. Were I to guess, he said, Id say that sai King left those signs and siguls. The writer, Eddie said. He weighed the idea, then nodded slowly. He vaguely remembered a concept from high school the god from the machine, it was called. There was a fancy Latin term for it as well, but that one he couldnt remember. Had probably been writing Mary Lou Kenopenskys name on his desk while the other kids had been obediently taking notes.


The basic concept was that if a playwright got himself into a corner he could send down the god, who arrived in a flowerdecked bucka wagon from overhead and rescued the characters who were in trouble. This no doubt pleased the more religious playgoers, who believed that Godnot the specialeffects version who came down from some overhead platform the audience couldnt see but the One who wert in heaven really did save people who deserved it. Such ideas had undoubtedly gone out of fashion in the modern age, but Eddie thought that popular novelistsof the sort sai King seemed on his way to becomingprobably still used the technique, only disguising it better. Little escape hatches. Cards that read GET OUT OF JAIL FREE or ESCAPE THE PIRATES or FREAK STORM CUTS ELECTRICAL POWER, EXECUTION POSTPONED. The god from the machine (who was actually the writer), patiently working to keep the characters safe so his tale wouldnt end with an unsatisfying line like And so the katet was wiped out on Jericho Hill and the bad guys won, rule Discordia, so sorry, better luck next time ( what next time, haha), THE END. Little safety nets, like a key. Not to mention a scrimshaw turtle. If he wrote those things into his story, Eddie said, it was long after we saw him in 1977. Aye, Roland agreed. And I dont think he thought them up, Eddie said. Not really. Hes just I dunno, just a  A bumhug? Susannah asked, smiling. No! Jake said, sounding a little shocked. Not that. Hes a sender. A telecaster. He was thinking about his father and his fathers job at the Network. Bingo, Eddie said, and leveled a finger at the boy. This idea led him to another that if Stephen King did not remain alive long enough to write those things into his tale, the key and the turtle would not be there when they were needed. Jake would have been eaten by the Doorkeeper in the house on Dutch Hill  always assuming he got that far, which he probably wouldnt have done. And if he escaped the Dutch Hill monster, he wouldve been eaten by the GrandfathersCallahans Type One vampiresin the Dixie Pig. Susannah thought to tell them about the vision shed had as Mia was beginning her final journey from the PlazaPark Hotel to the Dixie Pig. In this vision shed been jugged in a jail cell in Oxford, Mississippi, and there had been voices coming from a TV somewhere. Chet Huntley, Walter Cronkite, Frank McGee newscasters chanting the names of the dead. Some of those names, like President Kennedy and the Diem brothers, shed known. Others, like Christa McAuliffe, she had not. But one of the names had been Stephen Kings, she was quite sure of it. Chet Huntleys partner (good night Chet good night David ) saying that Stephen King had been struck and killed by a Dodge minivan while walking near his house. King had been fiftytwo, according to Brinkley. Had Susannah told them that, a great many things might have happened differently, or not at all. She was opening her mouth to add it into the conversationa falling chip on a hillside strikes a stone which strikes a larger stone which then strikes two others and starts a landslidewhen there was the clunk of an opening door and the clack of approaching footsteps. They all turned, Jake reaching for a Riza, the others for their guns. Relax, fellas, Susannah murmured. Its all right. I know this guy. And then to DNK 45932, DOMESTIC, she said I didnt expect to see you again so soon. In fact, I didnt expect to see you at all. Whats up, Nigel old buddy? So this time something which might have been spoken was not, and the deus ex machina which might have descended to rescue a writer who had a date with a Dodge minivan on a latespring day in the year of 99 remained where it was, high above the mortals who acted their parts below. THREE The nice thing about robots, in Susannahs opinion, was that most of them didnt hold grudges. Nigel told her that no one had been available to fix his visual equipment (although he might be able to do it himself, he said, given access to the right components, discs, and repair tutorials), so he had come back here, relying on the infrared, to pick up the remains of the shattered (and completely unneeded) incubator. He thanked her for her interest and introduced himself to her friends. Nice to meet you, Nige, Eddie said, but youll want to get started on those repairs, I kennit, so we wont keep you. Eddies voice was pleasant and hed reholstered his gun, but he kept his hand on the butt. In truth he was a little bit freaked by the resemblance Nigel bore to a certain messenger robot in the town of Calla Bryn Sturgis. That one had held a grudge. No, stay, Roland said. We may have chores for you, but for the time being Id as soon you were quiet. Turned off, if it please you. And if it doesnt, his tone implied. Certainly, sai, Nigel replied in his plummy British accent. You may reactivate me with the words Nigel, I need you. Very good, Roland said. Nigel folded his scrawny (but undoubtedly powerful) stainlesssteel arms across his chest and went still. Came back to pick up the broken glass, Eddie marveled. Maybe the Tet Corporation could sell em. Every housewife in America would want twoone for the house and one for the yard. The less were involved with science, the better, Susannah said darkly. In spite of her brief nap while leaning against the door between Fedic and New York, she looked haggard, done almost to death. Look where its gotten this world. Roland nodded to Jake, who told of his and Pere Callahans adventures in the New York of 1999, beginning with the taxi that had almost hit Oy and ending with their twoman attack on the low men and the vampires in the dining room of the Dixie Pig. He did not neglect to tell how they had disposed of Black Thirteen by putting it in a storage locker at the World Trade Center, where it would be safe until early June of 2002, and how they had found the turtle, which Susannah had dropped, like a message in a bottle, in the gutter outside the Dixie Pig. So brave, Susannah said, and ruffled Jakes hair. Then she bent to stroke Oys head. The bumbler stretched his long neck to maximize the caress, his eyes halfclosed and a grin on his foxy little face. So damned brave. Thankeesai, Jake. Thank Ake! Oy agreed. If it hadnt been for the turtle, they would have gotten us both. Jakes voice was steady, but he had gone pale. As it was, the Pere he Jake wiped away a tear with the heel of his hand and gazed at Roland. You used his voice to send me on. I heard you. Aye, I had to, the gunslinger agreed. Twas no more than what he wanted. Jake said, The vampires didnt get him. He used my Ruger before they could take his blood and change him into one of them. I dont think they wouldve done that, anyway. They would have torn him apart and eaten him. They were mad. Roland was nodding. The last thing he sent  I think he said it out loud, although Im not sureit was  Jake considered it. He was weeping freely now. He said May you find your Tower, Roland, and breach it, and may you climb to the top. Then  Jake made a little puffing sound between his pursed lips. Gone. Like a candleflame. To whatever worlds there are. He fell silent. For several moments they all did, and the quiet had the feel of a deliberate thing. Then Eddie said, All right, were back together again. What the hell do we do next? FOUR Roland sat down with a grimace, then gave Eddie Dean a look which saidclearer than any words ever could have done Why do you try my patience? All right, Eddie said, its just a habit. Quit giving me the look. Whats a habit, Eddie? Eddie thought of his final bruising, addictive year with Henry less frequently these days, but he thought of it now. Only he didnt like to say so, not because he was ashamed Eddie really thought he might be past thatbut because he sensed the gunslingers growing impatience with Eddies explaining things in terms of his big brother. And maybe that was fair. Henry had been the defining, shaping force in Eddies life, okay. Just as Cort had been the defining, shaping force in Rolands  but the gunslinger didnt talk about his old teacher all the time. Asking questions when I already know the answer, Eddie said. And whats the answer this time? Were going to backtrack to Thunderclap before we go on to the Tower. Were either going to kill the Breakers or set them free. Whatever it takes to make the Beams safe. Well kill Walter, or Flagg, or whatever hes calling himself. Because hes the field marshal, isnt he? He was, Roland agreed, but now a new player has come on the scene. He looked at the robot. Nigel, I need you. Nigel unfolded his arms and raised his head. How may I serve? By getting me something to write with. Is there such? Pens, pencils, and chalk in the Supervisors cubicle at the far end of the Extraction Room, sai. Or so there was, the last time I had occasion to be there. The Extraction Room, Roland mused, studying the serried ranks of beds. Do you call it so? Yes, sai. And then, almost timidly Vocal elisions and fricatives suggest that youre angry. Is that the case? They brought children here by the hundreds and thousandshealthy ones, for the most part, from a world where too many are still born twistedand sucked away their minds. Why would I be angry? Sai, Im sure I dont know, Nigel said. He was, perhaps, repenting his decision to come back here. But I had no part in the extraction procedures, I assure you. I am in charge of domestic services, including maintenance. Bring me a pencil and a piece of chalk. Sai, you wont destroy me, will you? It was Dr. Scowther who was in charge of the extractions over the last twelve or fourteen years, and Dr. Scowther is dead. This ladysai shot him, and with his own gun. There was a touch of reproach in Nigels voice, which was quite expressive within its narrow range. Roland only repeated Bring me a pencil and a piece of chalk, and do it jinjin. Nigel went off on his errand. When you say a new player, you mean the baby, Susannah said. Certainly. He has two fathers, that bahbo. Susannah nodded. She was thinking about the tale Mia had told her during their todash visit to the abandoned town of Fedicabandoned, that was, except for the likes of Sayre and Scowther and the marauding Wolves. Two women, one white and one black, one pregnant and one not, sitting in chairs outside the GinPuppy Saloon. There Mia had told Eddie Deans wife a great dealmore than either of them had known, perhaps. Thats where they changed me, Mia had told her, they presumably meaning Scowther and a team of other doctors. Plus magicians? Folk like the Manni, only gone over to the other side? Maybe. Who could say? In the Extraction Room shed been made mortal. Then, with Rolands sperm already in her, something else had happened. Mia didnt remember much about that part, only a red darkness. Susannah wondered now if the Crimson King had come to her in person, mounting her with its huge and ancient spiders body, or if its unspeakable sperm had been transported somehow to mix with Rolands. In either case, the baby grew into the loathsome hybrid Susannah had seen not a werewolf but a werespider. And now it was out there, somewhere. Or perhaps it was here, watching them even as they palavered and Nigel returned with various writing implements. Yes, she thought. Its watching us. And hating us  but not equally. Mostly its Roland the dantete hates. Its first father. She shivered. Mordred means to kill you, Roland, she said. Thats its job. What it was made for. To end you, and your quest, and the Tower. Yes, Roland said, and to rule in his fathers place. For the Crimson King is old, and I have come more and more to believe that he is imprisoned, somehow. If thats so, then hes no longer our real enemy. Will we go to his castle on the other side of the Discordia? Jake asked. It was the first time hed spoken in half an hour. We will, wont we? I think so, yes, Roland said. Le Casse Roi Russe, the old legends call it. Well go there katet and slay what lives there. Let it be so, Eddie said. By God, let that be so. Aye, Roland agreed. But our first job is the Breakers. The Beamquake we felt in Calla Bryn Sturgis, just before we came here, suggests that their work is nearly done. Yet even if it isnt Ending what theyre doing is our job, Eddie said. Roland nodded. He looked more tired than ever. Aye, he said. Killing them or setting them free. Either way, we must finish their meddling with the two Beams that remain. And we must finish off the dantete. The one that belongs to the Crimson King  and to me. FIVE Nigel ended up being quite helpful (although not just to Roland and his katet, as things fell). To begin with he brought two pencils, two pens (one of them a great old thing that would have looked at home in the hand of a Dickens scrivener), and three pieces of chalk, one of them in a silver holder that looked like a ladys lipstick. Roland chose this and gave Jake another piece. I cant write words youd understand easily, he said, but our numbers are the same, or close enough. Print what I say to one side, Jake, and fair. Jake did as he was bid. The result was crude but understandable enough, a map with a legend. Fedic, Roland said, pointing to 1, and then drew a short chalk line to 2. And heres Castle Discordia, with the doors beneath. An almighty tangle of em, from what we hear. Therell be a passage thatll take us from here to there, under the castle. Now, Susannah, tell again how the Wolves go, and what they do. He handed her the chalk in its holder. She took it, noticing with some admiration that it sharpened itself as it was used. A small trick but a neat one. They ride through a oneway door that brings them out here, she said, drawing a line from 2 to 3, which Jake had dubbed Thunderclap Station. We ought to know this door when we see it, because itll be big, unless they go through singlefile. Maybe they do, Eddie said. Unless Im wrong, theyre pretty well stuck with what the old people left them. Youre not wrong, Roland said. Go on, Susannah. He wasnt hunkering but sitting with his right leg stretched stiffly out. Eddie wondered how badly his hip was hurting him, and if he had any of Rosalitas catoil in his newly recovered purse. He doubted it. She said, The Wolves ride from Thunderclap along the course of the railroad tracks, at least until theyre out of the shadow  or the darkness  or whatever it is. Do you know, Roland? No, but well see soon enough. He made his impatient twirling gesture with his left hand. They cross the river to the Callas and take the children. When they get back to the Thunderclap Station, I think they must board their horses and their prisoners on a train and go back to Fedic that way, for the doors no good to them. Aye, I think thats the way of it, Roland agreed. They bypass the devartoithe prison weve marked with an 8for the time being. Susannah said Scowther and his Nazi doctors used the hoodthings on these beds to extract something from the kids. Its the stuff they give to the Breakers. Feed it to em or inject em with it, I guess. The kids and the brainstuff go back to Thunderclap Station by the door. The kiddies are sent back to Calla Bryn Sturgis, maybe the other Callas as well, and at what you call the devartoi Mawster, dinnah is served, Eddie said bleakly. Nigel chipped in at this point, sounding absolutely cheerful. Would you care for a bite, sais? Jake consulted his stomach and found it was rumbling. It was horrible to be this hungry so soon after the Peres deathand after the things he had seen in the Dixie Pigbut he was, nevertheless. Is there food, Nigel? Is there really? Yes, indeed, young man, Nigel said. Only tinned goods, Im afraid, but I can offer better than two dozen choices, including baked beans, tunafish, several kinds of soup Tooterfish for me, Roland said, but bring an array, if you will. Certainly, sai. I dont suppose you could rustle me up an Elvis Special, Jake said longingly. Thats peanut butter, banana, and bacon. Jesus, kid, Eddie said. I dont know if you can tell in this light, but Im turning green. I have no bacon or bananas, unfortunately, Nigel said (pronouncing the latter baNAWnas ), but I do have peanut butter and three kinds of jelly. Also apple butter. Apple butterd be good, Jake said. Go on, Susannah, Roland said as Nigel moved off on his errand. Although I suppose I neednt speed you along so; after we eat, well need to take some rest. He sounded far from pleased with the idea. I dont think theres any more to tell, she said. It sounds confusinglooks confusing, too, mostly because our little map doesnt have any scalebut its essentially just a loop they make every twentyfour years or so from Fedic to Calla Bryn Sturgis, then back to Fedic with the kids, so they can do the extraction. Then they take the kids back to the Callas and the brainfood to this prison where the Breakers are. The devartoi, Jake said. Susannah nodded. The question is what we do to interrupt the cycle. We go through the door to Thunderclap station, Roland said, and from the station to where the Breakers are kept. And there  He looked at each of his katet in turn, then raised his finger and made a dryly expressive shooting gesture. Therell be guards, Eddie said. Maybe a lot of them. What if were outnumbered? It wont be the first time, Roland said. CHAPTER II THE WATCHER  ONE When Nigel returned, he was bearing a tray the size of a wagonwheel. On it were stacks of sandwiches, two Thermoses filled with soup (beef and chicken), plus canned drinks. There was Coke, Sprite, NozzALa, and something called Wit Green Wit. Eddie tried this last and pronounced it foul beyond description. All of them could see that Nigel was no longer the same pippip, jollygood fellow hed been for God alone knew how many decades and centuries. His lozengeshaped head kept jerking to one side or the other. When it went to the left he would mutter Un, deux, trois! To the right it was Ein, zwei, drei! A constant low clacking had begun in his diaphragm. Sugar, whats wrong with you? Susannah asked as the domestic robot lowered the tray to the floor amidst them. Selfdiagnostic exam series suggests total systemic breakdown during the next two to six hours, Nigel said, sounding glum but otherwise calm. Preexisting logic faults, quarantined until now, have leaked into the GMS. He then twisted his head viciously to the right. Ein, zwei, drei! Live free or die, heres Greg in your eye! Whats GMS? Jake asked. And whos Greg? Eddie added. GMS stands for general mentation systems, said Nigel. There are two such systems, rational and irrational. Conscious and subconscious, as you might say. As for Greg, that would be Greg Stillson, a character in a novel Im reading. Quite enjoyable. Its called The Dead Zone, by Stephen King. As to why I bring him up in this context, I have no idea. TWO Nigel explained that logic faults were common in what he called Asimov Robots. The smarter the robot, the more the logic faults  and the sooner they started showing up. The old people (Nigel called them the Makers) compensated for this by setting up a stringent quarantine system, treating mental glitches as though they were smallpox or cholera. (Jake thought this sounded like a really fine way of dealing with insanity, although he supposed that psychiatrists wouldnt care for the idea much; it would put them out of business.) Nigel believed that the trauma of having his eyes shot out had weakened his mental survivalsystems somehow, and now all sorts of bad stuff was loose in his circuits, eroding his deductive and inductive reasoning capabilities, gobbling logicsystems left and right. He told Susannah he didnt hold this against her in the slightest. Susannah raised a fist to her forehead and thanked him bigbig. In truth, she did not completely believe good old DNK 45932, although she was damned if she knew why. Maybe it was just a holdover from their time in Calla Bryn Sturgis, where a robot not much different from Nigel had turned out to be a nasty, grudgeholding cully indeed. And there was something else. I spy with my little eye, Susannah thought. Hold out thy hands, Nigel. When the robot did, they all saw the wiry hairs caught in the joints of his steel fingers. There was also a drop of blood on a  would you call it a knuckle? Whats this? she asked, holding several of the hairs up. Im sorry, mum, I cawnt Couldnt see. No, of course not. Nigel had infrared, but his actual eyesight was gone, courtesy of Susannah Dean, daughter of Dan, gunslinger in the KaTet of Nineteen. Theyre hairs. I also spy some blood. Ah, yes, Nigel said. Rats in the kitchen, mum. Im programmed to dispose of vermin when I detect them. There are a great many these days, Im sorry to say; the world is moving on. And then, snapping his head violently to the left Undeuxtrois! Minnie Mouse est la mouse pour moi! Um  did you kill Minnie and Mickey before or after you made the sandwiches, Nige old buddy? Eddie asked. After, sai, I assure you. Well, I might pass, anyway, Eddie said. I had a poorboy back in Maine, and its sticking to my ribs like a motherfucker. You should say un, deux, trois, Susannah told him. The words were out before she knew she was going to say them. Cry pardon? Eddie was sitting with his arm around her. Since the four of them had gotten back together, he touched Susannah at every opportunity, as if needing to confirm the fact that she was more than just wishful thinking. Nothing. Later, when Nigel was either out of the room or completely broken down, shed tell him her intuition. She thought that robots of Nigel and Andys type, like those in the Isaac Asimov stories shed read as a teenager, werent supposed to lie. Perhaps Andy had either been modified or had modified himself so that wasnt a problem. With Nigel, she thought it was a problem, indeed can ya say problem bigbig. She had an idea that, unlike Andy, Nigel was essentially goodhearted, but yes hed either lied or gilded the truth about the rats in the larder. Maybe about other things, as well. Ein, zwei, drei and Un, deux, trois was his method of letting off the pressure. For awhile, anyway. Its Mordred, she thought, looking around. She took a sandwich because she had to eatlike Jake, she was ravenousbut her appetite was gone and she knew shed take no enjoyment from what she plugged grimly down her throat. Hes been at Nigel, and now hes watching us somewhere. I know itI feel it. And, as she took her first bite of some longpreserved, vacuumpacked mysterymeat A mother always knows. THREE None of them wanted to sleep in the Extraction Room (although they would have had their pick of three hundred or more freshly made beds) nor in the deserted town outside, so Nigel took them to his quarters, pausing every now and then for a vicious headclearing shake and to count off in either German or French. To this he began adding numbers in some other language none of them knew. Their way led them through a kitchenall stainless steel and smoothly humming machines, quite different from the ancient cookhouse Susannah had visited todash beneath Castle Discordiaand although they saw the moderate clutter of the meal Nigel had prepared them, there was no sign of rats, living or dead. None of them commented on this. Susannahs sense of being observed came and went. Beyond the pantry was a neat little threeroom apartment where Nigel presumably hung his hat. There was no bedroom, but beyond the living room and a butlers pantry full of monitoring equipment was a neat booklined study with an oak desk and an easy chair beneath a halogen reading lamp. The computer on the desk had been manufactured by North Central Positronics, no surprise there. Nigel brought them blankets and pillows which he assured them were fresh and clean. Maybe you sleep on your feet, but I guess you like to sit down to read like anyone else, Eddie said. Oh, yes indeedy, onetwothreedy, Nigel said. I enjoy a good book. Its part of my programming. Well sleep six hours, then push on, Roland told them. Jake, meanwhile, was examining the books more closely. Oy moved beside him, always at heel, as Jake checked the spines, occasionally pulling one out for a closer peek. Hes got all of Dickens, it looks like, he said. Also Steinbeck  Thomas Wolfe  a lot of Zane Grey  somebody named Max Brand  a guy named Elmore Leonard  and the always popular Steve King. They all took time to look at the two shelves of King books, better than thirty in all, at least four of them very large and two the size of doorstops. King had been an extremely busy writerbee since his Bridgton days, it appeared. The newest volume was called Hearts in Atlantis and had been published in a year with which they were very familiar 1999. The only ones missing, so far as they could tell, were the ones about them. Assuming King had gone ahead and written them. Jake checked the copyright pages, but there were few obvious holes. That might mean nothing, however, because he had written so much. Susannah inquired of Nigel, who said he had never seen any books by Stephen King concerning Roland of Gilead or the Dark Tower. Then, having said so, he twisted his head viciously to the left and counted off in French, this time all the way to ten. Still, Eddie said after Nigel had retired, clicking and clacking and clucking his way out of the room, I bet theres a lot of information here we could use. Roland, do you think we could pack the works of Stephen King and take them with us? Maybe, Roland said, but we wont. They might confuse us. Why do you say so? Roland only shook his head. He didnt know why he said so, but he knew it was true. FOUR The Arc 16 Experimental Stations nervecenter was four levels down from the Extraction Room, the kitchen, and Nigels study. One entered the Control Suite through a capsuleshaped vestibule. The vestibule could only be opened from the outside by using three ID slides, one after the other. The pipedin Muzak on this lowest level of the Fedic Dogan sounded like Beatles tunes as rendered by The Comatose String Quartet. Inside the Control Suite were over a dozen rooms, but the only one with which we need concern ourselves was the one filled with TV screens and security devices. One of these latter devices ran a small but vicious army of hunterkiller robots equipped with sneetches and laser pistols; another was supposed to release poison gas (the same kind Blaine had used to slaughter the people of Lud) in the event of a hostile takeover. Which, in the view of Mordred Deschain, had happened. He had tried to activate both the hunterkillers and the gas; neither had responded. Now Mordred had a bloody nose, a blue bruise on his forehead, and a swollen lower lip, for hed fallen out of the chair in which he sat and rolled about on the floor, bellowing reedy, childish cries which in no way reflected the true depth of his fury. To be able to see them on at least five different screens and not be able to kill or even hurt them! No wonder he was in a fury! He had felt the living darkness closing in on him, the darkness which signaled his change, and had forced himself to be calm so the change wouldnt happen. He had already discovered that the transformation from his human self to his spider self (and back again) consumed shocking amounts of energy. Later on that might not matter, but for the time being he had to be careful, lest he starve like a bee in a burnedover tract of forest. What Id show you is much more bizarre than anything we have looked at so far, and I warn you in advance that your first impulse will be to laugh. Thats all right. Laugh if you must. Just dont take your eye off what you see, for even in your imagination, here is a creature which can do you damage. Remember that it came of two fathers, both of them killers. FIVE Now, only a few hours after his birth, Mias chap already weighed twenty pounds and had the look of a healthy sixmonths baby. Mordred wore a single garment, a makeshift towel diaper which Nigel had put on when he had brought the baby his first meal of Dogan wildlife. The child needed a diaper, for he could not as yet hold his waste. He understood that control over these functions would be his soonperhaps before the day was out, if he continued to grow at his current ratebut it couldnt happen soon enough to suit him. He was for the nonce imprisoned in this idiotic infants body. To be trapped in such a fashion was hideous. To fall out of the chair and be capable of nothing more than lying there, waving his bruised arms and legs, bleeding and squalling! DNK 45932 would have come to pick him up, could no more resist the commands of the Kings son than a lead weight dropped from a high window can resist the pull of gravity, but Mordred didnt dare call him. Already the brown bitch suspected something wasnt right with Nigel. The brown bitch was wickedly perceptive, and Mordred himself was terribly vulnerable. He was able to control every piece of machinery in the Arc 16 station, mating with machinery was one of his many talents, but as he lay on the floor of the room with CONTROL CENTER on the door (it had been called The Head back in the longago, before the world moved on), Mordred was coming to realize how few machines there were to control. No wonder his father wanted to push down the Tower and begin again! This world was broken. Hed needed to change back into the spider in order to regain the chair, where hed once again resumed his human shape  but by the time he made it, his stomach was rumbling and his mouth was sour with hunger. It wasnt just changing that sucked up the energy, hed come to suspect; the spider was closer to his true form, and when he was in that shape his metabolism ran hot and fast. His thoughts changed, as well, and there was an attraction to that, because his human thoughts were colored by emotions (over which he seemed to have no control, although he supposed he might, in time) that were mostly unpleasant. As a spider, his thoughts werent real thoughts at all, at least not in the human sense; they were dark bellowing things that seemed to rise out of some wet interior ground. They were about (EAT ) and (ROAM ) and (RAPE ) and (KILL ) The many delightful ways to do these things rumbled through the dantetes rudimentary consciousness like huge headlighted machines that went speeding unheeding through the worlds darkest weather. To think in such a wayto let go of his human halfwas immensely attractive, but he thought that to do so now, while he had almost no defenses, would get him killed. And almost already had. He raised his right armpink and smooth and perfectly nakedso he could look down at his right hip. This was where the brown bitch had shot him, and although Mordred had grown considerably since then, had doubled both in length and weight, the wound remained open, seeping blood and some custardy stuff, dark yellow and stinking. He thought that this wound in his human body would never heal. No more than his other body would ever be able to grow back the leg the bitch had shot off. And had she not stumbledka aye, he had no doubt of itthe shot would have taken his head off instead of his leg, and then the game would have been over, because There was a harsh, croaking buzz. He looked into the monitor that showed the other side of the main entry and saw the domestic robot standing there with a sack in one hand. The sack was twitching, and the blackhaired, clumsily diapered baby sitting at the banks of monitors immediately began to salivate. He reached out one endearingly pudgy hand and punched a series of buttons. The security rooms curved outer door slid open and Nigel stepped into the vestibule, which was built like an airlock.