The Dark Tower

“I think you say true,” Roland told him,“but I’ll take her word of you, and how I found you still full of hot spit andfire—”

“Say God, say Gawd-bomb!” theold man interjected, and thumped his cane. “Tell it, brother! And see that youtell her!”

“So I will.” Roland finished the last ofhis tea, then put the cup on Marian Carver’s desk and stood with a supportinghand on his right hip as he did. It would take him a long time to get used tothe lack of pain there, quite likely more time than he had. “And now I musttake my leave of you. There’s a place not far from here where I need to go.”

“We know where,” Marian said. “There’ll besomeone to meet you when you arrive. The place has been kept safe for you, andif the door you seek is still there and still working, you’ll go through it.”

Roland made a slight bow. “Thankee-sai.”

“But sit a few moments longer, if you will.We have gifts for you, Roland. Not enough to pay you back for all you’vedone—whether doing it was your first purpose or not—but things youmay want, all the same. One’s news from our good-mind folk in Taos. One’s frommore…” She considered. “… more normal researchers, folks who work for us inthis very building. They call themselves the Calvins, but not because of anyreligious bent. Perhaps it’s a little homage to Mr. Tower, who died of a heartattack in his new shop nine years ago. Or perhaps it’s only a joke.”

“A bad one if it is,” Moses Carver grumped.

“And then there are two more… from us. FromNancy, and me, and my Dad, and one who’s gone on. Will you sit a littlelonger?”

And although he was anxious to be off,Roland did as he was asked. For the first time since Jake’s death, a trueemotion other than sorrow had risen in his mind.

Curiosity.

Eleven

“First, the news from the folks in NewMexico,” Marian said when Roland had resumed his seat. “They have watched youas well as they can, and although what they saw Thunder-side was hazy at best,they believe that Eddie told Jake Chambers something—perhaps something ofimportance—not long before he died. Likely as he lay on the ground, andbefore he… I don’t know…”

“Before he slipped into twilight?” Rolandsuggested.

“Yes,” Nancy Deepneau agreed. “We think so.That is to say, they think so. Our version of the Breakers.”

Marian gave her a little frown thatsuggested this was a lady who did not appreciate being interrupted. Then shereturned her attention to Roland. “Seeing things on this side is easier for ourpeople, and several of them are quite sure—not positive but quitesure—that Jake may have passed this message on before he himself died.”She paused. “This woman you’re traveling with, Mrs. Ta

“Tassenbaum,” Roland corrected. He did itwithout thinking, because his mind was otherwise occupied. Furiously so.

“Tassenbaum,” Marian agreed. “She’sundoubtedly told you some of what Jake told her before he passed on, but theremay be something else. Not a thing she’s holding back, but something she didn’trecognize as important. Will you ask her to go over what Jake said to her oncemore before you and she part company?”

“Yes,” Roland said, and of course he would,but he didn’t believe Jake had passed on Eddie’s message to Mrs. Tassenbaum.No, not to her. He realized that he’d hardly thought of Oy since they’d parkedIrene’s car, but Oy had been with them, of course; would now be lying atIrene’s feet as she sat in the little park across the street, lying in the sunand waiting for him.

“All right,” she said. “That’s good. Let’smove on.”

Marian opened the wide center drawer of herdesk. From it she brought out a padded envelope and a small wooden box. Theenvelope she handed to Nancy Deepneau. The box she placed on the desktop infront of her.

“This next is Nancy’s to tell,” she said.“And I’d just ask you to be brief, Nancy, because this man looks very anxiousto be off.”

“Tell it,” Moses said, and thumped hiscane.

Nancy glanced at him, then at Roland… or inthe vicinity of him, anyway. Color was climbing in her cheeks, and she lookedflustered. “Stephen King,” she said, then cleared her throat and said it again.From there she didn’t seem to know how to go on. Her color burned even deeper beneathher skin.

“Take a deep breath,” Roland said, “andhold it.”

She did as he told her.

“Now let it out.”

And this, too.

“Now tell me what you would, Nancy niece ofAaron.”

“Stephen King has written nearly fortybooks,” she said, and although the color remained in her cheeks (Rolandsupposed he would find out what it signified soon enough), her voice was calmernow. “An amazing number of them, even the very early ones, touch on the DarkTower in one way or another. It’s as though it was always on his mind, from thevery first.”

“You say what I know is true,” Roland toldher, folding his hands, “I say thankya.”

This seemed to calm her even further.“Hence the Calvins,” she said. “Three men and two women of a scholarly bent whodo nothing from eight in the morning until four in the afternoon but read theworks of Stephen King.”

“They don’t just read them,” Marian said.“They cross-reference them by settings, by characters, by themes—such asthey are—even by mention of popular brand-name products.”

“Part of their work is looking forreferences to people who live or did live in the Keystone World,” Nancy said.“Real people, in other words. And references to the Dark Tower, of course.” Shehanded him the padded envelope and Roland felt the corners of what could onlybe a book inside. “If King ever wrote a keystone book,Roland—outside the Dark Tower series itself, I mean—we think itmust be this one.”

The flap of the envelope was held by aclasp. Roland looked askance at both Marian and Nancy. They nodded. The gunslingeropened the clasp and pulled out an extremely thick volume with a cover of redand white. There was no picture on it, only Stephen King’s name and a singleword.

Red for the King, White for Arthur Eld,he thought. White over Red, thus Gan wills ever.

Or perhaps it was just a coincidence.

“What is this word?” Roland asked, tappingthe title.

“Insomnia,” Nancy said. “Itmeans—”

“I know what it means,” Roland said. “Whydo you give me the book?”

“Because the story hinges on the DarkTower,” Nancy said, “and because there’s a character in it named Ed Deepneau.He happens to be the villain of the piece.”

The villain of the piece, Rolandthought. No wonder her color rose.

“Do you have anyone by that name in yourfamily?” he asked her.

“We did,” she said. “In Bangor, which isthe town King is writing about when he writes about Derry, as he does in thisbook. The real Ed Deepneau died in 1947, the year King was born. He was abookkeeper, as inoffensive as milk and cookies. The one in Insomnia is alunatic who falls under the power of the Crimson King. He attempts to turn anairplane into a bomb and crash it into a building, killing thousands ofpeople.”

“Pray it never happens,” the old man saidgloomily, looking out at the New York City skyline. “God knows it could.”

“In the story the plan fails,” Nancy said.“Although some people are killed, the main character in the book, an oldman named Ralph Roberts, manages to keep the absolute worst from happening.”

Roland was looking intently at AaronDeepnau’s grandniece. “The Crimson King is mentioned in here? By actual name?”

“Yes,” she said. “The Ed Deepneau inBangor—the real Ed Deepneau—was a cousin of my father’s,four or five times removed. The Calvins could show you the family tree if youwanted, but there really isn’t much of a co