The Dark Tower

Now, as they crossed the great open space,that third pair of snowshoes was still holding together, and because she feltas though she’d made some sort of contribution, Susa

Roland had sighed and looked into the firefor nearly a full minute, his arms around his knees and his hands claspedloosely between them. She had just about decided he wasn’t going to answer atall when he said, “Still following, but falling further and further behind.Struggling to eat, struggling to catch up, struggling most of all to staywarm.”

“To stay warm?” To Susa

“He has no matches and none of the Sternostuff, either. I believe that one night—early on, this would havebeen—he came upon one of our fires with live coals still under the ash,and he was able to carry some with him for a few days after that and so have afire at night. It’s how the ancient rock-dwellers used to carry fire on theirjourneys, or so I was told.”

Susa

“It’s not guessing, but I can’t explain it.If it’s the touch, Susa

“Yes.” She thought of telling him aboutrapid eye movement, and the REM sleep experiments she’d read about in Lookmagazine, then decided it would be too complex. She contented herself withsaying that she was sure folks had dreams every single night that they didn’tremember.

“Mayhap I see him and hear him in those,”Roland said. “All I know is that he’s struggling to keep up. He knows so littleabout the world that it’s really a wonder he’s still alive at all.”

“Do you feel sorry for him?”

“No. I can’t afford pity, and neither canyou.”

But his eyes had left hers when he saidthat, and she thought he was lying. Maybe he didn’t want to feel sorryfor Mordred, but she was sure he did, at least a little. Maybe he wanted tohope that Mordred would die on their trail—certainly there were plenty ofchances it would happen, with hypothermia being the most likely cause—butSusa

There was something else, however, morepowerful than even the blood of relation. She knew, because she could now feelit beating in her own head, both sleeping and waking. It was the Dark Tower.She thought that they were very close to it now. She had no idea what they weregoing to do about its mad guardian when and if they got there, but she foundshe no longer cared. For the present, all she wanted was to see it. The idea ofentering it was still more than her imagination could deal with, but seeing it?Yes, she could imagine that. And she thought that seeing it would be enough.

Two

They made their way slowly down the widewhite downslope with Oy first hurrying at Roland’s heel, then dropping behindto check on Susa

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Susa

Roland of Gilead, no judge of beauty(except once, in the outland of Mejis), grunted. He knew what would bebeautiful to him: decent cover when the storm overtook them, something morethan just a thick grove of trees. So he almost doubted what he saw when thelatest gust of wind blew itself out and the snow settled. He dropped thetow-band, stepped out of it, went back to Susa

“What do you make of that?” he asked her.

The wind kicked up again, harder than ever,at first obscuring what he had seen. When it dropped, a hole opened above themand the sun shone briefly through, lighting the snowfield with billions ofdiamond-chip sparkles. Susa

“Those are roads!” she said. “Someone’splowed a couple of roads down there, Roland!”

He nodded. “I thought so, but I wanted tohear you say it. I see something else, as well.”

“What? Your eyes are sharper than mine, andby a lot.”

“When we get a little closer, you’ll seefor yourself.”

He tried to rise and she tugged impatientlyat his arm. “Don’t you play that game with me. What is it?”

“Roofs,” he said, giving in to her. “Ithink there are cottages down there. Mayhap even a town.”

“People? Are you saying people?”

“Well, it looks like there’s smoke comingfrom one of the houses. Although it’s hard to tell for sure with the sky sowhite.”

She didn’t know if she wanted to see peopleor not. Certainly such would complicate things. “Roland, we’ll have to becareful.”

“Yes,” he said, and went back to thetow-band again. Before he picked it up, he paused to readjust his gunbelt,dropping the holster a bit so it lay more comfortably near his left hand.

An hour later they came to the intersectionof the lane and the road. It was marked by a snowbank easily eleven feet high,one that had been built by some sort of plow. Susa

ODD’S LANE.

It was the other that thrilled her heart,however.

TOWER ROAD,

it read.

Three

All but one of the cottages clusteredaround the intersection were deserted, and many lay in half-buried heaps,broken beneath the weight of accumulating snow. One, however—it was aboutthree-quarters of the way down the lefthand arm of Odd’s Lane—was clearlydifferent from the others. The roof had been mostly cleared of its potentiallycrushing weight of snow, and a path had been shoveled from the lane to thefront door. It was from the chimney of this quaint, tree-surrounded cottagethat the smoke was issuing, feather-white. One window was lit a wholesome butter-yellow,too, but it was the smoke that captured Susa