The Dark Tower

“Maybe we should just pass it by,” shesaid, aware that she had dropped her voice to a near-whisper, even though theywere still on the high snowbank created by the plow. “Give it a miss and saythank ya.” She gestured to the sign reading TOWER ROAD. “We’ve got aclear way, Roland—maybe we ought to take it.”

“And if we should, do you think thatMordred will?” Roland asked. “Do you think he’ll simply pass by and leavewhoever lives there in peace?”

Here was a question that hadn’t evenoccurred to her, and of course the answer was no. If Mordred decided he couldkill whoever was in the cottage, he’d do it. For food if the inhabitants wereedible, but food would only be a secondary consideration. The woods behind themhad been teeming with game, and even if Mordred hadn’t been able to catch hisown supper (and in his spider form, Susa

On the other hand, she thought… onlythere was no other hand, and all at once it was too late, anyway. Thefront door of the cottage opened, and an old man came out onto the stoop. Hewas wearing boots, jeans, and a heavy parka with a fur-lined hood. To Susa

The old man was rosy-cheeked, the pictureof wintry good health, but he limped heavily, depending on the stout stick inhis left hand. From behind his quaint little cottage with its fairy-tale plumeof smoke came the piercing whi

“Sure, Lippy, I see em!” the old man cried,turning in that direction. “I got a’least one good eye left, ain’t I?” Then heturned back to where Roland stood on the snowbank with Susa

“Looks like we’re in for some palaverwhether we want it or not,” said Roland.

“I know,” she replied. Then, to thebumbler: “Oy, mind your ma

Oy looked at her and then back at the oldman without making a sound. On the subject of minding his ma

The old man’s bad leg was clearly verybad—“Next door to nuthin,” Daddy Mose Carver would have said—but hegot on well enough with his stick, moving in a sideways hopping gait thatSusa

The horse whi

Roland snorted with genuine laughter, andthe last of Susa

“Hile, gunslingers!” the old man shouted.His lungs, at least, were admirable. “Gunslingers on pilgrimage to the DarkTower, so y’are, so ya must be, for don’t I see the big irons with the yallergrips? And the Beam be back, fair and strong, for I feel it and Lippy do, too!Spry as a colt she’s been ever since Christmas, or what I call Christmas, nothaving a calendar nor seen Sainty Claus, which I wouldn’t expect, for have Ibeen a good boy? Never! Never! Good boys go to heaven, and all my friends be int’other place, toastin marshmallows and drinkin Nozzy spiked with whiskey inthe devil’s den! Arrr, ne’mine, my tongue’s caught in the middle and runs onboth ends! Hile to one, hile to t’other, and hile to the little furry gobbinsin between! Billy-bumbler as I live and breathe! Yow, ain’t it good tosee ya! Joe Collins is my name, Joe Collins of Odd’s Lane, plenty odd m’self,one-eyed and lame I am, but otherwise at your service!”

He had now reached the snowbank marking thespot where Tower Road ended… or where it began, depending on your point of viewand the direction you were traveling, Susa

“Long days and pleasant nights, yar, so sayI, and anyone who’d say different, they ain’t here anyway, so who gives a goodgoddam what they say?” From his pocket he took what could only be a gumdrop andtossed it up. Oy grabbed it out of the air easily: Snap! and gone.

At this both Roland and Susa

“I got a million questions for yer,”Collins said, “but I’ll start with just one: how in the hell are yers go

Four

As it turned out, Susa

Roland and Oy came leaping down behind.Roland bent over her at once, clearly concerned, and Oy sniffed anxiously ather face, but Susa

“I’m fine, Roland—took worse tumblesoff my Flexible Flyer when I was a kid, tell ya true.”

“All’s well that ends well,” Joe Collinsagreed. He gave her a look with his good eye to make sure she was indeed allright, then began to pick up some of the scattered goods, leaning laboriouslyover on his stick, his fine white hair blowing around his rosy face.

“Nah, nah,” Roland said, reaching out tograsp his arm. “I’ll do that, thee’ll fall on thy thiddles.”

At this the old man roared with laughter,and Roland joined him willingly enough. From behind the cottage, the horse gaveanother loud whi

“ ‘Fall on thy thiddles’! Man, that’s agood one! I don’t have the veriest clue under heaven what my thiddles are, yetit’s a good one! Ain’t it just!” He brushed the snow off Susa