The Dark Tower

Eleven

The plow pulled up in front of Dandelo’shut, and although the engine continued to run, the music cut off. Down from thedriver’s seat there galumphed a tall (eight feet at the very least),shiny-headed robot who looked quite a lot like Nigel from the Arc 16Experimental Station and Andy from Calla Bryn Sturgis. He cocked his metal armsand put his metal hands on his hips in a way that would likely have remindedEddie of George Lucas’s C3P0, had Eddie been there. The robot spoke in anamplified voice that rolled away across the snowfields:

“HELLO, J-JOE! WHAT DO YOU NUH-NUH-KNOW?HOW ARE TRICKS IN KUH-KUH-KOKOMO?”

Roland stepped out of the late Lippy’squarters. “Hile, Bill,” he said mildly. “Long days and pleasant nights.”

The robot turned. His eyes flashed brightblue. That looked like surprise to Susa

“Ah!” said the robot. “A gudda-gah,gu

but two and smacked his head with it. Frominside came a little whistling noise—Wheeep!—and then hefinished: “A gunslinger!”

Susa

“I had heard rumors of such on the l-l-l-land,”the robot said, ignoring her laughter. “Are you Ruh-Ruh-Roland of G-Gilead?”

“So I am,” Roland said. “And you?”

“William, D-746541-M, Maintenance Robot,Many Other Functions. Joe Collins calls me Stuh-huttering B-Bill. I’ve got af-f-fried sir-hirkit somewhere inside. I could fix it, but he fuh-fuh-forbademe. And since he’s the only h-human around… or was…” He stopped. Susa

Then Stuttering Bill quite touched herheart by putting one metal hand to his forehead and bowing… but not to eitherher or to Roland. He said, “Hile, Patrick D-Danville, son of S-S-Sonia! It’sgood to see you out and in the c-c-clear, so it is!” And Susa

Twelve

They palavered in the yard. Bill would havebeen quite willing to go into the hut, for he had but rudimentary olfactoryequipment. The humes were better equipped and knew that the hut stank and hadnot even warmth to recommend it, for the furnace and the fire were both out. Inany case, the palaver didn’t take long. William the Maintenance Robot (ManyOther Functions) had counted the being that sometimes called itself Joe Collinsas his master, for there was no longer anyone else to lay claim to the job.Besides, Collins/Dandelo had the necessary code-words.

“I w-was nuh-not able to g-give him thec-code wuh-wuh-hurds when he a-asked,” said Stuttering Bill, “but myp-programming did not pruh-prohibit bringing him cer-hertain m-manuals that hadthe ih-information he needed.”

“Bureaucracy is so wonderful,” Susa

Bill said he had stayed away from “J-J-Joe”as often (and as long) as he could, although he had to come when Tower Roadneeded plowing—that was also in his programming—and once a month tobring provisions (ca

“For I do have r-r-rudimentaryem-m-motions,” he said, sounding to Susa

“Do you need the code-words from us, inorder to accept our orders?” Roland asked.

“Yes, sai,” Stuttering Bill said.

“Shit,” Susa

“H-H-However,” said Stuttering Bill, “ifyou were to c-c-couch your orders as suh-huh-hugestions, I’m sure I’d behuh-huh-huh-huh—” He raised his arm and smacked his head again. The Wheep!sound came once more, not from his mouth but from the region of his chest,Susa

“My first suggestion is that you fix thatfucking stutter,” Roland said, and then turned around, amazed. Patrick hadcollapsed to the snow, holding his belly and voicing great, blurry cries oflaughter. Oy danced around him, barking, but Oy was harmless; this time therewas no one to steal Patrick’s joy. It belonged only to him. And to those luckyenough to hear it.

Thirteen

In the woods beyond the plowedintersection, back toward what Bill would have called “the Bads,” a shiveringadolescent boy wrapped in stinking, half-scraped hides watched the quartetstanding in front of Dandelo’s hut. Die, he thought at them. Die, whydon’t you all do me a favor and just die? But they didn’t die, and thecheerful sound of their laughter cut him like knives.

Later, after they had all piled into thecab of Bill’s plow and driven away, Mordred crept down to the hut. There hewould stay for at least two days, eating his fill from the cans in Dandelo’spantry—and eating something else as well, something he would live toregret. He spent those days regaining his strength, for the big storm hadcome close to killing him. He believed it was his hate that had kept him alive,that and no more.

Or perhaps it was the Tower.

For he felt it, too—that pulse, thatsinging. But what Roland and Susa

And when the killing was done, thewhispering voice promised, they would destroy the Dark Tower and rule todashtogether for eternity.

So Mordred ate, for Mordred was a-hungry.And Mordred slept, for Mordred was a-weary. And when Mordred dressed himself inDandelo’s warm clothes and set out along the freshly plowed Tower Road, pullinga rich sack of gu

PART FIVE

THE SCARLET FIELD OF CAN’-KA NO REY

Chapter I:

The Sore and the Door(Goodbye, My Dear)