The Dark Tower

“By getting me something to write with. Isthere such?”

“Pens, pencils, and chalk in theSupervisor’s cubicle at the far end of the Extraction Room, sai. Or so therewas, 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 you’re angry. Is that the case?”

“They brought children here by the hundredsand thousands—healthy ones, for the most part, from a world where toomany are still born twisted—and sucked away their minds. Why would I beangry?”

“Sai, I’m sure I don’t know,” Nigel said.He was, perhaps, repenting his decision to come back here. “But I had no partin the extraction procedures, I assure you. I am in charge of domesticservices, including maintenance.”

“Bring me a pencil and a piece of chalk.”

“Sai, you won’t destroy me, will you? Itwas Dr. Scowther who was in charge of the extractions over the last twelve orfourteen years, and Dr. Scowther is dead. This lady-sai shot him, and with hisown gun.” There was a touch of reproach in Nigel’s voice, which was quiteexpressive within its narrow range.

Roland only repeated: “Bring me a penciland a piece of chalk, and do it jin-jin.”

Nigel went off on his errand.

“When you say a new player, you mean thebaby,” Susa

“Certainly. He has two fathers, thatbah-bo.”

Susa

That’s where they changed me, Miahad told her, “they” presumably meaning Scowther and a team of other doctors.Plus magicians? Folk like the Ma

Yes, she thought. It’s watchingus. And hating us… but not equally. Mostly it’s Roland the dan-tete hates. Itsfirst father.

She shivered.

“Mordred means to kill you, Roland,” shesaid. “That’s its job. What it was made for. To end you, and your quest, andthe Tower.”

“Yes,” Roland said, “and to rule in hisfather’s place. For the Crimson King is old, and I have come more and more tobelieve that he is imprisoned, somehow. If that’s so, then he’s no longer ourreal enemy.”

“Will we go to his castle on the other sideof the Discordia?” Jake asked. It was the first time he’d spoken in half anhour. “We will, won’t we?”

“I think so, yes,” Roland said. “LeCasse Roi Russe, the old legends call it. We’ll go there ka-tet and slaywhat lives there.”

“Let it be so,” Eddie said. “By God, letthat be so.”

“Aye,” Roland agreed. “But our first job isthe Breakers. The Beamquake we felt in Calla Bryn Sturgis, just before we camehere, suggests that their work is nearly done. Yet even if it isn’t—”

“Ending what they’re doing is our job,”Eddie said.

Roland nodded. He looked more tired thanever. “Aye,” he said. “Killing them or setting them free. Either way, we mustfinish their meddling with the two Beams that remain. And we must finish offthe dan-tete. 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 ka-tet, as things fell). To begin with hebrought two pencils, two pens (one of them a great old thing that would havelooked 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 lady’s lipstick. Roland chosethis and gave Jake another piece. “I can’t write words you’d understandeasily,” he said, “but our numbers are the same, or close enough. Print what Isay to one side, Jake, and fair.”

Jake did as he was bid. The result wascrude but understandable enough, a map with a legend.

“Fedic,” Roland said, pointing to 1, andthen drew a short chalk line to 2. “And here’s Castle Discordia, with the doorsbeneath. An almighty tangle of em, from what we hear. There’ll be a passagethat’ll take us from here to there, under the castle. Now, Susa

She took it, noticing with some admirationthat it sharpened itself as it was used. A small trick but a neat one.

“They ride through a one-way door thatbrings them out here,” she said, drawing a line from 2 to 3, which Jake haddubbed Thunderclap Station. “We ought to know this door when we see it, becauseit’ll be big, unless they go through single-file.”

“Maybe they do,” Eddie said. “Unless I’mwrong, they’re pretty well stuck with what the old people left them.”

“You’re not wrong,” Roland said. “Go on,Susa

She said, “The Wolves ride from Thunderclapalong the course of the railroad tracks, at least until they’re out of theshadow… or the darkness… or whatever it is. Do you know, Roland?”

“No, but we’ll see soon enough.” He madehis impatient twirling gesture with his left hand.

“They cross the river to the Callas andtake the children. When they get back to the Thunderclap Station, I think theymust board their horses and their prisoners on a train and go back to Fedicthat way, for the door’s no good to them.”

“Aye, I think that’s the way of it,” Rolandagreed. “They bypass the devar-toi—the prison we’ve marked with an8—for the time being.”

Susa

“Mawster, di

Nigel chipped in at this point, soundingabsolutely cheerful. “Would you care for a bite, sais?”

Jake consulted his stomach and found it wasrumbling. It was horrible to be this hungry so soon after the Pere’sdeath—and after the things he had seen in the Dixie Pig—but he was,nevertheless. “Is there food, Nigel? Is there really?”

“Yes, indeed, young man,” Nigel said. “Onlyti

“Tooter-fish for me,” Roland said, “butbring an array, if you will.”

“Certainly, sai.”

“I don’t suppose you could rustle me up anElvis Special,” Jake said longingly. “That’s peanut butter, banana, and bacon.”

“Jesus, kid,” Eddie said. “I don’t know ifyou can tell in this light, but I’m turning green.”