The Dark Tower

It didn’t matter. Identification wasFinli’s job and he took charge now, pulling a rubber glove out of his belt andputting it on as he strode forward. The Rod cringed back against the wall,clasping his wicker basket tighter and letting go a loud fart that had to havebeen pure nerves. Pimli needed to bite down on the inside of his cheek, andquite fiercely, to keep a smile from rising on his lips.

“Nay, nay, nay!” the Security Chiefcried, and slapped the Rod briskly across the face with his newly gloved hand.(It did not do to touch the Children of Roderick skin to skin; they carried toomany diseases.) Loose spit flew from the Rod’s mouth and blood from the hole inhis nose. “Speak not with your ki’box to me, sai Haylis! The hole in thy head’snot much better, but at least it can give me a word of respect. It had betterbe able to!”

“Hile, Finli o’ Tego!” Haylis muttered, andfisted himself in the forehead so hard the back of his head bounced off thewall—bonk! That did it: Pimli barked a laugh in spite of himself.Nor would Finli be able to reproach him with it on their walk to Damli House,for he was smiling now, too. Although Pimli doubted that the Rod named Hayliswould find much to comfort him in that smile. It exposed too many sharp teeth.“Hile, Finli o’ the Watch, long days and pleasant nights to’ee, sai!”

“Better,” Finli allowed. “Not much, but alittle. What in hell’s name are you doing here before Horn and Sun? And tell mewhat’s in thy bascomb, wiggins?”

Haylis hugged it tighter against his chest,his eyes flashing with alarm. Finli’s smile disappeared at once.

“You flip the lid and show me what’s in thybascomb this second, cully, or thee’ll be picking thy teeth off the carpet.”These words came out in a smooth, low growl.

For a moment Pimli thought the Rod stillwould not comply, and he felt a twinge of active alarm. Then, slowly, thefellow lifted the lid of the wicker basket. It was the sort with handles, knownin Finli’s home territory as a bascomb. The Rod held it reluctantly out. At thesame time he closed his sore-looking, booger-rimmed eyes and turned his headaside, as if in anticipation of a blow.

Finli looked. For a long time he saidnothing, then gave his own bark of laughter and invited Pimli to have a peek.The Master knew what he was seeing at once, but figuring out what it meant tooka moment longer. Then his mind flashed back to popping the pimple and offeringFinli the bloody pus, as one would offer a friend left-over hors d’oeuvreat the end of a di

“Did Tammy Kelly send you to pick up theswill this morning?” Pimli asked.

The Rod nodded fearfully.

“Did she tell you that you could havewhatever you found and fancied from the wastecans?”

He thought the Rod would lie. If and whenhe did, the Master would command Finli to beat the fellow, as an object-lessonin honesty.

But the Rod—Haylis—shook hishead, looking sad.

“All right,” Pimli said, relieved. It wasreally too early in the day for beatings and howlings and tears. They spoiled aman’s breakfast. “You can go, and with your prize. But next time, cully, askpermission or you’ll leave here a-hurt. Do’ee ken?”

The Rod nodded energetically.

“Go on, then, go! Out of my house and outof my sight!”

They watched him leave, him with his basketof snotty tissues that he’d undoubtedly eat like candy nougat, each shaming theother into keeping his face grave and stern until the poor disfigured son of noone was gone. Then they burst into gales of laughter. Finli o’ Tego staggeredback against the wall hard enough to knock a picture off its hook, then slid tothe floor, howling hysterically. Pimli put his face in his hands and laugheduntil his considerable gut ached. The laughter erased the tension with whicheach had begun the day, venting it all at once.

“A dangerous fellow, indeed!” Finli saidwhen he could speak a little again. He was wiping his streaming eyes with onefurry paw-hand.

“The Snot Saboteur!” Pimli agreed. His facewas bright red.

They exchanged a look and were off again,braying gales of relieved laughter until they woke the housekeeper way up onthe third floor. Tammy Kelly lay in her narrow bed, listening to yon ka-maisbellow below, looking disapprovingly up into the gloom. Men were much the same,in her view, no matter what sort of skin they wore.

Outside, the hume Master and the taheenSecurity Chief walked up the Mall, arm in arm. The Child of Roderick,meanwhile, scurried out through the north gate, head down, heart thumping madlyin his chest. How close it had been! Aye! If Weasel-Head had asked him,‘Haylis, didjer plant anything?’ he would have lied as best he could, but suchas him couldn’t lie successfully to such as Finli o’ Tego; never in life! Hewould have been found out, sure. But he hadn’t been found out, praiseGan. The ball-thing the gunslinger had given him was now stowed away in theback bedroom, humming softly to itself. He’d put it in the wastebasket, as hehad been told, and covered it with fresh tissue from the box on the washstand,also as he had been told. Nobody had told him he might take the cast-awaytissues, but he hadn’t been able to resist their soupy, delicious smell. And ithad worked for the best, hadn’t it? Yar! For instead of asking him all ma

Two

Sitting on the Cruisin Trike in theconcealment afforded by one of the empty sheds north of the compound, Susa

She could see both stone towers (althoughonly the top half of the one on her left; the rest was concealed by a fold ofhillside). They were shackled about with some sort of ivy. Cultivated ratherthan wild, Susa