The Dark Tower

Roland only shook his head, not answeringthe question.

On the Mall, Jake spied six Breakersstanding in a circle, holding hands. They looked like folks having aséance. Sheemie was there, and Ted, and Dani Rostov; there also was ayoung woman, an older one, and a stout, bankerly-looking man. Beyond, lyingwith their feet sticking out under blankets, was a line of the nearly fiftyguards who had died during the brief action.

“Do you know what they’re doing?” Jakeasked, meaning the séance-folken—the ones behind them werejust being dead, a job that would occupy them from now on.

Roland glanced toward the circle ofBreakers briefly. “Yes.”

“What?”

“Not now,” said the gunslinger. “Now we’regoing to pay our respects to Eddie. You’re going to need all the serenity youcan manage, and that means emptying your mind.”

Four

Now, sitting with Oy outside the emptyClover Tavern with its neon beer-signs and silent jukebox, Jake reflected onhow right Roland had been, and how grateful Jake himself had been when, afterforty-five minutes or so, the gunslinger had looked at him, seen his terribledistress, and excused him from the room where Eddie lingered, giving up hisvitality an inch at a time, leaving the imprint of his remarkable will on everylast inch of his life’s tapestry.

The litter-bearing party Ted Brautigan hadorganized had borne the young gunslinger to Corbett Hall, where he was laid inthe spacious bedroom of the first-floor proctor’s suite. The litter-bearerslingered in the dormitory’s courtyard, and as the afternoon wore on, the restof the Breakers joined them. When Roland and Jake arrived, a pudgy red-hairedwoman stepped into Roland’s way.

Lady, I wouldn’t do that, Jake hadthought. Not this afternoon.

In spite of the day’s alarums andexcursions, this woman—who’d looked to Jake like the Lifetime Presidentof his mother’s garden club—had found time to put on a fairly heavy coatof makeup: powder, rouge, and lipstick as red as the side of a Devar fireengine. She introduced herself as Grace Rumbelow (formerly of Aldershot,Hampshire, England) and demanded to know what was going to happe

“For we have been taken care of,”said Grace Rumbelow in ringing tones (Jake had been fascinated with how shesaid “been,” so it rhymed with “seen”), “and are in no position, at least forthe time being, to care for ourselves.”

There were calls of agreement at this.

Roland looked her up and down, andsomething in his face had robbed the lady of her measured indignation. “Get outof my road,” said the gunslinger, “or I’ll push you down.”

She grew pale beneath her powder and did ashe said without uttering another word. A birdlike clatter of disapprovalfollowed Jake and Roland into Corbett Hall, but it didn’t start until thegunslinger was out of their view and they no longer had to fear falling beneaththe unsettling gaze of his blue eyes. The Breakers reminded Jake of some kidswith whom he’d gone to school at Piper, classroom nitwits willing to shout outstuff like this test sucks or bite my bag… but only when theteacher was out of the room.

The first-floor hallway of Corbett wasbright with fluorescent lights and smelled strongly of smoke from Damli Houseand Feveral Hall. Dinky Earnshaw was seated in a folding chair to the right ofthe door marked PROCTOR’S SUITE, smoking a cigarette. He looked up as Rolandand Jake approached, Oy trotting along in his usual position just behind Jake’sheel.

“How is he?” Roland asked.

“Dying, man,” Dinky said, and shrugged.

“And Susa

“Strong. Once he’s gone—” Dinkyshrugged again, as if to say it could go either way, any way.

Roland knocked quietly on the door.

“Who is it?” Susa

“Roland and Jake,” the gunslinger said.“Will you have us?”

The question was met with what seemed toJake an unusually long pause. Roland, however, didn’t seem surprised. Neitherdid Dinky, for that matter.

At last Susa

They did.

Five

Sitting with Oy in the soothing dark,waiting for Roland’s call, Jake reflected on the scene that had met his eyes inthe darkened room. That, and the endless three-quarters of an hour beforeRoland had seen his discomfort and let him go, saying he’d call Jake back whenit was “time.”

Jake had seen a lot of death since beingdrawn to Mid-World; had dealt it; had even experienced his own, although heremembered very little of that. But this was the death of a ka-mate, and whathad been going on in the bedroom of the proctor’s suite just seemed pointless.And endless. Jake wished with all his heart that he’d stayed outsidewith Dinky; he didn’t want to remember his wisecracking, occasionallyhot-tempered friend this way.

For one thing, Eddie looked worse thanfrail as he lay in the proctor’s bed with his hand in Susa

And he talked. A steady low mutteringstream of words. Some of the things he said Jake could make out, some hecouldn’t. Some of them made at least minimal sense, but a lot of it was whathis friend Be

We go for her, Roland had told Jake.Because later on she’ll remember who was there, and be grateful.

But would she? Jake wondered now, in thedarkness outside the Clover Tavern. Would she be grateful? It was downto Roland that Eddie Dean was lying on his deathbed at the age of twenty-fiveor -six, wasn’t it? On the other hand, if not for Roland, she would never havemet Eddie in the first place. It was all too confusing. Like the idea ofmultiple worlds with New Yorks in every one, it made Jake’s head ache.

Lying there on his deathbed, Eddie hadasked his brother Henry why he never remembered to box out.

He’d asked Jack Andolini who hit him withthe ugly-stick.

He’d shouted, “Look out, Roland, it’sBig-Nose George, he’s back!”

And “Suze, if you can tell him the oneabout Dorothy and the Tin Woodman, I’ll tell him all the rest.”

And, chilling Jake’s heart: “I do not shootwith my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.”

At that last one, Roland had taken Eddie’shand in the gloom (for the shades had been drawn) and squeezed it. “Aye, Eddie,you say true. Will you open your eyes and see my face, dear?”

But Eddie hadn’t opened his eyes. Instead,chilling Jake’s heart more deeply yet, the young man who now wore a uselessbandage about his head had murmured, “All is forgotten in the stone halls ofthe dead. These are the rooms of ruin where the spiders spin and the greatcircuits fall quiet, one by one.”

After that there was nothing intelligiblefor awhile, only that ceaseless muttering. Jake had refilled the basin ofwater, and when he had come back, Roland saw his drawn white face and told himhe could go.