The Dark Tower

“I will pass the message on,” Roland said.

She nodded.

“You’ll come to us when this job isfinished,” Roland said, and his voice rose just slightly on the last word,almost turning it into a question. “You’ll come with us and finish the finaljob, won’t you?”

“Yes,” she said. “Not because I wantto—all the spit and git is out of me—but because he wantedme to.” Gently, very gently, she put Eddie’s hand back on his chest with theother one. Then she pointed a finger at Roland. The tip trembled minutely.“Just don’t start up with any of that ‘we are ka-tet, we are one from many’crap. Because those days are gone. Ain’t they?”

“Yes,” Roland said. “But the Tower stillstands. And waits.”

“Lost my taste for that, too, big boy.” Notquite los’ mah tase fo’ dat, too, but almost. “Tell you the truth.”

But Jake realized that she was nottelling the truth. She hadn’t lost her desire to see the Dark Tower anymore than Roland had. Any more than Jake had himself. Their tet might bebroken, but ka remained. And she felt it just as they did.

Fifteen

They kissed her (and Oy licked her face)before leaving.

“You be careful, Jake,” Susa

“I know,” Jake said, and then kissed heragain. He was smiling because he could hear Eddie telling him to watch his ass,it was cracked already, and starting to cry once more for the same reason.Susa

Sixteen

Outside the suite, Dinky waited by thedoor. Roland was walking on with Ted, the two of them already at the end of thecorridor and deep in conversation. Jake supposed they were headed back to theMall, where Sheemie (with a little help from the others) would attempt to sendthem once more to America-side. That reminded him of something.

“The D-line trains go south,” Jake said.“Or what’s supposed to be south—is that right?”

“More or less, partner,” Dinky said. “Someof the engines have got names, like Delicious Rain or Spirit of theSnow Country, but they’ve all got letters and numbers.”

“Does the D stand for Dandelo?” Jake asked.

Dinky looked at him with a puzzled frown.“Dandelo? What in the hell is that?”

Jake shook his head. He didn’t even want totell Dinky where he’d heard the word.

“Well, I don’t know, not for sure,” Dinkysaid as they resumed walking, “but I always assumed the D stood for Discordia.Because that’s where all the trains supposedly end up, you know—somewheredeep in the universe’s baddest Badlands.”

Jake nodded. D for Discordia. That madesense. Sort of, anyway.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Dinkysaid. “What’s a Dandelo?”

“Just a word I saw written on the wall inThunderclap Station. It probably doesn’t mean anything.”

Seventeen

Outside Corbett Hall, a delegation ofBreakers waited. They looked grim and frightened. D for Dandelo, Jakethought. D for Discordia. Also D for desperate.

Roland faced them with his arms folded overhis chest. “Who speaks for you?” he asked. “If one speaks, let him come forwardnow, for our time here is up.”

A gray-haired gentleman—anotherbankerly-looking fellow, in truth—stepped forward. He was wearing graysuit-pants, a white shirt open at the collar, and a gray vest, also open. Thevest sagged. So did the man wearing it.

“You’ve taken our lives from us,” he said.He spoke these words with a kind of morose satisfaction—as if he’d alwaysknown it would come to this (or something like this). “The lives we knew. Whatwill you give back in return, Mr. Gilead?”

There was a rumble of approval at this.Jake Chambers heard it and was suddenly more angry than ever before in hislife. His hand, seemingly of its own accord, stole to the handle of the Coyotemachine-pistol, caressed it, and found a cold comfort in its shape. Even abrief respite from grief. And Roland knew, for he reached behind him withoutlooking and put his hand on top of Jake’s. He squeezed until Jake let loose ofthe gun.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll give, since youask,” Roland said. “I meant to have this place, where you have fed on thebrains of helpless children in order to destroy the universe, burned to theground; aye, every stick of it. I intended to set certain flying balls thathave come into our possession to explode, and blow apart anything that wouldnot burn. I intended to point you the way to the River Whye and the greenCallas which lie beyond it, and set you on with a curse my father taught me:may you live long, but not in good health.”

A resentful murmur greeted this, but not aneye met Roland’s own. The man who had agreed to speak for them (and even in hisrage, Jake gave him points for courage) was swaying on his feet, as if he mightsoon faint away.

“The Callas still lie in that direction,”Roland said, and pointed. “If you go, some—many, even—may die onthe way, for there are animals out there that are hungry, and what water thereis may be poison. I’ve no doubt the Calla-folken will know who you areand what you’ve been about even if you lie, for they have the Ma

“That they would put you to work and thatthe rest of your lives would pass not in the comfort you’ve known but in toiland sweat I have no doubt, yet I urge you to go, if only to find someredemption for what you have done.”

“We didn’t know what we were doing,ye chary man!” a woman in the back yelled furiously.

“YOU KNEW!” Jake shouted back,screaming so loudly that he saw black dots in front of his eyes, and Roland’shand was once again instantly over his to stay his draw. Would he actually havesprayed the crowd with the Coyote, bringing more death to this terrible place?He didn’t know. What he did know was that a gunslinger’s hands were sometimesnot under his control once a weapon was in them. “Don’t you dare say youdidn’t! You knew!”

“I’ll give this much, may it do ya,” Rolandsaid. “My friends and I—those who survive, although I’m sure the one wholies dead yonder would agree, which is why I speak as I do—will let this placestand. There’s food enough to see you through the rest of your lives, I have nodoubt, and robots to cook it and wash your clothes and even wipe your asses, ifthat’s what you think you need. If you prefer purgatory to redemption, thenstay here. Were I you, I’d make the trek instead. Follow the railroad tracksout of the shadows. Tell them what you did before they can tell you, and get onyour knees with your heads bared, and beg their forgiveness.”

“Never!” someone shouted adamantly, butJake thought some of the others looked unsure.

“As you will,” said Roland. “I’ve spoken mylast word on it, and the next who speaks back to me may remain silent everafter, for one of my friends is preparing another, her husband, to lie in theground and I am full of grief and rage. Would you speak more? Would you dare myrage? If so, you dare this.” He drew his gun and laid it in the hollow of hisshoulder. Jake stepped up beside him, at last drawing his own.

There was a moment of silence, and then theman who had spoken turned away.

“Don’t shoot us, mister, you’ve doneenough,” someone said bitterly.

Roland made no reply and the crowd began todisperse. Some went ru