'We'll have it off him!' Sister Louise.
'And then we shall have kisses!' Sister Coquina.
'Kisses for all!' exclaimed Sister Michela, with such fervent
enthusiasm that they all laughed.
Roland discovered that not all of him was paralysed, after all. Part
of him had, in fact, arisen from its sleep at the sound of their voices
and now stood tall. A hand reached beneath the bed-dress he wore,
touched that stiffened member, encircled it, caressed it. He lay in
silent horror, feigning sleep, as wet warmth almost immediately
spilled from him. The hand remained where it was for a moment,
the thumb rubbing up and down the wilting shaft. Then it let him
go and rose a little higher. Found the wetness pooled on his lower
belly. Giggles, soft as wind. Chiming bells. Roland opened his
eyes the tiniest crack and looked up at the ancient faces laughing
down at him in the light of their candles - glittering eyes, yellow
cheeks, hanging teeth that jutted over lower lips. Sister Michela
and sister Louise appeared to have grown goatees, but of course
that wasn't the darkness of hair but of the bearded man's blood.
Mary is hand was cupped. She passed it from Sister to Sister; each
licked from her palm in the candlelight.
Roland closed his eyes all the way and waited for them to be gone.
Eventually they were.
I'll never sleep again, he thought, and was five minutes later lost to
himself and the world.
V. Sister Mary. A Message. A Visit from Ralph.
Norman's Fate. Sister Mary Again.
When Roland awoke, it was full daylight, the silk roof overhead a
bright white and billowing in a mild breeze. The doctor-bugs were
singing contentedly. Beside him on his left, Norman was heavily
asleep with his head turned so far to one side that his stubbly cheek
rested on his shoulder.
Roland and John Norman were the only ones here. Further down
on their side of the infirmary, the bed where the bearded man had
been was empty, it's top sheet pulled up and neatly tucked in, the
pillow neatly nestled in a crisp white case. The complication of
slings in which his body had rested was gone.
Roland remembered the candles - the way their glow had
combined and streamed up in a column, illuminating the Sisters as
they gathered around the bearded man. Giggling. Their damned
bells jingling.
Now, as if summoned by his thoughts, came Sister Mary, gliding
along rapidly with Sister Louise in her wake. Louise bore a tray,
and looked nervous. Mary was frowning, obviously not in good
temper.
To be grumpy after you've fed so well? Roland thought. Fie, Sister.
She reached the gunslinger's bed and looked down at him. 'I have
little to thank ye for, sai,' she said with no preamble.
'Have I asked for your thanks?' he responded in a voice that
sounded as dusty and little-used as the pages of an old book.
