giggled, and departed. Roland closed his eyes and lay back against
hi pillow, feeling lethargy steal over him again. Her speculative
eyes ... he peeping tongue. He had seen women look at roast
chickens and joints of mutton that same way, calculating when
they might be done.
His body badly wanted to sleep, but Roland held on to wakefulness
for what he judged was an hour, then worked one of the reeds out
from under the pillow. With a fresh infusion of their 'can't-move-
medicine' in his system, this took an enormous effort, and he
wasn't sure he could have done it at all, had he not separated this
one reed from the ribbon holding the others. Tomorrow night,
Jenna's note had said. If that meant escape, the idea seemed
preposterous. The way he felt now, he might be lying in this bed
until the end of the age.
He nibbled. Energy washed into his system, clenching his muscles
and racing his heart, but the burst of vitality was gone almost as
soon as it came, buried beneath the Sisters' stronger drug. He could
only hope ... and sleep.
When he woke it was full dark, and he found he could move his
arms and legs in their network of slings almost naturally. He
slipped one of the reeds out from beneath his pillow and nibbled
cautiously. She had left half a dozen, and the first two were now
almost entirely consumed.
The gunslinger put the stem back under the pillow, then began to
shiver like a wet dog in a downpour. I took too much, he thought.
I'll be lucky not to convulse -
His heart, racing like a runaway engine. And then, to make matters
worse, he saw candlelight at the far end of the aisle. A moment
later he heard the rustle of their gowns and the whisk of their
slippers.
Gods, why now? They'll see me shaking, they'll know
Calling on every bit of his willpower and control, Roland dosed his
eyes and concentrated on stilling his jerking limbs. If only he had
been in bed instead of in these cursed slings, which seemed to
tremble as if with their own ague at every movement!
The Little Sisters drew closer. The light of their candles bloomed
red within his closed eyelids. Tonight they were not giggling, nor
whispering amongst themselves. It was not until they were almost
on top of him that Roland became aware of the stranger in their
midst - a creature that breathed through its nose in great, slobbery
gasps of mixed air and snot.
The gunslinger lay with his eyes closed, the gross twitches and
jumps of his arms and legs under control, but with his muscles still
knotted arid crampy, thrumming beneath the skin. Anyone who
looked at him closely would see at once that something was wrong
with him. His heart was larruping away like a horse under the
whip, surely they must see
But it wasn't him they were looking at - not yet, at least.
'Have it off him,' Mary said. She spoke in a bastardized version of
the low speech Roland could barely understand. 'Then t'other 'un.
