hammer back
- and Roland jerked awake, shivering all over, dressed in skin both
wet and icy cold. He looked at the bed on his left. It was empty, the
sheet pulled up and tucked about neatly, the pillow resting above it
in its snowy sleeve. Of John Norman there was no sign. It might
have been empty for years, that bed.
Roland was alone now. Gods help him, he was the last patient of
the Little Sisters of Eluria, those sweet and patient hospitallers.
The last human being still alive in this terrible place, the last with
warm blood flowing in his veins.
Roland, lying suspended, gripped the gold medallion in his fist and
looked across the aisle at the long row of empty beds. After a little
while, he brought one of the reeds out from beneath his pillow and
nibbled at it.
When Mary came fifteen minutes later, the gunslinger took the
bowl she brought with a show of weakness he didn't really feel.
Porridge instead of soup this time ... but he had no doubt the basic
ingredient was still the same.
'How well ye look this morning, sai,' Big Sister said. She looked
well herself - there were no shimmers to give away the ancient
wampir hiding inside her. She had supped well, and her meal had
firmed her up. Roland, stomach rolled over at the thought. 'Ye'll be
on yer pins in no time, I warrant.'
'That's shit,' Roland said, speaking in an ill-natured growl. 'Put me
on my pins and you'd be picking me up off the floor directly after.
I've start to wonder if you're not putting something in the food.'
She laughed merrily at that. 'La, you lads! Always eager to blame
weakness on a scheming woman! How scared of us ye are - aye,
way down in yer little boys' hearts, how scared ye are!'
'Where's my brother? I dreamed there was a commotion about him
in the night, and now I see his bed's empty.'
Her smile narrowed. Her eyes glittered. 'He came over fevery and
pitched a fit. We've taken him to Thoughtful House, which has
been home to contagion more than once in its time.'
To the grave is where you've taken him, Roland thought. Mayhap
that is a Thoughtful House, but little would you know it, sai, one
way or another.
'I know ye're no brother to that boy,' Mary said, watching him eat.
Already Roland could feel the stuff hidden in the porridge draining
his strength once more. 'Sigil or no sigil, I know ye're no brother to
him. Why do you lie? 'Tis a sin against God.'
'What gives you such an idea, sai?' Roland asked, curious to see if
she would mention the guns.
'Big Sister knows what she knows. Why not 'fess up, Jimmy?
Confession's good for the soul, they say.'
'Send me Jenna to pass the time, and perhaps I'd tell you much,'
Roland said.
The narrow bone of smile on Sister Mary's face disappeared like
chalkwriting in a rainstorm. 'Why would ye talk to such as her?'
