Wolves of the Calla

'Sure, Henchick,' Jake said at once, and almost offhandedly. 'You talked to him… when? Late last night?'

'Yes.' That he hadn't been concentrating on, and he would have felt better had Jake not known of it. But the boy was strong in the touch, and Roland believed him when he said he hadn't been snooping. At least not on purpose.

'Mrs. Eisenhart thinks she hates him, but you think she's only afraid of him.'

'Yes,' Roland said. 'You're strong in the touch. Much more so than Alain ever was, and much more than you were. It's because of the rose, isn't it?'

Jake nodded. The rose, yes. They rode in silence a little longer, their horses' hooves raising a thin dust. In spite of the sun the day was chilly, promising real fall.

'All right, Jake. Speak to me dan-dinh if you would, and I say thanks for your trust in such wisdom as I have.'

But for the space of almost two minutes Jake said nothing. Roland pried at him, trying to get inside the boy's head as the boy had gotten inside his (and with such ease), but there was nothing. Nothing at a—

But there was. There was a rat… squirming, impaled on something…

'Where is the castle she goes to?' Jake asked. 'Do you know?'

Roland was unable to conceal his surprise. His astonishment, really. And he supposed there was an element of guilt there, as well. Suddenly he understood… well, not everything, but much.

'There is no castle and never was,' he told Jake. 'It's a place she goes to in her mind, probably made up of the stories she's read and the ones I've told by the campfire, as well. She goes there so she won't have to see what she's really eating. What her baby needs.'

'I saw her eating a roasted pig,' Jake said. 'Only before she came, a rat was eating it. She stabbed it with a meat-fork.'

'Where did you see this?'

'In the castle.' He paused. 'In her dream. I was in her dream.'

'Did she see you there?' The gunslinger's blue eyes were sharp, almost blazing. His horse clearly felt some change, for it stopped. So did Jake's. Here they were on East Road, less than a mile from where Red Molly Doolin had once killed a Wolf out of Thunderclap. Here they were, facing each other.

'No,' Jake said. 'She didn't see me.'

Roland was thinking of the night he had followed her into the swamp. He had known she was someplace else in her mind, had sensed that much, but not quite where. Whatever visions he'd taken from her mind had been murky. Now he knew. He knew something else as well: Jake was troubled by his dinh's decision to let Susannah go on this way. And perhaps he was right to be troubled. But—

'It's not Susannah you saw, Jake.'

'I know. It's the one who still has her legs. She calls herself Mia. She's pregnant and she's scared to death.'

Roland said, 'If you would speak to me dan-dinh, tell me everything you saw in your dream and everything that troubled you about it upon waking. Then I'll give you the wisdom of my heart, such wisdom as I have.'

'You won't… Roland, you won't scold me?'

This time Roland was unable to conceal his astonishment. 'No, Jake. Far from it. Perhaps I should ask you not to scold me .'

The boy smiled wanly. The horses began to amble again, this time a little faster, as if they knew there had almost been trouble and wanted to leave the place of it behind.

TWO

Jake wasn't entirely sure how much of what was on his mind was going to come out until he actually began to talk. He had awakened undecided all over again concerning what to tell Roland about Andy and Slightman the Elder. In the end he took his cue from what Roland had just said—Tell me everything you saw in your dream and everything that troubled you about it upon waking —and left out the meeting by the river entirely. In truth, that part seemed far less important to him this morning.

He told Roland about the way Mia had run down the stairs, and about her fear when she'd seen there was no food left in the dining room or banqueting hall or whatever it was. Then the kitchen. Finding the roast with the rat battened on it. Killing the competition. Gorging on the prize. Then him, waking with the shivers and trying not to scream.

He hesitated and glanced at Roland. Roland made his impatient twirling gesture—go on, hurry up, finish.

Well , he thought, he promised not to scold and he keeps his word .

That was true, but Jake was still unable to tell Roland he'd actually considered spilling the beans to Susannah himself.

He did articulate his principal fear, however: that with three of them knowing and one of them not, their ka-tet was broken just when it needed to be the most solid. He even told Roland the old joke, guy with a blowout saying It's only flat on the bottom . He didn't expect Roland to laugh, and his expectations were met admirably in this regard. But he sensed Roland was to some degree ashamed, and Jake found this frightening. He had an idea shame was pretty much reserved for people who didn't know what they were doing.

'And until last night it was even worse than three in and one out,' Jake said. 'Because you were trying to keep me out, as well. Weren't you?'

'No,' Roland said.

'No?'

'I simply let things be as they were. I told Eddie because I was afraid that, once they were sharing a room together, he'd discover her wanderings and try to wake her up. I was afraid of what might happen to both of them if he did.'

'Why not just tell her?'

Roland sighed. 'Listen to me, Jake. Cort saw to our physical training when we were boys. Vannay saw to our mental training. Both of them tried to teach us what they knew of ethics. But in Gilead, our fathers were responsible for teaching us about ka. And because each child's father was different, each of us emerged from our childhood with a slightly different idea of what ka is and what it does. Do you understand?'

I understand that you're avoiding a very simple question , Jake thought, but nodded.

'My father told me a good deal on the subject, and most of it has left my mind, but one thing remains very clear. He said that when you are unsure, you must let ka alone to work itself out.'

'So it's ka.' Jake sounded disappointed. 'Roland, that isn't very helpful.'

Roland heard worry in the boy's voice, but it was the disappointment that stung him. He turned in the saddle, opened his mouth, realized that some hollow justification was about to come spilling out, and closed it again. Instead of justifying, he told the truth.

'I don't know what to do. Would you like to tell me?'

The boy's face flushed an alarming shade of red, and Roland realized Jake thought he was being sarcastic, for the gods' sake. That he was angry. Such lack of understanding was frightening. He's right , the gunslinger thought. We axe broken. Gods help us .

'Be not so,' Roland said. 'Hear me, I beg—listen well. In Calla Bryn Sturgis, the Wolves are coming. In New York, Balazar and his 'gentlemen' are coming. Both are bound to arrive soon. Will Susannah's baby wait until these matters have been resolved, one way or the other? I don't know.'

'She doesn't even look pregnant,' Jake said faintly. Some of the red had gone out of his cheeks, but he still kept his head down.