Wolves of the Calla

'He doesn't think of it in those terms… unless he does so in his dreams. And you know they'll burn his shop when they get there and find him gone. Almost surely. Pour gasoline under the door and light it. Break his window and toss in a grenado, either manufactured or homemade. Do you mean to tell me that never occurred to you?'

Of course it had. 'Well, maybe.'

It was Roland's turn to utter the humorous grunting sound. 'Not much may in that be . So he saved his best books. And now, in Doorway Cave, we have something to hide the Pere's treasure behind. Although I suppose it must be counted our treasure now.'

'His courage didn't strike me as real courage,' Eddie said. 'It was more like greed.'

'Not all are called to the way of the sword or the gun or the ship,' Roland said, 'but all serve ka.'

'Really? Does the Crimson King? Or the low men and women Callahan talked about?'

Roland didn't reply.

Eddie said, 'He may do well. Tower, I mean. Not the cat.'

'Very amusing,' Roland said dryly. He scratched a match on the seat of his pants, cupped the flame, lit his smoke.

'Thank you, Roland. You're growing in that respect. Ask me if I think Tower and Deepneau can get out of New York City clean.'

'Do you?'

'No, I think they'll leave a trail. We could follow it, but I'm hoping Balazar's men won't be able to. The one I worry about is Jack Andolini. He's creepy-smart. As for Balazar, he made a contract with this Sombra Corporation.'

'Took the king's salt.'

'Yeah, I guess somewhere up the line he did,' Eddie said. He had heard King instead of king, as in Crimson King. 'Balazar knows that when you make a contract, you have to fill it or have a damned good reason why not. Fail and word gets out. Stories start to circulate about how so-and-so's going soft, losing his shit. They've still got three weeks to find Tower and force him to sell the lot to Sombra. They'll use it. Balazar's not the FBI, but he is a connected guy, and… Roland, the worst thing about Tower is that in some ways, none of this is real to him. It's like he's mistaken his life for a life in one of his storybooks. He thinks things have got to turn out all right because the writer's under contract.'

'You think he'll be careless.'

Eddie voiced a rather wild laugh. 'Oh, I know he'll be careless. The question is whether or not Balazar will catch him at it'

'We're going to have to monitor Mr. Tower. Mind him for safety's sake. That's what you think, isn't it?'

'Yer-bugger!' Eddie said, and after a moment's silent consideration, both of them burst out laughing. When the fit had passed, Eddie said: 'I think we ought to send Callahan, if he'll go. You probably think I'm crazy, but—'

'Not at all,' Roland said. 'He's one of us… or could be. I felt that from the first. And he's used to traveling in strange places. I'll put it to him today. Tomorrow I'll come up here with him and see him through the doorway—'

'Let me do it,' Eddie said. 'Once was enough for you. At least for awhile.'

Roland eyed him carefully, then pitched his cigarette over the drop. 'Why do you say so, Eddie?'

'Your hair's gotten whiter up around here.' Eddie patted the crown of his own head. 'Also, you're walking a little stiff. It's better now, but I'd guess the old rheumatiz kicked in on you a little. Fess up.'

'All right, I fess,' Roland said. If Eddie thought it was no more than old Mr. Rheumatiz, that was not so bad.

'Actually, I could bring him up tonight, long enough to get the zip code,' Eddie said. 'It'll be day again over there, I bet.'

'None of us is coming up this path in the dark. Not if we can help it.'

Eddie looked down the steep incline to where the fallen boulder jutted out, turning fifteen feet of their course into a tightrope-walk. 'Point taken.'

Roland started to get up. Eddie reached out and took his arm. 'Stay a couple of minutes longer, Roland. Do ya.'

Roland sat down again, looking at him.

Eddie took a deep breath, let it out. 'Ben Slightman's dirty,' he said. 'He's the tattletale. I'm almost sure of it.'

'Yes, I know.'

Eddie looked at him, wide-eyed. 'You know ? How could you possibly—'

'Let's say I suspected.'

'How?'

'His spectacles,' Roland said. 'Ben Slightman the Elder's the only person in Calla Bryn Sturgis with spectacles. Come on, Eddie, day's waiting. We can talk as we walk.'

SEVENTEEN

They couldn't, though, not at first, because the path was too steep and narrow. But later, as they approached the bottom of the mesa, it grew wider and more forgiving. Talk once more became practical, and Eddie told Roland about the book, The Dogan or The Hogan , and the author's oddly disputable name. He recounted the oddity of the copyright page (not entirely sure that Roland grasped this part), and said it had made him wonder if something was pointing toward the son, too. That seemed like a crazy idea, but—

'I think that if Benny Slightman was helping his father inform on us,' Roland said, 'Jake would know.'

'Are you sure he doesn't?' Eddie asked.

This gave Roland some pause. Then he shook his head. 'Jake suspects the father.'

'He told you that?'

'He didn't have to.'

They had almost reached the horses, who raised their heads alertly and seemed glad to see them.

'He's out there at the Rocking B,' Eddie said. 'Maybe we ought to take a ride out there. Invent some reason to bring him back to the Pere's…' He trailed off, looking at Roland closely. 'No?'

'No.' '

'Why not?'

'Because this is Jake's part of it.'

'That's hard, Roland. He and Benny Slightman like each other. A lot. If Jake ends up being the one to show the Calla what his Dad's been doing—'

'Jake will do what he needs to do,' Roland said. 'So will we all.'

'But he's still just a boy, Roland. Don't you see that?'

'He won't be for much longer,' Roland said, and mounted up. He hoped Eddie didn't see the momentary wince of pain that cramped his face when he swung his right leg over the saddle, but of course Eddie did.

Chapter III: The Dogan, Part II