sorry."
"Your Man Jesus seems to me a bit of a son of a bitch when it comes to women," Roland said. "Was He ever
married?"
The corners of Callahan's mouth quirked. "No," he said, "but His girlfriend was a whore."
"Well," Roland said, "that's a start."
FOUR
Roland went back to leaning on the fence. The day called out to him to begin, but he wanted to give Callahan
a head start. There was no more reason for this than there had been for rejecting Andy out of hand; just a
feeling.
He was still there, and rolling another smoke, when Eddie came down the hill with his shirt flapping out
behind him and his boots in one hand.
"Hile, Eddie," Roland said.
"Hile, boss. Saw you talking with Callahan. Give us this day, our Wilma and Fred."
Roland raised his eyebrows.
"Never mind," Eddie said. "Roland, in all the excitement I never got a chance to tell you Gran-pere's story.
And it's important."
"Is Susanna up?"
"Yep. Having a wash. Jake's eating what looks like a twelve-egg omelet."
Roland nodded. "I've fed the horses. We can saddle them while you tell me the old man's tale."
"Don't think it'll take that long," Eddie said, and it didn't. He came to the punchline—which the old man had
whispered into his ear—just as they reached the barn. Roland turned toward him, the horses forgotten. His
eyes were blazing. The hands he clamped on Eddie's shoulders—even the diminished right—were powerful.
"Repeat it!"
Eddie took no offense. "He told me to lean close. I did. He said he'd never told anyone but his son, which I
believe. Tian and Zalia know he was out there—or says he was—but they don't know what he saw when he
pulled the mask off the thing. I don't think they even know Red Molly was the one who dropped it. And then
he whispered…" Once again Eddie told Roland what Tian's Gran-pere claimed to have seen.
Roland's glare of triumph was so brilliant it was frightening. "Gray horses!" he said. "All those horses the
exact same shade! Do you understand now, Eddie? Do you?"
"Yep," Eddie said. His teeth appeared in a grin. It was not particularly comforting, that grin. "As the chorus
girl said to the businessman, we've been here before."
FIVE
In standard American English, the word with the most gradations of meaning is probably run. The Random
House Unabridged Dictionary offers one hundred and seventy-eight options, beginning with "to go quickly
by moving the legs more rapidly than at a walk" and ending with "melted or liquefied." In the Crescent-
Callas of the borderlands between Mid-World and Thunderclap, the blue ribbon for most meanings would
have gone to commala. If the word were listed in the Random House Unabridged, the first definition
(assuming they were assigned, as is common, in order of widest usage), would have been "a variety of rice
grown at the furthermost eastern edge of All-World." The second one, however would have been "sexual
intercourse." The third would have been "sexual orgasm," as in Did'ee come commala'? (The hoped-for reply
being Aye, say thankya, commala big-big.) To wet the commala is to irrigate the rice in a dry time; it is also
to masturbate. Commala is the commencement of some big and joyful meal, like a family feast (not the meal
itself, do ya, but the moment of beginning to eat). A man who is losing his hair (as Garrett Strong was that
season), is coming commala. Putting animals out to stud is damp commala. Gelded animals are dry commala,
although no one could tell you why. A virgin is green commala, a menstruating woman is red commala, an
old man who can no longer make iron before the forge is—say sorry—sof' commala. To stand commala is to
stand belly-to-belly, a slang term meaning "to share secrets." The sexual connotations of the word are clear,
but why should the rocky arroyos north of town be known as the commala draws? For that matter, why is a
fork sometimes a commala, but never a spoon or a knife? There aren't a hundred and seventy-eight meanings
for the word, but there must be seventy. Twice that, if one were to add in the various shadings. One of the
meanings— it would surely be in the top ten—is that which Pere Callahan denned as schmoozing. The actual
phrase would be something like "come Sturgis commala," or "come Bryna commala." The literal meaning
would be to stand belly-to-belly with the community as a whole.
During the following five days, Roland and his ka-tet attempted to continue this process, which the
outworlders had begun at Took's General Store. The going was difficult at first ("Like trying to light a fire
with damp kindling," Susannah said crossly after their first night), but little by little, the folken came around.
Or at least warmed up to them. Each night, Roland and the Deans returned to the Pere's rectory. Each late
afternoon or evening, Jake returned to the Rocking B Ranch. Andy took to meeting him at the place where
the B's ranch-road split off from East Road and escorting him the rest of the way, each time making his bow
and saying, "Good evening, soh! Would you like your horoscope? This time of year is sometimes called
Charyou Reap! You will see an old friend! A young lady thinks of you warmly!" And so on.
Jake had asked Roland again why he was spending so much time with Benny Slightman.
"Are you complaining?" Roland asked. "Don't like him anymore?"
"I like him fine, Roland, but if there's something I'm supposed to be doing besides jumping in the hay,
teaching Oy to do somersaults, or seeing who can skip a flat rock on the river the most times, I think you
ought to tell me what it is."
"There's nothing else," Roland said. Then, as an afterthought: "And get your sleep. Growing boys need plenty
of sleep."
"Why am I out there?"
"Because it seems right to me that you should be," Roland said. "All I want is for you to keep your eyes open
and tell me if you see something you don't like or don't understand."
"Anyway, kiddo, don't you see enough of us during the days?" Eddie asked him.
They were together during those next five days, and the days were long. The novelty of riding sai
Overholser's horses wore off in a hurry. So did complaints of sore muscles and blistered butts. On one of
these rides, as they approached the place where Andy would be waiting, Roland asked Susannah bluntly if
she had considered abortion as a way of solving her problem.
"Well," she said, looking at him curiously from her horse, "I'm not going to tell you the thought never crossed
my mind."
"Banish it," he said. "No abortion."
"Any particular reason why not?"
"Ka," said Roland.
"Kaka," Eddie replied promptly. This was an old joke, but the three of them laughed, and Roland was
delighted to laugh with them. And with that, the subject was dropped. Roland could hardly believe it, but he
was glad. The fact that Susannah seemed so little disposed to discuss Mia and the coming of the baby made
him grateful indeed. He supposed there were things—quite a few of them—which she felt better off not
knowing.
Still, she had never lacked for courage. Roland was sure the questions would have come sooner or later, but
after five days of canvassing the town as a quartet (a quintet counting Oy, who always rode with Jake),
Roland began sending her out to the Jaffords smallhold at midday to try her hand with the dish.
Eight days or so after their long palaver on the rectory porch—the one that had gone on until four in the
morning— Susannah invited them out to the Jaffords smallhold to see her progress. "It's Zalia's idea," she
said. "I guess she wants to know if I pass."
Roland knew he only had to ask Susannah herself if he wanted an answer to that question, but he was
curious. When they arrived, they found the entire family gathered on the back porch, and several of Tian's
neighbors, as well: Jorge Estrada and his wife, Diego Adams (in chaps), the Javiers. They looked like
spectators at a Points practice. Zalman and Tia, the roont twins, stood to one side, goggling at all the
company with wide eyes. Andy was also there, holding baby Aaron (who was sleeping) in his arms.
"Roland, if you wanted all this kept secret, guess what?" Eddie said.
Roland was not put out of countenance, although he realized now that his threat to the cowboys who'd seen
sai Eisenhart throw the dish had been utterly useless. Country-folk talked, that was all. Whether in the
borderlands or the baronies, gossip was ever the chief sport. And at the very least, he mused, those humpies
will spread the news that Roland's a hard boy, strong commala, and not to be trifled with.
"It is what it is," he said. "The Calla-folken have known for donkey's years that the Sisters of Oriza throw the
dish. If they know Susannah throws it, too—and well—maybe it's to the good."
Jake said, "I just hope she doesn't, you know, mess up."
There were respectful greetings for Roland, Eddie, and Jake as they mounted the porch. Andy told Jake a
young lady was pining for him. Jake blushed and said he'd just as soon not know about stuff like that, if that
did Andy all right.
"As you will, soh." Jake found himself studying the words and numbers stamped on Andy's midsection like a
steel tattoo and wondering again if he was really in this world of robots and cowboys, or if it was all some
sort of extraordinarily vivid dream. "I hope this baby will wake up soon, so I do. And cry! Because I know
several soothing cradle-songs—"
"Hush up, ye creakun steel bandit!" Gran-pere said crossly, and after crying the old man's pardon (in his
usual complacent, not-a-bit-sorry tone of voice), Andy did. Messenger, Many Other Functions, Jake thought.
Is one of your other functions teasing folks, Andy, or is that just my imagination?
Susannah had gone into the house with Zalia. When they came out, Susannah was wearing not one reed
pouch, but two. They hung to her hips on a pair of woven straps. There was another strap, too, Eddie saw,
running around her waist and holding the pouches snug. Like holster tie-downs.
"That's quite the hookup, say thankya," Diego Adams remarked.
"Susannah thought it up," Zalia said as Susannah got into her wheelchair. "She calls it a docker's clutch."
It wasn't, Eddie thought, not quite, but it was close. He felt an admiring smile lift the corners of his mouth,
and saw a similar one on Roland's. And Jake's. By God, even Oy appeared to be grinning.
"Will it draw water, that's what I wonder," Bucky Javier said. That such a question should even be asked,
Eddie thought, only emphasized the difference between the gunslingers and the Calla-folken. Eddie and his
mates had known from first look what the hookup was and how it would work. Javier, however, was a
smallhold farmer, and as such, saw the world in a very different way.
You need us, Eddie thought toward the little cluster of men standing on the porch—the farmers in their dirty
white pants, Adams in his chaps and manure-splattered shor'boots. Boy, do you ever.
Susannah wheeled to the front of the porch and folded her stumps beneath her so she appeared almost to be
standing in her chair. Eddie knew how much this posture hurt her, but no discomfort showed on her face.
Roland, meanwhile, was looking down into the pouches she wore. There were four dishes in each, plain
things with no pattern on them. Practice-dishes.
Zalia walked across to the barn. Although Roland and Eddie had noted the blanket tacked up there as soon as
they arrived, the others noticed it for the first time when Zalia pulled it down. Drawn in chalk on the
barnboards was the outline of a man—or a manlike being—with a frozen grin on his face and the suggestion
of a cloak fluttering out behind him. This wasn't work of the quality produced by the Tavery twins, nowhere
near, but those on the porch recognized a Wolf when they saw one. The older children oohed softly. The
Estradas and the Javiers applauded, but looked apprehensive even as they did so, like people who fear they
may be whistling up the devil. Andy complimented the artist ("whoever she may be," he added archly), and
Gran-pere told him again to shut his trap. Then he called out that the Wolves he'd seen were quite a spot
bigger. His voice was shrill with excitement.
"Well, I drew it to man-size," Zalia said (she had actually drawn it to husband-size). "If the real thing turns
out to make a bigger target, all to the good. Hear me, I beg." This last came out uncertainly, almost as a
question.
Roland nodded. "We say thankya."
Zalia shot him a grateful look, then stepped away from the outline on the wall. Then she looked at Susannah.
"When you will, lady."
For a moment Susannah only remained where she was, about sixty yards from the barn. Her hands lay
between her breasts, the right covering the left. Her head was lowered. Her ka-mates knew exactly what was
going on in that head: I aim with my eye, shoot with my hand, kill with my heart. Their own hearts went out to
her, perhaps carried by Jake's touch or Eddie's love, encouraging her, wishing her well, sharing their
excitement. Roland watched fiercely. Would one more dab hand with the dish turn things in their favor?
Perhaps not. But he was what he was, and so was she, and he wished her true aim with every last bit of his
will.
She raised her head. Looked at the shape chalked on the barn wall. Still her hands lay between her breasts.
Then she cried out shrilly, as Margaret Eisenhart had cried out in the yard of the Rocking B, and Roland felt
