Redbird instead. He'll have the Sisters of Oriza standing guard—in front and up above, as well—and ye'd do
well not to underestimate those ladies."
"HOW MANY?"
"I think five, if he puts Sarey Adams among em. Plus some men with bahs. He'll have the brownie throwing
with em, kennit, and I hear she's good. Maybe best of all. But one way or the other, we know where the kids
are going to be. Putting them in such a place is a mistake, but he don't know it. He's dangerous, but grown old
in his thinking. Probably such a strategy has worked for him before."
And it had, of course. In Eyebolt Canyon, against Latigo's men.
"The important thing now is finding out where he and the boy and the younger man are going to be when the
Wolves come. He may tell at the meeting. If he don't, he may tell Eisenhart afterward."
"OR OVERHOLSER?"
"No. Eisenhart will stand with him. Overholser won't."
"YOU MUST FIND OUT WHERE THEY'LL BE."
"I know," Slightman said. "We'll find out, Andy and I, and then make one more trip to this unblessed place.
After that, I swear by the Lady Oriza and the Man Jesus, I've done my part. Now can we get out of here?"
"In a moment, sai," Andy said. "I have my own report to make, you know."
There was another of those long, whistling shrieks. Jake ground his teeth and waited for it to be over, and
finally it was. Finli I' Tego signed off.
"Are we done?" Slightman asked.
"Unless you have some reason to linger, I believe we are," Andy said.
"Does anything in here seem different to you?" Slightman asked suddenly, and Jake felt his blood turn cold.
"No," Andy said, "but I have great respect for human intuition. Are you having intuition, sai?"
There was a pause that seemed to go on for at least a full minute, although Jake knew it must have been much
shorter than that. He held Oy's head against his thigh and waited.
"No," Slightman said at last. "Guess I'm just getting jumpy, now that it's close. God, I wish it was over! I hate
this!"
"You're doing the right thing, sai." Jake didn't know about Slightman, but Andy's plummily sympathetic tone
made him feel like gnashing his teeth. "The only thing, really. 'Tisn't your fault that you're father to the only
mateless twin in Calla Bryn Sturgis, is it? I know a song that makes this point in particularly moving fashion.
Perhaps you'd like to hear—"
"Shut up!" Slightman cried in a choked voice. "Shut up, you mechanical devil! I've sold my goddam soul,
isn't that enough for you? Must I be made sport of, as well?"
"If I've offended, I apologize from the bottom of my admittedly hypothetical heart," Andy said. "In other
words, I cry your pardon." Sounding sincere. Sounding as though he meant every word. Sounding as though
butter wouldn't melt. Yet Jake had no doubt that Andy's eyes were flashing out in gales of silent blue laughter.
TWELVE
The conspirators left. There was an odd, meaningless jingle of melody from the overhead speakers
(meaningless to Jake, at least), and then silence. He waited for them to discover his pony, come back, search
for him, find him, kill him. When he had counted to a hundred and twenty and they hadn't returned to the
Dogan, he got to his feet (the overdose of adrenaline in his system left him feeling as stiff as an old man) and
went back into the control room. He was just in time to see the motion-sensor lights in front of the place
switch off. He looked at the monitor showing the top of the rise and saw the Dogan's most recent visitors
walking between the boom-flurry. This time the cactuses didn't move. They had apparently learned their
lesson. Jake watched Slightman and Andy go, bitterly amused by the difference in their heights. Whenever
his father saw such a Mutt-and-Jeff duo on the street, he inevitably said Put em in vaudeville. It was about as
close to a joke as Elmer Chambers could get.
When this particular duo was out of sight, Jake looked down at the floor. No dust, of course. No dust and no
tracks. He should have seen that when he came in. Certainly Roland would have seen that. Roland would
have seen everything.
Jake wanted to leave but made himself wait. If they saw the motion-lights glare back on behind them, they'd
probably assume it was a rock-cat (or maybe what Benny called "an armydillo"), but probably wasn't good
enough. To pass the time, he looked at the various control panels, many of which had the LaMerk Industries
name on them. Yet he also saw the familiar GE and IBM logos, plus one he didn't know—Microsoft. All of
these latter gadgets were stamped made in usa. The LaMerk products bore no such mark.
He was pretty sure some of the keyboards he saw—there were at least two dozen—controlled computers.
What other gadgetry was there? How much was still up and running? Were there weapons stored here? He
somehow thought the answer to this last question was no—if there had been weapons, they had no doubt
been decommissioned or appropriated, very likely by Andy the Messenger Robot (Many Other Functions).
At last he decided it was safe to leave… if, that was, he was extremely careful, rode slowly back to the river,
and took pains to approach the Rocking B the back way. He was nearly to the door when another question
occurred to him. Was there a record of his and Oy's visit to the Dogan? Were they on videotape somewhere?
He looked at the operating TV screens, sparing his longest stare for the one showing the control room. He
and Oy were on it again. From the camera's high angle, anyone in the room would have to be in that picture.
Let it go, Jake, the gunslinger in his head advised. There's nothing you can do about it, so just let it go. If you
try poking and prying, you're apt to leave sign. You might even set off an alarm.
The idea of tripping an alarm convinced him. He picked up Oy—as much for comfort as anything else—and
got the hell out. His pony was exacdy where Jake had left him, cropping dreamily at the bushes in the
moonlight. There were no tracks in the hardpan… but, Jake saw, he wasn't leaving any himself. Andy would
have broken through the crusty surface enough to leave tracks, but not him. He wasn't heavy enough.
Probably Benny's Da' wasn't, either.
Quit it. If they'd smelled you, they would have come back.
Jake supposed that was true, but he still felt more than a little like Goldilocks tiptoeing away from the house
of the Three Bears. He led his pony back to the desert road, then put on the duster and slipped Oy into the
wide front pocket. As he mounted up, he thumped the bumbler a fairly good one on the saddle-horn.
"Ouch, Ake!" Oy said.
"Quit it, ya baby," Jake said, turning his pony back in the direction of the river. "Gotta be quiet, now."
"Kiyit," Oy agreed, and gave him a wink. Jake worked his fingers down through the bumbler's heavy fur and
scratched the place Oy liked the best. Oy closed his eyes, stretched his neck to an almost comical length, and
grinned.
When they got back to the river, Jake dismounted and peered over a boulder in both directions. He saw
nothing, but his heart was in his throat all the way across to the other side. He kept trying to think what he
would say if Benny's Da' hailed him and asked him what he was doing out here in the middle of the night.
Nothing came. In English class, he'd almost always gotten As on his creative-writing assignments, but now
he was discovering that fear and invention did not mix. If Benny's Da' hailed him, Jake would be caught. It
was as simple as that.
There was no hail—not crossing the river, not going back to the Rocking B, not unsaddling the horse and
rubbing him down. The world was silent, and that was just fine with Jake.
THIRTEEN
Once Jake was back on his pallet and pulling the covers to his chin, Oy jumped up on Benny's bed and lay
down, nose once more under his tail. Benny made a deep-sleep muttering sound, reached out, and gave the
bumbler's flank a single stroke.
Jake lay looking at the sleeping boy, troubled. He liked Benny—his openness, his appetite for fun, his
willingness to work hard when there were chores that needed doing. He liked Benny's yodeling laugh when
something struck him funny, and the way they were evenly matched in so many things, and—
And until tonight, Jake had liked Benny's Da', too.
He tried to imagine how Benny would look at him when he found out that (a) his father was a traitor and (b)
his friend had squealed on him. Jake thought he could bear anger. It was hurt that would be hard.
You think hurt's all it'll be? Simple hurt? You better think again. There aren't many props under Benny
Slightman's world, and this is going to knock them all out from under him. Every single one.
Not my fault that his father's a spy and a traitor.
But it wasn't Benny's, either. If you asked Slightman, he'd probably say it wasn't even his fault, that he'd been
forced into it. Jake guessed that was almost true. Completely true, if you looked at things with a father's eye.
What was it that the Calla's twins made and the Wolves needed? Something in their brains, very likely. Some
sort of enzyme or secretion not produced by singleton children; maybe the enzyme or secretion that created
the supposed phenomenon of "twin telepathy." Whatever it was, they could take it from Benny Slightman,
because Benny Slightman only looked like a singleton. Had his sister died? Well, that was tough titty, wasn't
it? Very tough titty, especially for the father who loved the only one left. Who couldn't bear to let him go.
Suppose Roland kills him ? How will Benny look at you then ?
Once, in another life, Roland had promised to take care of Jake Chambers and then let him drop into the
darkness. Jake had thought there could be no worse betrayal than that. Now he wasn't so sure. No, not so sure
at all. These unhappy thoughts kept him awake for a long time. Finally, half an hour or so before the first hint
of dawn touched the horizon, he fell into a thin and troubled sleep.
Contents -Prev / Next
Chapter IV: The Pied Piper
ONE
"We are ka-tet," said the gunslinger. "We are one from many." He saw Callahan's doubtful look—it was
impossible to miss— and nodded. "Yes, Pere, you're one of us. I don't know for how long, but I know it's so.
And so do my friends."
Jake nodded. So did Eddie and Susannah. They were in the Pavilion today; after hearing Jake's story, Roland
no longer wanted to meet at the rectory-house, not even in the back yard. He thought it all too likely that
Slightman or Andy— maybe even some other as yet unsuspected friend of the Wolves—had placed listening
devices as well as cameras there. Overhead the sky was gray, threatening rain, but the weather remained
remarkably warm for so late in the season. Some civic-minded ladies or gents had raked away the fallen
leaves in a wide circle around the stage where Roland and his friends had introduced themselves not so long
ago, and the grass beneath was as green as summer. There were folken flying kites, couples promenading
hand in hand, two or three outdoor tradesmen keeping one eye out for customers and the other on the low-
bellied clouds overhead. On the bandstand, the group of musicians who had played them into Calla Bryn
Sturgis with such brio were practicing a few new tunes. On two or three occasions, townsfolk had started
toward Roland and his friends, wanting to pass a little time, and each time it happened, Roland shook his
head in an unsmiling way that turned them around in a hurry. The time for so-good-to-meet-you politics had
passed. They were almost down to what Susannah called the real nitty-gritty.
Roland said, "In four days comes the meeting, this time I think of the entire town, not just the men."
"Damn well told it ought to be the whole town," Susannah said. "If you're counting on the ladies to throw the
dish and make up for all the guns we don't have, I don't think it's too much to let em into the damn hall."
"Won't be in the Gathering Hall, if it's everyone," Callahan said. "There won't be room enough. We'll light the
torches and have it right out here."
"And if it rains?" Eddie asked.
"If it rains, people will get wet," Callahan said, and shrugged.
"Four days to the meeting and nine to the Wolves," Roland said. "This will very likely be our last chance to
palaver as we are now—sitting down, with our heads clear—until this is over. We won't be here long, so let's
make it count." He held out his hands. Jake took one, Susannah the other. In a moment all five were joined in
a little circle, hand to hand. "Do we see each other?"
"See you very well," Jake said.
"Very well, Roland," said Eddie.
"Clear as day, sug," Susannah agreed, smiling.
Oy, who was sniffing in the grass nearby, said nothing, but he did look around and tip a wink.
"Pere?" Roland asked.
"I see and hear you very well," Callahan agreed with a small smile, "and I'm glad to be included. So far, at
least."
TWO
Roland, Eddie, and Susannah had heard most of Jake's tale; Jake and Susannah had heard most of Roland's
and Eddie's. Now Callahan got both—what he later called "the double feature." He listened with his eyes
wide and his mouth frequently agape. He crossed himself when Jake told of hiding in the closet. To Eddie the
Pere said, "You didn't mean it about killing the wives and children, of course? That was just a bluff?"
Eddie looked up at the heavy sky, considering this with a faint smile. Then he looked back at Callahan.
