He wants him to stay, she thought,and was angry. Then Roland looked at her and gave his head a minute shake. Shewasn’t sure, but she thought that meant—

And no, she didn’t just think. She knewwhat it meant. Roland wanted her to know he was hiding his thoughts fromPatrick. His desires. And while she’d known the gunslinger to lie (mostspectacularly at the meeting on the Calla Bryn Sturgis common-ground before thecoming of the Wolves), she had never known him to lie to her. To Detta,maybe, but not to her. Or Eddie. Or Jake. There had been times when he hadn’ttold them all he knew, but outright lie…? No. They’d been ka-tet, and Rolandhad played them straight. Give the devil his due.

Patrick suddenly took up his pad and wrotequickly on the clean sheet. Then he showed it to them:

I will stay. Scaredto go sumplace new.

As if to emphasize exactly what he meant,he opened his lips and pointed into his tongueless mouth.

And did she see relief on Roland’s face? Ifso, she hated him for it.

“All right, Patrick,” she said, trying toshow none of her feelings in her voice. She even reached over and patted his hand.“I understand how you feel. And while it’s true that people can be cruel… crueland mean… there’s plenty who are kind. Listen, thee: I’m not going until dawn.If you change your mind, the offer is open.”

He nodded quickly. Grateful I ain’t goantry no harder t’change his mine, Detta thought angrily. Ole white manprobably grateful, too!

Shut up, Susannah told her, and fora wonder, Detta did.

Eighteen

But as the day brightened (revealing amedium-sized herd of grazing bannock not two miles away), she let Detta backinto her mind. More: she let Detta take over. It was easier that way, lesspainful. It was Detta who took one more stroll around the campsite, brisklybreathing the last of this world for both of them, and storing away the memory.It was Detta who went around the door, rocking first one way and then the otheron the toughened pads of her palms, and saw the nothing at all on the otherside. Patrick walked on one side of her, Roland on the other. Patrick hootedwith surprise when he saw the door was gone. Roland said nothing. Oy walked upto the place where the door had been, sniffed at the air… and then walkedthrough the place where it was, if you were looking from the other side. Ifwe was over there, Detta thought, we’d see him walk right through it,like a magic trick.

She returned to Ho Fat III, which she haddecided to ride through the door. Always assuming it would open, that was. Thiswhole business would be quite a joke if it turned out it wouldn’t. Roland madeto help her up into the seat; she brushed him brusquely away and mounted on herown. She pushed the red button beside the wheel, and the cart’s electric motorstarted with a faint hum. The needle marked CHG still swung well over into thegreen. She turned the throttle on the right handlebar and rolled slowly towardthe closed door with the symbols meaning UNFOUND marching across the front. Shestopped with the cart’s little bullet nose almost touching it.

She turned to the gunslinger with a fixedmake-believe smile.

“All ri’, Roland—Ah’ll say g’bye toyou, then. Long days n pleasant nights. May you reach y’damn Tower, and—”

“No,” he said.

She looked at him, Detta looked athim with her eyes both blazing and laughing. Challenging him to turn this intosomething she didn’t want it to be. Challenging him to turn her out now thatshe was in. C’mon, honky white boy, lessee you do it.

“What?” she asked. “What’s on yo’ mine, bigboy?”

“I’d not say goodbye to you like this,after all this time,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Only in Detta’s angryburlesque, it came out Whatchu mean?

“You know.”

She shook her head defiantly. Doan.

“For one thing,” he said, taking hertrail-toughened left hand gently in his mutilated right one, “there’s anotherwho should have the choice to go or stay, and I’m not speaking of Patrick.”

For a moment she didn’t understand. Thenshe looked down at a certain pair of gold-ringed eyes, a certain pair of cockedears, and did. She had forgotten about Oy.

“If Detta asks him, he’ll surely stay, forshe’s never been to his liking. If Susannah asks him… why, then I don’t know.”

Just like that, Detta was gone. She wouldbe back—Susannah understood now that she would never be entirely free ofDetta Walker, and that was all right, because she no longer wanted tobe—but for now she was gone.

“Oy?” she said gently. “Will you come withme, honey? It may be we’ll find Jake again. Maybe not quite the same, butstill…”

Oy, who had been almost completely silentduring their trek across the Badlands and the White Lands of Empathica and theopen rangelands, now spoke. “Ake?” he said. But he spoke doubtfully, as one whobarely remembers, and her heart broke. She had promised herself she wouldn’tcry, and Detta all but guaranteed she wouldn’t cry, but now Detta wasgone and the tears were here again.

“Jake,” she said. “You rememberJake, honeybunch, I know you do. Jake and Eddie.”

“Ake? Ed?” With a little more certaintynow. He did remember.

“Come with me,” she urged, and Oy startedforward as if he would jump up in the cart beside her. Then, with no idea atall why she should say it, she added: “There are other worlds than these.”

Oy stopped as soon as the words were out ofher mouth. He sat down. Then he got up again, and she felt a moment of hope:perhaps there could still be some little ka-tet, a dan-tete-tet, in someversion of New York where folks drove Takuro Spirits and took pictures of eachother drinking Nozz-A-La with their Shinnaro cameras.

Instead, Oy trotted back to the gunslingerand sat beside one battered boot. They had walked far, those boots, far. Milesand wheels, wheels and miles. But now their walking was almost done.

“Olan,” said Oy, and the finality in hisstrange little voice rolled a stone against her heart. She turned bitterly tothe old man with the big iron on his hip.

“There,” she said. “You have your ownglammer, don’t you? Always did. You drew Eddie on to one death, and Jake to apair of em. Now Patrick, and even the bumbler. Are you happy?”

“No,” said he, and she saw he truly wasnot. She believed she had never seen such sadness and such loneliness on ahuman face. “Never was I farther from happy, Susannah of New York. Will youchange your mind and stay? Will thee come the last little while with me? Thatwould make me happy.”

For a wild moment she thought she would.That she would simply turn the little electric cart from the door—whichwas one-sided and made no promises—and go with him to the Dark Tower.Another day would do it; they could camp at mid-afternoon and thus arrivetomorrow at sunset, as he wanted.

Then she remembered the dream. The singingvoices. The young man holding out the cup of hot chocolate—the good kind,mit schlag.

“No,” she said softly. “I’ll take my chanceand go.”

For a moment she thought he would make iteasy on her, just agree and let her go. Then his anger—no, his despair—brokein a painful burst. “But you can’t be sure! Susannah, what if the dreamitself is a trick and a glammer? What if the things you see even when thedoor’s open are nothing but tricks and glammers? What if you roll right throughand into todash space?”

“Then I’ll light the darkness with thoughtsof those I love.”

“And that might work,” said he, speaking inthe bitterest voice she had ever heard. “For the first ten years… or twenty… oreven a hundred. And then? What about the rest of eternity? Think of Oy! Do youthink he’s forgotten Jake? Never! Never! Never in your life! Never in his! Hesenses something wrong! Susannah, don’t. I beg you, don’t go. I’ll get on myknees, if that will help.” And to her horror, he began to do exactly that.