He approached the door, reared up beforeit, and pawed at it questioningly. Too bad, really, there wasn’t a peephole.And it probably would be safe to go through now. What had Walter said?That Roland’s ka-tet meant to release the Breakers, whatever they might be (ithad been in Walter’s mind, but Mordred hadn’t bothered looking for it).

There’s plenty to occupy em right wherethey come out—they might find the reception a trifle hot!

Had Roland and his children perhaps beenkilled on the other side? Ambushed? Mordred believed he would have known hadthat happened. Would have felt it in his mind like a Beamquake.

In any case he would wait awhile beforecreeping through the door with the cloud-and-lightning sigul on it. And when hewas through? Why, he’d find them. And overhear their palaver. And watch them,both awake and asleep. Most of all, he would watch the one Walter had calledhis White Father. His only real father now, if Walter had been rightabout the Crimson King’s having gone insane.

And for the present?

Now, for a little while, I may sleep.

The spider ran up the wall of this room,which was full of great hanging objects, and spun a web. But it was thebaby—naked, and now looking fully a year old—that slept in it, headdown and high above any predators that might come hunting.

Chapter IV:

The Door intoThunderclap

One

When the four wanderers woke from theirsleep (Roland first, and after six hours exactly), there were more popkinsstacked on a cloth-covered tray, and and also more drinks. Of the domesticrobot, however, there was no sign.

“All right, enough,” Roland said, aftercalling Nigel for the third time. “He told us he was on his last legs; seemsthat while we slept, he fell off em.”

“He was doing something he didn’t want todo,” Jake said. His face looked pale and puffy. From sleeping too heavily wasRoland’s first thought, and then wondered how he could be such a fool. The boy hadbeen crying for Pere Callahan.

“Doing what?” Eddie asked, slipping hispack over one shoulder and then hoisting Susannah onto his hip. “For who? Andwhy?”

“I don’t know,” Jake said. “He didn’t wantme to know, and I didn’t feel right about prying. I know he was just a robot,but with that nice English voice and all, he seemed like more.”

“That’s a scruple you may need to getover,” Roland said, as gently as he could.

“How heavy am I, sugar?” Susannah askedEddie cheerfully. “Or maybe what I should ask is ‘How bad you missin that goodold wheelchair?’ Not to mention the shoulder-rig.”

“Suze, you hated that piggyback rig fromthe word go and we both know it.”

“Wasn’t askin about that, and youknow it.”

It always fascinated Roland when Dettacrept unheard into Susannah’s voice, or—even more spooky—her face.The woman herself seemed unaware of these incursions, as her husband did now.

“I’d carry you to the end of the world,”Eddie said sentimentally, and kissed the tip of her nose. “Unless you put onanother ten pounds or so, that is. Then I might have to leave you and look fora lighter lady.”

She poked him—not gently,either—and then turned to Roland. “This is a damn big place, once you’redown underneath. How’re we gonna find the door that goes through to Thunderclap?”

Roland shook his head. He didn’t know.

“How bout you, Cisco?” Eddie asked Jake.“You’re the one who’s strong in the touch. Can you use it to find the door wewant?”

“Maybe if I knew how to start,” Jake said,“but I don’t.”

And with that, all three of them againlooked at Roland. No, make it four, because even the gods-cursed bumbler wasstaring. Eddie would have made a joke to dispel any discomfort he felt at sucha combined stare, and Roland actually fumbled for one. Something about how too manyeyes spoiled the pie, maybe? No. That saying, which he’d heard from Susannah,was about cooks and broth. In the end he simply said, “We’ll cast about alittle, the way hounds do when they’ve lost the scent, and see what we find.”

“Maybe another wheelchair for me to ridein,” Susannah said brightly. “This nasty white boy has got his hands all overmy purity.”

Eddie gave her a sincere look. “If it wasreally pure, hon,” he said, “it wouldn’t be cracked like it is.”

Two

It was Oy who actually took over and ledthem, but not until they returned to the kitchen. The humans were poking aboutwith a kind of aimlessness that Jake found rather unsettling when Oy began tobark out his name: “Ake! Ake-Ake!”

They joined the bumbler at a chocked-opendoor that read C-LEVEL. Oy went a little way along the corridor then lookedback over his shoulder, eyes brilliant. When he saw they weren’t following, hebarked his disappointment.

“What do you think?” Roland asked. “Shouldwe follow him?”

“Yes,” Jake said.

“What scent has he got?” Eddie asked. “Doyou know?”

“Maybe something from the Dogan,” Jakesaid. “The real one, on the other side of the River Whye. Where Oy and Ioverheard Ben Slightman’s Da’ and the… you know, the robot.”

“Jake?” Eddie asked. “You okay, kid?”

“Yes,” Jake said, although he’d had a bitof a bad turn, remembering how Benny’s Da’ had screamed. Andy the MessengerRobot, apparently tired of Slightman’s grumbling, had pushed or pinchedsomething in the man’s elbow—a nerve, probably—and Slightman had“hollered like an owl,” as Roland might say (and probably with at least mildcontempt). Slightman the Younger was beyond such things, now, of course, and itwas that realization—a boy, once full of fun and now cool as river-bankclay—which had made the son of Elmer pause. You had to die, yes, and Jakehoped he could do it at least moderately well when the hour came. He’d had sometraining in how to do it, after all. It was the thought of all thatgrave-time that chilled him. That downtime. That lie-still-and-continue-to-be-

dead time.

Andy’s scent—cold but oily anddistinctive—had been all over the Dogan on the far side of the RiverWhye, for he and Slightman the Elder had met there many times before the Wolfraid that had been greeted by Roland and his makeshift posse. This smell wasn’texactly the same, but it was interesting. Certainly it was the only familiarone Oy had struck so far, and he wanted to follow it.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Eddie said.“I see something we need.”

He put Susannah down, crossed the kitchen,and returned rolling a stainless-steel table probably meant for transportingstacks of freshly washed dishes or larger utensils.

“Upsy-daisy, don’t be crazy,” Eddie said,and lifted Susannah onto it.

She sat there comfortably enough, gripping thesides, but looked dubious. “And when we come to a flight of stairs? What then,sugarboy?”

“Sugarboy will burn that bridge when hecomes to it,” Eddie said, and pushed the rolling table into the hall. “Mush,Oy! On, you huskies!”

“Oy! Husk!” The bumbler hurried brisklyalong, bending his head every now and again to dip into the scent but mostlynot bothering much. It was too fresh and too wide to need much attention. Itwas the smell of the Wolves he had found. After an hour’s walk, they passed ahangar-sized door marked TO HORSES. Beyond this, the trail led them to a doorwhich read STAGING AREA and AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. (That they were followedfor part of their hike by Walter o’ Dim was a thing none of them, not evenJake—strong in the touch though he was—suspected. On the boy, atleast, the hooded man’s “thinking-cap” worked quite well. When Walter was surewhere the bumbler was leading them, he’d turned back to palaver withMordred—a mistake, as it turned out, but one with this consolation: he wouldnever make another.)