Stephen King – The Dark Tower 5 – The Wolves of the Calla

Roland snapped a hand up to his head, scratched it, snapped it back down. He tossed his head to the right, then looked back at Callahan. “You see?”

“Yes. These are the signs that Mia is coming?”

Roland nodded. “I don’t want her left alone anymore when she’s Mia. Not if I can help it.”

“I understand,” Callahan said. “But Roland, it’s hard for me to believe that a newborn, no matter who or what the father might have been—”

“Hush,” Roland said. “Hush, do ya.” And when Callahan had duly hushed: “What you think or believe is nothing to me. You’ve yourself to look out for, and I wish you well. But if Mia or Mia’s get harms Rosalita, Pere, I’ll hold you responsible for her injuries. You’ll pay to my good hand. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, Roland.” Callahan looked both abashed and calm. It was an odd combination.

“All right. Now here’s the other thing you can do for me. Comes the day of the Wolves, I’m going to need six folken I can absolutely trust. I’d like to have three of each sex.”

“Do you care if some are parents with children at risk?”

“No. But not all. And none of the ladies who may be throwing the dish—Sarey, Zalia, Margaret Eisenhart, Rosalita. They’ll be somewhere else.”

“What do you want these six for?”

Roland was silent.

Callahan looked at him a moment longer, then sighed. “Reuben Caverra,” he said. “Reuben’s never forgot his sister and how he loved her. Diane Caverra, his wife… or do’ee not want couples?”

No, a couple would be all right. Roland twirled his fingers, gesturing for the Pere to continue.

“Cantab of the Manni, I sh’d say; the children follow him like he was the Pied Piper.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to. They follow him, that’s the important part. Bucky Javier and his wife… and what would you say to your boy, Jake? Already the town children follow him with their eyes, and I suspect a number of the girls are in love with him.”

“No, I need him.”

Or can’t bear to have him out of your sight? Callahan wondered… but did not say. He had pushed Roland as far as was prudent, at least for one day. Further, actually.

“What of Andy, then? The children love him, too. And he’d protect them to the death.”

“Aye? From the Wolves?”

Callahan looked troubled. Actually it had been rock-cats he’d been thinking of. Them, and the sort of wolves that came on four legs. As for the ones that came out of Thunderclap…

“No,” Roland said. “Not Andy.”

“Why not? For ’tisn’t to fight the Wolves you want these six for, is it?”

“Not Andy,” Roland repeated. It was just a feeling, but his feelings were his version of the touch. “There’s time to think about it, Pere… and we’ll think, too.”

“You’re going out into the town.”

“Aye. Today and every day for the next few.”

Callahan grinned. “Your friends and I would call it ‘schmoozing.’ It’s a Yiddish word.”

“Aye? What tribe are they?”

“An unlucky one, by all accounts. Here, schmoozing is called commala. It’s their word for damned near everything.” Callahan was a little amused by how badly he wanted to regain the gunslinger’s regard. A little disgusted with himself, as well. “In any case, I wish you well with it.”

Roland nodded. Callahan started up toward the rectory, where Rosalita already had harnessed the horses to the buck-board and now waited impatiently for Callahan to come, so they could be about God’s work.

Halfway up the slope, Callahan turned back.

“I do not apologize for my beliefs,” he said, “but if I have complicated your work here in the Calla, I’m 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.