“I allow it from the rest of them,” Andy said, and now his voice had changed. Jake once more thought of Blaine, and once more his dismay grew. What if Tian Jaffords heard this voice? What if Vaughn Eisenhart heard it? Overholser? The rest of the folken? “They heap contumely on my head like hot coals and never do I raise a word o’ protest, let alone a hand. ‘Go here, Andy. Go there, Andy. Stop yer foolish singing, Andy. Stuff yer prattle. Don’t tell us of the future, because we don’t want to hear it.’ So I don’t, except of the Wolves, because they’d hear what makes em sad and I’d tell em, yes I would; to me each tear’s a drop of gold. ‘You’re nobbut a stupid pile of lights n wires,’ they say. ‘Tell us the weather, sing the babby to sleep, then get’t’hell out o’ here.’ And I allow it. Foolish Andy am I, every child’s toy and always fair game for a tongue-whipping. But I won’t take a tongue-whipping from you, sai. You hope to have a future in the Calla after the Wolves are done with it for another few years, don’t you?”
“You know I do,” Slightman said, so low Jake could barely hear him. “And I deserve it.”
“You and your son, both say thankya, passing your days in the Calla, both say commala! And that can happen, but it depends on more than the death of the outworlders. It depends on my silence. If you want it, I demand respect.”
“That’s absurd,” Slightman said after a brief pause. From his place in the closet, Jake agreed wholeheartedly.
A robot demanding respect was absurd. But so was a giant bear patrolling an empty forest, a Morlock thug trying to unravel the secrets of dipolar computers, or a train that lived only to hear and solve new riddles.
“And besides, hear me I beg, how can I respect you when I don’t even respect myself?”
There was a mechanical click in response to this, very loud. Jake had heard Blaine make a similar sound when he—or it— had felt the absurd closing in, threatening to fry his logic circuits. Then Andy said: “No answer, nineteen. Connect and report, sai Slightman. Let’s have done with this.”
“All right.”
There were thirty or forty seconds’ worth of keyboard-clatter, then a high, warbling whistle that made Jake wince and Oy whine far back in his throat. Jake had never heard a sound quite like it; he was from the New York of 1977, and the word modem would have meant nothing to him.
The shriek cut off abruptly. There was a moment’s silence. Then: “THIS IS ALGUL SIENTO. FINLI O’
TEGO HERE. PLEASE GIVE YOUR PASSWORD. YOU HAVE TEN SEC—”
“Saturday,” Slightman replied, and Jake frowned. Had he ever heard that happy weekend word on this side?
He didn’t think so.
“THANK YOU. ALGUL SIENTO ACKNOWLEDGES. WE ARE ONLINE.” There was another brief,
shrieking whistle. Then: “REPORT, SATURDAY.”
Slightman told of watching Roland and “the younger one” going up to the Cave of the Voices, where there was now some sort of door, very likely conjured by the Manni. He said he’d used the far-seer and thus gotten a very good look—
“Telescope,” Andy said. He had reverted to his slightly prissy, complacent voice. “Such are called telescopes.”
“Would you care to make my report, Andy?” Slightman inquired with cold sarcasm.
“Cry pardon,” Andy said in a long-suffering voice. “Cry pardon, cry pardon, go on, go on, as ye will.”
There was a pause. Jake could imagine Slightman glaring at the robot, the glare robbed of its ferocity by the way the foreman would have to crane his neck in order to deliver it. Finally he went on.
“They left their horses below and walked up. They carried a pink sack which they passed from hand to hand, as if ’twere heavy. Whatever was in it had square edges; I could make that out through the telescope far-seer.
May I offer two guesses?”
“YES.”
“First, they might have been putting two or three of the Pere’s most valuable books in safekeeping. If that’s the case, a Wolf should be sent to destroy them after the main mission’s accomplished.”
“WHY?” The voice was perfectiy cold. Not a human being’s voice, Jake was sure of that. The sound of it made him feel weak and afraid.
“Why, as an example, do it please ya,” Slightman said, as if this should have been obvious. “As an example to the priest!”
“CALLAHAN WILL VERY SOON BE BEYOND EXAMPLES,” the voice said. “WHAT IS YOUR OTHER
GUESS?”
When Slightman spoke again, he sounded shaken. Jake hoped the traitor son of a bitch was shaken. He was protecting his son, sure, his only son, but why he thought that gave him the right—
“It may have been maps,” Slightman said. “I’ve thought long and long that a man who has books is apt to have maps. He may have given em maps of the Eastern Regions leading into Thunderclap—they haven’t been shy about saying that’s where they plan to head next. If it is maps they took up there, much good may they do em, even if they live. Next year north’ll be east, and likely the year after it’ll swap places with south.”
In the dusty darkness of the closet Jake could suddenly see Andy watching Slightman make his report. Andy’s blue electric eyes were flashing. Slightman didn’t know—no one in the Calla knew—but that rapid flashing was the way DNF-44821-V-63 expressed humor. He was, in fact, laughing at Slightman.
Because he knows better, Jake thought. Because he knows what’s really in that bag. Bet a box of cookies that he does.
Could he be so sure of that? Was it possible to use the touch on a robot?
If it can think, the gunslinger in his head spoke up, then you can touch it.
Well… maybe.
“Whatever it was, it’s a damn good indication they really do plan to take the kids into the arroyos,” Slightman was saying. “Not that they’d put em in that cave.”
“No, no, not that cave,” Andy said, and although his voice was as prissy-serious as ever, Jake could imagine his blue eyes flashing even faster. Almost stuttering, in fact. “Too many voices in that cave, they’d scare the children! Yer-bugger!”
DNF-44821-V-63, Messenger Robot. Messenger! You could accuse Slightman of treachery, but how could anyone accuse Andy of it? What he did, what he was, had been stamped on his chest for the whole world to see. There it had been, in front of all of them. Gods!
Benny’s Da’, meanwhile, was plodding stolidly on with his report to Finli O’ Tego, who was in some place called Algul Siento.
“The mine he showed us on the map the Taverys drew is the Gloria, and the Gloria en’t but a mile off from the Cave of the Voices. But the bastard’s trig. Can I give another guess?”
“YES.”
“The arroyo that leads to the Gloria Mine splits off to the south about a quarter-mile in. There’s another old mine at the end of the spur. The Redbird Two, it’s called. Their dinh is telling folks he means to put the kids in the Gloria, and I think he’ll tell em the same at the meeting he’s going to call later this week, the one where he asks leave to stand against the Wolves. But I b’lieve that when the time comes, he’ll stick em in the 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.