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

“I know,” Roland said. “I saw. You went todash.”

“Todash?” Jake asked. “What’s that?”

Roland started to tell them, then shook his head. “If we’re going to palaver, Eddie, you’d better wake Susannah up. That way we won’t have to double back over the first part.” He glanced south. “And hopefully our new friends won’t interrupt us until we’ve had our talk. They’re none of this.” But already he was wondering about that.

He watched with more than ordinary interest as Eddie shook Susannah awake, quite sure but by no means positive that it would be Susannah who opened her eyes. It was. She sat up, stretched, ran her fingers through her tight curls. “What’s your problem, honeychile? I was good for another hour, at least.”

“We need to talk, Suze,” Eddie said.

“All you want, but not quite yet,” she said. ” God, but I’m stiff.”

“Sleeping on hard ground’ll do it every time,” Eddie said.

Not to mention hunting naked in the bogs and damps, Roland thought.

“Pour me some water, sug.” She held out her palms, and Eddie filled them with water from one of the skins.

She dashed this over her cheeks and into her eyes, gave out a little shivery cry, and said, “Cold.”

“Old!” Oy said.

“Not yet,” she told the bumbler, “but you give me a few more months like the last few, and I will be. Roland, you Mid-World folks know about coffee, right?”

Roland nodded. “From the plantations of the Outer Arc. Down south.”

“If we come across some, we’ll hook it, won’t we? You promise me, now.”

“I promise,” Roland said.

Susannah, meanwhile, was studying Eddie. “What’s going on? You boys don’t look so good.”

“More dreams,” Eddie said.

“Me too,” Jake said.

“Not dreams,” the gunslinger said. “Susannah, how did you sleep?”

She looked at him candidly. Roland did not sense even the shadow of a lie in her answer. “Like a rock, as I usually do. One thing all this traveling is good for—you can throw your damn Nembutal away.”

“What’s this toadish thing, Roland?” Eddie asked.

“Todash,” he said, and explained it to them as well as he could. What he remembered best from Vannay’s teachings was how the Manni spent long periods fasting in order to induce the right state of mind, and how they traveled around, looking for exactly the right spot in which to induce the todash state. This was something they determined with magnets and large plumb-bobs.

“Sounds to me like these guys would have been right at home down in Needle Park,” Eddie said.

“Anywhere in Greenwich Village,” Susannah added.

” ‘Sounds Hawaiian, doesn’t it?’ “Jake said in a grave, deep voice, and they all laughed. Even Roland laughed a little.

“Todash is another way of traveling,” Eddie said when the laughter had stopped. “Like the doors. And the glass balls. Is that right?”

Roland started to say yes, then hesitated. “I think they might all be variations of the same thing,” he said.

“And according to Vannay, the glass balls—the pieces of the Wizard’s Rainbow— make going todash easier.

Sometimes too easy.”

Jake said, “We really flickered on and off like… like light-bulbs? What you call sparklights?”

“Yes—you appeared and disappeared. When you were gone, there was a dim glow where you’d been, almost as if something were holding your place for you.”

“Thank God if it was,” Eddie said. “When it ended… when those chimes started playing again and we kicked loose… I’ll tell you the truth, I didn’t think we were going to get back.”

“Neither did I,” Jake said quietly. The sky had clouded over again, and in the dull morning light, the boy looked very pale. “I lost you.”

“I was never so glad to see anyplace in my life as I was when I opened my eyes and saw this little piece of road,” Eddie said. “And you beside me, Jake. Even Rover looked good to me.” He glanced at Oy, then over at Susannah. “Nothing like this happened to you last night, hon?”

“We’d have seen her,” Jake said.

“Not if she todashed off to someplace else,” Eddie said.

Susannah shook her head, looking troubled. “I just slept the night away. As I told you. What about you, Roland?”

“Nothing to report,” Roland said. As always, he would keep his own counsel until his instinct told him it was time to share. And besides, what he’d said wasn’t exactly a lie. He looked keenly at Eddie and Jake. “There’s trouble, isn’t there?”

Eddie and Jake looked at each other, then back at Roland. Eddie sighed.”Yeah, probably.”

“How bad? Do you know?”

“I don’t think we do. Do we, Jake?”

Jake shook his head.

“But I’ve got some ideas,” Eddie went on, “and if I’m right, we’ve got a problem. A big one.” He swallowed.

Hard. Jake touched his hand, and the gunslinger was concerned to see how quickly and firmly Eddie took hold of the boy’s fingers.

Roland reached out and drew Susannah’s hand into his own. He had a brief vision of that hand seizing a frog and squeezing the guts out of it He put it out of his mind. The woman who had done that was not here now.

“Tell us,” he said to Eddie and Jake. “Tell us everything. We would hear it all.”

“Every word,” Susannah agreed. “For your fathers’ sakes.”

TWO

They recounted what had happened to them in the New York of 1977. Roland and Susannah listened, fascinated, as they told of following Jake to the bookstore, and of seeing Balazar and his gentlemen pull up in front.

“Huh!” Susannah said. “The very same bad boys! It’s almost like a Dickens novel.”

“Who is Dickens, and what is a novel?” Roland asked.

“A novel’s a long story set down in a book,” she said. “Dickens wrote about a dozen. He was maybe the best who ever lived. In his stories, folks in this big city called London kept meeting people they knew from other places or long ago. I had a teacher in college who hated the way that always happened. He said Dickens’s stories were full of easy coincidences.”

“A teacher who either didn’t know about ka or didn’t believe in it,” Roland said.

Eddie was nodding. “Yeah, this is ka, all right. No doubt.”

“I’m more interested in the woman who wrote Charlie the Choo-Choo than this storyteller Dickens,” Roland said. “Jake, I wonder if you’d—”

“I’m way ahead of you,” Jake said, unbuckling the straps of his pack. Almost reverently, he slid out the battered book telling the adventures of Charlie the locomotive and his friend, Engineer Bob. They all looked at the cover. The name below the picture was still Beryl Evans.

“Man,” Eddie said. “That is so weird. I mean, I don’t want to get sidetracked, or anything…” He paused, realizing he had just made a railroading pun, then went on. Roland wasn’t very interested in puns and jokes, anyway. “… but that is weird. The one Jake bought—Jake Seventy-seven—was by Claudia something Bachman.”

“Inez,” Jake said. “Also, there was a y. A lowercase y. Any of you know what that means?”

None of them did, but Roland said there had been names like it in Mejis. “I believe it was some sort of added honorific. And I’m not sure it is to the side. Jake, you said the sign in the window was different from before.

How?”

“I can’t remember. But you know what? I think if you hypnotized me again—you know, with the bullet—I could.”

“And in time I may,” Roland said, “but this morning time is short.”

Back to that again, Eddie thought. Yesterday it hardly existed, and now it’s short. But it’s all about time, somehow, isn’t it”?Rolands old days, our old days, and these new days. These dangerous new days.

“Why?” Susannah asked.

“Our friends,” Roland said, and nodded to the south. “I have a feeling they’ll be making themselves known to us soon.”

“Are they our friends?” Jake asked.

“That really is to the side,” Roland said, and again wondered if that were really true. “For now, let’s turn the mind of our khef to this Bookstore of the Mind, or whatever it’s called. You saw the harriers from the Leaning Tower greensticking the owner, didn’t you? This man Tower, or Toren.”

“Pressuring him, you mean?” Eddie asked. “Twisting his arm?”

“Yes.”

“Sure they were,” Jake said.

“Were,” Oy put in. “Sure were.”

“Bet you anything that Tower and Toren are really the same name,” Susannah said. “That toren’s Dutch for

‘tower.’ ” She saw Roland getting ready to speak, and held up her hand. “It’s the way folks often do things in our bit of the universe, Roland— change the foreign name to one that’s more… well… American.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “So Stempowicz becomes Stamper… Yakov becomes Jacob… or…”

“Or Beryl Evans becomes Claudia y Inez Bachman,” Jake said. He laughed but didn’t sound very amused.

Eddie picked a half-burned stick out of the fire and began to doodle with it in the dirt. One by one the Great Letters formed: C… L… A… U. “Big Nose even said Tower was Dutch. ‘A squarehead’s always a squarehead, right, boss?’ ” He looked at Jake for confirmation. Jake nodded, then took the stick and continued on with it: D… I… A.