Part 6 (1/2)

The prisoner's coin was still there, firmly curled within the pocketed hand. He didn't have to come forward come forward to check on the sh.e.l.l; he knew it hadn't made the trip. to check on the sh.e.l.l; he knew it hadn't made the trip.

He came forward came forward anyway, briefly, because there was one thing he had to know. Had to anyway, briefly, because there was one thing he had to know. Had to see. see.

So he turned, as if to adjust the little paper thing on the back of his seat (by all the G.o.ds that ever were, there was paper everywhere everywhere in this world), and looked through the doorway. He saw his body, collapsed as before, now with a fresh trickle of blood flowing from a cut on his cheek-a stone must have done it when he left himself and crossed over. in this world), and looked through the doorway. He saw his body, collapsed as before, now with a fresh trickle of blood flowing from a cut on his cheek-a stone must have done it when he left himself and crossed over.

The cartridge he had been holding along with the coin lay at the base of the door, on the sand.

Still, enough was answered. The prisoner could Clear the Customs. Their guards o' the watch might search him from head to toe, from a.s.shole to appet.i.te, and back again.

They'd find nothing.

The gunslinger settled back, content, unaware, at least for the time being, that he still had not grasped the extent of his problem.

6.

The 727 came in low and smooth over the salt-marshes of Long Island, leaving sooty trails of spent fuel behind. The landing gear came down with a rumble and a thump.

7.

3A, the man with the two-tone eyes, straightened up and Jane saw-actually saw-a snub-nosed Uzi in his hands before she realized it was nothing but his duty declaration card and a little zipper bag of the sort which men sometimes use to hold their pa.s.sports.

The plane settled like silk.

Letting out a deep, shaking shudder, she tightened the red top on the Thermos.

”Call me an a.s.shole,” she said in a low voice to Susy, buckling the cross-over belts now that it was too late. She had told Susy what she suspected on the final approach, so Susy would be ready. ”You have every right.”

”No,” Susy said. ”You did the right thing.”

”I over-reacted. And dinner's on me.”

”Like h.e.l.l it is. And don't look at him. Look at me. Smile, Smile, Janey.” Janey.”

Jane smiled. Nodded. Wondered what in G.o.d's name was going on now. now.

”You were watching his hands,” Susy said, and laughed. Jane joined in. ”I was watching what happened to his s.h.i.+rt when he bent over to get his bag. He's got enough stuff under there to stock a Woolworth's notions counter. Only I don't think he's carrying the kind of stuff you can buy at Woolworth's.”

Jane threw back her head and laughed again, feeling like a puppet. ”How do we handle it?” Susy had five years' seniority on her, and Jane, who only a minute ago had felt she had the situation under some desperate kind of control, now only felt glad to have Susy beside her.

”We don't. Tell the Captain while we're taxiing in. The Captain speaks to customs. Your friend there gets in line like everyone else, except then he gets pulled don't. Tell the Captain while we're taxiing in. The Captain speaks to customs. Your friend there gets in line like everyone else, except then he gets pulled out out of line by some men who escort him to a little room. It's going to be the first in a very long succession of little rooms for him, I think.” of line by some men who escort him to a little room. It's going to be the first in a very long succession of little rooms for him, I think.”

”Jesus.” Jane was smiling, but chills, alternately hot and cold, were racing through her.

She hit the pop-release on her harness when the reverse thrusters began to wind down, handed the Thermos to Susy, then got up and rapped on the c.o.c.kpit door.

Not a terrorist but a drug-smuggler. Thank G.o.d for small favors. Yet in a way she hated it. He had had been cute. been cute.

Not much, but a little.

8.

He still doesn't see, the gunslinger thought with anger and dawning desperation. the gunslinger thought with anger and dawning desperation. G.o.ds! G.o.ds!

Eddie had bent to get the papers he needed for the ritual, and when he looked up the army woman was staring at him, her eyes bulging, her cheeks as white as the paper things on the backs of the seats. The silver tube with the red top, which he had at first taken for some kind of canteen, was apparently a weapon. She was holding it up between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s now. Roland thought that in a moment or two she would either throw it or spin off the red top and shoot him with it.

Then she relaxed and buckled her harness even though the thump told both the gunslinger and the prisoner the air-carriage had already landed. She turned to the army woman she was sitting with and said something. The other woman laughed and nodded, but if that was a real laugh, the gunslinger thought, he was a river-toad.

The gunslinger wondered how the man whose mind had become temporary home for the gunslinger's own ka, ka, could be so stupid. Some of it was what he was putting into his body, of course... one of this world's versions of devil-weed. Some, but not all. He was not soft and un.o.bservant like the others, but in time he might be. could be so stupid. Some of it was what he was putting into his body, of course... one of this world's versions of devil-weed. Some, but not all. He was not soft and un.o.bservant like the others, but in time he might be.

They are as they are because they live in the light, the gunslinger thought suddenly. the gunslinger thought suddenly. That light of civilization you were taught to adore above all other things. They live in a world which has not moved on. That light of civilization you were taught to adore above all other things. They live in a world which has not moved on.

If this was what people became in such a world, Roland was not sure he didn't prefer the dark. ”That was before the world moved on,” people said in his own world, and it was always said in tones of bereft sadness... but it was, perhaps, sadness without thought, without consideration.

She thought I/he-meant to grab a weapon when I/he-bent down to get the papers. When she saw the papers she relaxed and did what everyone else did before the carriage came down to the ground again. Now she and her friend are talking and laughing but their faces- her her face especially, the face of the woman with the metal tube-are not right. They are talking, all right, but they are only face especially, the face of the woman with the metal tube-are not right. They are talking, all right, but they are only pretending pretending to laugh... and that is because what they are talking about is I/him. to laugh... and that is because what they are talking about is I/him.

The air-carriage was now moving along what seemed a long concrete road, one of many. Mostly he watched the women, but from the edges of his vision the gunslinger could see other air-carriages moving here and there along other roads. Some lumbered; some moved with incredible speed, not like carriages at all but like projectiles fired from guns or cannons, preparing to leap into the air. As desperate as his own situation had become, part of him wanted very much to come forward come forward and turn his head so he could see these vehicles as they leaped into the sky. They were man-made but every bit as fabulous as the stories of the Grand Featherex which had supposedly once lived in the distant (and probably mythical) kingdom of Garlan- and turn his head so he could see these vehicles as they leaped into the sky. They were man-made but every bit as fabulous as the stories of the Grand Featherex which had supposedly once lived in the distant (and probably mythical) kingdom of Garlan-more fabulous, perhaps, simply because fabulous, perhaps, simply because these these were man-made. were man-made.

The woman who had brought him the popkin unfastened her harness (this less than a minute since she had fastened it) and went forward to a small door. That's where the driver sits, That's where the driver sits, the gunslinger thought, but when the door was opened and she stepped in he saw it apparently took three drivers to operate the air-carriage, and even the brief glimpse he was afforded of what seemed like a million dials and levers and lights made him understand why. the gunslinger thought, but when the door was opened and she stepped in he saw it apparently took three drivers to operate the air-carriage, and even the brief glimpse he was afforded of what seemed like a million dials and levers and lights made him understand why.

The prisoner was looking at all but seeing nothing-Cort would have first sneered, then driven him through the nearest wall. The prisoner's mind was completely occupied with grabbing the bag under the seat and his light jacket from the overhead bin... and facing the ordeal of the ritual.

The prisoner saw nothing; the gunslinger saw everything.

The woman thought him a thief or a madman. He-or perhaps it was I, yes, that's likely enough-did something to make her think that. She changed her mind, and then the other woman changed it back... only now I think they know what's really really wrong. They know he's going to try to profane the ritual. wrong. They know he's going to try to profane the ritual.

Then, in a thunderclap, he saw the rest of his problem. First, it wasn't just a matter of taking the bags into his world as he had the coin; the coin hadn't been stuck to the prisoner's body with the glue-string the prisoner had wrapped around and around his upper body to hold the bags tight to his skin. This glue-string was only part of his problem. The prisoner hadn't missed the temporary disappearance of one coin among many, but when he realized that whatever it was he had risked his life for was suddenly gone, he was surely surely going to raise the racks... and what then? going to raise the racks... and what then?

It was more than possible that the prisoner would begin to behave in a manner so irrational that it would get him locked away in gaol as quickly as being caught in the act of profanation. The loss would be bad enough; for the bags under his arms to simply melt away to nothing would probably make him think he really had had gone mad. gone mad.