sk.thegunslinger-第16章

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　they　tickled　at　him　like　a　cat's　whiskers。　But　this　time　he　felt　fairly　calm。　That　was　good。
He　stepped　into　the　clearing　and　walked　straight　into　the　circle。　He　stood；　letting　his　mind　run　free。　Yes；　it　was　ing　harder　now；　faster。　The　grass　screamed　green　at　him；　it　seemed　that　if　he　bent　over　and　rubbed　his　hands　in　it　he　would　stand　up　with　green　paint　all　over　his　fingers　and　palms。　He　resisted　a　puckish　urge　to　try　the　experiment
But　there　was　no　voice　from　the　oracle。　No　sexual　stirring。
He　went　to　the　altar；　stood　beside　it　for　a　moment　coherent　thought　was　now　almost　impossible。　His　teeth　felt　strange　in　his　head。　The　world　held　too　much　light。　He　climbed　up　on　the　altar　and　lay　back。　His　mind　was　being　a　jungle　full　of　strange　thought…plants　that　he　had　never　seen　or　suspected　before；　a　willow…jungle　that　had　grown　up　around　a　mescaline　spring。　The　sky　was　water　and　he　hung　suspended　over　it　The　thought　gave　him　a　vertigo　that　seemed　faraway　and　unimportant。
A　line　of　old　poetry　occurred　to　him；　not　a　nursery　verse　now；　no；　his　mother　had　feared　the　drugs　and　the　necessity　of　them　（as　she　had　feared　Cort　and　the　necessity　for　this　beater　of　boys）；　this　verse　came　from　one　of　the　Dens　to　the　north　of　the　desert；　where　men　still　lived　among　the　machines　that　usually　didn't　work。。。　and　which　sometimes　ate　the　men　when　they　did。　The　lines　played　again　and　again；　reminding　him　（in　an　unconnected　way　that　was　typical　of　the　mescaline　rush）　of　snow　falling　in　a　globe　he　had　owned　as　a　child；　mystic　and　half　fantastical：
Beyond　the　reach　of　human　range
A　drop　of　hell；　a　touch　of　strange。。。
The　trees　which　overhung　the　altar　contained　faces。　He　watched　them　with　abstracted　fascination：　Here　was　a　dragon；　green　and　twitching。　Here　a　wood…nymph　with　beckoning　branch　arms。　Here　a　living　skull　overgrown　with　slime。　Faces。　Faces。
The　grasses　of　the　clearing　suddenly　whipped　and　bent
I　e。
I　e。
Vague　stirrings　within　his　flesh。　How　far　I　have　e；　he　thought　From　couching　with　Susan　in　sweet　hay　to　this。　She　pressed　over　him；　a　body　made　of　the　wind；　a　breast　of　sudden　fragrant　jasmine；　rose；　and　honeysuckle。
〃Make　your　prophecy；〃　he　said。　His　mouth　felt　full　of　metal。
A　sigh。　A　faint　sound　of　weeping。　The　gunslinger's　genitals　felt　drawn　and　hard。　Over　him　and　beyond　the　faces　in　the　leaves；　he　could　see　the　mountains　　hard　and　brutal　and　full　of　teeth。
The　body　moved　against　him；　struggled　with　him。　He　felt　his　hands　curl　into　fists。　She　had　sent　him　a　vision　of　Susan。　It　was　Susan　above　him；　lovely　Susan　at　the　window；　waiting　for　him　with　her　hair　spilled　down　her　back　and　over　her　shoulders。　He　tossed　his　head；　but　her　face　followed。
Jasmine；　rose；　honeysuckle；　old　hay。。；　the　smell　of　love。　Love　me。
〃Speak　prophecy；〃　he　said。
Please；　the　oracle　wept。　Don't　be　cold。　It　is　always　so　cold　here　Hands　slipping　over　his　flesh；　manipulating；　lighting　him　on　fire。　Pulling　him。　Drawing。　A　black　crevice。　The　ultimate　wanton。　Wet　and　warm　No。　Dry。　Cold。　Sterile。
Have　a　touch　of　mercy；　gunslinger。　Ah；　please；　I　beg　your　favor！　Mercy！
Would　you　have　mercy　on　the　boy？
What　boy？　I　know　no　boy。　It's　not　boys　I　need。　O　please。　Jasmine；　rose；　honeysuckle。　Dry　hay　with　its　ghost　of　summer　clover。　Oil　decanted　from　ancient　urns。　A　riot　for　flesh。
〃After；〃　he　said。
Now。　Please。　Now。
He　let　his　mind　coil　out　at　her；　the　antithesis　of　emotion。　The　body　that　hung　over　him　froze　and　seemed　to　scream。
There　was　a　brief；　vicious　tug…of…war　between　his　temples　　his　mind　was　the　rope；　gray　and　fibrous。　For　long　moments　there　was　no　sound　but　the　quiet　hush　of　his　breathing　and　the　faint　breeze　which　made　the　green　faces　in　the　trees　shift；　wink；　and　grimace。　No　bird　sang。
Her　hold　loosened。　Again　there　was　the　sound　of　sobbing。　It　would　have　to　be　quick；　or　she　would　leave　him。　To　stay　now　meant　attenuation；　perhaps　her　own　kind　of　death。　Already　he　felt　her　drawing　away　to　leave　the　circle　of　stones。　Wind　rippled　the　grass　in　tortured　patterns。
〃Prophecy；〃　he　said　　a　bleak　noun。
A　weeping；　tired　sigh。　He　could　almost　have　granted　the　mercy　she　begged；　but　　there　was　Jake。　He　would　have　found　Jake　dead　or　insane　if　he　had　been　any　later　last　night
Sleep；　then。
〃No。〃
Then　half…sleep。
The　gunslinger　turned　his　eyes　up　to　the　faces　in　the　leaves。　A　play　was　being　enacted　there　for　his　amusement　Worlds　rose　and　fell　before　him。　Empires　were　built　across　shining　sands　where　forever　machines　toiled　in　abstract　electronic　frenzies。　Empires　declined　and　fell。　Wheels　that　had　spun　like　silent　liquid　moved　more　slowly；　began　to　squeak；　began　to　scream；　stopped。　Sand　choked　the　stainless　steel　gutters　of　concentric　streets　below　dark　skies　full　of　stars　like　beds　of　cold　jewels。　And　through　it　all；　a　dying　wind　of　change　blew；　bringing　with　it　the　cinnamon　smell　of　late　October。　The　gunslinger　watched　as　the　world　moved　on。
And　half…slept
Three。　This　is　the　number　of　your　fate。
Three？
Yes；　three　is　mystic。　Three　stands　at　the　heart　of　the　mantra。
Which　three？
'We　see　in　part；　and　thus　is　the　mirror　of　prophecy　darkened。'
Tell　me　what　you　can。
The　first　is　young；　dark…haired。　He　stands　on　the　brink　of　robbery　and　murder。　A　demon　has　infested　him。　The　name　of　the　demon　is　HEROIN
Which　demon　is　that？　I　know　it　not；　even　from　nursery　stories。
'We　see　in　part；　and　thus　is　the　mirror　of　prophecy　darkened。　'There　are　other　worlds；　gunslinger；　and　other　demons。　These　waters　are　deep。
The　second？
She　es　on　wheels。　Her　mind　is　iron　but　her　heart　and　eyes　are　soft。　I　see　no　more。
The　third？
In　chains。
The　man　in　black？　Where　is　he？
Near。　You　will　speak　with　him。
Of　what　will　we　speak？
The　Tower。
The　boy？　Jake？
Tell　me　of　the　boy！
The　boy　is　your　gateway　to　the　man　in　black。　The　man　in　black　is　your　gate　to　the　three。　The　three　are　your　way　to　the　Dark　Tower。
How？　How　can　that　be？　Why　must　it　be？　'We　see　in　part；　and　thus　is　the　mirror　God　damn　you。
No　god　damned　me。
〃Don't　patronize　me；　Thing。　I'm　stronger　than　you。
What　do　they　call　you；　then？　Star…slut？　Whore　of　the　Winds？
Some　live　on　love　that　es　to　the　ancient　places。。。　even
in　these　sad　and　evil　times。　Some；　gunslinger；　live　on　blood。　Even；　I　understand；　on　the　blood　of　young　boys。
May　he　not　be　spared？
Yes。
How？
Cease；　gunslinger。　Strike　your　camp　and　turn　west。　In　the　west　there　is　still　a　need　for　men　who　live　by　the　bullet。
I　am　sworn　by　my　father's　guns　and　by　the　treachery　of　Marten。
Marten　is　no　more。　The　man　in　black　has　eaten　his　soul。　This　you　know。
I　am　sworn。
Then　you　are　damned。
Have　your　way　with　me；　bitch。
Eagerness。
The　shadow　swung　over　him；　enfolded　him。　Suddenly　ecstasy　broken　only　by　a　galaxy　of　pain；　as　faint　and　bright　as　ancient　stars　gone　red　with　collapse。　Faces　came　to　him　unbidden　at　the　climax　of　their　coupling：　Sylvia　Pittston；　Alice；　the　woman　from　Tull；　Susan；　Aileen；　a　hundred　others。
And　finally；　after　an　eternity；　he　pushed　her　away　from　him；　once　again　in　his　right　mind；　bone…weary　and　disgusted。
No！　It　isn't　enough！　It　〃Let　me　be；〃　the　gunslinger　said。　He　sat　up　and　almost　fell　off　the　altar　before　regaining　his　feet。　She　touched　him　tentatively
（honeysuckle；　jasmine；　sweet　attar）
and　he　pushed　her　violently；　falling　to　his　knees。
He　staggered　up　and　made　his　drunken　way　to　the　perimeter　of　the　circle。　He　staggered　through；　feeling　a　huge　weight　fall　from　his　shoulders。　He　drew　a　shuddering；　weeping　breath。　As　he　started　away　he　could　feel　her　standing　at　the　bars　of　her　prison；　watching　him　go　from　her。　He　wondered　how　long　it　might　be　before　someone　else　crossed　the　desert　and　found　her；　hungry　and　alone。　For　a　moment　he　felt　dwarfed　by　the　possibilities　of　time。
〃You're　sick！〃
Jake　stood　up　fast　when　the　gunslinger　shambled　back　through　the　last　trees　and　came　into　camp。　Jake　had　been　huddled　by　the　ruins　of　the　tiny　fire；　the　jawbone　across　his　knees；　gnawing　disconsolately　on　the　bones　of　the　rabbit。　Now　he　ran　toward　the　gunslinger　with　a　look　of　distress　that　made　Roland　feel　the　full；　ugly　weight　of　a　ing　betrayal　　one　he　sensed　which　might　only　be　the　first　of　many。
〃No；〃　he　said。　〃Not　sick。　Just　tired。　I'm　whipped。〃　He　gestured　absently　at　the　jawbone。　〃You　can　throw　that　away。〃
Jake　threw　it　quickly　and　violently；　rubbing　his　hands　across　his　shirt　after　doing　it。
The　gunslinger　sat　down　　almost　fell　down　　feeling　the　aching　joints　and　the　pummeled；　thick　mind　that　was　the　unlovely　afterglow　of　mescaline。　His　crotch　also　pulsed　with　a　dull　ache。　He　rolled　a　cigarette　with　careful；　unthinking　slowness。　Jake　watched。　The　gunslinger　had　a　sudden　impulse　to　tell　him　what　he　had　learned；　then　thrust　the　idea　away　with　horror。　He　wondered　if　a　part　of　him　　mind　or　soul　　might　not　be　disintegrating。
〃We　sleep　here　tonight；〃　the　gunslinger　said。　〃Tomorrow　we　climb。　I'll　go　out　a　little　later　and　see　if　I　can't　shoot　something　for　supper。　I've　got　to　sleep　now。　Okay？〃
〃Sure。〃
The　gunslinger　nodded　and　lay　back。　When　he　woke　up　the　shadows　were　long　across　the　small　grass　clearing。　〃Build　up　the　fire；〃　he　told　Jake　and　tossed　him　his　flint　and　steel。　〃Can　you　use　that？〃
〃Yes；　I　think　so。〃
The　gunslinger　walked　toward　the　willow　grove　and　then　turned　left；　skirting　it。　At　a　place　where　the　ground　opened　out　and　upward　in　heavy　open　grass；　he　stepped　back　into　the　shadows　and　stood　silently。　Faintly；　clearly；　he　could　hear　the　clik…clink…clik…clink　of　Jake　striking　sparks。　He　stood　without　moving　for　ten　minutes；　fifteen；　twenty。　Three　rabbits　came；　and　the　gunslinger　pulled　leather。　He　took　down　the　two　plumpest；　skinned　them　and　gutted　them；　brought　them　back　to　the　camp。　Jake　had　the　fire　going　and　the　water　was　already　steaming　over　it。
The　gunslinger　nodded　to　him。　〃That's　a　good　piece　of　work。〃
Jake　flushed　with　pleasure　and　silently　handed　back　the　flint　and　steel。
While　the　stew　cooked；　the　gunslinger　used　the　last　of　the　light　to　go　back　into　the　willow　grove。　Near　the　first　pool　he　began　to　hack　at　the　tough　vines　that　grew　near　the　water's　marshy　verge。　Later；　as　the　fire　burned　down　to　coals　and　Jake　slept；　he　would　plait　them　into　ropes　that　might　be　of　some　limited　use　later。　But　he　did　not　think　somehow　that　the　climb　would　be　a　particularly　difficult　one。　He　felt　a　sense　of　fate　that　he　no　longer　even　considered　odd。
The　vines　bled　green　sap　over　his　hands　as　he　carried　them　back　to　where　Jake　waited。
They　were　up　with　the　sun　and　packed　in　half　an　hour。　The　gunslinger　hoped　to　shoot　another　rabbit　in　the　meadow　as　they　fed；　but　time　was　short　and　no　rabbit　showed　itself。　The　bundle　of　their　remaining　food　was　now　so　small　and　light　that　Jake　carried　it　easily。　He　had　toughened　up；　this　boy；　you　could　see　it。
The　gunslinger　carried　their　water；　freshly　drawn　from　one　of　the　springs。　He　looped　his　three　vine　ropes　around　his　belly。　They　gave　the　circle　of　stones　a　wide　berth　（the　gunslinger　was　afraid　the　boy　might　feel　a　recurrence　of　fear；　but　when　they　passed　above　it　on　a　stony　rise；　Jake　only　offered　it　a　passing　glance　and　then　looked　at　a　bird　that　hovered　upwind）。　Soon　enough；　the　trees　began　to　lose　their　height　and　lushness。　Trunks　were　twisted　and　roots　seemed　to　struggle　with　the　earth　in　a　tortured　hunt　for　moisture。
〃It's　all　so　old；〃　Jake　said　glumly　when　they　paused　for　a　rest。　〃Isn't　ther