in the passageway which lay beyond, gloomy shadows reached out eagerly and enfolded them.
When they were gone, a small, furry shape crept out from behind a concrete boulder. It was Oy. He stood at the mouth of the passage for a moment, neck stretched forward, eyes gleaming. Then he followed after, nose low to the ground and sniffing carefully.
15
“COME ON,” ROLAND SAID as soon as Gasher had turned tail.
“How could you do it?” Eddie asked. “How could you let that freak have him?”
“Because I had no choice. Bring the wheelchair. We’re going to need it.”
They had reached the concrete on the far side of the gap when an explosion shook the bridge, spraying rubble into the darkening sky.
“Christ!” Eddie said, and turned his white, dismayed face to Roland.
“Don’t worry yet,” Roland said calmly. “Fellows like Gasher rarely get careless with their high-explosive toys.” They reached the tollbooths at the end of the bridge. Roland stopped just beyond, at the top of the curving ramp.
“You knew the guy wasn’t just bluffing, didn’t you?” Eddie said. “I mean, you weren’t guessing—you knew.”
“He’s a walking dead man, and such men don’t need to bluff.” Roland’s voice was calm enough, but there was a deep undertone of bitterness and pain in it. “I knew something like this could happen, and if we’d seen the fellow earlier, while we were still beyond the range of his exploding egg, we could have stood him off. But then Jake fell and he got too close. I imagine he thinks our real reason for bringing a boy in the first place was to pay for safe conduct through the city. Damn! Damn the luck!” Roland struck his fist against his leg.
“Well, let’s go get him!”
Roland shook his head. “This is where we split up. We can’t take Susannah where the bastard’s gone, and we can’t leave her alone.”
“But—”
“Listen and don’t argue—not if you want to save Jake. The longer we stand here, the colder his trail gets. Cold trails are hard to follow. You’ve got your own job to do. If there’s another Blaine, and I am sure Jake believes there is, then you and Susannah must find it. There must be a station, or what was once called a cradle in the far lands. Do you understand?”
For once, blessedly, Eddie didn’t argue. “Yeah. We’ll find it. What then?”
“Fire a shot every half hour or so. When I get Jake, I’ll come.”
“Shots may attract other people as well,” Susannah said. Eddie had helped her out of the sling and she was seated in her chair again.
Roland surveyed them coldly. “Handle them.”
“Okay.” Eddie stuck out his hand and Roland took it briefly. “Find him, Roland.”
“Oh, I’ll find him. Just pray to your gods that I find him soon enough. And remember the faces of your fathers, both of you.”
Susannah nodded. “We’ll try.”
Roland turned and ran light-footed down the ramp. When he was out of sight, Eddie looked at Susannah and was not very surprised to see she was crying. He felt like crying himself. Half an hour ago they had been a tight little band of friends. Their comfortable fellowship had been smashed to bits in the space of just a few minutes—Jake abducted, Roland gone after him. Even Oy had run away. Eddie had never felt so lonely in his life.
“I have a feeling we’re never going to see either of them again,” Susannah said.
“Of course we will!” Eddie said roughly, but he knew what she meant, because he felt the same way. The premonition that their quest was all over before it was fairly begun lay heavy on his heart. “In a fight with Attila the Hun, I’d give you three-to-two odds on Roland the Barbarian. Come on, Suze—we’ve got a train to catch.”
“But where?” she asked forlornly.
“I don’t know. Maybe we should just find the nearest wise old elf and ask him, huh?”
“What are you talking about, Edward Dean?”
“Nothing,” he said, and because that was so goddam true he thought he might burst into tears, he grasped the handles of her wheelchair and began to push it down the cracked and glass-littered ramp that led into the city of Lud.
16
JAKE QUICKLY DESCENDED INTO a foggy world where the only landmarks were pain: his throbbing hand, the place on his upper arm where Gasher’s fingers dug in like steel pegs, his burning lungs. Before they had gone far, these pains were first joined and then overmatched by a deep, burning stitch in his left side. He wondered