The late light threw overlapping crosses of shadow, but he thought he saw what had caught Roland’s eye. It was a tall gray stone, almost completely hidden in a shag of vines and creepers.
Susannah slipped into the woods at the side of the road with eely sinuousness. Roland and Eddie followed.
“It’s a marker, isn’t it?” Susannah was propped on her hands studying the rectangular chunk of rock. It had once been straight, but now it leaned drunkenly to the right, like an old gravestone.
“Yes. Give me my knife, Eddie.”
Eddie handed it over, then hunkered next to Susannah as the gunslinger cut away the vines. As they fell, he could see eroded letters carved into the stone, and he knew what they said before Roland had uncovered even half of the inscription:
TRAVELLER, BEYOND LIES MID-WORLD.
9
“WHAT DOES IT MEAN?” Susannah asked at last. Her voice was soft and awestruck; her eyes ceaselessly measured the gray stone plinth.
“It means that we’re nearing the end of this first stage.” Roland’s face was solemn and thoughtful as he handed his knife back to Eddie. “I think that we’ll keep to this old coach-road now—or rather, it will keep to us. It has taken up the path of the Beam. The woods will end soon. I expect a great change.”
“What is Mid-World?” Eddie asked.
“One of the large kingdoms which dominated the earth in the times before these. A kingdom of hope and knowledge and light—the sort of things we were trying to hold on to in my land before the darkness overtook us, as well. Some day if there’s time, I’ll tell you all the old stories . . . the ones I know, at least. They form a large tapestry, one which is beautiful but very sad.
“According to the old tales, a great city once stood at the edge of Mid-World—perhaps as great as your city of New York. It will be in ruins now, if it still exists at all. But there may be people . . . or monsters . . . or both. We’ll have to be on our guard.”
He reached out his two-fingered right hand and touched the inscription. “Mid-World,” he said in a low, meditative voice. “Who would have thought . . .” He trailed off.
“Well, there’s no help for it, is there?” Eddie asked.
The gunslinger shook his head. “No help.”
“Ka,” Susannah said suddenly, and they both looked at her.
10
THERE WERE TWO HOURS of daylight left, and so they moved on. The road continued southeast, along the path of the Beam, and two other overgrown roads—smaller ones—joined the one they were following. Along one side of the second were the mossy, tumbled remains of what must have once been an immense rock wall. Nearby, a dozen fat billy-bumblers sat upon the ruins, watching the pilgrims with their odd gold-ringed eyes. To Eddie they looked like a jury with hanging on its mind.
The road continued to grow wider and more clearly defined. Twice they passed the shells of long-deserted buildings. The second one, Roland said, might have been a windmill. Susannah said it looked haunted. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” the gunslinger replied. His matter-of-fact tone chilled both of them.
When darkness forced a halt, the trees were thinning and the breeze which had chased around them all day became a light, warm wind. Ahead, the land continued to rise.
“We’ll come to the top of the ridge in a day or two,” Roland said. “Then we’ll see.”
“See what?” Susannah asked, but Roland only shrugged.
That night Eddie began to carve again, but with no real feeling of inspiration. The confidence and happiness he’d felt as the key first began to take shape had left him. His fingers felt clumsy and stupid. For the first time in months he thought longingly of how good it would be to have some heroin. Not a lot; he felt sure that a nickel bag and a rolled-up dollar bill would send him flying through this little carving project in no time flat.
“What are you smiling about, Eddie?” Roland asked. He was sitting on the other side of the campfire; the low, wind-driven flames danced capriciously between them.
“Was I smiling?”
“Yes.”
“I was just thinking about how stupid some people can be—you put them in a room with six doors, they’ll still walk into the walls. And then have the nerve to bitch about it.”
“If you’re afraid of what might be on the other side of the doors, maybe bouncing off the walls seems safer,” Susannah said.