WIZARD
1
Roland stopped at the sentry-box, glanced in, then picked up the thing which was lying on the floor. The others caught up with him and clustered around. It had looked like a newspaper, and that was just what it was . . . although an exceedingly odd one. No Topeka Capital-Journal this, and no news of a population-levelling plague.
Vol. MDLXVIII No. 96 “Daily Buzz, Daily Buzz, Handsome Iz as Handsome Duuzz” Weather: Here today, gone tomorrow Lucky Numbers: None Prognosis: Bad
Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak blah blah blah good is bad bad is good all the stuff’s the same good is bad bad is good all the stuff’s the same go slow past the drawers all the stuff’s the same blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Blaine is a pain all the stuff’s the same yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak charyou tree all the stuff’s the same blah yak blah blah yak yak blah blah blah yak yak yak baked turkey cooked goose all the stuff’s the same blah blah yak yak ride a train die in pain all the stuff’s the same blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blame blame blame blame blame blame blah blah blah blah blah blah blah yak yak blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. (Related story p. 6)
Below this was a picture of Roland, Eddie, Susannah, and Jake crossing the mirrored courtyard, as if this had happened the day before instead of only minutes ago. Beneath it was a caption reading: Tragedy in Oz: Travellers Arrive Seeking Fame and Fortune; Find Death Instead.
“I like that,” Eddie said, adjusting Roland’s revolver in the holster he wore low on his hip. “Comfort and encouragement after days of confusion. Like a hot drink on a cold fucking night.”
“Don’t be afraid of this,” Roland said. “This is a joke.”
“I’m not afraid,” Eddie said, “but it’s a little more than a joke. I lived with Henry Dean for a lot of years, and I know when there’s a plot to psych me out afoot. I know it very well.” He looked curiously at Roland. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you’re the one who looks scared, Roland.”
“I’m terrified,” Roland said simply.
2
The arched entryway made Susannah think of a song which had been popular ten years or so before she had been yanked out of her world and into Roland’s. Saw an eyeball peepin through a smoky cloud behind the Green Door, the lyric went. When I said “Joe sent me,” someone laughed out loud behind the Green Door. There were actually two doors here instead of one, and no peephole through which an eyeball could look in either. Nor did Susannah try that old speakeasy deal about how Joe had sent her. She did, however, bend forward to read the sign hanging from one of the circular glass door-pulls. BELL OUT OF ORDER, PLEASE KNOCK, it said.
“Don’t bother,” she said to Roland, who had actually doubled up his fist to do as the sign said. “It’s from the story, that’s all.”
Eddie pulled her chair back slightly, stepped in front of it, and took hold of the circular pulls. The doors opened easily, the hinges rolling in silence. He took a step forward into what looked like a shadowy green grotto, cupped his hands to his mouth, and called: “Hey!”
The sound of his voice rolled away and came back changed . . . small, echoing, lost. Dying, it seemed.
“Christ,” Eddie said. “Do we have to do this?”
“If we want to get back to the Beam, I think so.” Roland looked paler than ever, but he led them in. Jake helped Eddie lift Susannah’s chair over the sill (a milky block of jade-colored glass) and inside. Oy’s little shoes flashed dim red on the green glass floor. They had gone only ten paces when the doors slammed shut behind them with a no-question-about-it boom that rolled past them and went echoing away into the depths of the Green Palace.
3
There was no reception room; only a vaulted, cavernous hallway that seemed to go on forever. The