The Dark Tower - Stephen King [212]
He remembered the boy standing before the people of Calla Bryn Sturgis in the torchlight, his face young and fair, as if he would live forever. I am Jake Chambers, son of Elmer, the Line of Eld, the ka-tet of the Ninety and Nine, he had said, and oh, aye, for here he was in the Ninety and Nine, with his grave all dug, clean and ready for him.
Roland began to weep again. He put his hands over his face and rocked back and forth on his knees, smelling the sweet aromatic needles and wishing he had cried off before ka, that old and patient demon, had taught him the real price of his quest. He would have given anything to change what had happened, anything to close this hole with nothing in it, but this was the world where time ran just one way.
Ten
When he had gained control of himself again, he wrapped Jake carefully in the blue tarpaulin, fashioning a kind of hood around the still, pale face. He would close that face away for good before refilling the grave, but not until.
“Oy?” he asked. “Will you say goodbye?”
Oy looked at Roland, and for a moment the gunslinger wasn’t sure he understood. Then the bumbler extended his neck and caressed the boy’s cheek a last time with his tongue. “I, Ake,” he said: Bye, Jake or I ache, it came to the same.
The gunslinger gathered the boy up (how light he was, this boy who had jumped from the barn loft with Benny Slightman, and stood against the vampires with Pere Callahan, how curiously light; as if the growing weight of him had departed with his life) and lowered him into the hole. A crumble of dirt spilled down one cheek and Roland wiped it away. That done, he closed his eyes again and thought. Then, at last—haltingly—he began. He knew that any translation into the language of this place would be clumsy, but he did the best he could. If Jake’s spirit-man lingered near, it was this language that he would understand.
“Time flies, knells call, life passes, so hear my prayer.
“Birth is nothing but death begun, so hear my prayer.
“Death is speechless, so hear my speech.”
The words drifted away into the haze of green and gold. Roland let them, then set upon the rest. He spoke more quickly now.
“This is Jake, who served his ka and his tet. Say true.
“May the forgiving glance of S’mana heal his heart. Say please.
“May the arms of Gan raise him from the darkness of this earth. Say please.
“Surround him, Gan, with light.
“Fill him, Chloe, with strength.
“If he is thirsty, give him water in the clearing.
“If he is hungry, give him food in the clearing.
“May his life on this earth and the pain of his passing become as a dream to his waking soul, and let his eyes fall upon every lovely sight; let him find the friends that were lost to him, and let every one whose name he calls call his in return.
“This is Jake, who lived well, loved his own, and died as ka would have it.
“Each man owes a death. This is Jake. Give him peace.”
He knelt a moment longer with his hands clasped between his knees, thinking he had not understood the true power of sorrow, nor the pain of regret, until this moment.
I cannot bear to let