The Eyes of the Dragon - Stephen King [107]
"Two."
"I've had it four a-running. Mine's just the same as yours. And you needn't look like I'm going to laugh at you or call you Little Nell Weeping at the Well. I also wake up wanting to scream.
"This bright thing at the end of my dreams, he seems to blow it out. Is it a candle, do you think?"
"No. You know it's not."
She nodded.
Ben considered. "Something far more dangerous than a candle, I think I'll take that cigar you offered, if I may."
She gave him one. He lit it from the fire. They sat a while in silence, watching the sparks rise toward the dark wind which trawled nets of powdery field snow through the sky. Like the light in the dream they'd shared, the sparks blew out. The night seemed very black. Ben could smell snow in that wind. A great deal of snow, he thought.
Naomi seemed to read his thought. "I think such a storm as the old folks tell about may be on the way. What do you think?"
"The same."
With a hesitation utterly unlike her usual forthright manner, Naomi asked: "What does the dream mean, Ben?"
He shook his head. "I can't tell. Danger to Peter, that much is clear. If it means anything else-anything I can ken-it's that we must hurry." He looked at her with an urgent directness that made her heart speed up. "Can we reach Peyna's farm tomorrow, do you think?"
"We should be able to. No one but the gods can say that a dog won't break a leg or that a killer bear who can't sleep his winter sleep won't come out of the woods and kill us all, but aye we should be able to. I exchanged all the dogs I used on the run up, except for Frisky, and Frisky's almost tireless. If the snow comes early it'll slow us down, but I think it will hold off and off and for every hour it does, it'll be that much worse when it finally comes. Or so I think. But if it does hold off, and if we take turns jumping off the sledge and running alongside, I think we can make it. But what can we do except sit there, unless your friend the butler returns?"
"I don't know." Ben sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. What good, indeed? Whatever it was the dreams foretold, it would happen at the castle, not at the farm. Peyna had sent Dennis to the castle, but how did Dennis mean to get in? Ben didn't know, because Dennis hadn't told Peyna. And if Dennis did gain entry undetected, where would he hide? There were a thousand possible places. Except
"Bent"
"What?" Jerked out of his thoughts, he turned to her.
"What did you think of just now?"
"Nothing."
"Yes, something. Your eyes gleamed."
"Did they? I must have been thinking of pies. It's time you and I turned in. We'll want to be off at first light."
But in the tent, Ben Staad lay awake long after Naomi had gone to sleep. There were a thousand places in the castle to hide, yes. But he could think of two rather special ones. He thought he might well find Dennis in one or the other.
At last he fell asleep and dreamed of Flagg.
Teter began that Sunday as he always did, with his exercises and a prayer.
He had awakened feeling fresh and ready. After a quick look at the sky to gauge the progress of the coming storm, he ate his breakfast.
And, of course, he used his napkin.
By Sunday noon, everyone in Delain had come out of his or her house at least once to look worriedly toward the north. Everyone agreed that the storm, when it came, would be one to tell stories about in later years. The clouds rolling in were a dull gray, the color of wolf pelts. Temperatures rose until the icicles hanging beneath the eaves of the alleys began to drip for the first time in weeks, but the old-timers told each other (and anyone else who would listen) that they were not fooled. The temperature would plummet quickly, and hours later-perhaps two, perhaps four-the snow would begin. And, they said, it might fall for days.
By three o'clock that afternoon, those farmers of the Inner Baronies fortunate enough to still have livestock to watch out for had gotten their animals into the barns. The cows went mooing their displeasure; the snow had melted enough for them to crop last fall's