The gunslinger - Stephen King [89]
“The fire,” he said. “I’m cold.”
“Build it up yourself,” said the man in black. “It’s the butler’s night off.”
VII
The gunslinger drowsed awhile and awoke to see the man in black regarding him avidly, unhealthily.
“What are you staring at?” An old saying of Cort’s occurred to him. “Do you see your sister’s bum?”
“I’m staring at you, of course.”
“Well, don’t.” He poked up the fire, ruining the precision of the ideogram. “I don’t like it.” He looked to the east to see if there was the beginning of light, but this night went on and on.
“You seek the light so soon.”
“I was made for light.”
“Ah, so you were! And so impolite of me to forget the fact! Yet we have much to discuss yet, you and I. For so has it been told to me by my king and master.”
“Who is this king?”
The man in black smiled. “Shall we tell the truth then, you and I? No more lies?”
“I thought we had been.”
But the man in black persisted as if Roland hadn’t spoken. “Shall there be truth between us, as two men? Not as friends, but as equals? There is an offer you will get rarely, Roland. Only equals speak the truth, that’s my thought on’t. Friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of regard. How tiresome!”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to tire you, so let us speak the truth.” He had never spoken less on this night. “Start by telling me what exactly you mean by glammer.”
“Why, enchantment, gunslinger! My king’s enchantment has prolonged this night and will prolong it until our palaver is done.”
“How long will that be?”
“Long. I can tell you no better. I do not know myself.” The man in black stood over the fire, and the glowing embers made patterns on his face. “Ask. I will tell you what I know. You have caught me. It is fair; I did not think you would. Yet your quest has only begun. Ask. It will lead us to business soon enough.”
“Who is your king?”
“I have never seen him, but you must. But before you meet him, you must first meet the Ageless Stranger.” The man in black smiled spitelessly. “You must slay him, gunslinger. Yet I think it is not what you wished to ask.”
“If you’ve never seen your king and master, how do you know him?”
“He comes to me in dreams. As a stripling he came to me, when I lived, poor and unknown, in a far land. A sheaf of centuries ago he imbued me with my duty and promised me my reward, although there were many errands in my youth and the days of my manhood, before my apotheosis. You are that apotheosis, gunslinger. You are my climax.” He tittered. “You see, someone has taken you seriously.”
“And this Stranger, does he have a name?”
“O, he is named.”
“And what is his name?”
“Legion,” the man in black said softly, and somewhere in the easterly darkness where the mountains lay, a rockslide punctuated his words and a puma screamed like a woman. The gunslinger shivered and the man in black flinched. “Yet I do not think that is what you wished to ask, either. It is not your nature to think so far ahead.”
The gunslinger knew the question; it had gnawed him all this night, and he thought, for years before. It trembled on his lips but he didn’t ask it . . . not yet.
“This Stranger is a minion of the Tower? Like yourself?”
“Yar. He darkles. He tincts. He is in all times. Yet there is one greater than he.”
“Who?”
“Ask me no more!” the man in black cried. His voice aspired to sternness and crumbled into beseechment. “I know not! I do not wish to know. To speak of the things in End-World is to speak of the ruination of one’s own soul.”
“And beyond the Ageless Stranger is the Tower and whatever the Tower contains?”
“Yes,” whispered the man in black. “But none of these things are what you wish to ask.”
True.
“All right,” the gunslinger said, and then asked the world’s oldest question. “Will I succeed? Will I win through?”
“If I answered that question, gunslinger, you’d kill me.”
“I ought to kill you. You need killing.” His hands had dropped to the worn