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This isn’t the same thing.

But what if it was? What if Roland and Eddie were so close to the problem they couldn’t see the truth?

What is the truth? What is your understanding of the truth?

That they were no longer ka-tet, that was his understanding of the truth.

What was it Roland had said to Callahan, at that first palaver? We are round, and roll as we do. That had been true then, but Jake didn’t think it was true now. He remembered an old joke people told when they got a blowout: Well, it’s only flat on the bottom. That was them now, flat on the bottom. No longer truly ka-tet—how could they be, when they were keeping secrets? And were Mia and the child growing in Susannah’s stomach the only secrets? Jake thought not. There was something else, as well. Something Roland was keeping back not just from Susannah but from all of them.

We can beat the Wolves if we’re together, he thought. If we’re ka-tet. But not the way we are now. Not over here, not in New York, either. I just don’t believe it.

Another thought came on the heels of that, one so terrible he first tried to push it away. Only he couldn’t do that, he realized. Little as he wanted to, this was an idea that had to be considered.

I could take matters into my own hands. I could tell her myself.

And then what? What would he tell Roland? How would he explain?

I couldn’t. There’d be no explanation I could make or that he’d listen to. The only thing I could do—

He remembered Roland’s story of the day he’d stood against Cort. The battered old squireen with his stick, the untried boy with his hawk. If he, Jake, were to go against Roland’s decision and tell Susannah what had so far been held back from her, it would lead directly to his own manhood test.

And I’m not ready. Maybe Roland was—barely—but I’m not him. Nobody is. He’d best me and I’d be sent east into Thunderclap alone. Oy would try to come with me, but I couldn’t let him. Because it’s death over there. Maybe for our whole ka-tet, surely for a kid all by himself.

And yet still, the secrets Roland was keeping, that was wrong. And so? They’d be together again, all of them, to hear the rest of Callahan’s story and—maybe—to deal with the thing in Callahan’s church. What should he do then?

Talk to him. Try to persuade him he’s doing the wrong thing.

All right. He could do that. It would be hard, but he could do it. Should he talk to Eddie as well? Jake thought not. Adding Eddie would complicate things even more. Let Roland decide what to tell Eddie. Roland, after all, was the dinh.

The flap of the tent shivered and Jake’s hand went to his side, where the Ruger would have hung if he had been wearing the docker’s clutch. Not there, of course, but this time that was all right. It was only Oy, poking his snout under the flap and tossing it up so he could get his head into the tent.

Jake reached out to pat the bumbler’s head. Oy seized his hand gently in his teeth and tugged. Jake went with him willingly enough; he felt as if sleep were a thousand miles away.

Outside the tent, the world was a study in severe blacks and whites. A rock-studded slope led down to the river, which was broad and shallow at this point. The moon burned in it like a lamp. Jake saw two figures down there on the rocky strand and froze. As he did, the moon went behind a cloud and the world darkened. Oy’s jaws closed on his hand again and pulled him forward. Jake went with him, found a four-foot drop, and eased himself down. Oy now stood above and just behind him, panting into his ear like a little engine.

The moon came out from behind its cloud. The world brightened again. Jake saw Oy had led him to a large chunk of granite that came jutting out of the earth like the prow of a buried ship. It was a good hiding place. He peered around it and down at the river.

There was no doubt about one of them; its height and the moonlight gleaming on metal were enough to identify Andy the Messenger Robot (Many Other Functions). The other one, though