Wolves of the Calla - Stephen King [193]
“Nay, gunslinger, ye dare not!” Henchick cried in alarm.
“I dare,” Roland said. And he did, but the knob wouldn’t turn in either direction. He stepped back from it.
“But the door was open when you found the priest?” he asked Henchick. They had spoken of this the previous night, but Roland wanted to hear more.
“Aye. ’Twas I and Jemmin who found him. Thee knows we elder Manni seek the other worlds? Not for treasure but for enlightenment?”
Roland nodded. He also knew that some had come back from their travels insane. Others never came back at all.
“These hills are magnetic, and riddled with many ways into many worlds. We’d gone out to a cave near the old garnet mines and there we found a message.”
“What kind of message?”
“ ’Twas a machine set in the cave’s mouth,” Henchick said. “Push a button and a voice came out of it. The voice told us to come here.”
“You knew of this cave before?”
“Aye, but before the Pere came, it were called the Cave of Voices. For which reason thee now knows.”
Roland nodded and motioned for Henchick to go on.
“The voice from the machine spoke in accents like those of your ka-mates, gunslinger. It said that we should come here, Jemmin and I, and we’d find a door and a man and a wonder. So we did.”
“Someone left you instructions,” Roland mused. It was Walter he was thinking of. The man in black, who had also left them the cookies Eddie called Keeblers. Walter was Flagg and Flagg was Marten and Marten…was he Maerlyn, the old rogue wizard of legend? On that subject Roland remained unsure. “And spoke to you by name?”
“Nay, he did not know s’much. Only called us the Manni-folk.”
“How did this someone know where to leave the voice machine, do you think?”
Henchick’s lips thinned. “Why must thee think it was a person? Why not a god speaking in a man’s voice? Why not some agent of The Over?”
Roland said, “Gods leave siguls. Men leave machines.” He paused. “In my own experience, of course, Pa.”
Henchick made a curt gesture, as if to tell Roland to spare him the flattery.
“Was it general knowledge that thee and thy friend were exploring the cave where you found the speaking machine?”
Henchick shrugged rather sullenly. “People see us, I suppose. Some mayhap watch over the miles with their spyglasses and binoculars. Also, there’s the mechanical man. He sees much and prattles everlastingly to all who will listen.”
Roland took this for a yes. He thought someone had known Pere Callahan was coming. And that he would need help when he arrived on the outskirts of the Calla.
“How far open was the door?” Roland asked.
“These are questions for Callahan,” Henchick said. “I promised to show thee this place. I have. Surely that’s enough for ye.”
“Was he conscious when you found him?”
There was a reluctant pause. Then: “Nay. Only muttering, as one does in his sleep if he dreams badly.”
“Then he can’t tell me, can he? Not this part. Henchick, you seek aid and succor. This thee told me on behalf of all your clans. Help me, then! Help me to help you!”
“I do na’ see how this helps.”
And it might not help, not in the matter of the Wolves which so concerned this old man and the rest of Calla Bryn Sturgis, but Roland had other worries and other needs; other fish to fry, as Susannah sometimes said. He stood looking at Henchick, one hand still on the crystal doorknob.
“It were open a bit,” Henchick said finally. “So were the box. Both just a bit. The one they call the Old Fella, he lay facedown, there.” He pointed to the rubble-and bone-littered floor where Roland’s boots were now planted. “The box were by his right hand, open about this much.” Henchick held his thumb and forefinger perhaps two inches apart. “Coming from it was the sound of the kammen. I’ve heard em before, but never s’strong. They made my very eyes ache and gush water. Jemmin cried out and begun walking toward the door. The Old Fella’s hands were spread out on the ground and Jemmin treaded on one of em and never noticed.
“The door were only ajar, like the box, but a terrible light was coming through it.