Someone brushed against Mia as she stood in the door to the shop and she turned, her hands coming up. If it was an enemy, or some enemy of her chap, she would claw his eyes out.

"Solly," said a smiling black-haired woman. Like the man, she was holding out one of the oblong flash-things. In the middle was a circular glass eye that stared at Mia. She could see her own face in it, small and dark and bewildered.

"You take pickcha, preese? Take pickcha me and my fliend?"

Mia had no idea what the woman was saying or what she wanted or what the flash-makers were supposed to do. She only knew that there were too many people, they were everywhere, this was a madhouse. Through the shop window she could see that the front of the hotel was likewise thronged. There were yellow cars and long black cars with windows you couldn't look into (although the people inside could doubtless look out), and a huge silver conveyance that sat rumbling at the curb. Two men in green uniforms were in the street, blowing silver whistles. Somewhere close by something began to rattle loudly. To Mia, who had never heard a jackhammer, it sounded like a speed-shooter gun, but no one outside was throwing himself to the sidewalk; no one even looked alarmed.

How was she supposed to get to the Dixie Pig on her own? Richard P. Sayre had said he was sure Susannah could help her find it, but Susannah had fallen stubbornly silent, and Mia herself was on the verge of losing control entirely.

Then Susannah spoke up again.

If I help you a little now-get you to a quiet place where you can catch your breath and at least do something about your shirt-will you give me some straight answers?

About what?

About the baby, Mia. And about the mother. About you.

I did!

I don't think so. I don't think you're any more elemental than ... well, than I am. I want the truth.

Why?

I want the truth, Susannah repeated, and then fell silent, refusing to respond to any more of Mia's questions. And when yet another grinning little man approached her with yet another flash-thing, Mia's nerve broke. Right now just getting across the hotel lobby looked like more than she could Susannah repeated, and then fell silent, refusing to respond to any more of Mia's questions. And when yet another grinning little man approached her with yet another flash-thing, Mia's nerve broke. Right now just getting across the hotel lobby looked like more than she could manage on her own; how was she supposed to get all the way to this Dixie Pig place? After so many years in manage on her own; how was she supposed to get all the way to this Dixie Pig place? After so many years in (Fedic) (Discordia) (the Castle on the Abyss) to be among so many people made her feel like screaming. And after all, why not tell the dark-skinned woman what little she knew? She-Mia, daughter of none, mother of one-was firmly in charge. What harm in a little truth-telling?

All right, she said. she said. I'll do as you ask, Susannah or Odetta or whoever you are. Just help me. Get me out of here. I'll do as you ask, Susannah or Odetta or whoever you are. Just help me. Get me out of here.

Susannah Dean came forward. came forward.

EIGHT.

There was a women's restroom adjacent to the hotel bar, around the corner from the piano player. Two of the yellow-skinned, black-haired ladies with the tipped eyes were at the basins, one washing her hands, the other fixing her hair, both of them twittering in their birdy-lingo. Neither paid any attention to the kokujin kokujin lady who went past them and to the stalls. A moment later they left her in blessed silence except for the faint music drifting down from the overhead speakers. lady who went past them and to the stalls. A moment later they left her in blessed silence except for the faint music drifting down from the overhead speakers.

Mia saw how the latch worked and engaged it. She was about to sit down on the toilet seat when Susannah said: Turn it inside out. Turn it inside out.

What?

The shirt, woman. Turn it inside out, for your father's sake!

For a moment Mia didn't. She was too stunned.

The shirt was a rough-woven callum-ka, the sort of simple pullover favored by both sexes in the rice-growing country during cooler weather. It had what Odetta Holmes would have called a boatneck. No buttons, so yes, it could very easily be turned inside out, but- Susannah, clearly impatient: Are you going to stand there commala-moon all day? Turn it inside out! And tuck it into your jeans this time. Are you going to stand there commala-moon all day? Turn it inside out! And tuck it into your jeans this time.

W ... Why?

It'll give you a different look, Susannah replied promptly, but that wasn't the reason. What she wanted was a look at herself below the waist. If her legs were Mia's then they were quite probably white legs. She was fascinated (and a little sickened) by the idea that she had become a kind of tu-tone halfbreed. Susannah replied promptly, but that wasn't the reason. What she wanted was a look at herself below the waist. If her legs were Mia's then they were quite probably white legs. She was fascinated (and a little sickened) by the idea that she had become a kind of tu-tone halfbreed.

Mia paused a moment longer, fingertips rubbing the rough weave of the shirt above the worst of the bloodstains, which was over her left breast. Over her heart. Turn it inside out! In the lobby, a dozen half-baked ideas had gone through her head (using the scrimshaw turtle to fascinate the people in the shop had probably been the only one even close to workable), but simply turning the damned thing inside out hadn't been one of them. Which only showed, she supposed, how close to total panic she had been. But now ...

Did she need Susannah for the brief time she would be in this overcrowded and disorienting city, which was so different from the quiet rooms of the castle and the quiet streets of Fedic? Just to get from here to Sixty-first Street and Lexingworth?

Lexington, said the woman trapped inside her. Lexing Lexington. You keep forgetting that, don't you? You keep forgetting that, don't you?

Yes. Yes, she did. And there was no reason to forget such a simple thing, maybe she hadn't been to Morehouse, Morehouse or no house, but she wasn't stupid. So why- What? she demanded suddenly. she demanded suddenly. What are you smiling about? What are you smiling about?

Nothing, said the woman inside ... but she was still smiling. Almost grinning. Mia could feel it, and she didn't like it. Upstairs in Room 1919, Susannah had been screaming at her in a mixture of terror and fury, accusing Mia of betraying the man she loved and the one she followed. Which had been true enough to make Mia ashamed. She didn't enjoy feeling that way, but she'd liked the woman inside better when she was howling and crying and totally discombobulated. The smile made her nervous. This version of the brown-skinned woman was trying to turn the tables on her; maybe thought she said the woman inside ... but she was still smiling. Almost grinning. Mia could feel it, and she didn't like it. Upstairs in Room 1919, Susannah had been screaming at her in a mixture of terror and fury, accusing Mia of betraying the man she loved and the one she followed. Which had been true enough to make Mia ashamed. She didn't enjoy feeling that way, but she'd liked the woman inside better when she was howling and crying and totally discombobulated. The smile made her nervous. This version of the brown-skinned woman was trying to turn the tables on her; maybe thought she had had turned the tables. Which was turned the tables. Which was impossible, of course, she was under the protection of the King, but ... impossible, of course, she was under the protection of the King, but ...

Tell me why you're smiling!

Oh, it don't amount to much, Susannah said, only now she sounded like the other one, whose name was Detta. Mia did more than dislike that one. She was a little afraid of that one. Susannah said, only now she sounded like the other one, whose name was Detta. Mia did more than dislike that one. She was a little afraid of that one. It's just that there was this fella named Sigmund Freud, honeychile-honky muhfuh, but not stupid. And he said that when someone always be f'gittin sump'in, might be because that person It's just that there was this fella named Sigmund Freud, honeychile-honky muhfuh, but not stupid. And he said that when someone always be f'gittin sump'in, might be because that person want want to be f'gittin it. to be f'gittin it.

That's stupid, Mia said coldly. Beyond the stall where she was having this mental conversation, the door opened and two more ladies came in-no, at least three and maybe four-twittering in their birdy-language and giggling in a way that made Mia clamp her teeth together. Mia said coldly. Beyond the stall where she was having this mental conversation, the door opened and two more ladies came in-no, at least three and maybe four-twittering in their birdy-language and giggling in a way that made Mia clamp her teeth together. Why would I want to forget the place where they're waiting to help me have my baby? Why would I want to forget the place where they're waiting to help me have my baby?

Well, dis Freud-dis smart cigar-smoking Viennese honky muhfuh-he claim dat we got dis mind under under our mind, he call it the unconscious or subconscious or our mind, he call it the unconscious or subconscious or some some fuckin conscious. Now I ain't claimin dere is such a thing, only dat he fuckin conscious. Now I ain't claimin dere is such a thing, only dat he say say dere was. dere was.

(Burn up the day, Eddie had told her, that much she was sure of, and she would do her best, only hoping that she wasn't working on getting Jake and Callahan killed by doing it. Eddie had told her, that much she was sure of, and she would do her best, only hoping that she wasn't working on getting Jake and Callahan killed by doing it.) Ole Honky Freud, Detta went on, Detta went on, he say in lots of ways de subconscious or unconscious mind he say in lots of ways de subconscious or unconscious mind smarter smarter dan de one on top. Cut through de bullshit dan de one on top. Cut through de bullshit faster faster dan de one on top. An maybe yours understand what I been tellin you all along, that yo' frien Sayre nothin but a lyin rat-ass muhfuh goan steal yo baby and, I dunno, maybe cut it up in dis bowl and den feed it to the vampires like dey was dawgs an dat baby nuffin but a big-ass bowl o' Alpo or Purina Vampire Ch dan de one on top. An maybe yours understand what I been tellin you all along, that yo' frien Sayre nothin but a lyin rat-ass muhfuh goan steal yo baby and, I dunno, maybe cut it up in dis bowl and den feed it to the vampires like dey was dawgs an dat baby nuffin but a big-ass bowl o' Alpo or Purina Vampire Ch- Shut up! Shut up your lying face!

Out at the basins, the birdy-women laughed so shrilly that Mia felt her eyeballs shiver and threaten to liquefy in their sockets. She wanted to rush out and seize their heads and drive them into the mirrors, wanted to do it again and again until their blood was splashed all the way up to the ceiling and their brains brains- Temper, temper, said the woman inside, and now it sounded like Susannah again. said the woman inside, and now it sounded like Susannah again.

She lies! That bitch LIES!

No, Susannah replied, and the conviction in that single short word was enough to send an arrow of fear into Mia's heart. Susannah replied, and the conviction in that single short word was enough to send an arrow of fear into Mia's heart. She says what's on her mind, no argument there, but she doesn't lie. Go on, Mia, turn your shirt inside out. She says what's on her mind, no argument there, but she doesn't lie. Go on, Mia, turn your shirt inside out.

With a final eye-watering burst of laughter, the birdy-women left the bathroom. Mia pulled the shirt off over her head, baring Susannah's breasts, which were the color of coffee with just the smallest splash of milk added in. Her nipples, which had always been as small as berries, were now much larger. Nipples craving a mouth.

There were only the faintest maroon spots on the inside of the shirt. Mia put it back on, then unbuttoned the front of her jeans so she could tuck it in. Susannah stared, fascinated, at the point just above her pubic thatch. Here her skin lightened to a color that might have been milk with the smallest splash of coffee added in. Below were the white legs of the woman she'd met on the castle allure. Susannah knew that if Mia lowered her jeans all the way, she'd see the scabbed and scratched shins she had already observed as Mia-the real real Mia-looked out over Discordia toward the red glow marking the castle of the King. Mia-looked out over Discordia toward the red glow marking the castle of the King.

Something about this frightened Susannah terribly, and after a moment's consideration (it took no longer), the reason came to her. If Mia had only replaced those parts of her legs that Odetta Holmes had lost to the subway train when Jack Mort pushed her onto the tracks she would have been white only from the knees or so down. But her thighs thighs were white, too, and her groin area was turning. What strange lycanthropy was this? were white, too, and her groin area was turning. What strange lycanthropy was this?

De body-stealin kind, Detta replied cheerfully. Detta replied cheerfully. Pretty soon you be havin a white belly ... white breas's ... white neck ... white cheeks Pretty soon you be havin a white belly ... white breas's ... white neck ... white cheeks ... ...

Stop it, Susannah warned, but when had Detta Walker ever listened to her warnings? Hers or anybody's? Susannah warned, but when had Detta Walker ever listened to her warnings? Hers or anybody's?

And den, las' of all, you have a white brain, brain, girl! A Mia girl! A Mia brain! And won't dat be fahn? Sho! You be all Mia den! Nobody give you no shit if you want to ride right up front on de bus! brain! And won't dat be fahn? Sho! You be all Mia den! Nobody give you no shit if you want to ride right up front on de bus!

Then the shirt was drawn over her hips; the jeans were again buttoned up. Mia sat down on the toilet ring that way. In front of her, scrawled on the door, was this graffito: BANGO SKANK AWAITS THE KING BANGO SKANK AWAITS THE KING!

Who is this Bango Skank? Mia asked. Mia asked.

I have no idea.

I think ... It was hard, but Mia forced herself. ... It was hard, but Mia forced herself. I think I owe you a word of thanks. I think I owe you a word of thanks.

Susannah's response was cold and immediate. Thank me with the truth. Thank me with the truth.

First tell me why you'd help me at all, after I ... ...

This time Mia couldn't finish. She liked to think of herself as brave-as brave as she had to be in the service of her chap, at least-but this time she couldn't finish.

After you betrayed the man I love to men who are, when you get right down to it, footsoldiers of the Crimson King? After you decided it would be all right for them to kill mine so long as you could keep yours? Is that what you want to know?

Mia hated to hear it spoken of that way, but bore it. Had Had to bear it. to bear it.

Yes, lady, if you like.

It was the other one who replied this time, in that voice-harsh, cawing, laughing, triumphant, and hateful-that was even worse than the shrill laughter of the birdy-women. Worse by far.

Because mah boys got away, dass why! Fucked those honkies mos' righteous! The ones dey didn't shoot all blowed to smithereens!

Mia felt a deep stirring of unease. Whether it was true or not, the bad laughing woman clearly believed believed it was true. And if Roland and Eddie Dean were still out there, wasn't it possible the Crimson King wasn't as strong, as all-powerful, as she had been told? Wasn't it even possible that she it was true. And if Roland and Eddie Dean were still out there, wasn't it possible the Crimson King wasn't as strong, as all-powerful, as she had been told? Wasn't it even possible that she had had been misled about- been misled about- Stop it, stop it, you can't think that way!

There's another reason I helped. The harsh one was gone and the other was back. At least for now. The harsh one was gone and the other was back. At least for now.

What?

It's my baby, too, Susannah said. Susannah said. I don't want it killed. I don't want it killed.

I don't believe you.

But she did. Because the woman inside was right: Mordred Deschain of Gilead and Discordia belonged to both of them. The bad one might not care, but the other, Susannah, clearly felt the chap's tidal pull. And if she was right about Sayre and whoever waited for her at the Dixie Pig ... if they were liars and cozeners ...

Stop it. Stop. I have nowhere else to go but to them.

You do, Susannah said quickly. Susannah said quickly. With Black Thirteen you can go anywhere. With Black Thirteen you can go anywhere.

You don't understand. He'd follow me. Follow it. it.

You're right, I don't don't understand. understand. She actually did, or She actually did, or thought thought she did, but ... she did, but ... Burn up the day, Burn up the day, he'd said. he'd said.

All right, I'll try to explain. I don't understand everything myself-there are things I don't know-but I'll tell you what I can.

Thank y- Before she could finish, Susannah was falling again, like Alice down the rabbit-hole. Through the toilet, through the floor, through the pipes beneath the floor, and into another world.

NINE.

No castle at the end of her drop, not this time. Roland had told them a few stories of his wandering years-the vampire nurses and little doctors of Eluria, the walking waters of East Downe, and, of course, the story of his doomed first love-and this was a little like falling into one of those tales. Or, perhaps, into one of the oat-operas ("adult Westerns," as they were called) on the still relatively new ABC-TV network: Sugarfoot, Sugarfoot, with Ty Hardin, with Ty Hardin, Maverick, Maverick, with James Garner, or-Odetta Holmes's personal favorite- with James Garner, or-Odetta Holmes's personal favorite-Cheyenne, starring Clint Walker. (Odetta had once written a letter to ABC programming, suggesting they could simultaneously break new ground and open up a whole new audience if they did a series about a wandering Negro cowboy in the years after the starring Clint Walker. (Odetta had once written a letter to ABC programming, suggesting they could simultaneously break new ground and open up a whole new audience if they did a series about a wandering Negro cowboy in the years after the Civil War. She never got an answer. She supposed writing the letter in the first place had been ridiculous, a waste of time.) Civil War. She never got an answer. She supposed writing the letter in the first place had been ridiculous, a waste of time.) There was a livery stable with a sign out front reading TACK MENDED CHEAP. TACK MENDED CHEAP. The sign over the hotel promised The sign over the hotel promised QUIET ROOMS, GUD BEDS. QUIET ROOMS, GUD BEDS. There were at least five saloons. Outside one of them, a rusty robot that ran on squalling treads turned its bulb head back and forth, blaring a come-on to the empty town from the horn-shaped speaker in the center of its rudimentary face: "Girls, girls, There were at least five saloons. Outside one of them, a rusty robot that ran on squalling treads turned its bulb head back and forth, blaring a come-on to the empty town from the horn-shaped speaker in the center of its rudimentary face: "Girls, girls, girls! girls! Some are humie and some are cybie, but who cares, you can't tell the difference, they do what you want without complaint, won't is not in their vo-CAB-u-lary, they give satisfaction with every action! Girls, girls, girls! Some are cybie, some are real, you can't tell the difference when you cop a feel! They do what you want! They want what Some are humie and some are cybie, but who cares, you can't tell the difference, they do what you want without complaint, won't is not in their vo-CAB-u-lary, they give satisfaction with every action! Girls, girls, girls! Some are cybie, some are real, you can't tell the difference when you cop a feel! They do what you want! They want what you you want!" want!"

Walking beside Susannah was the beautiful young white woman with the swollen belly, scratched legs, and shoulder-length black hair. Now, as they walked below the gaudy false front of THE FEDIC GOOD-TIME SALOON, BAR, AND DANCE EMPORIUM, THE FEDIC GOOD-TIME SALOON, BAR, AND DANCE EMPORIUM, she was wearing a faded plaid dress which advertised her advanced state of pregnancy in a way that made it seem freakish, almost a sign of the apocalypse. The she was wearing a faded plaid dress which advertised her advanced state of pregnancy in a way that made it seem freakish, almost a sign of the apocalypse. The huaraches huaraches of the castle allure had been replaced by scuffed and battered shor'boots. Both of them were wearing shor'boots, and the heels clumped hollowly on the boardwalk. of the castle allure had been replaced by scuffed and battered shor'boots. Both of them were wearing shor'boots, and the heels clumped hollowly on the boardwalk.

From one of the deserted barrooms farther along came the herky-jerky jazz of a jagtime tune, and a snatch of some old poem came to Susannah: A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute Saloon! A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute Saloon!

She looked over the batwing doors and was not in the least surprised to see the words SERVICE'S MALAMUTE SALOON. SERVICE'S MALAMUTE SALOON.

She slowed long enough to peer over the batwing doors and saw a chrome piano playing itself, dusty keys popping up and down, just a mechanical music-box no doubt built by the ever-popular North Central Positronics, entertaining a room that was empty except for a dead robot and, in the far corner, two skeletons working through the process of final decomposition, the one that would take them from bone to dust. decomposition, the one that would take them from bone to dust.

Farther along, at the end of the town's single street, loomed the castle wall. It was so high and so wide it blotted out most of the sky.

Susannah abruptly knocked her fist against the side of her head. Then she held her hands out in front of her and snapped her fingers.

"What are you doing?" Mia asked. "Tell me, I beg."

"Making sure I'm here. Physically here."

"You are."

"So it seems. But how can that be?"

Mia shook her head, indicating that she didn't know. On this, at least, Susannah was inclined to believe her. There was no dissenting word from Detta, either.

"This isn't what I expected," Susannah said, looking around. "It's not what I expected at all."

"Nay?" asked her companion (and without much interest). Mia was moving in that awkward but strangely endearing duck-footed waddle that seems to best suit women in the last stages of their carry. "And what was it ye did expect, Susannah?"

"Something more medieval, I guess. More like that." She pointed at the castle.

Mia shrugged as if to say take it or leave it, and then said, "Is the other one with you? The nasty one?"

Detta, she meant. Of course. "She's always with me. She's a part of me just as your chap is a part of you." Although how Mia could be pregnant when it had been Susannah who caught the fuck was something Susannah was still dying to know.

"I'll soon be delivered of mine," Mia said. "Will ya never be delivered of yours?"

"I thought I was," Susannah said truthfully. "She came back. Mostly, I think, to deal with you."

"I hate her."

"I know." And Susannah knew more. Mia feared Detta, as well. Feared her big-big.

"If she speaks, our palaver ends."

Susannah shrugged. "She comes when she comes and speaks when she speaks. She doesn't ask my permission."

Ahead of them on this side of the street was an arch with a sign above it: FEDIC STATION.