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the hags to Roland's slitted view once more。
Norman's medallion lay exposed…the boy had perhaps wakened enough to take it out of his bed…dress； hoping it would protect him better so。 Ralph picked it up in his melted…tallow hand。 The Sisters watched eagerly in the glow of their candles as the green man stretched it to the end of its chain 。 。 。 and then put it down again。 Their faces drooped in disappointment。
'Don't care for such as that；' Ralph said in his clotted voice。 'Want whik…sky！ Want 'backky！'
'You shall have it；' Sister Mary said。 'Enough for you and all your verminous clan。 But first； you must have that horrid thing off him！ Off both of them！ Do you understand？ And you shan't tease us。'
'Or what？' Ralph asked。 He laughed。 It was a choked and gargly sound； the laughter of a man dying from some evil sickness of the throat and lungs； but Roland still liked it better than the giggles of the Sisters。 'Or what； Sisser Mary； you'll drink my bluid？ My bluid'd drop'ee dead where'ee stand； and glowing in the dark！'
Mary raised the gunslinger's revolver and pointed it at Ralph。 'Take that wretched thing； or you die where you stand。'
'And die after I've done what you want； likely。'
Sister Mary said nothing to that。 The others peered at him with their black eyes。
Ralph lowered his head； appearing to think。 Roland suspected his friend Bowler Hat could think； too。 Sister Mary and her cohorts might not believe that； but Ralph had to be trig to have survived as long as he had。 But of course when he came here； he hadn't considered Roland's guns。
'Smasher was wrong to give them shooters to you；' he said at last。 'Give em and not tell me。 Did u'se give him whik…sky？ Give him 'backky？'
'That's none o' yours；' Sister Mary replied。 'You have that gold…piece off the boy's neck right now； or I'll put one of yonder man's bullets in what's left of yer brain。'
'All right；' Ralph said。 'Just as you wish； sai。'
Once more he reached down and took the gold medallion in his melted fist。 That he did slow； what happened after； happened fast。 He snatched it away； breaking the chain and flinging the gold heedlessly into the dark。 With his other hand he reached down； sank his long and ragged nails into John Norman's neck； and tore it open。
Blood flew from the hapless boy's throat in a jetting； heart…driven gush more black than red in the candlelight； and he made a single bubbly cry。 The women screamed…but not in horror。 They screamed as women do in a frenzy of excitement。 The green man was forgotten； Roland was forgotten； all was forgotten save the life's blood pouring out of John Norman's throat。
They dropped their candles。 Mary dropped Roland's revolver in the same hapless； careless fashion。 The last the gunslinger saw as Ralph darted away into the shadows （whiskey and tobacco another time； wily Ralph must have thought； tonight he had best concentrate on saving his own life） was the Sisters bending forward to catch as much of the flow as they could before it dried up。
Roland lay in the dark； muscles shivering； heart pounding； listening to the harpies as they fed on the boy lying in the bed next to his own。 It seemed to go on forever； but at last they had done with him。 The Sisters relit their candles and left； murmuring。
When the drug in the soup once more got the better of the drug in the reeds； Roland was grateful 。 。 。 yet for the first time since he'd e here； his sleep was haunted。
In his dream he stood looking down at the bloated body in the town trough； thinking of a line in the book marked REGISTRY OF MISDEEDS AND REDRESS。 Green folk sent hence； it had read； and perhaps the green folk had been sent hence； but then a worse tribe had e。 The Little Sisters of Eluria； they called themselves。 And a year hence； they might be the Little Sisters of Tejuas； or of Kambero； or some other far western village。 They came with their bells and their bugs 。 。 。 from where？ Who knew？ Did it matter？
A shadow fell beside his on the scummy water of the trough。 Roland tried to turn and face it。 He couldn't； he was frozen in place。 Then a green hand grasped his shoulder and whirled him about。 It was Ralph。 His bowler hat was cocked back on his head； John Nor…man's medallion； now red with blood； hung around his neck。
'Booh！' cried Ralph； his lips stretching in a toothless grin。 He raised a big revolver with worn sandalwood grips。 He thumbed the hammer back …
… and Roland jerked awake； shivering all over； dressed in skin both wet and icy cold。 He looked at the bed on his left。 It was empty； the sheet pulled up and tucked about neatly； the pillow resting above it in its snowy sleeve。 Of John Norman there was no sign。 It might have been empty for years； that bed。
Roland was alone now。 Gods help him； he was the last patient of the Little Sisters of Eluria； those sweet and patient hospitalers。 The last human being still alive in this terrible place； the last with warm blood flowing in his veins。
Roland； lying suspended； gripped the gold medallion in his fist and looked across the aisle at the long row of empty beds。 After a little while； he brought one of the reeds out from beneath his pillow and nibbled at it。
When Mary came fifteen minutes later； the gunslinger took the bowl she brought with a show of weakness he didn't really feel。 Porridge instead of soup this time 。 。 。 but he had no doubt the basic ingredient was still the same。
'How well ye look this morning； sai；' Big Sister said。 She looked well herself…there were no shimmers to give away the ancient wampir hiding inside her。 She had supped well； and her meal had firmed her up。 Roland's stomach rolled over at the thought。 'Ye'll be on yer pins in no time； I'll warrant。'
'That's shit；' Roland said； speaking in an ill…natured growl。 'Put me on my pins and you'd be picking me up off the floor directly after。 I've started to wonder if you're not putting something in the food。'
She laughed merrily at that。 'La； you lads！ Always eager to blame yer weakness on a scheming woman！ How scared of us ye are…aye； way down in yer little boys' hearts； how scared ye are！'
'Where's my brother？ I dreamed there was a motion about him in the night； and now I see his bed's empty。'
Her smile narrowed。 Her eyes glittered。 'He came over fevery and pitched a fit。 We've taken him to Thoughtful House； which has been home to contagion more than once in its time。'
To the grave is where you've taken him； Roland thought。 Mayhap that is a Thoughtful House； but little would you know it； sai； one way or another。
'I know ye're no brother to that boy；' Mary said； watching him eat。 Already Roland could feel the stuff hidden in the porridge draining his strength once more。 'Sigul or no sigul； I know ye're no brother to him。 Why do you lie？ 'Tis a sin against God。'
'What gives you such an idea； sai？' Roland asked； curious to see if she would mention the guns。
'Big Sister knows what she knows。 Why not 'fess up； Jimmy？ Confession's good for the soul； they say。'
'Send me Jenna to pass the time； and perhaps I'd tell you much；' Roland said。
The narrow bone of smile on Sister Mary's face disappeared like chalk…writing in a rainstorm。 'Why would ye talk to such as her？'
'She's passing fair；' Roland said。 'Unlike some。'
Her lips pulled back from her overlarge teeth。 'Ye'll see her no more； cully。 Ye've stirred her up； so you have； and I won't have that。'
She turned to go。 Still trying to appear weak and hoping he would not overdo it （acting was never his forte）； Roland held out the empty porridge bowl。 'Do you not want to take this？'
'Put it on your head and wear it as a nightcap； for all of me。 Or stick it in your ass。 You'll talk before I'm done with ye； cully…talk till I bid you shut up and then beg to talk some more！'
On this note she swept regally away； hands lifting the front of her skirt off the floor。 Roland had heard that such as she couldn't go about in daylight； and that part of the old tales was surely a lie。 Yet another part was almost true； it seemed： a fuzzy； amorphous shape kept pace with her； running along the row of empty beds to her right； but she cast no real shadow at all。
VI。 Jenna。 Sister Coquina。 Tamra；
Michela； Louise。 The Cross…Dog。
What Happened in the Sage。
That was one of the longest days of Roland's life。 He dozed； but never deeply； the reeds were doing their work； and he had begun to believe that he might； with Jenna's help； actually get out of here。 And there was the matter of his guns； as well…perhaps she might be able to help there； too。
He passed the slow hours thinking of old times…of Gilead and his friends； of the riddling he had almost won at one Wide Earth Fair。 In the end another had taken the goose； but he'd had his chance； aye。 He thought of his mother and father； he thought of Abel Vannay； who had limped his way through a life of gentle goodness； and Eldred Jonas； who had limped his way through a life of evil 。 。 。 until Roland had blown him loose of his saddle； one fine desert day。
He thought； as always； of Susan。
If you love me； then love me； she'd said 。 。 。 and so he had。
So he