He looked at Eddie.
“It will speak again.”
“It’s dangerous.” Eddie’s voice was flat.
“Yes.”
“Not just to you.”
“No.”
“I love her, man.”
“Yes.”
“If you hurt her—”
“I’ll do what I need to,” the gunslinger said.
“And we don’t matter? Is that it?”
“I love you both.” The gunslinger looked at Eddie, and Eddie saw that Roland’s cheeks glistened red in what remained of the campfire’s embered dying glow. He was weeping.
“That doesn’t answer the question. You’ll go on, won’t you?”
“Yes.”
“To the very end.”
“Yes. To the very end.”
“No matter what.” Eddie looked at him with love and hate and all the aching dearness of one man’s dying hopeless helpless reach for another man’s mind and will and need.
The wind made the trees moan.
“You sound like Henry, man.” Eddie had begun to cry himself. He didn’t want to. He hated to cry. “He had a tower, too, only it wasn’t dark. Remember me telling you about Henry’s tower? We were brothers, and I guess we were gunslingers. We had this White Tower, and he asked me to go after it with him the only way he could ask, so I saddled up, because he was my brother, you dig it? We got there, too. Found the White Tower. But it was poison. It killed him. It would have killed me. You saw me. You saved more than my life. You saved my fuckin soul.”
Eddie held Roland and kissed his cheek. Tasted his tears.
“So what? Saddle up again? Go on and meet the man again?”
The gunslinger said not a word.
“I mean, we haven’t seen many people, but I know they’re up ahead, and whenever there’s a Tower involved, there’s a man. You wait for the man because you gotta meet the man, and in the end money talks and bullshit walks, or maybe here it’s bullets instead of bucks that do the talking. So is that it? Saddle up? Go to meet the man? Because if it’s just a replay of the same old shitstorm, you two should have left me for the lobsters.” Eddie looked at him with dark-ringed eyes. “I been dirty, man. If I found out anything, it’s that I don’t want to die dirty.”
“It’s not the same.”
“No? You gonna tell me you’re not hooked?”
Roland said nothing.
“Who’s gonna come through some magic door and save you, man? Do you know? I do. No one. You drew all you could draw. Only thing you can draw from now on is a fucking gun, because that’s all you got left. Just like Balazar.”
Roland said nothing.
“You want to know the only thing my brother ever had to teach me?” His voice was hitching and thick with tears.
“Yes,” the gunslinger said. He leaned forward, his eyes intent upon Eddie’s eyes.
“He taught me if you kill what you love, you’re damned.”
“I am damned already,” Roland said calmly. “But perhaps even the damned may be saved.”
“Are you going to get all of us killed?”
Roland said nothing.
Eddie seized the rags of Roland’s shirt. “Are you going to get her killed?”