sk.thegunslinger-第22节

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edge　of　rock；　a　prophet　of　doom；　his　voice　the　voice　of　Jeremiah。
〃Gunslinger！　How　well　you　fulfill　the　prophecies　of　old！　Good　day　and　good　day　and　good　day！〃　He　laughed；　the　sound　echoing　ever　over　the　bellow　of　the　falling　water。
Without　a　thought　and　seemingly　without　a　click　of　motor　relays；　the　gunslinger　had　drawn　his　pistols。　The　boy　cowered　to　his　right　and　behind；　a　small　shadow。
Roland　fired　three　times　before　he　could　gain　control　of　his　traitor　hands　　the　echoes　bounced　their　bronze　tones　against　the　rock　valley　that　rose　around　them；　over　the　sound　of　the　wind　and　water。
A　spray　of　granite　puffed　over　the　head　of　the　man　in　black；　a　second　to　the　left　of　his　hood；　a　third　to　the　right。　He　had　missed　cleanly　all　three　times。
The　man　in　black　laughed　　a　full；　hearty　laugh　that　seemed　to　challenge　the　receding　echo　of　gunshots。　〃Would　you　kill　all　your　answers　so　easily；　gunslinger？〃
〃e　down；〃　the　gunslinger　said。　〃Answers　all　around。〃
Again　that　huge；　derisive　laugh。　〃It's　not　your　bullets　I　fear；　Roland。　It's　your　idea　of　answers　that　scares　me。　〃
〃e　down。〃
〃The　other　side；　I　think；〃　the　man　in　black　said。　〃On　the　other　side　we　will　hold　much　council。〃
His　eyes　flicked　to　Jake　and　he　added：
〃Just　the　two　of　us。〃
Jake　flinched　away　from　him　with　a　small；　whining　cry；　and　the　man　in　black　turned；　his　robe　swirling　in　the　gray　air　like　a　batwing。　He　disappeared　into　the　cleft　in　the　rock　from　which　the　water　spewed　at　full　force。　The　gunslinger　exercised　grim　will　and　did　not　send　a　bullet　after　him　　would　you　kill　all　your　answers　so　easily；　gunslinger？
There　was　only　the　sound　of　wind　and　water；　sounds　that　had　been　in　this　place　of　desolation　for　a　thousand　years。　Yet　the　man　in　black　had　been　here。　After　these　twelve　years；　Roland　had　seen　him　close…up；　spoken　to　him。　And　the　man　in　black　had　laughed　at　him。
On　the　other　side　we　will　hold　much　council。
The　boy　looked　up　at　him　with　dumbly　submissive　sheep's　eyes；　his　body　trembling。　For　a　moment　the　gunslinger　saw　the　face　of　Alice；　the　girl　from　Tull；　superimposed　over　Jake's；　the　scar　standing　out　on　her　forehead　like　a　mute　accusation；　and　felt　brute　loathing　for　them　both　（it　would　not　occur　to　him　until　much　later　that　both　the　scar　on　Alice's　forehead　and　the　nail　he　saw　spiked　through　Jake's　forehead　in　his　dreams　were　in　the　same　place）。　Jake　seemed　to　catch　a　whiff　of　his　thought　and　a　moan　was　dragged　from　his　throat。　But　it　was　short；　he　twisted　his　lips　shut　over　it。　He　held　the　makings　of　a　fine　man；　perhaps　a　gunslinger　in　his　own　right　if　given　time。
Just　the　two　of　us。
The　gunslinger　felt　a　great　and　unholy　thirst　in　some　deep　unknown　pit　of　his　body；　a　thirst　no　wine　could　touch。　Worlds　trembled；　almost　within　reach　of　his　fingers；　and　in　some　instinctual　way　he　strove　not　to　be　corrupted；　knowing　in　his　colder　mind　that　such　strife　was　vain　and　always　would　be。
It　was　noon。　He　looked　up；　letting　the　cloudy；　unsettled　daylight　shine　for　the　last　time　on　the　all…too…vulnerable　sun　of　his　own　righteousness。　No　one　ever　really　pays　for　it　in　silver；　he　thought。　The　price　of　any　evil　　necessary　or　otherwise　　es　due　in　flesh。
〃e　with　me　or　stay；〃　the　gunslinger　said。
The　boy　only　looked　at　him　mutely。　And　to　the　gunslinger；　in　that　final　and　vital　moment　of　uncoupling　from　a　moral　principle；　he　ceased　to　be　Jake　and　became　only　the　boy；　an　impersonality　to　be　moved　and　used。
Something　screamed　in　the　windy　stillness；　he　and　the　boy　both　heard。
The　gunslinger　began；　and　after　a　moment　Jake　came　after。　Together　they　climbed　the　tumbled　rock　beside　the　steely…cold　falls；　and　stood　where　the　man　in　black　had　stood　before　them。　And　together　they　entered　in　where　he　had　disappeared。　The　darkness　swallowed　them。
　
THE　SLOW　MUTANTS
I
The　gunslinger　spoke　slowly　to　Jake　in　the　rising　and　falling　inflections　of　a　dream：
〃There　were　three　of　us：　Cuthbert；　Jamie；　and　I。　We　weren't　supposed　to　be　there；　because　none　of　us　had　passed　from　the　time　of　children。　If　we　had　been　caught；　Cort　would　have　striped　us。　But　we　weren't。　I　don't　think　any　of　the　ones　that　went　before　us　were　caught；　either。　Boys　must　put　on　their　fathers'　pants　in　private；　strut　them　in　front　of　the　mirror；　and　then　sneak　them　back　on　their　hangers；　it　was　like　that。　The　father　pretends　he　doesn't　notice　the　new　way　they　are　hung　up；　or　the　traces　of　boot…polish　mustaches　still　under　their　noses。　Do　you　see？〃
The　boy　said　nothing。　He　had　said　nothing　since　they　had　relinquished　the　daylight。　The　gunslinger　had　talked　hectically；　feverishly；　to　fill　his　silence。　He　had　not　looked　back　at　the　lights　as　they　passed　into　the　lightlessness　beneath　the　mountains；　but　the　boy　had。　The　gunslinger　had　read　the　failing　of　day　in　the　soft　mirror　of　Jake's　cheek：
Now　faint　rose；　now　milk…glass；　now　pallid　silver；　now　the　last　dusk…glow　touch　of　evening；　now　nothing。　The　gunslinger　had　struck　a　false　light　and　they　had　gone　on。
Now　they　were　camped。　No　echo　from　the　man　in　black　returned　to　them。　Perhaps　he　had　stopped　to　rest；　too。　Or　perhaps　he　floated　onward　and　without　running…lights；　through　nighted　chambers。
〃It　was　held　once　a　year　in　the　Great　Hall；〃　the　gunslinger　went　on。　〃We　called　it　The　Hall　of　Grandfathers。　But　it　was　only　the　Great　Hall。〃
The　sound　of　dripping　water　came　to　their　ears。
〃A　courting　rite。〃　The　gunslinger　laughed　deprecatingly；　and　the　insensate　walls　made　the　sound　into　a　loon…like　wheeze。　〃In　the　old　days；　the　books　say；　it　was　the　weling　of　spring。　But　civilization；　you　know。。。。
He　trailed　off；　unable　to　describe　the　change　inherent　in　that　mechanized　noun；　the　death　of　the　romantic　and　its　sterile；　carnal　revenant；　living　only　a　forced　respiration　of　glitter　and　ceremony；　the　geometric　steps　of　courtship　during　the　Easter…night　dance　at　the　Great　Hall　which　had　replaced　the　mad　scribble　of　love　which　he　could　only　intuit　dimly　　hollow　grandeur　in　the　place　of　mean　and　sweeping　passions　which　might　once　have　erased　souls。
〃They　made　something　decadent　out　of　it；〃　the　gunslinger　said。　〃A　play。　A　game。〃　In　his　voice　was　all　the　unconscious　distaste　of　the　ascetic。　His　face；　had　there　been　stronger　light　to　illumine　it；　would　have　shown　change　harshness　and　sorrow。　But　his　essential　force　had　not　been　cut　or　diluted。　The　lack　of　imagination　that　still　remained　in　that　face　was　remarkable。
〃But　the　Ball；〃　the　gunslinger　said。　〃The　Ball。　。　。〃
The　boy　did　not　speak。
〃There　were　five　crystal　chandeliers；　heavy　glass　with　electric　lights。　It　was　all　light；　it　was　an　island　of　light。
〃We　had　sneaked　into　one　of　the　old　balconies；　the　ones　that　were　supposed　to　be　unsafe。　But　we　were　still　boys。　We　were　above　everything；　and　we　could　look　down　on　it　I　don't　remember　that　any　of　us　said　anything。　We　only　looked；　and　we　looked　for　hours。
〃There　was　a　great　stone　table　where　the　gunslingers　and　their　women　sat；　watching　the　dancers。　A　few　of　the　gunslingers　danced；　but　only　a　few。　And　they　were　the　young　ones。　The　other　ones　only　sat；　and　it　seemed　to　me　they　were　half　embarrassed　in　all　that　light；　that　civilized　light。　They　were　revered　ones；　the　feared　ones；　the　guardians；　but　they　seemed　like　hostlers　in　that　crowd　of　cavaliers　with　their　soft　women。　。　。　。
〃There　were　four　circular　tables　loaded　with　food；　and　they　turned　all　the　time。　The　cooks'　boys　never　stopped　ing　and　going　from　seven　until　three　the　next　morning。　The　tables　rotated　like　clocks；　and　we　could　smell　roast　pork；　beef；　lobster；　chickens；　baked　apples。　There　were　ices　and　candies。　There　were　great　flaming　skewers　of　meat。
〃And　Marten　sat　next　to　my　mother　and　father　　I　knew　them　even　from　so　high　above　　and　once　she　and　Marten　danced；　slowly　and　revolvingly；　and　the　others　cleared　the　floor　for　them　and　clapped　when　it　was　over。　The　gunslingers　did　not　clap；　but　my　father　stood　slowly　and　held　his　hands　out　to　her。　And　she　went；　smiling。
〃It　was　a　moment　of　passage；　boy。　A　time　such　as　must　be　at　the　Tower　itself；　when　things　e　together　and　hold　and　make　power　in　time。　My　father　had　taken　control；　had　been　acknowledged　and　singled　out。　Marten　was　the　acknowledger；　my　father　was　the　mover。　And　his　wife　my　mother；　went　to　him；　the　connection　between　them。　Betrayer。
〃My　father　was　the　last　lord　of　light。〃
The　gunslinger　looked　down　at　his　hands。　The　boy　still　said　nothing。　His　face　was　only　thoughtful。
〃I　remember　how　they　danced；〃　the　gunslinger　said　softly。　〃My　mother　and　Marten　the　enchanter。　I　remember　how　they　danced；　revolving　slowly　together　and　apart；　in　the　old　steps　of　courtship。〃
He　looked　at　the　boy；　smiling。　〃But　it　meant　nothing；　you　know。　Because　power　had　been　passed　in　some　way　that　none　of　them　knew　but　all　understood；　and　my　mother　was　locked　root　and　rind　to　the　holder　and　wielder　of　that　power。　Was　it　not　so？　She　went　to　him　when　the　dance　was　over；　didn't　she？　And　clasped　his　hand？　Did　they　applaud？　Did　the　hall　ring　with　it　as　those　pansy…boys　and　their　soft　ladies　applauded　and　lauded　him？　Did　it？　Did　it？〃
Bitter　water　dripped　distantly　in　the　darkness。　The　boy　said　nothing。
〃I　remember　how　they　danced；〃　the　gunslinger　said　softly。　〃I　remember　how　they　danced。　。　。　。　〃He　looked　up　at　the　unseeable　stone　roof　and　it　seemed　for　a　moment　that　he　might　scream　at　it