"As you like," he said, then went on without a pause, but in a much lower voice. "Keep my gun ready, may it do ya."
"Does me fine," she agreed at once, and in the same low voice. It came out Does 'ee 'ine, because she didn't even want to move her lips. She could feel that they were now being watched from within the buildings that crowded this end of The King's Way like shops and inns in a medieval village (or a movie set of one). She didn't know if they were humans, robots, or maybe just still-operating TV cameras, but she hadn't mistrusted the feeling even before Roland spoke up and confirmed it. And she only had to look at Oy's head, ticktocking back and forth like the pendulum in a grandfather clock, to know he felt it, too.
"And was he a good dinh, this Kennedy?" Roland asked, resuming his normal voice. It carried well in the silence. Susannah realized a rather lovely thing: for once she wasn't cold, even though this close to the roaring river the air was dank as well as chill. She was too focused on the world around her to be cold. At least for the present.
"Well, not everyone thought so, certainly the nut who shot him didn't, but I did," she said. "He told folks when he was running that he meant to change things. Probably less than half the voters thought he meant it, because most politicians lie for the same reason a monkey swings by his tail, which is to say because he can. But once he was elected, he started in doin the things he'd promised to do. There was a showdown over a olace called Cuba, and he was just as brave as... well, let's just say you would have been pleased to ride with him. When some folks saw just how serious he was, the motherfucks hired the nut to shoot him."
"Oz-walt."
She nodded, not bothering to correct him, thinking that there was nothing to correct, really. Oz-walt. Oz. It all came around again, didn't it?
"And Johnson took over when Kennedy fell."
"Yep."
"How did he do?"
"Was too early to tell when I left, but he was more the kind of fella used to playing the game. 'Go along to get along,' we used to say. Do yovi ken it?"
"Yes, indeed," he said. "And Susannah, I think we've arrived." Roland brought Ho Fat's Luxury Taxi to a stop. He stood with the handles wrapped in his fists, looking at Le Casse Roi Russe.
TWO
Here The King's Way ended, spilling into a wide cobbled forecourt that had once no doubt been guarded as assiduously by the Crimson King's men as Buckingham Palace was by the Beefeaters of Queen Elizabeth. An eye that had faded only slightly over the years was painted on the cobbles in scarlet.
From ground-level, one could only assume what it was, but from the upper levels of the casde itself, Susannah guessed, the eye would dominate the view to the northwest.
Same damn thing's probably painted at every other point of the compass, too, she thought.
Above this outer courtyard, stretched between two deserted guard-towers, was a banner that looked freshly painted. Stenciled upon it (also in red, white, and blue) was this:
WELCOME, ROLAND AND SUSANNAH!
(OY, TOO!)
KEEP ON ROCKIN' IN THE FREE WORLD!
The castle beyond the inner courtyard (and the caged river which here served as a moat) was indeed of dark red stone blocks that had darkened to near-black over the years. Towers and turrets burst upward from the castle proper, swelling in a way that hurt the eye and seemed to defy gravity. The castle within these gaudy brackets was sober and undecorated except for the staring eye carved into the keystone arch above the main entrance. Two of the overhead walkways had fallen, littering the main courtyard with shattered chunks of stone, but six others remained in place, crisscrossing at different levels in a way that made her think of turnpike entrances and exits where a number of major highways met. As with the houses, the doors and windows were oddly narrow. Fat black rooks were perched on the sills of the windows and lined up along the overhead walkways, peering at them.
Susannah swung down from the rickshaw with Roland's gun stuffed into her belt, within easy reach. She joined him, looking at the main gate on this side of the moat. It stood open. Beyond it, a humped stone bridge spanned the river.
Beneath the bridge, dark water rushed through a stone throat forty feet wide. The water smelled harsh and unpleasant, and where it flowed around a number of fangy black rocks, the foam was yellow instead of white.