"A stupid question," said Badmouth King on the left. "Nothing at all to the point. Off we go into the wild blue yonder. Oh well, was there ever an action hero who was an intellectual?"
"Prince Hamlet of Denmark," said Referee King quietly from behind them. "But since he's the only one who comes immediately to mind, he may be no more than the exception that proves the rule."
Goodmouth and Badmouth both turned to look at him.
When it was clear that he was done, they turned back to Roland and Susannah.
"Since we're actually one being," said Goodmouth, "and of fairly limited capabilities at that, the answer is no. We could all be Kennedy, or we could all be Nixon, but-"
"'Jam yesterday, jam tomorrow, but never jam today,'" said Susannah. She had no idea why this had popped into her head
(even less why she should have said it out loud), but Referee King said "Exactly!" and gave her a go-to-the-head-of-the-class nod.
"Move on, for your father's sake," said Badmouth King on the left. "I can barely look at these traitors to the Lord of the Red wi'out puking."
"Very well," said his partner. "Although calling them traitors seems rather unfair, at least if one adds ka to the equation.
Since the names we give ourself would be unpronounceable to you-"
"Like Superman's rival, Mr. Mxyzptlk," said Badmouth.
"-you may as well use those Los' used. Him being the one you call the Crimson King. I'm ego, roughly speaking, and go by the name of Feemalo. This fellow beside me is Fumalo. He's our id."
"So the one behind you must be Fimalo," Susannah said, pronouncing it i^-ma-lo. "What's he, your superego?"
"Oh brilliant!" Fumalo exclaimed. "I bet you can even say Freud so it doesn't rhyme with lewd!" He leaned forward and gave her his knowing leer. "But can you spell it, you shor'-leg New York blackbird?"
"Don't mind him," said Feemalo, "he's always been threatened by women."
"Are you Stephen King's ego, id, and superego?" Susannah asked.
"What a good question!" Feemalo said approvingly.
"What a dumb question!" Fumalo said, disapprovingly. "Did your parents have any kids that lived, Blackbird?"
"You don't want to start in playing the dozens with me,"
Susannah said, "I'll bring out Detta Walker and shut you down."
Referee King said, "I have nothing to do with sai King other than having appropriated some of his physical characteristics for a short time. And I understand that short time is really all the time you have. I have no particular love for your cause and no intention of going out of my way to help you-not far out of my way, at least-and yet I understand that you two are largely responsible for the departure of Los'. Since he kept me prisoner and treated me as little more than his court jester-or even his pet monkey-I'm not at all sorry to see him go. I'd help you if I can-a little, at least-but no, I won't go out of my way to do so. 'Let's get that up front,' as your late friend Eddie Dean might have said."
Susannah tried not to wince at this, but it hurt. It hurt.
As before, Feemalo and Fumalo had turned to look at Fimalo when he spoke. Now they turned back to Roland and Susannah.
"Honesty's the best policy," said Feemalo, with a pious look.
"Cervantes."
"Liars prosper," said Fumalo, with a cynical grin. "Anonymous."
Feemalo said, "There were times when Los' would make us divide into six, or even seven, and for no other reason than because it hurt. Yet we could leave no more than anyone else in the castle could, for he'd set a dead-line around its walls."
"We thought he'd kill us all before he left," Fumalo said, and with none of his previous f**k-you cynicism. His face wore the long and introspective expression of one who looks back on a disaster perhaps averted by mere inches.
Feemalo: "He did kill a great many. Beheaded his Minister of State."
Fumalo: "Who had advanced syphilis and no more idea what was happening to him than a pig in a slaughterhouse chute, more's the pity."
Feemalo: "He lined up the kitchen staff and the women o' work-"
Fumalo: "All of whom had been very loyal to him, very loyal indeed-"
Feemalo: "And made them take poison as they stood in front of him. He could have killed them in their sleep if he'd wanted to-"
Fumalo: "And by no more than wishing it on them."
Feemalo: "But instead he made them take poison. Rat poison.
They swallowed large brown chunks of it and died in convulsions right in front of him as he sat on his throne-"
Fumalo: "Which is made of skulls, do ye ken-"
Feemalo: "He sat there with his elbow on his knee and his fist on his chin, like a man thinking long thoughts, perhaps about squaring the circle or finding the Ultimate Prime Number, all the while watching them writhe and vomit and convulse on the floor of the Audience Chamber."
Fumalo (with a touch of eagerness Susannah found both prurient and extremely unattractive): "Some died begging for water. It was a thirsty poison, aye! And we thought we were next!"