“Silence,” Roland said. He exhaled a dusty sigh. “Just silence. That will be enough. An end to … this.”
He planted his fists against his temples, and Eddie thought: I’ve seen someone else do that, and not long ago. But who? Where? It was ridiculous of course; he had seen no one but Roland and Susannah for almost two months now. But it felt true, all the same. “Roland, I’ve been making something,” Eddie said. Roland nodded. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I know. What is it? Are you finally ready to tell?”
“I think it might be part of this ka-tet thing.” The vacant look left Roland’s eyes. He gazed at Eddie thoughtfully but said nothing.
“Look.” Eddie began to unfold the piece of hide. That won’t do any good! Henry’s voice suddenly brayed. It was so loud that Eddie actually flinched a little. It’s just a stupid piece of wood-carving! He’ll take one look and laugh at it! He’ll laugh at you! “Oh, lookit this!” he’ll say. “Did the sissy carve something?”
“Shut up,” Eddie muttered.
The gunslinger raised his eyebrows.
“Not you.”
Roland nodded, unsurprised. “Your brother comes to you often, doesn’t he, Eddie?”
For a moment Eddie only stared at him, his carving still hidden in the hide square. Then he smiled. It was not a very pleasant smile. “Not as often as he used to, Roland. Thank Christ for small favors.” “Yes,” Roland said. “Too many voices weigh heavy on a man’s heart . . . What is it, Eddie? Show me, please.”
Eddie held up the chunk of ash. The key, almost complete, emerged from it like the head of a woman from the prow of a sailing ship … or the hilt of a sword from a chunk of stone. Eddie didn’t know how close he had come to duplicating the key-shape he had seen in the fire (and never would, he supposed, unless he found the right lock in which to try it), but he thought it was close. Of one thing he was quite sure: it was the best carving he had ever done. By far. “By the gods, Eddie, it’s beautiful!” Roland said. The apathy was gone from his voice; he spoke in a tone of surprised reverence Eddie had never heard before. “Is it done? It’s not, is it?”
“No—not quite.” He ran his thumb into the third notch, and then over the s-shape at the end of the last notch. “There’s a little more to do on this notch, and the curve at the end isn’t right yet. I don’t know how I know that, but I do.” “This is your secret.” It wasn’t a question. “Yes. Now if only I knew what it meant.” Roland looked around. Eddie followed his gaze and saw Susannah. He found some relief in the fact that Roland had heard her first. “What you boys doin up so late? Chewin the fat?” She saw the wooden key in Eddie’s hand and nodded. “I wondered when you were going to get around to showing that off. It’s good, you know. I don’t know what it’s for, but it’s damned good.”
“You don’t have any idea what door it might open?” Roland asked Eddie. “That was not part of your khef?”
“No—but it might be good for something even though it isn’t done.” He held the key out to Roland. “I want you to keep it for me.” Roland didn’t move to take it. He regarded Eddie closely. “Why?” “Because . . . well. . . because I think someone told me you should.” “Who?”
Your boy, Eddie thought suddenly, and as soon as the thought came he knew it was true. It was your goddamned boy. But he didn’t want to say so. He didn’t want to mention the boy’s name at all. It might just set Roland off again.
“I don’t know. But I think you ought to give it a try.”
Roland reached slowly for the key. As his fingers touched it, a bright glimmer seemed to flash down its barrel, but it was gone so quickly that Eddie could not be sure he had seen it. It might have been only starlight. Roland’s hand closed over the key growing out of the branch. For a moment his face showed nothing. Then his brow furrowed and his head cocked in a listening gesture.
“What is it?” Susannah asked. “Do you hear—” “Shhhh!” The puzzlement on Roland’s face was slowly being replaced with wonder. He looked from Eddie to Susannah and then back to Eddie. His eyes were filling with some great emotion, as a pitcher fills with water when it is dipped in a spring.
“Roland?” Eddie asked uneasily. “Are you all right?” Roland whispered something. Eddie couldn’t hear what it was. Susannah looked scared. She glanced frantically at Eddie, as if to ask, What did you do to him?
Eddie took one of her hands in both of his own. “I think it’s all right.” Roland’s hand was clamped so tightly on the chunk of wood that Eddie was momentarily afraid he might snap it in two, but the wood was strong and Eddie had carved thick. The gunslinger’s throat bulged; his Adam’s apple rose and fell as he struggled with speech. And suddenly he yelled at the sky in a fair, strong voice:
“GONE! THE VOICES ARE GONE!”