"I did it for my son," Slightman said. "Andy came to me and said they would surely take him. Somewhere over there, Roland - " He pointed east, toward Thunderclap. "Somewhere over there are poor creatures called Breakers. Prisoners. Andy says they're telepaths and psychokinetics, and although I ken neither word, I know they're to do with the mind. The Breakers are human, and they eat what we eat to nourish their bodies, but they need other food, special food , to nourish whatever it is that makes them special."
"Brain-food," Roland said. He remembered that his mother had called fish brain-food. And then, for no reason he could tell, he found himself thinking of Susannah's nocturnal prowls. Only it wasn't Susannah who visited that midnight banquet hall; it was Mia. Daughter of none.
"Yar, I reckon," Slightman agreed. "Anyway, it's something only twins have, something that links them mind-to-mind. And these fellows - not the Wolves, but they who send the Wolves - take it out. When it's gone, the kids're idiots. Roont. It's food , Roland, do ya kennit? That's why they take em! To feed their goddamned Breakers ! Not their bellies or their bodies, but their minds! And I don't even know what it is they've been set to break!"
"The two Beams that still hold the Tower," Roland said.
Slightman was thunderstruck. And fearful. "The Dark Tower?" He whispered the words. "Do ya say so?"
"I do," Roland said. "Who's Finli? Finli o' Tego."
"I don't know. A voice that takes my reports, is all. A taheen, I think - do you know what that is?"
"Do you?"
Slightman shook his head.
"Then we'll leave it. Mayhap I'll meet him in time and he'll answer to hand for this business."
Slightman did not reply, but Roland sensed his doubt. That was all right. They'd almost made it now, and the gunslinger felt an invisible band which had been cinched about his middle begin to loosen. He turned fully to the foreman for the first time. "There's always been someone like you for Andy to cozen, Slightman; I have no doubt it's mostly what he was left here for, just as I have no doubt that your daughter, Benny's sister, didn't die an accidental death. They always need one left-over twin, and one weak parent."
"You can't - "
"Shut up. You've said all that's good for you."
Slightman sat silent beside Roland on the seat.
"I understand betrayal. I've done my share of it, once to Jake himself. But that doesn't change what you are; let's have that straight. You're a carrion-bird. A rustie turned vulture."
The color was back in Slightman's cheeks, turning them the shade of claret. "I did what I did for my boy," he said stubbornly.
Roland spat into his cupped hand, then raised the hand and caressed Slightman's cheek with it. The cheek was currently full of blood, and hot to the touch. Then the gunslinger took hold of the spectacles Slightman wore and jiggled them slightly on die man's nose. "Won't wash," he said, very quiedy. "Because of these. This is how they mark you, Slightman. This is your brand. You tell yourself you did it for your boy because it gets you to sleep at night,I tell myself that what I did to Jake I did so as not to lose my chance at the Tower... and that gets me to sleep at night. The difference between us, the only difference, is that I never took a pair of spectacles." He wiped his hand on his pants. "You sold out, Slightman. And you have forgotten the face of your father."
"Let me be," Slightman whispered. He wiped the slick of the gunslinger's spittle from his cheek. It was replaced by his own tears. "For my boy's sake."
Roland nodded. "That's all this is, for your boy's sake. You drag him behind you like a dead chicken. Well, never mind. If all goes as I hope, you may live your life with him in the Calla, and grow old in the regard of your neighbors. You'll be one of those who stood up to the Wolves when the gunslingers came to town along the Path of the Beam. When you can't walk, he'll walk with you and hold you up. I see this, but I don't like what I see. Because a man who'll sell his soul for a pair of spectacles will resell it for some other prink-a-dee - even cheaper - and sooner or later your boy will find out what you are, anyway. The best thing that could happen to your son today is for you to die a hero." And then, before Slightman could reply, Roland raised his voice and shouted. "Hey, Overholser! Ho, the waggon! Overholser ! Pull on over! We're here! Say thankya!"
"Roland - " Slightman began.
"No," Roland said, tying off the reins. "Palaver's done. Just remember what I said, sai: if you get a chance to die a hero today, do your son a favor and take it."
THREE
At first everything went according to plan and they called it ka. When things began going wrong and the dying started, they called that ka, too. Ka, the gunslinger could have told them, was often the last thing you had to rise above.