What lives in winter, dies in summer, and grows with its roots upward? AN ICICLE.

Blaine, you say true.

Man walks over; man walks under; in time of war he burns asunder? A BRIDGE.

Thankee-sai.

A seemingly endless parade of riddles marched past her, one after the other, until she lost all sense of their fun and playfulness. Had it been so in the days of Roland’s youth, she wondered, during the riddle contests of Wide Earth and Full Earth, when he and his friends (although she had an idea they hadn’t all been his friends, no, not by a long chalk) had vied for the Fair-Day goose? She guessed that the answer was probably yes. The winner had probably been the one who could stay fresh longest, keep his poor bludgeoned brains aerated somehow.

The killer was the way Blaine came back with the answer so damned promptly each time. No matter how hard the riddle might seem to her, Blaine served it right back to their side of the court, ka-slam.

“Blaine, what has eyes yet cannot see?”

“THERE ARE FOUR ANSWERS,” Blaine replied. “NEEDLES, STORMS, POTATOES, AND A TRUE LOVER.”

“Thankee-sai, Blaine, you speak—”

“LISTEN, ROLAND OF GILEAD. LISTEN, KA-TET.”

Roland fell silent at once, his eyes narrowing, his head slightly cocked.

“YOU WILL SHORTLY HEAR MY ENGINES BEGIN TO CYCLE UP,” Blaine said. “WE ARE NOW EXACTLY SIXTY MINUTES OUT OF TOPEKA. AT THIS POINT—”

“If we’ve been riding for seven hours or more, I grew up with the Brady Bunch,” Jake said.

Susannah looked around apprehensively, expecting some new terror or small act of cruelty in response to Jake’s sarcasm, but Blaine only chuckled. When he spoke again, the voice of Humphrey Bogart had resurfaced.

“TIME’S DIFFERENT HERE, SHWEETHEART. YOU MUST KNOW THAT BY NOW. BUT DON’T WORRY; THE FUNDAMENTAL THINGS APPLY AS TIME GOES BY. WOULD I LIE TO YOU?”

“Yes,” Jake muttered.

That apparently struck Blaine’s funnybone, because he began to laugh again—the mad, mechanical laughter that made Susannah think of funhouses in sleazy amusement parks and roadside carnivals. When the lights began to pulse in sync with the laughter, she shut her eyes and put her hands over her ears.

“Stop it, Blaine! Stop it!”

“BEG PARDON, MA’AM,” drawled the aw-shucks voice of Jimmy Stewart. “AH’M RIGHT SORRY IF I RUINT YOUR EARS WITH MY RISABILITY.”

“Ruin this,” Jake said, and hoisted his middle finger at the route-map.