Still, she had never lacked for courage. Roland was sure the questions would have come sooner or later, but after five days of canvassing the town as a quartet (a quintet counting Oy, who always rode with Jake), Roland began sending her out to the Jaffords smallhold at midday to try her hand with the dish.

Eight days or so after their long palaver on the rectory porch—the one that had gone on until four in the morning—Susannah invited them out to the Jaffords smallhold to see her progress. “It’s Zalia’s idea,” she said. “I guess she wants to know if I pass.”

Roland knew he only had to ask Susannah herself if he wanted an answer to that question, but he was curious. When they arrived, they found the entire family gathered on the back porch, and several of Tian’s neighbors, as well: Jorge Estrada and his wife, Diego Adams (in chaps), the Javiers. They looked like spectators at a Points practice. Zalman and Tia, the roont twins, stood to one side, goggling at all the company with wide eyes. Andy was also there, holding baby Aaron (who was sleeping) in his arms.

“Roland, if you wanted all this kept secret, guess what?” Eddie said.

Roland was not put out of countenance, although he realized now that his threat to the cowboys who’d seen sai Eisenhart throw the dish had been utterly useless. Country-folk talked, that was all. Whether in the borderlands or the baronies, gossip was ever the chief sport. And at the very least, he mused, those humpies will spread the news that Roland’s a hard boy, strong commala, and not to be trifled with.

“It is what it is,” he said. “The Calla- folkenhave known for donkey’s years that the Sisters of Oriza throw the dish. If they know Susannah throws it, too—and well—maybe it’s to the good. ”

Jake said, “I just hope she doesn’t, you know, mess up.”

There were respectful greetings for Roland, Eddie, and Jake as they mounted the porch. Andy told Jake a young lady was pining for him. Jake blushed and said he’d just as soon not know about stuff like that, if that did Andy all right.

“As you will, soh.” Jake found himself studying the words and numbers stamped on Andy’s midsection like a steel tattoo and wondering again if he was really in this world of robots and cowboys, or if it was all some sort of extraordinarily vivid dream. “I hope this baby will wake up soon, so I do. And cry! Because I know several soothing cradle-songs—”

“Hush up, ye creakun steel bandit!” Gran-pere said crossly, and after crying the old man’s pardon (in his usual complacent, not-a-bit-sorry tone of voice), Andy did. Messenger, Many Other Functions, Jake thought. Is one of your other functions teasing folks, Andy, or is that just my imagination?