“The seminon often reaches the Whye and then turns back,” Callahan said. “According to the old folks, Lord Seminon begs Lady Oriza to make him welcome when he reaches the water and she often bars his passage out of jealousy. You see—”

“Seminon married her sissa,” Jake said. “Lady Riza wanted him for herself—a marriage of wind and rice—and she’s still p.o.’d about it.”

“How did you know that?” Callahan asked, both amused and astonished.

“Benny told me,” Jake said, and said no more. Thinking of their long discussions (sometimes in the hayloft, sometimes lazing on the bank of the river) and their eager exchanges of legend made him feel sad and hurt.

Callahan was nodding. “That’s the story, all right. I imagine it’s actually a weather phenomenon—cold air over there, warm air rising off the water, something like that—but whatever it is, this one shows every sign of going back where it came from.”

The wind dashed grit in his face, as if to prove him wrong, and Callahan laughed. “This’ll be over by first light tomorrow, I almost guarantee you. But—”

“Almost’s not good enough, Pere.”

“What I was going to say, Roland, is that since I know almost’s not good enough, I’ll gladly send up a prayer.”

“Tell ya thanks.” The gunslinger turned to Eddie, and pointed the first two fingers of his left hand at his own face. “The eyes, right?”

“The eyes,” Eddie agreed. “And the password. If it’s not nineteen, it’ll be ninety-nine.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I know,” Eddie said.

“Still…be careful.”

“I will.”

A few minutes later they reached the place where, on their right, a rocky track wandered off into the arroyo country, toward the Gloria and Redbirds One and Two. The folken assumed that the buckas would be left here, and they were correct. They also assumed that the children and their minders would then walk up the track to one mine or the other. In this they were wrong.

Soon three of them were digging on the west side of the road, a fourth always standing watch. No one came—the folken from this far out were already in town—and the work went quickly enough. At four o’clock, Eddie left the others to finish up and rode back to town to meet Tian Jaffords with one of Roland’s revolvers holstered on his hip.

Sixteen

Tian had brought his bah. When Eddie told him to leave it on the Pere’s porch, the farmer gave him an unhappy, uncertain stare.

“He won’t be surprised to see me packing iron, but he might have questions if he saw you with that thing,” Eddie said. This was it, the true beginning of their stand, and now that it had come, Eddie felt calm. His heart was beating slowly and steadily. His vision seemed to have clarified; he could see each shadow cast by each individual blade of grass on the rectory lawn. “He’s strong, from what I’ve heard. And very quick when he needs to be. Let it be my play.”