“If they see the baby-farming is over for them here,” Roland said, “this last time they won’t just take twins; this time they’ll take every child they can get their hands on while the taking’s good. So bring your little ones at seven o’ the clock. That’s my best advice to you.”

“What choice have you left em?” Telford asked. He was white with fear and fury.

Roland had had enough of him. His voice rose to a shout, and Telford fell back from the force of his suddenly blazing blue eyes. “None that you have to worry about, sai, for your children are grown, as everyone in town knows. You’ve had your say. Now why don’t you shut up?”

A thunder of applause and boot-stomping greeted this. Telford took the bellowing and jeering for as long as he could, his head lowered between his hunched shoulders like a bull about to charge. Then he turned and began shoving his way through the crowd. Took followed. A few moments later, they were gone. Not long after that, the meeting ended. There was no vote. Roland had given them nothing to vote on.

No, Eddie thought again as he pushed Susannah’s chair toward the refreshments, cozy really wasn’t in it at all.

Five

Not long after, Roland accosted Ben Slightman. The foreman was standing beneath one of the torch-poles, balancing a cup of coffee and a plate with a piece of cake on it. Roland also had cake and coffee. Across the greensward, the children’s tent had for the nonce become the refreshment tent. A long line of waiting people snaked out of it. There was low talk but little laughter. Closer by, Benny and Jake were tossing a springball back and forth, every now and then letting Oy have a turn. The bumbler was barking happily, but the boys seemed as subdued as the people waiting in line.

“Ye spoke well tonight,” Slightman said, and clicked his coffee cup against Roland’s.

“Do you say so?”

“Aye. Of course they were ready, as I think ye knew, but Faraday must have been a surprise to ye, and ye handled him well.”

“I only told the truth,” Roland said. “If the Wolves lose enough of their troop, they’ll take what they can and cut their losses. Legends grow beards, and twenty-three years is plenty of time to grow a long one. Calla- folkenassume there are thousands of Wolves over there in Thunderclap, maybe millions of em, but I don’t think that’s true.”

Slightman was looking at him with frank fascination. “Why not?”

“Because things are running down,” Roland said simply, and then: “I need you to promise me something.”

Slightman looked at him warily. The lenses of his spectacles twinkled in the torchlight. “If I can, Roland, I will.”