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    “Henchick,” Roland said, “do you know what caused the ground to shake early this morning?”
    The old man’s blue eyes were faded but still sharp. He nodded. Outside the cave’s mouth, in a line going down the path, almost three dozen Manni men waited patiently. “Beam let go is what we think.”
    “What I think, too,” Roland said. “Our business grows more desperate. I’d have an end to idle talk, if it does ya. Let’s have what palaver we must have, and then get on with our business.”
    Henchick looked at Roland as coldly as he had looked at Eddie, but Roland’s eyes never wavered. Henchick’s brow furrowed, then smoothed out.
    “Aye,” he said. “As’ee will, Roland. Thee’s rendered us a great service, Manni and forgetful folk alike, and we’d return it now as best we can. The magic’s still here, and thick. Wants only a spark. We can make that spark, aye, easy as commala. You may get what’ee want. On the other hand, we all may go to the clearing at the end of the path together. Or into the darkness. Does thee understand?”
    Roland nodded.
    “Would’ee go ahead?”
    Roland stood for a moment with his head lowered and his hand on the butt of his gun. When he looked up, he was wearing his own smile. It was handsome and tired and desperate and dangerous. He twirled his whole left hand twice in the air: Let’s go.
FIVE
    The coffs were set down—carefully, because the path leading up to what the Manni called Kra Kammen was narrow—and the contents were removed. Long-nailed fingers (the Manni were allowed to cut their nails only once a year) tapped the magnets, producing a shrill hum that seemed to slice through Jake’s head like a knife. It reminded him of the todash chimes, and he guessed that wasn’t surprising; those chimes were the kammen.
    “What does Kra Kammen mean?” he asked Cantab. “House of Bells?”
    “House of Ghosts,” he replied without looking up from the chain he was unwinding. “Leave me alone, Jake, this is delicate work.”
    Jake couldn’t see why it would be, but he did as bade. Roland, Eddie, and Callahan were standing just inside the cave’s mouth. Jake joined them. Henchick, meanwhile, had placed the oldest members of his group in a semicircle that went around the back of the door. The front side, with its incised hieroglyphs and crystal doorknob, was unguarded, at least for the time being.
    The old man went to the mouth of the cave, spoke briefly with Cantab, then motioned for the line of Manni waiting on the path to move up. When the first man in line was just inside the cave, Henchick stopped him and came back to Roland. He squatted, inviting the gunslinger with a gesture to do the same.
    The cave’s floor was powdery with dust. Some came from rocks, but most of it was the boneresidue of small animals unwise enough to wander in here. Using a fingernail, Henchick drew a rectangle, open at the bottom, and then a semicircle around it.
    “The door,” he said. “And the men of my kra. Do’ee kennit?”
    Roland nodded.
    “You and your friends will finish the circle,” he said, and drew it.
    “The boy’s strong in the touch,” Henchick said, looking at Jake so suddenly that Jake jumped.
    “Yes,” Roland said.
    “We’ll put him direct in front of the door, then, but far enough away so that if it opens hard—and it may—it won’t clip his head off. Will’ee stand, boy?”
    “Yes, until you or Roland says different,” Jake replied.
    “You’ll feel something in your head—like a sucking. It’s not nice.” He paused. “Ye’d open the door twice.”
    “Yes,” Roland said. “Twim.”
    Eddie knew the door’s second opening was about Calvin Tower, and he’d lost what interest he’d had in the bookstore proprietor. The man wasn’t entirely without courage, Eddie supposed, but he was also greedy and stubborn and self-involved: the perfect twentieth-century New York City man, in other words. But the most recent person to use this door