sk.everythingseventual-第43部分

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　　'When　I　woke　up　again；　I　was　here；'　Norman　said。　'I　saw　that　some　of　the　others…most　of　them…had　those　cursed　bugs　on　them。'
　　'Others？'　Roland　looked　at　the　empty　beds。　In　the　growing　darkness；　they　glimmered　like　white　islands。　'How　many　were　brought　here？'
　　'At　least　twenty。　They　healed　the　bugs　healed　em　。　。　。　and　then；　one　by　one；　they　disappeared。　You'd　go　to　sleep；　and　when　you　woke　up　there'd　be　one　more　empty　bed。　One　by　one　they　went；　until　only　me　and　that　one　down　yonder　was　left。'
　　He　looked　at　Roland　solemnly。
　　'And　now　you。'
　　'Norman；'　Roland's　head　was　swimming。　'I…'
　　'I　reckon　I　know　what's　wrong　with　you；'　Norman　said。　He　seemed　to　speak　from　far　away　perhaps　from　all　the　way　around　the　curve　of　the　earth。　'It's　the　soup。　But　a　man　has　to　eat。　A　woman；　too。　If　she's　a　natural　woman；　anyway。　These　ones　ain't　natural。　Even　Sister　Jenna's　not　natural。　Nice　don't　mean　natural。'　Farther　and　farther　away。　'And　she'll　be　like　them　in　the　end。　Mark　me　well。'
　　'Can't　move。'　Saying　even　that　required　a　huge　effort。　It　was　like　moving　boulders。
　　'No。'　Norman　suddenly　laughed。　It　was　a　shocking　sound；　and　echoed　in　the　growing　blackness　which　filled　Roland's　head。　'It　ain't　just　sleep　medicine　they　put　in　their　soup；　it's　can't…move　medicine；　too。　There's　nothing　much　wrong　with　me；　brother　。　。　。　so　why　do　you　think　I'm　still　here？'
　　Norman　was　now　speaking　not　from　around　the　curve　of　the　earth　but　perhaps　from　the　moon。　He　said：　'I　don't　think　either　of　us　is　ever　going　to　see　the　sun　shining　on　a　flat　piece　of　ground　again。'
　　You're　wrong　about　that；　Roland　tried　to　reply；　and　more　in　that　vein；　as　well；　but　nothing　came　out。　He　sailed　around　to　the　black　side　of　the　moon；　losing　all　his　words　in　the　void　he　found　there。
　　Yet　he　never　quite　lost　awareness　of　himself。　Perhaps　the　dose　of　'medicine'　in　Sister　Coquina's　soup　had　been　badly　calculated；　or　perhaps　it　was　just　that　they　had　never　had　a　gunslinger　to　work　their　mischief　on；　and　did　not　know　they　had　one　now。
　　Except；　of　course；　for　Sister　Jenna…she　knew。
　　At　some　point　in　the　night；　whispering；　giggling　voices　and　lightly　chiming　bells　brought　him　back　from　the　darkness　where　he　had　been　biding；　not　quite　asleep　or　unconscious。　Around　him；　so　constant　he　now　barely　heard　it；　were　the　singing　'doctors。'
　　Roland　opened　his　eyes。　He　saw　pale　and　chancy　light　dancing　in　the　black　air。　The　giggles　and　whispers　were　closer。　Roland　tried　to　turn　his　head　and　at　first　couldn't。　He　rested；　gathered　his　will　into　a　hard　blue　ball；　and　tried　again。　This　time　his　head　did　turn。　Only　a　little；　but　a　little　was　enough。
　　It　was　five　of　the　Little　Sisters…Mary；　Louise；　Tamra；　Coquina；　Michela。　They　came　up　the　long　aisle　of　the　black　infirmary；　laughing　together　like　children　out　on　a　prank；　carrying　long　tapers　in　silver　holders；　the　bells　lining　the　forehead…bands　of　their　wimples　chiming　little　silver　runs　of　sound。　They　gathered　about　the　bed　of　the　bearded　man。　From　within　their　circle；　candleglow　rose　in　a　shimmery　column　that　died　before　it　got　halfway　to　the　silken　ceiling。
　　Sister　Mary　spoke　briefly。　Roland　recognized　her　voice；　but　not　the　words…it　was　neither　low　speech　nor　the　High；　but　some　other　language　entirely。　One　phrase　stood　out…can　de　lach；　mi　him　en　tow…and　he　had　no　idea　what　it　might　mean。
　　He　realized　that　now　he　could　hear　only　the　tinkle　of　bells…the　doctor…bugs　had　stilled。
　　'Ras　me！　On！　On！'　Sister　Mary　cried　in　a　harsh；　powerful　voice。　The　candles　went　out。　The　light　that　had　shone　through　the　wings　of　their　wimples　as　they　gathered　around　the　bearded　man's　bed　vanished；　and　all　was　darkness　once　more。
　　Roland　waited　for　what　might　happen　next；　his　skin　cold。　He　tried　to　flex　his　hands　or　feet；　and　could　not。　He　had　been　able　to　move　his　head　perhaps　fifteen　degrees；　otherwise　he　was　as　paralyzed　as　a　fly　neatly　wrapped　up　and　hung　in　a　spider's　web。
　　The　low　jingling　of　bells　in　the　black　。　。　。　and　then　sucking　sounds。　As　soon　as　he　heard　them；　Roland　knew　he'd　been　waiting　for　them。　Some　part　of　him　had　known　what　the　Little　Sisters　of　Eluria　were；　all　along。
　　If　Roland　could　have　raised　his　hands；　he　would　have　put　them　to　his　ears　to　block　those　sounds　out。　As　it　was；　he　could　only　lie　still；　listening　and　waiting　for　them　to　stop。
　　For　a　long　time…forever；　it　seemed…they　did　not。　The　women　slurped　and　grunted　like　pigs　snuffling　half…liquefied　feed　up　out　of　a　trough。　There　was　even　one　resounding　belch；　followed　by　more　whispered　giggles　（these　ended　when　Sister　Mary　uttered　a　single　curt　word…'Hais！'）。　And　once　there　was　a　low；　moaning　cry…from　the　bearded　man；　Roland　was　quite　sure。　If　so；　it　was　his　last　on　this　side　of　the　clearing。
　　In　time；　the　sounds　of　their　feeding　began　to　taper　off。　As　it　did；　the　bugs　began　to　sing　again…first　hesitantly；　then　with　more　confidence。　The　whispering　and　giggling　remenced。　The　candles　were　relit。　Roland　was　by　now　lying　with　his　head　turned　in　the　other　direction。　He　didn't　want　them　to　know　what　he'd　seen；　but　that　wasn't　all；　he　had　no　urge　to　see　more　on　any　account。　He　had　seen　and　heard　enough。
　　But　the　giggles　and　whispers　now　came　his　way。　Roland　closed　his　eyes；　concentrating　on　the　medallion　that　lay　against　his　chest。　I　don't　know　if　it's　the　gold　or　the　God；　but　they　don't　like　to　get　too　close；　John　Nor…man　had　said。　It　was　good　to　have　such　a　thing　to　remember　as　the　Little　Sisters　drew　nigh；　gossiping　and　whispering　in　their　strange　other　tongue；　but　the　medallion　seemed　a　thin　protection　in　the　dark。
　　Faintly；　at　a　great　distance；　Roland　heard　the　cross…dog　barking。
　　As　the　Sisters　circled　him；　the　gunslinger　realized　he　could　smell　them。　It　was　a　low；　unpleasant　odor；　like　spoiled　meat。　And　what　else　would　they　smell　of；　such　as　these？
　　'Such　a　pretty　man　it　is。'　Sister　Mary。　She　spoke　in　a　low；　meditative　tone。
　　'But　such　an　ugly　sigul　it　wears。'　Sister　Tamra。
　　'We'll　have　it　off　him！'　Sister　Louise。
　　'And　then　we　shall　have　kisses！'　Sister　Coquina。
　　'Kisses　for　all！'　exclaimed　Sister　Michela；　with　such　fervent　enthusiasm　that　they　all　laughed。
　　Roland　discovered　that　not　all　of　him　was　paralyzed；　after　all。　Part　of　him　had；　in　fact；　arisen　from　its　sleep　at　the　sound　of　their　voices　and　now　stood　tall。　A　hand　reached　beneath　the　bed…dress　he　wore；　touched　that　stiffened　member；　encircled　it；　caressed　it。　He　lay　in　silent　horror；　feigning　sleep；　as　wet　warmth　almost　immediately　spilled　from　him。　The　hand　remained　where　it　was　for　a　moment；　the　thumb　rubbing　up　and　down　the　wilting　shaft。　Then　it　let　him　go　and　rose　a　little　higher。　Found　the　wetness　pooled　on　his　lower　belly。
　　Giggles；　soft　as　wind。
　　Chiming　bells。
　　Roland　opened　his　eyes　the　tiniest　crack　and　looked　up　at　the　ancient　faces　laughing　down　at　him　in　the　light　of　their　candles…glittering　eyes；　yellow　cheeks；　hanging　teeth　that　jutted　over　lower　lips。　Sister　Michela　and　Sister　Louise　appeared　to　have　grown　goatees；　but　of　course　that　wasn't　the　darkness　of　hair　but　of　the　bearded　man's　blood。
　　Mary's　hand　was　cupped。　She　passed　it　from　Sister　to　Sister；　each　licked　from　her　palm　in　the　candlelight。
　　Roland　closed　his　eyes　all　the　way　and　waited　for　them　to　be　gone。　Eventually　they　were。
　　I'll　never　sleep　again；　he　thought；　and　was　five　minutes　later　lost　to　himself　and　the　world。
　　
　　
　　V。　Sister　Mary。　A　Message。　A　Visit　from
　　Ralph。　Norman's　Fate。　Sister　Mary　Again。
　　
　　When　Roland　awoke；　it　was　full　daylight；　the　silk　roof　overhead　a　bright　white　and　billowing　in　a　mild　breeze。　The　doctor…bugs　were　singing　contentedly。　Beside　him　on　his　left；　Norman　was　heavily　asleep　with　his　head　turned　so　far　to　one　side　that　his　stubbly　cheek　rested　on　his　shoulder。
　　Roland　and　John　Norman　were　the　only　ones　here。　Farther　down　on　their　side　of　the　infirmary；　the　bed　where　the　bearded　man　had　been　was　empty；　its　top　sheet　pulled　up　and　neatly　tucked　in；　the　pillow　neatly　nestled　in　a　crisp　white　case。　The　plication　of　slings　in　which　his　body　had　rested　was　gone。
　　Roland　remembered　the　candles…the　way　their　glow　had　bined　and　streamed　up　in　a　column；　illumi