He was half-convinced it would be gone, or that it would say something else (MID-WORLD TOLL ROAD, perhaps, or BEWARE OF DEMONS), but it was still there and still said the same thing. It was khef, ka, and ka-tet. Ka can take care of itself. It reeks o’ garlic.
Latigo was at the head of the first, Roland thought, and he was deliberately holding his riders back a little, so that the two groups could merge and attack together. Alain kept expecting Roland to flash up at one of Cuthbert’s jibes, like steel that has been struck by sharp flint, and knock Bert sprawling. “When does thee leave?” Susan asked. Even so, the toddler seemed to have voyaged through Topeka’s empty post-plague months better than the adults around it.
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