“The greater the magic, the longer it persists,” Cantab said, and then looked at Henchick questioningly.

“Aye,” Henchick said. “Magic and glammer, both are one, and they do unroll from the back.” He paused. “From the past, do’ee ken.”

“This door opened on many places and many times in the world my friends came from,” Roland said. “I would open it again, but just on the last two. The most recent two. Can that be done?”

They waited as Henchick and Cantab considered. The Manni were great travelers. If anyone knew, if anyone could do what Roland wanted-what they all wanted-it would be these folk.

Cantab leaned deferentially toward the old man, the dinh of Calla Redpath. He whispered. Henchick listened, his face expressionless, then turned Cantab’s head with one gnarled old hand and whispered back.

Eddie shifted, and Roland felt him getting ready to break loose, perhaps to begin shouting. He put a restraining hand on Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie subsided. For the time being, at least.

The whispered consultation went on for perhaps five minutes while the others waited. The sounds of celebration in the distance were difficult for Roland to take; God knew how they must make Eddie feel.

At last Henchick patted Cantab’s cheek with his hand and turned to Roland.

“We think this may be done,” he said.

“Thank God,” Eddie muttered. Then, louder: “Thank God! Let’s go up there. We can meet you on the East Road-”

Both of the bearded men were shaking their heads, Henchick with a kind of stern sorrow, Cantab with a look that was almost horror.