The Waste Lands (Page 105)

Jake, meanwhile, had been restacking the kindling and mulling over the riddle which had started the discussion. Now he suddenly smiled. “A fire. That’s the answer, right? Dress it at night, undress it in the morning. If you change ‘dress’ to ‘build,’ it’s simple.”

“That’s it.” Roland returned Jake’s smile, but his eyes were on Susannah, watching as she thumbed through the small, tattered book. He thought, looking at her studious frown and the absent way she read-justed the yellow flower in her hair when it tried to slip free, that she alone might sense that the tattered book of riddles could be as important as Charlie the Choo-Choo . . . maybe more important. He looked from her to Eddie and felt a recurrence of his irritation at Eddie’s foolish riddle. The young man bore another resemblance to Cuthbert, this one rather unfortunate: Roland sometimes felt like shaking him until his nose bled and his teeth fell out.

Soft, gunslinger—soft! Cort’s voice, not quite laughing, spoke up in his head, and Roland resolutely put his emotions at arm’s length. It was easier to do that when he remembered that Eddie couldn’t help his occasional forays into nonsense; character was also at least partly formed by ka, and Roland knew well that there was more to Eddie than non-sense. Anytime he started to make the mistake of thinking that wasn’t so, he would do well to remember their conversation by the side of the road three nights before, when Eddie had accused him of using them as markers on his own private game-board. That had angered him . . . but it had been close enough to the truth to shame him, as well. Blissfully unaware of these long thoughts, Eddie now inquired: “What’s green, weighs a hundred tons, and lives at the bottom of the ocean?” “I know,” Jake said. “Moby Snot, the Great Green Whale.” “Idiocy,” Roland muttered.

“Yeah—but that’s what’s supposed to make it funny,” Eddie said. “Jokes are supposed to make you think around comers, too. You see . . .” He looked at Roland’s face, laughed, and threw up his hands. “Never mind. I give up. You wouldn’t understand. Not in a million years. Let’s look at the damned book. I’ll even try to take it seriously … if we can eat a little supper first, that is.” “Watch Me,” the gunslinger said with a flicker of a smile. “Huh?”

“That means you have a deal.”

Jake scraped the steel across the flint. A spark jumped, and this time the kindling caught fire. He sat back contentedly and watched the flames spread, one arm slung around Oy’s neck. He felt well pleased with him-self. He had started the evening fire . . . and he had guessed the answer to Roland’s riddle.

“I’VE GOT ONE,” JAKE said as they ate their evening burritos. “Is it a foolish one?” Roland asked.

“Nah. It’s a real one.”

“Then try me with it.”

“Okay. What can run but never walks, has a mouth but never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a head but never weeps?” “A good one,” Roland said kindly, “but an old one. A river.” Jake was a little crestfallen. “You really are hard to stump.” Roland tossed the last bite of his burrito to Oy, who accepted it eagerly. “Not me. I’m what Eddie calls an overpush. You should have seen Alain. He collected riddles the way a lady collects fans.”

“That’s pushover, Roland, old buddy,” Eddie said. “Thank you. Try this one: What lies in bed, and stands in bed?/ First white, then red/ The plumper it gets/ The better the old woman likes it?” Eddie burst out laughing. “A dork!” he yelled. “Crude, Roland! But I like it! I liyyyke it!”

Roland shook his head. “Your answer is wrong. A good riddle is sometimes a puzzle in words, like Jake’s about the river, but sometimes it’s more like a magician’s trick, making you look in one direction while it’s going somewhere else.”

“It’s a double,” Jake said. He explained what Aaron Deepneau had said about the Riddle of Samson. Roland nodded.

“Is it a strawberry?” Susannah asked, then answered her own ques-tion. “Of course it is. It’s like the fire-riddle. There’s a metaphor hidden inside it. Once you understand the metaphor, you can solve the riddle.” “I metaphor sex, but she slapped my face and walked away when I asked,” Eddie told them sadly. They all ignored him.

“If you change ‘gets’ to ‘grows,’ ” Susannah went on, “it’s easy. First white, then red. Plumper it grows, the better the old woman likes it.” She looked pleased with herself.

Roland nodded. “The answer I always heard was a wenberry, but I’m sure both answers mean the same thing.”

Eddie picked up Riddle-De-Dum! and began flipping through it. “How about this one, Roland? When is a door not a door?” Roland frowned. “Is it another piece of your stupidity? Because my patience-” “No. I promised to take it seriously, and I am—I’m trying, at least. It’s in this book, and I just happen to know the answer. I heard it when I was a kid.” Jake, who also knew the answer, winked at Eddie. Eddie winked back, and was amused to see Oy also trying to wink. The humbler kept shutting both eyes, and eventually gave up.

Roland and Susannah, meanwhile, were puzzling over the question. “It must have something to do with love,” Roland said. “A door, adore. When is adore not adore . . . hmmm . . .”

“Hmmm,” Oy said. His imitation of Roland’s thoughtful tone was perfect. Eddie winked at Jake again. Jake covered his mouth to hide a smile. “Is the answer false love?” Roland asked at last. “Nope.”