It was the sherbet they took to clear their palates when the meal was done. Because death was what this man and his friends were about it was their bread and wine. What he was afraid of in his heart was that this time it would be a death-dance instead of a life-dance. Did Tian doubt that Roland would win their hearts again? In truth, Tian did not. Once before, the gunslinger had stood on this stage and danced the commala and won their hearts. He told himself that all he needed to do was introduce Roland, and Roland would come. The code they followed demanded that they must help, even if it meant their destruction and the end of whatever quest they were on. He told himself not to be foolish, that Callahan would help, and the outworlders would help, as well. Although Callahan was there, standing with Roland and his friends - they of the hard calibers - with his arms folded on his plain black shirt with the notched collar and his Man Jesus cross hanging above. And this time there'll be no Pere Callahan to haul my poor old ashes out of the fire. Had I known it would come to this, I'd never have started it a-going, he thought wildly. In the constant darkness that was Thunderclap, lightning flashed like great sparklights.
It was what his Gran-pere would have called weirding weather omenish, say thankya. There was a huge bank of clouds in the southwest, and the sun had passed behind them just as he climbed the steps to the stage. Overhead the sky was a pellucid, cloudless blue, but it was too dark for five o' the clock. Nor did the look of this late afternoon help him find calm.
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