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'I don't know； exactly。 But we used to do it in a couple of hours； and the train never went very fast。 Running speed； maybe； but not much more。 It can't be much more than twenty miles from Camp Readiness； all told。 Probably a little less。'
'Then we're maybe fifteen miles or less from it。 From…'
（from the Talisman）
'Yeah。 Right。'
Jack looked up as the day darkened。 As if to show that the pathetic fallacy wasn't so pathetic after all； the sun now sailed behind a deck of clouds。 The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees and the day seemed to grow dull…the whippoorwill fell silent。
9
Richard saw the sign first…a simple whitewashed square of wood painted with black letters。 It stood on the left side of the tracks； and ivy had grown up its post； as if it had been here for a very long time。 The sentiment； however； was quite current。 It read： GOOD BIRDS MAY FLY； BAD BOYS MUST DIE。 THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE： GO HOME。
'You can go； Richie；' Jack said quietly。 'It's okay by me。 They'll let you go； no sweat。 None of this is your business。'
'I think maybe it is；' Richard said。
'I dragged you into it。'
'No；' Richard said。 'My father dragged me into it。 Or fate dragged me into it。 Or God。 Or Jason。 Whoever it was； I'm sticking。'
'All right；' Jack said。 'Let's go。'
As they passed the sign； Jack lashed out with one foot in a passably good kung…fu kick and knocked it over。
'Way to go； chum；' Richard said； smiling a little。
'Thanks。 But don't call me chum。'
10
Although he had begun to look wan and tired again； Richard talked for the next hour as they walked down the tracks and into the steadily strengthening smell of the Pacific Ocean。 He spilled out a flood of reminiscences that had been bottled up inside of him for years。 Although his face didn't reveal it； Jack was stunned with amazement 。 。 。 and a deep； welling pity for the lonely child； eager for the last scrap of his father's affection； that Richard was revealing to him； inadvertently or otherwise。
He looked at Richard's pallor； the sores on his cheeks and forehead and around his mouth； listened to that tentative； almost whispering voice that nevertheless did not hesitate or falter now that the chance to tell all these things had finally e； and was glad once more that Morgan Sloat had never been his father。
He told Jack that he remembered landmarks all along this part of the railroad。 They could see the roof of a barn over the trees at one point； with a faded ad for Chesterfield Kings on it。
' 'Twenty great tobaccos make twenty wonderful smokes；' ' Richard said； smiling。 'Only； in those days you could see the whole barn。'
He pointed out a big pine with a double top； and fifteen minutes later told Jack； 'There used to be a rock on the other side of this hill that looked just like a frog。 Let's see if it's still there。'
It was； and Jack supposed it did look like a frog。 A little。 If you stretched your imagination。 And maybe it helps to be three。 Or four。 Or seven。 Or however old he was。
Richard had loved the railroad； and had thought Camp Readiness was really neat； with its track to run on and its hurdles to jump over and its ropes to climb。 But he hadn't liked Point Venuti itself。 After some self…prodding； Richard even remembered the name of the motel at which he and his father had stayed during their time in the little coastal town。 The Kingsland Motel； he said 。 。 。 and Jack found that name did not surprise him much at all。
The Kingsland Motel； Richard said； was just down the road from the old hotel his father always seemed interested in。 Richard could see the hotel from his window； and he didn't like it。 It was a huge； rambling place with turrets and gables and gambrels and cupolas and towers； brass weathervanes in strange shapes twirled from all of the latter。 They twirled even when there was no wind； Richard said…he could clearly remember standing at the window of his room and watching them go around and around and around； strange brass creations shaped like crescent moons and scarab beetles and Chinese ideograms； winking in the sun while the ocean foamed and roared below。
Ah yes； doc； it all es back to me now； Jack thought。
'It was deserted？' Jack asked。
'Yes。 For sale。'
'What was its name？'
'The Agincourt。' Richard paused； then added another child's color…the one most small children are apt to leave in the box。 'It was black。 It was made of wood； but the wood looked like stone。 Old black stone。 And that's what my father and his friends called it。 The Black Hotel。'
11
It was partly…but not entirely…to divert Richard that Jack asked； 'Did your father buy that hotel？ Like he did Camp Readiness？'
Richard thought about it awhile and then nodded。 'Yes；' he said。 'I think he did。 After a while。 There was a For Sale sign on the gates in front of the place when he first started taking me there； but one time when we went there it was just gone。'
'But you never stayed there？'
'God； no！' Richard shuddered。 'The only way he could have gotten me in there would have been with a towing chain 。 。 。 even then I might not have gone。'
'Never even went in？'
'No。 Never did； never will。'
Ah； Richie…boy； didn't anyone ever teach you to never say never？
'That goes for your father as well？ He never even went in？'
'Not to my knowledge；' Richard said in his best professorial voice。 His forefinger went to the bridge of his nose； as if to push up the glasses that weren't there。 'I'd be willing to bet he never went in。 He was as scared of it as I was。 But with me； that's all I felt 。 。 。 just scared。 For my father； there was something more。 He was 。 。 。'
'Was what？'
Reluctantly； Richard said； 'He was obsessed with the place； I think。'
Richard paused； eyes vague； thinking back。 'He'd go and stand in front of it every day we were in Point Venuti。 And I don't mean just for a couple of minutes； or something like that…he'd stand in front of it for； like； three hours。 Sometimes more。 He was alone most of those times。 But not always。 He had 。 。 。 strange friends。'
'Wolfs？'
'I guess so；' Richard said； almost angrily。 'Yeah； I guess some of them could have been Wolfs； or whatever you call them。 They looked unfortable in their clothes…they were always scratching themselves； usually in those places where nice people aren't supposed to scratch。 Others looked like the substitute coach。 Kind of hard and mean。 Some of those guys I used to see out at Camp Readiness； too。 I'll tell you one thing； Jack…those guys were even more scared of that place than my father was。 They just about cringed when they got near it。'
'Sunlight Gardener？ Was he ever there？'
'Uh…huh；' Richard said。 'But in Point Venuti he looked more like the man we saw over there '
'Like Osmond。'
'Yes。 But those people didn't e very often。 Mostly it was just my father； by himself。 Sometimes he'd get the restaurant at our motel to pack him some sandwiches； and he'd sit on a sidewalk bench and eat his lunch looking at the hotel。 I stood at the window in the lobby of the Kingsland and looked at my father looking at the hotel。 I never liked his face at those times。 He looked afraid； but he also looked like 。 。 。 like he was gloating。'
'Gloating；' Jack mused。
'Sometimes he asked me if I wanted to e with him； and I always said no。 He'd nod and I remember once he said； 'There'll be time。 You'll understand everything； Rich 。 。 。 in time。' I remember thinking that if it was about that black hotel； I didn't want to understand。
'Once；' Richard said； 'when he was drunk； he said there was something inside that place。 He said it had been there for a long time。 We were lying in our beds； I remember。 The wind was high that night。 I could hear the waves hitting the beach； and the squeaky sound of those weathervanes turning on top of the Agincourt's towers。 It was a scary sound。 I thought about that place； all those rooms； all of them empty…'
'Except for the ghosts；' Jack muttered。 He thought he heard footsteps and looked quickly behind them。 Nothing； no one。 The roadbed was deserted for as far as he could see。
'That's right； except for the ghosts；' Richard agreed。 'So I said； 'Is it valuable； Daddy？' '
' 'It's the most valuable thing there is；' he said。
' 'Then some junkie will probably break in and steal it；' I said。 It wasn't…how can I say this？…it wasn't a subject I wanted to pursue； but I didn't want him to go to sleep； either。 Not with that wind blowing outside； and the sound of those vanes squeaking in the night。
'He laughed； and I heard a clink as he poured himself a little more bourbon from the bottle on the floor。
' 'Nobody is going to steal it； Rich；' he said。 'And any junkie who went into the Agincourt would see things he never saw before。' He drank his drink； and I could tell he was getting sleepy。 'Only one person in the whole world could ever touch that thing； and he'll never even get close to it； Rich。 I can guarantee that。 One thing that interests me is that it's the same over there as over here。 It doesn't change…at least； as far as I can tell； it doesn't change。 I'd like to have it； but I'm not even going to try； at least not now； and maybe not ever。 I could do things with it…you bet！…but on the whole； I think I like the thing best right where it is。'
'I was getting sleepy myself by then； but I asked him what it was that he kept talking about。'
'What did he say？' Jack asked； dry…mouthed。
'He called it…' Richard hesitated； frowning in thought。 'He called it 'the axle of all possible worlds。' Then he laughed。 Then he called it something else。 Something you wouldn't like。'
'What was that？'
'It'll make you mad。'
'e on； Richard； spill it。'
'He called it 。 。 。 well 。 。 。 he called it 'Phil Sawyer's folly'。 '
It was not anger he felt but a burst of hot； dizzying excitement。 That was it； all right； that was the Talisman。 The axle of all possible worlds。 How many worlds？ God alone knew。 The American Territories； the Territories themselves； the hypothetical Territories' Territories； and on and on； like the stripes ing ceaselessly up and out of a turning barber pole。 A universe of worlds； a dimensional macrocosm of worlds…and in all of them one thing that was always the same； one unifying force that was undeniably good； even if it now happened to be imprisoned in an evil place； the Talisman； axle of all possible worlds。 And was it also Phil Sawyer's folly？ Probably so。 Phil's folly 。 。 。 Jack's folly 。 。 。 Morgan Sloat's 。 。 。 Gardener's 。 。 。 and the hope； of course； of two Queens。
'It's more than Twinners；' he said in a low voice。
Richard had been plodding along； watching the rotted ties disappear beneath his feet。 Now he looked nervously up at Jack。
'It's more than Twinners； because there are more than two worlds。 There are triplets 。 。 。 quadruplets 。 。 。 who knows？ Morgan Sloat here； Morgan of Orris over there； maybe Mor…gan； Duke of Azreel； somewhere else。 But he never went inside the hotel！'
'I don't know what you're talking about；' Richard said in a resigned voice。 But I'm sure you'll go right on； anyway； that resigned tone said； progressing from nonsense to outright insanity。 All aboard for Seabrook Island！
'He can't go inside。 That is； Morgan of California can't…and do you know why？ Because Morgan of Orris can't。 And Morgan of Orris can't because Morgan of California can't。 If one of them can't go into his version of the black hotel； then none of them can。 Do you see？'
'No。'
Jack； feverish with discovery； didn't hear what Richard said at all。
'Two Morgans； or dozens。 It doesn't matter。 Two Lilys； or dozens…dozens of Queens in dozens of worlds； Richard； think of that！ How does that mess your mind？ Dozens of black hotels…only in some worlds it might be a black amusement park 。 。 。 or a black trailer court 。 。 。 or I don't know what。 But Richard…'
He stopped； turned Richard by the shoulders； and stared at him； his eyes blazing。 Richard tried to draw away from him for a moment； and then stopped； entranced by the fiery beauty on Jack's face。 Suddenly； briefly； Richard believed that all things mi