“He were the dinh of the ka-tet of Nine, and of Nineteen,” she tells him, letting him draw her closer. “He would have been the Lord of Light of Gilead, if it hadn’t fallen. He were the last of the gunslingers for years upon years.” Something very rueful and wry passes over her face, just for a moment. “And he’d speak sharp when he thought it were needed, and more.”

Susan shrugs, and smiles at him. “So aye, I kennit.” She leans down at his coaxing, and her kiss is sweet and willing.