Cart and Cwidder by Diana Wynne Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

possible.
    Music was possible, of course. Moril found himself beside the cart, without quite knowing how he had got there. He scrambled up and seized the nearest cwidder. It happened to be the big one. In the ordinary way, Moril would not have chosen it. But being inside the cart made him feel sick and queer, so he simply took what came first to hand and backed hastily down with it.
    While he was getting its strap over his back, he realized that Clennen’s eyes were open. And it was clear that Clennen shared Moril’s opinion. Moril heard him say, rather thickly, but quite strongly, “This came out of the blue, didn’t it? I’d have preferred to have notice.”
    Moril put his hands to the strings and began to play, very softly, the weird broken little tune of “Manaliabrid’s Lament.” The cwidder responded sweetly. The old song seemed more melodious than usual, and because of the water, it carried out across the lake until the valley seemed full of it. Moril heard its echo from the woods opposite.
    His ears were so full of the sound that he did not hear much else of what Clennen said. Clennen’s voice became weaker, anyway, after that first remark, and he spoke to Lenina in what was only a murmur. Then he spoke to Brid for a while, reaching out to hold her hand, which made Brid cry. After that, it was Dagner’s turn. Clennen was very weak by then. Dagner had to put his head right down near his father’s face in order to hear him. Moril played on, as softly as he could, watching Dagner listening and nodding, and wondered vaguely at the amount Clennen seemed to have to say. Then Dagner looked up and beckoned to Moril.
    â€œHe wants to talk to you. Quickly.”
    Moril did not dare take off the cwidder for fear of wasting time. He hurried over to Clennen with it bumping at his thighs and knees, and hoisted it away sideways as he knelt down. Clennen’s face was paler than Moril had ever seen a face before. His eyes did not seem to reflect the sky, or Moril bending over him, though it was clear he could see Moril.
    â€œGot the big cwidder, have you?” Clennen said. Moril nodded. He could not manage to speak. “Keep it carefully,” said Clennen. “It’s yours now. Always meant to give it to you, Moril, because I think you’ve got the ability. Or will have. But you have to come to terms with it, and with yourself. Understand?” Moril nodded again, though he did not understand in the least. “You’re in two halves at present,” Clennen went on. “Often thought so. Come together, Moril, and there’s no knowing what you might do. There’s power in that cwidder, if you can use it. Used to be Osfameron’s. He could use it. Handed down to me. I couldn’t use it. Only found the power once, when I—” Clennen paused for breath. Moril waited for him to go on, but nothing happened. Clennen stayed as he was, with his eyes open looking at Moril, and his lips parted. After a while, Moril realized that this was all there would be. He got up and carefully, very carefully, put the cwidder back in its place inside the cart.
    Brid was crying loudly. Lenina was standing very upright beside the lake, as calm as ever. Dagner seemed to have frozen into the same sort of calmness, facing her. And Kialan was coming slowly toward them round the lake with a bundle of dead rabbits.
    When he reached them, Kialan stopped. He looked at Clennen and, for once, seemed not to know what to say. “I’m—terribly sorry,” he said at length.
    â€œIt was going to happen sometime,” said Lenina. “Will you help us dig a grave, please?”
    â€œOf course,” said Kialan. “Here?”
    â€œWhy not?” said Lenina. “Clennen never had a home after he left Hannart, and we can’t take him there.”
    â€œVery well,” said Kialan, and he laid the rabbits down and unhooked the spade from its clips