Cart and Cwidder (The Dalemark Quartet 1) - Page 42

Moril stood silent in the crowded courtyard and left Brid and Kialan to do the exclaiming. Now he knew what it was that he had not wanted to think about. He had done that. He had worked a huge destruction and killed so many people that Dagner was now an earl. Everyone no doubt thought he had done right. He had saved the North, prevented a war, and avenged Clennen and Konian. But Moril knew he had not done right. He had done it all because Olob was killed. With the cwidder in his hands, he had behaved as if it was for Konian, for Clennen, for Dagner, and for the North, but it had all been for Olob, really. He was ashamed. What he had done was to cheat the cwidder. That was the worst thing. If you stood up and told the truth in the wrong way, it was not true any longer, though it might be as powerful as ever. Moril saw that he was neither old enough nor wise enough to have charge of such a potent thing as that cwidder.

That night, there was a feast in honor of Dagner, Hestefan, and Fenna, Hestefan’s daughter. Keril asked Hestefan to sing. Hestefan sang, old songs, new songs, and many that Moril had never heard. When he sang, you forgot it was Hestefan singing and thought only of the song. Moril was impressed. Then Hestefan told a story. It was one Moril did not know. And while Hestefan was telling it, he found he forgot who was telling it and simply lived in the story. Moril realized he still had a lot to learn.

After that they wanted Dagner to sing. Dagner was nervous, but surprisingly ready to perform.

“Huh!” said Brid. “He just wants to impress Fenna, that’s what.”

Whatever the reason, Dagner took his own cwidder, fetched for him by Kialan, tuned it, and sang the song Moril had tried to finish for him. He did it nothing like the way Moril had made it go. The new parts of the tune were quite different from Moril’s, and he had changed the beginning. It now went:

“Follow me, follow me.

The blackbird sings to follow me.

No one will know where we go—

All that matters is we go.”

Kialan looked at Moril and made a face to show that he liked Moril’s version better. Moril smiled. Everyone had to do things their own way. While Dagner went on to sing his “Color” song, Moril slipped quietly away, fetched the old cwidder, slung it on his shoulders, and went to where Hestefan was refreshing himself with beer beside an open window. Hestefan looked as if he was too hot, just like Moril.

“Please,” Moril said to him, “will you take me with you when you go?”

“Well,” Hestefan said dubiously, “I was thinking of slipping off now, while nobody’s noticing.”

“I know you were,” said Moril. “Take me, too. Please.”

Hestefan looked at him, a vague, dreamy look, which Moril was positive saw twice as m

uch as most people’s. “You’re Clennen’s other son, aren’t you?” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Tanamoril,” said Moril. “I’m called Osfameron, too,” he added, as an inducement.

Hestefan smiled. “Very well then,” he said. “Come along.”

Tags: Diana Wynne Jones The Dalemark Quartet Fantasy
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