Cart and Cwidder Read Free

through Dropwater and beyond,” he continued, turning back to his friends.
    Lenina had collected the money and was counting it. “Good,” she said. “We can stay at the inn here. I fancy a roof over my head.”
    Moril and Brid fancied it, too. It was the height of luxury. There would be feather beds, a proper bath, and real food cooked indoors. Brid licked her lips and gave Moril a delighted grin. Moril smiled back in his milky, sleepy way.
    â€œNo. No time,” said Clennen, when at last he was free to be asked. “We have to press on. We’re picking up a passenger on the road.”
    Lenina said nothing. It was not her way. While Brid, Moril, and even Dagner protested, she simply picked up the reins and encouraged Olob to move.

2

    â€œWhere are we picking up the passenger?” Brid inquired when they were three miles or so beyond Derent and her discontent had worn off somewhat. She was back in her everyday blue check and looked rather younger than she was.
    â€œCouple of miles on. I’ll tell you where,” Clennen said to Dagner, who was driving.
    â€œGoing North, is he?” Dagner said.
    â€œThat’s right,” said Clennen.
    Moril, in the ordinary rust-colored clothes he preferred, and in which, to Brid’s mind, he looked a great deal nicer, trotted along beside the cart and hoped vaguely that the passenger would be agreeable. They had taken a woman last year who had driven him nearly crazy with boredom. She had known a hundred little boys, and they were all better than Moril in some way, and she had at least two long stories about each boy to prove it. They took someone most years, going North. Since North and South had begun their long disagreement, very little traffic went between. Those who had no horse—and to walk meant the risk of being taken up as a vagrant and clapped into jail—had to rely on such people as the licensed singers to take them as paying passengers.
    The disagreement had begun so far in the past that not many people knew its cause: The North had one version, the South another. But it was certain that three kings of Dalemark had died, one after another, without leaving a proper heir to the throne. And almost every earl in the land had some kind of claim to be king. Even before the last king ruled from Hannart in the North, there had been quarrels and wars, and the country showed signs of breaking up into two. And when the Adon, who was the last king, died, his heirs were not to be found. Civil war began in earnest.
    Since then the only rulers of Dalemark had been the earls, each in his own earldom, with the lords under them. No one now wanted a king. Keril, the present Earl of Hannart, said publicly that he had no claim to the throne. But the disagreement ran deeper than ever. The men of the North claimed that half the land was enslaved, and the earls of the South said the North was plotting against them. The year Brid was born, Keril, Earl of Hannart, had been proclaimed a public enemy by every earl and lord in the South. After that the only people who dared travel between were accredited traders and licensed singers, and they had to prove that their business was harmless or they might be arrested anywhere in the South.
    Moril had met some of the traders and quite a few of the singers. Clennen did not speak highly of any of them, except perhaps the singer Hestefan, whom Moril had not met. But Moril had never heard any of them complain of having to take passengers. He thought they must all be very patient people.
    â€œWhat about payment?” asked Lenina.
    â€œYou wait and see,” said Clennen, with a laugh.
    â€œThat’s all very well,” said Brid, returning to her discontent. “But why do we always have to take someone? Why can’t the stupid North make friends with the silly South?”
    â€œYou tell me,” said Clennen. And after Brid had stammered for a minute, he laughed and said, “Would you