Read an Excerpt
Chapter One
Good News, Bad News
"The Travelers are coming. The Travelers are coming!"
The news spread quickly through the village of Rin. The children shouted it in excitement, their voices ringing through the valley and echoing back from the great Mountain that rose above the town. They shouted it running, running madly down from the hills, past the bukshah fields and the orchard, beside the gardens, and all the way to the village square.
They had seen the three Forerunners flying over the hills, the silken kites to which they clung brilliant against the sky. They knew the carts, the horses, and the chattering, singing people were not far behind.
The Travelers were coming, bringing games and stories, dancing and music, wonderful things to trade. Soon their bright tents would spread, fluttering like huge butterflies, among the yellow slipdaisies on the hills above the village. At night their bonfires would brighten the darkness, and their music would ring through the valley. They would stay a week, or two, or three, and for the children every day would be like a holiday.
"The Travelers are coming!"
Standing by the bukshah pool, watching a butterfly struggle from its cocoon on the branch of a tree, the boy Rowan, keeper of the bukshah, heard the cry. But he had already guessed the news.
Long before the other children spied the Forerunners, he had seen the bukshah raise their heads and look across the valley, to the hills. The big animals were listening to something he could not hear.
"So the Travelers are coming?" he said to Star, his favorite of all the great beasts. "You heard their pipes before,didn't you?"
Star stood swaying, looking out to the hills.
"We did not expect to see them this year," Rowan went on, "but it is the season for them. The tadpoles in the stream are growing legs and changing into frogs. The caterpillars are becoming butterflies. And the slip-daisies are in bloom." He sniffled. "As well I know. The pollen makes my nose run."
Star rumbled deep in her throat and shifted her feet restlessly.
"What ails you, Star?" Rowan asked her, scratching her neck under the thick wool. "Be still. All is well."
He looked at Star in puzzlement. All the bukshah had been unsettled lately. And he could not understand why. He had checked them over very carefully. There was no sign of sickness. And yet for days they had seemed nervous and unhappy.
"All is well, Star," he said again.
But Star pawed the ground, pushed at his hand with her heavy head, and refused to be comforted.
"The Travelers are coming!"
Strong Jonn, working in the orchard, heard the cry with surprise, then smiled. The Travelers had come in Rin's direction only twelve months before. He had not expected them again so soon. But he welcomed them. For with the Travelers came their bees.
Soon the bees would be busy in the sweet white blossom of his hoopberry trees. Their hives would begin to overflow with rich, golden hoopberry honey for the Travelers to gather, to eat, and to sell.
But while the bees worked for the Travelers, they would be working for Jonn, too. Bumbling from flower to flower, they would spread the sticky yellow pollen, making sure that fruit would form when the flowers fell. Thanks to the Travelers' bees, Jonn would have a very good harvest in the autumn.
So Jonn was pleased when he heard the children's voices. But he knew others would not be so pleased. For others, the news would be bad.
"The Travelers are coming!"
Bronden the furniture maker heard the cry and frowned, drumming her stubby fingers on the smooth wood of the half-finished table under her hand.
"Slips," she grumbled, kicking her feet in the sawdust on the floor. "Time-wasting, idle, useless Slips!"
She ran her hand over her forehead. She was tired. Tired out. And this-this was the last straw.
The Travelers turned the settled life of the village upside down. They cared nothing for rules, or order, or hard work. They had no settled homes or proper jobs and wanted none. That was why she, and others who thought like her, called the Travelers Slips, after the wild slip-daisies on the hills. Slips made her uncomfortable. They made her angry.
"The Travelers are coming!"
In his little house Timon the teacher heard the cry and sighed over his books. While the Travelers were camping near, the Rin children would fidget and whisper under the Teaching Tree.
Their pockets would bulge with the toys and tricks they had begged or bought from the camp on the hill. Their mouths would be full of honey sweets and chews. Their heads would be buzzing with Travelers' tales and legends.
But still, thought Timon, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head, this visit might be a blessing. It has been a long, hard winter. The children have been tired and out of sorts lately. The Travelers will cheer them up.
He smiled. By my life, I loved Travelers' tales myself, as a boy, he thought. And if stories of the Valley of Gold, the Giants of Inspray, the Misty Crystal, the Pit of Unrin, and all the rest did not hurt me, then why should they hurt the children now?
Timon considered. Perhaps he could visit the Travelers' camp himself this year. Listen once again to the stories. And perhaps buy a handful of honey chews. It was a long time since he had tasted one of those.
Timon closed his eyes and chuckled sleepily to himself at the thought. His mouth was already watering.
"The Travelers are coming!"
Allun the baker heard the cry as he kneaded dough in his warm kitchen. "Do you hear that, Mother? My father's people are on their way," he called over his shoulder. "You had better stop all that talk of growing old and get your dancing shoes out."
Sara came slowly in from the shop, wiping her hands on her apron.
Rowan and the Travelers. Copyright © by Emily Rodda. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
