Clare Dragonfly's Points Story: Lifetime Pass

From the top of the highest hill outside of Hawkfield, it was easy to see the Travelers coming from a long way off; even before he could see the colors of the brightly painted caravans, the tow-headed boy atop the garrison wall could see the cloud of dust they stirred up from the road into the town below. He ran down the steps carved into the wall and into the courtyard to find the commander, his bare feet slapping against the tiles.

“Da! Da!” he piped. “Da, the Travelers are coming! Da!” He skidded to a stop outside his father’s office. “Da, may we go see ‘em? Please?”

The commander frowned. “And why would I want to go see the Travelers, then, eh? Bunch of dirty thieves--I’ll need to send some troops into town, I s’pose, to keep an eye on ‘em.”

“Well,” said the boy, biting his lip, “I was thinkin’, maybe Mellit was with this band. She wasn’t with the last band, but maybe she’s with this one.”

The commander’s frown deepened. “Mellit? I don’t know anyone named Mellit. No one alive, anyway.”

“Oh, Da,” said the boy. “Don’t say that, please don’t say that.”

“Your sister left us, Raffik, so as far as I’m concerned, she’s dead.” The commander sighed and rubbed his face. “But if you want to go see the Travelers, I won’t stop you. You don’t go inside one of those caravans, though, you hear me? You don’t go with one of them anywhere other people can’t see you. None of them, d’you understand?”

“I won’t, Da, I promise I won’t,” said the boy eagerly. “So may I go?”

The commander nodded slowly. “Yes, I s’pose you might.” He rummaged through his pockets until he found his coin pouch. He gestured the boy over. “Here,” he said, putting the pouch in the boy’s hand. “Take what you need from this. What--what anyone needs. If there’s a particular someone there you know who might need something...” he trailed off.

Raffik nodded. “All right, Da, I understand.” He turned and ran out the door.

“But Raff! Don’t spend all of it!” his father yelled after him.

Raffik ran all the way down the garrison hill into town, pulling up gasping near the gawking crowd in the square. Four Travelers were set up in front of the caravans--a fiddler, a drummer, a piper and a guitarist. The music was sprightly and the townsfolk clapped along until a tall, rusty-haired Traveler stood up on top of one of the caravans and began his spiel, the music dropping low so that people could hear him. Raffik pushed his way to the front to get a good look.

“Ladies and gentlemen, good folk of Hawkfield!” boomed the handsome man on the caravan roof. “We are a wandering troupe of performers of all arts, arcane and otherwise! The arts of music!” Here the little band played loud, and the piper blew an elaborate flourish. “The art of divination!” A nearly toothless old crone appeared, intricately flourishing a deck of cards in her bony fingers. “The art of comedy!” Two clowns appeared in tattered clothes; the crowd howled with laughter as they beat each other. “And! The art of dance!”

Three beautiful girls wreathed in scarves danced into the circle, their bellies bare, long skirts swirling around their legs. Bells and bracelets jingled as they stepped, hips swaying; the men in the crowd hooted and whistled, and the girls gyrated in response. Raffik watched them as they whirled; was one of them Mellit? He couldn’t tell. It had been almost two years since she’d left with a Traveler band. But when they stopped spinning, one of them caught his eyes and winked, and he realized it was his sister.

“We’ll be setting up camp in the commons just outside of town, come see us! Come for your fortune, to change your luck, come for a charm, come for a--” The musicians set up a loud squeal while the girls shimmied their breasts, and the crowd roared with laughter. “Come to watch us dance and sing, just as we have before the king! Just come, come, and watch us play, we won’t be back for many a day!” The crowd burst into applause, the musicians came to an end with a flourish, and the dancing girls held up their skirts to catch the coppers the people threw.

Mellit threw a scarf over her little brother and danced him over to one of the caravans, handed him up to the driver’s box and climbed on next to him. “Where we goin’, Melly?” said Raffik.

“Just over to the commons, Raff, no further,” she cried gaily and set the horses on their way behind the other wagons. “How are you?”

Raffik scratched his ear. “Well, I’m fine, I s’pose. I miss you awful, Melly.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I miss you too,” said Mellit. “I’m surprised Da let you come.”

“He told me not to do just what I’m doin’, though,” said Raffik nervously. “He misses you something awful too, Melly, though he won’t say so.”

Mellit’s face darkened. “I wish things could’ve been different, but I wasn’t going to give my baby to the Mother’s House, Raff.”

“Where is he?”

Mellit’s face brightened again. “He’s inside the caravan. The Queen’s looking after him. He’s going to be two in a couple of spokes. I named him Tebbanik--after Da. We call him Tebs.” She blushed a little.

“You have a queen in there?!” said Raffik, swiveling to stare back at the caravan.

“Our queen,” laughed Mellit. “She’s our leader.”

“I thought the red-headed fella was your leader.”

“That’s her son, Connin,” she said. “Stay out of his way, Raff.”

“Why? Isn’t he a nice fella?”

“He’s a tricky one, he is,” Mellit said, shaking her head. “When I first joined the Travelers...well, you’re a little boy, still, Raff, you don’t need to hear such things.” The caravans pulled into the commons and formed up into a circle; Mellit jumped down from the driver’s box and handed Raffik down. “Now, little brother, I want you to come see me whenever you can. We’ll only be here a week and then we’re going to move on to another town, but--”

“Well, now,” said a friendly voice. “And who’s this, then, Melly?” Raffik looked up; it was the one Mellit had called Connin.

“This is my little brother, Raffik,” said Mellit carefully. “Raffik, this is Connin.”

“And did you bring your sister a little something, young Raffik?” said Connin. In his hand was Da’s coin purse. How had he gotten it? thought Raffik. He began to reach for it, but Mellit put down a restraining hand. “Never worry, boy, I won’t take it all,” said Connin, casually digging through the purse. He pulled out three gold coins and a copper; two of the golds went into his pocket and the third gold he tossed to Mellit. He handed the purse back to Raffik. “Now you’ve paid your way for the rest of your life, boy.”

Connin took the copper between his nimble fingers and pressed it between his thumb and his forefinger. He passed his other hand over it and mumbled something. He dug a thin leather thong from his waist pouch and threaded the copper onto it; how had he put a hole in it? thought Raffik. Connin put the talisman around his neck. The boy looked at it; instead of the familiar three mountains on one side and portrait of Temmin the Great on the other, the copper now bore an eight-spoked wheel on one side and a torch on the other. It looked melted, as if it had been through a fire.

“Any time you need anything from a Traveler,” said Connin, “any time you’re in trouble or just want to come see the show, you show him this. Don’t give it to anyone else, understand? And don’t show it to anyone. It’s our secret, young Raff, all right? Yes? Between you and the Travelers. Now, run along home.” He patted the boy’s head, and put an arm around Mellit’s waist, turning her away from her brother. “And you, Miss Melly, I have very urgent business with you. Go on, son,” said Connin over his shoulder as he walked the girl quickly back toward his caravan.

“It’s all right, Raff, I’ll see you tomorrow, once we’ve set up camp, come back then! I love you!” called Mellit.
Raffik fingered the copper talisman for a moment, then slipped it inside his shirt. He put the coin purse inside his shirt, too--he’d like to see the pickpocket who could get it out from under his arm--and took off for home.