The Golden Door by Emily Rodda

Author:Emily Rodda [Rodda, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Scholastic Books
Published: 2012-10-01T06:00:00+00:00

Fleet was a surprise. At FitzFee’s warning call, Rye woke from an uneasy doze to see before him a graceful township that seemed to be filled with flowers. It was not at all the sort of place he had expected to find in the land of the barbarians.

“How beautiful!” Sonia was exclaiming. “And, oh! Look at the horses!”

Rich fields edged with white painted fences surrounded the town. And in the fields were horses — wonderful horses, brown, white, black, and dappled gray, with proud, arching necks and fine, long legs. The younger ones galloped along the side fences with the cart. The older ones just stood watching the newcomers in dignified fashion.

“Of course there are horses!” giggled Popsy. “That’s what Fleet is — a horse place!”

“Fleet breeds the best horses in Dorne,” FitzFee agreed, sighing for some reason as he turned his head to look at the spirited animals. “The best horses in the whole Sea of Serpents, some say!”

“Is that why you have come here, Master FitzFee?” Sonia asked eagerly. “To trade for a new horse?”

“Not likely!” FitzFee laughed. “The FitzFees do well enough, but we couldn’t afford a Fleet horse. Not in a thousand years.”

He clicked his tongue to his old brown mare and guided the cart off the road and into the bustling main street of the town. The mare, who seemed to know very well what she was doing, stopped on a paved area that lay before a large, handsome wooden building.

A small crowd of men and women left their work to greet the visitors. Rye tried not to stare, but he could not help it. The people were all very tall — even Dirk would have seemed average beside them. Otherwise, they looked no more like savage barbarians than Fleet looked like a barbarian camp.

They all seemed tired, but there was a quiet dignity about them that was very impressive. Their garments were work-worn, yet somehow elegant. Despite the shadows under their eyes, they all looked in good health, except for the two youngest — strapping young men of about Dirk’s age, whose faces were covered in angry red blotches and blisters.

Everyone was smiling. It was clear that FitzFee had been expected and was very welcome in Fleet. Yet Rye could sense a sort of tension, a suppressed excitement rising from the crowd.

A tawny-haired man with watchful eyes moved forward, holding a sturdy boy of about eight by the hand.

“Welcome, FitzFee!” he exclaimed. “So, here are our goats! And very fine they look.”

“The best I had!” said FitzFee, jumping from the cart and turning to lift Popsy down after him. “Good to see you again, Nanion — and young Nanion, too! Bless my heart, how he’s grown! Why, he’s as tall as me already!”

The boy grinned, his likeness to his father suddenly becoming very plain.

“I’ve brought my girl with me, as you see,” FitzFee rattled on, drawing Popsy forward. “I fancied she’d enjoy the outing. Her mother’s very busy with young Tigg these days. He’s teething.

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