The Islanders (21 page)

To the Kapes’ surprise, not only did Bathurst turn up when expected, he was for once travelling alone. The three of them spent seven days together, not leaving the Kapes’ house on a single occasion. Many of their neighbours well knew who the new residents were, and also realized the identity of their house guest. Although there is no evidence for this, it seems likely that the visit would have provoked much gossip and speculation across the narrow streets of Lanna Old Town and in the taverns.

Bathurst was the first to leave, walking down quickly one morning to the harbour to catch the early ferry. He spoke to no one. His features were shrouded by a hooded cloak, in spite of the fierce heat from the sun.

Kapes and his wife remained, but still they did not leave the house. Ten days went by, with no sign of the poet or his wife and no indication of movement from within. Eventually, the neighbours felt enough concern to force an entry to the house.

It was the end of spring and the last of the wild flowers were wilting in the fierce heat from the overhead sun. The bodies of both Kapes and Sebenn were found immediately, in different rooms of the house. To the people who found them here was no sign of how they died, but a later post-mortem examination discovered that Sebenn had been strangled, and Kapes himself had taken a poison derived from the serum of the thryme.

A short poem was found in Kapes’ notebook. It lay unnoticed with the rest of his property until some time later a researcher from Semell University was able to go through his papers in detail. Kal Kapes had earlier chosen Semell as his preferred repository for his papers and most of his original drafts, notebooks, letters, and so on, were already held in a special collection.

The discovery of this new poem,
Undreon’s Way
, brought one of Kapes’ finest last poems into the world. It was an old story, an ancient myth: from a time of gods and adventures and great deeds. Undreon and Urcheon were brothers: they fought heroically in war together, but at the end of the war Undreon took Urcheon’s wife and with her sudden and eager consent ravished her repeatedly while forcing his brother to watch. Undreon was consigned to hell, Urcheon murdered his wife, then submitted to the poison of a viper.

Fourteen lines. The date scribbled on the sheet in Kapes’ hand was the day Bathurst had been seen in the Old Town, his face shrouded, his hasty steps leading him down to the port.

Luice

REMEMBERED LOVE

Deep in the southern hemisphere, L
UICE
is a small but strategically placed island offshore from the eastern outer curve of the Qataari peninsula. Although it is in the rain belt of the subtropical region, its position in the shadow of the mainland and its high and otherwise exposed profile has created a barren, windswept landscape, with large areas of desertified rock and gravel. A hot wind (the K
IRUK
A
KHISER
, laden with grit and pollen) blows for about two-thirds of every year. There are no mountains, but the western part of the island is an undulating plain.

All the habitation is on the western side, where a natural port has been formed by a deep lagoon and a rocky reef. Luice appears to have been uninhabited before the outbreak of war, a fact repeatedly claimed by the Faiand Alliance who seized the island before the Covenant was drawn up, although archaeological research suggests otherwise. Whatever the reality, Faiandland has held the island for hundreds of years, using it as a way-station for the troops transported to or from the theatres of war.

Civilians may only visit Luice under military supervision, or if granted special permits. In any case, there is little to attract the casual visitor.

The non-military inhabitants are almost without exception immigrants from other parts of the Archipelago, who run service and infrastructure support for the military.

Luice Town is small and compact and does not extend much further than the area around the port. The wharfside consists mainly of huge warehouses, where war materiel is stored. There is a military hospital, a large cemetery and a few cheap food outlets. Several bars and brothels exist on the waterfront, and in the maze of narrow streets behind.

A metalled road leads to a busy airstrip inland.

A civilian ferry calls at Luice Town once a week. The troops use this if going on leave, or if after discharge they want to return independently to their homes in the north. Because of Luice’s position, the closest islands of the Archipelago are at least an overnight voyage away – the ferries are large and comfortable, but too expensive for many of the troops.

Luice was the site of a devastating air disaster. Two troop transporter planes, approaching the airstrip from vortical altitudes and therefore not able to take full advantage of separation by air-traffic control, collided in mid-air. One plane contained two hundred constables from the Faiandland Border Policier, due to join the front line of a new assault. The other was carrying more than a hundred infantrymen, destined for the same planned salient. All were killed, as was everyone else on board: the planes’ aircrews, senior auxiliary officers and civilian support staff. The total number of victims came to three hundred and fifty-two men and women, nearly all of them in their early twenties.

Although the collision occurred above Luice Town, by good fortune most of the wreckage fell into the sea or on to uninhabited land, so there were no extra fatalities on the ground. All the bodies were recovered, but most of the wreckage remains uncleared – one of the aircraft was transporting armour-piercing warheads made of depleted uranium. Where this wreckage fell, the Faiand authorities created an exclusion zone. The bodies of most of the victims are buried in a separate area of the cemetery in Luice Town.

Several relatives came forward to claim the bodies of their loved ones, and for months there was a trickle of these desolated arrivals on the island, usually exhausted after the long journey across the Archipelago. Often that complicated journey turned out to be a mere preamble to the maze of military bureaucracy they then had to penetrate, to gain access to the remains of their sons and daughters.

One such arrival was the author, Moylita Kaine. She later said that she had feared she would face more official obduracy than other people, for two reasons. Firstly, she was not a relative, but had come of her own volition on behalf of the sister of a young constable who had been killed. She was also no friend of the Faiandland authorities. A recent book by her had exposed the fact that both sides in the war were using psychosis-inducing gases. These had been illegal for many years, but they had been brought covertly back into use and deployed against each other’s front line.

Her book led to a new abolition, surrounded by a storm of recrimination and controversy. Although she was a neutral, her book had been based on experiences in Faiandland, and consequently she had become
persona non grata
on Faiand territory. She was no stranger to their harassment.

Presumably, though, orders had come from higher up that she was not to be delayed on Luice, because the casket containing the young man’s body was passed into her care soon after she arrived.

She was also given a badly damaged paperback book, the only possession they had been able to identify as his. She found his name, neatly written at the top of the first page inside. Much of the rest of the book was scorched and torn.

She had to return by the way she had come, with no special assistance from the Faiand people. Although Kaine was a modest woman with no interest in personal publicity, her literary reputation had spread throughout the islands and her brief visit to Luice aroused interest and sympathy amongst the people who lived there. As she waited for the incoming ferry to dock, she was photographed on the bleak, sun-scorched quay, with an honour escouade standing to attention behind her. In one hand she was holding the scorched remains of the paperback book, the other she was resting lightly on the flag-draped coffin.

As the gangplank was swung down to the quay, a young reporter stepped forward and approached her respectfully, addressing her by name. They exchanged a few words.

Then he asked her if the soldier who had been killed was a close relative, perhaps a son?

‘No,’ said Ms Kaine. ‘He was just a friend, another writer. And he wasn’t really a soldier at all. He had been drafted into the Border Policier.’

Later, as the coffin was carried aboard the ship by the honour escouade, slowly stepping, arms linked beneath the casket, she was seen to be standing beside the gangplank, looking away across the harbour waters, weeping quietly.

Manlayl

HALF COMPLETED / HALF STARTED

A small island in the temperate latitudes of the northern Midway Sea, close to the northern continent, M
ANLAYL
was for centuries known only for its fishing. The fishing grounds on the continental shelf in the Manlayl region are exceptionally rich and diverse, and the catches were exported to all parts of the Archipelago.

With the coming of the war, however, all islands in that part of the sea were surveyed for possible strategic usefulness. The Covenant of Neutrality was not then in place and many small islands found themselves requisitioned for the siting of observation and listening posts, for airfields, deepwater ports, training grounds and the like. In Manlayl’s case, the Glaund Republic sequestered the island by main force and set about building an underground missile-launching site. The people of the island could only stand by powerlessly and watch.

The island’s salvation came in the form of the hastily drawn up First Protocols of what was to become in due course the full Covenant. Protective neutrality was declared, the Glaundians departed with bad grace, and peace returned to Manlayl and many other small islands like it.

The Glaundians left a legacy of several deep tunnels drilled into the rock. Their excavations had revealed that the rock of Manlayl was mostly an old and stable formation of limestone, a soft but durable rock, suitable for ambitious tunnelling projects.

Word of this reached Jordenn Yo, the earthmoving installation artist. Using false documents to show she had claimed and won mineral development rights from the Glaund occupiers, Yo brought in her equipment, hired the necessary artisans and tunnelling began. It was not long before news of her installations spread, and hundreds of freelance or mercenary tunnellers began arriving on Manlayl. Soon they had set up their own projects in competition with Yo.

Having seen or learned about what had happened on other islands, the Manlayl Seigniory Department invested most of the accumulated wealth of the island in a desperate lawsuit intended to protect the island from reckless tunnelling. After protracted and frequently adjourned legal proceedings they eventually won their case.

Jordenn Yo had already left Manlayl, realizing that if she did not her equipment would risk being seized by the authorities. She had already served prison sentences elsewhere. But many of the mercenary tunnellers carried on boring and digging until the last possible moment. Some were removed only after bailiffs were called in to take them out by force.

Finally, the battle was over and the last tunnellers departed. Some went into prison. Manlayl was made safe from tunnellers, and many other islands, feeling themselves at similar risk, used the case as a precedent for bringing in their own anti-tunnelling legislation. The life of the island slowly reverted to what it had been many years before.

Much irreparable damage had been caused, though, and more than half the island was now riddled with long, corkscrewing passages through the bedrock. Many of these had ingresses at mid-tide level, causing daily floods. Several of the smaller hills began to collapse, and part of the northern shore was crumbling into the sea with every tide. Inundation and subsidence extended a long way inland. Even today there are many large areas of Manlayl where it is unsafe to venture.

However, most of the south and eastern areas of the island are as they have always been, and commercial fishing has resumed. The island is a pleasant and interesting place to visit, with many historical markers. The main port, Manlayl Town, has several small hotels and pensions suitable for couples or families, and the cuisine, largely based on exotic seafood, is exquisite. Summer and autumn are the best times to visit, because the winter gales do still make Manlayl an extremely noisy and disharmonious place. It is not wise to reveal any interest in tunnelling.

Currency: Archipelagian simoleon, Ganntenian credit, Aubracian talent.

Meequa / Tremm

BEARER OF MESSAGES / FAST WANDERER

T
HE
D
RONE

The drones came in at nightfall. If she had completed her day’s tasks at the observatory, Lorna Mennerlin would shut down her terminal then scramble down the uneven cliff steps to the beach. From there she could watch the aircraft returning as they flew in low above the sea.

When the sea was calm, the brightly coloured LEDs in the belly of each of the drones mirrored back from the surface of the waves. On some evenings the machines flew over one by one, sometimes separated by several minutes, but most evenings they arrived in such numbers that they swarmed towards the island in a glittering formation. As they passed over the beach and responded to the radar sensing of the rocky cliffs rising beyond, they would adjust their height in unison. In their wake was a breathy susurration from their silenced vanes, a feeling of secretive distances already crossed, covert explorations, unstated winds.