The Islanders (20 page)

I was carrying some of my baggage, weighed down by it. Commis was closing on me.

Suddenly, I realized what I had to do.

I flung my bags aside and turned back to face him. He was now only a short distance away from me, and I saw him raising one shoulder, starting to measure his pace, just as I had glimpsed him doing that day he came skidding across the frozen ruts at me, felling me violently with a sliding tackle. I braced myself for impact, but in the same moment I lifted both my arms, strained at some imaginary weight, and raised a huge sheet of heavy glass between us.

I held it at the vertical, clinging to its sides, ramming it down against the loose gravel of the path, making a place where I could let it stand unsupported.

I leapt back and in the same instant Commis ran headlong into the glass. His body struck it first, but an instant later his head banged against it and he was thrown painfully backwards.

The glass collapsed down towards me, so I leapt back from it to avoid being struck as it fell. Perhaps it shattered on the stony surface of the path, but now there was nothing between Commis and myself.

He was standing away from me, turned to the side, slumping forward, holding his head in his hands. He kept moving one of his hands down to where he could see it, looking at the palm as if blood was pooling on it. He shook blood off the hand, emitted a low cry of pain. He pulled out a kerchief, mopped his brow, buried his nose inside it. His head was rocking up and down. I could see him breathing heavily, and just as once before I was momentarily convinced I had really injured him.

In a state of bizarre contrition and concern I stepped back towards him, to see if he needed help, but as soon as I was closer to him reality returned to me. I heard the words he was using, a string of vile invective and threats against me.

I went away. I grabbed my baggage and hurried on down the path. In a short distance I saw a place where I could with some difficulty scramble up the slope through the undergrowth. I could hear traffic not far away.

As I started to climb I looked back. Commis was still where I had left him, still in the same pained posture of defeat. I gained the road, soon saw where I was, and found my way back into the main part of the town towards the bus station.

I heard nothing more of Commis. All my way back home, and for a long time afterwards, I kept thinking about him – for all I knew he was still standing there beside the fjord where I had left him, or he was not. And I often thought remorsefully about the heavy pane of glass hanging above the stage, or it was not.

Junno

PEACE EARNED

J
UNNO
is a small independent nation, comprising three islands lying in the subtropical zone of the Midway Sea.

Although mid-summer can be hot and humid, for most of the year the climate is moderated by the Southern Oscillating Stream. All three islands are heavily forested, with vast areas set aside as hunting reserves. The largest of the three islands, Junn Maio, has a range of mountains defining the southern coast: there are rich mineral deposits here, including iron, potash and copper. On the second largest island, Junn Secs, there are apparently limitless reserves of oil shale. These products are exported from the only harbour in the country: Junn Exeus, an immense industrial sprawl that disfigures a long stretch of the eastern coastline of Junn Maio.

Junno is one of the most prosperous places in the Archipelago – it is also the principal source of the world’s atmospheric pollution, directly and indirectly.

It can be a difficult and unattractive destination for travellers, by air or sea, as apart from the local ferries calling intermittently there are no scheduled services. Because of its position in relation to the Equator, connecting flights have to be chartered privately. Only sub-vortical flights are allowed at that latitude, which causes delay. The sole working airport on Junno is operated by the Faiand military authorities. In theory, the Faiand Federation is under notice to relinquish their hold on the airport, but in practice most of the population of Junno is in favour of them remaining. There is brisk two-way trade with the base.

Our general advisory to intending visitors: take note of the difficulties and look for other destinations.

The semi-isolation from the rest of the Archipelago has made Junno into a haven for people with a dislike of centralized authority. Although there is a nominal Seignior, his family were violently exiled two hundred and fifty years ago, since when no tithes or tributes have been made and the three-island state has operated as a relatively stable anarchy. The islands have been declared ‘open’, allowing unrestricted havenic immigration.

When independence was first declared there was a flood of immigrants from every part of the Archipelago and it was these guest workers who were put to work in the mines. Their descendants are still on Junno, performing most of the manual labour. It is impossible to learn much about the conditions these people live and work under. We know they are paid extremely well but are not allowed contact with the outside world.

The Junnians abolished shelterate legislation at the same time and a steady trickle of deserters from the war in Sudmaieure still arrives in Junno every few weeks. The fate of these young deserters after arrival tends to fall into one of three groups.

The black-cap escouades of military policier are based at the airport and they are always on the alert to seize deserters from either side. They re-educate them all, then they return Faiand deserters to the front, and Glaundian soldiers are offered the choice of induction into the Faiand forces or a further course of re-education. Some of the fugitives from war, though, successfully avoid the black-caps and embrace the fiercely independent way of life in the nation. After what is usually a difficult period of habilitation, most of these young deserters settle down to remain in Junno. A third group, soon sensing that where they have arrived is not that different from what they have fled, take advantage of the lax border controls, and move on.

Unlike the inhabitants of almost every other island in the Archipelago, the people of Junno are armed to the teeth. There are not only more guns than people on Junno, there are estimated to be more than twenty guns for everyone, counting new-born babies, the elderly and the guest workers (who are prohibited from having their own weapons). More guns are acquired every year.

Apart from hunting and fishing, the main leisure pursuit on Junno is the thrice-yearly range war on the smallest of the islands, Junn Ante. The range wars are freely entered into by Junnian and immigrant worker alike. There are huge cash rewards for the guest workers if successful – their choice of weapon is said to be restricted and the guns lack the high power and accurate sights of those used by the Junnians, but there is never any shortage of participants. For the Junnians there are opportunities to gain land and other property from each other. Live ammunition is used.

The journalist Dant Willer was despatched as correspondent to cover the hostilities in the war taking place across the frozen plains and glaciers of Sudmaieure. For six months Willer filed horrifying stories about the extreme conditions suffered by both sides in those endless grinding hostilities, but then was recalled to Muriseay. On the return journey, Willer fell in with a group of young deserters who were travelling to Junno, to take advantage of what they imagined were liberal shelterate laws. Willer’s touching descriptions of what these six young men had endured in the war, followed by the gruelling account of what happened to them once they reached Junno, won the
Islander Daily Times
a Prix Honorré for Investigative Journalism, and a cash bonus and promotion for the young reporter.

Willer later wrote a non-fiction book,
The Junno Range Wars: Earned Peace?
, and this too was awarded a Prix Honorré, in the category of Literature of Neutrality.

Currency: all trade on Junno is conducted with the use of convertible bonds, but we have been unable to discover what money would be used by travellers. We assume that the Archipelagian simoleon would be acceptable, and perhaps it would be possible to convert money at the point of entry.

Keeilen

GREY SORENESS

Close to the southern continent, Sudmaieure, K
EEILEN
was originally developed as a neutral garrison island. The idea at the time was to encourage the forces of the opposing belligerent powers to use this bleak, remote and previously unpopulated island as a base, rather than have them force the use of the more densely populated civilian islands elsewhere. Two large bases were partially built, at opposite ends of the island, encouraging occupation, but although Keeilen came to be used as a port of call, for refuelling, picking up supplies and so on, the garrison buildings were never used.

Later, the Keeilen authorities converted one of the sites into a civilian high-security prison. A tidal-flood cell was readied and set aside for Kerith Sington, the vicious killer of the much-loved mime artiste, Commis, but he was sentenced to death, so the cell was never needed. As it had remained unused for more than a hundred years, it was allowed to revert to its wild state. The prison was later downgraded to Category 2, for long-term as opposed to high-security prisoners.

Keeilen is free of mountains, but the south-eastern zone is a high plain, exposed to southerly gales. The bitter wind of the winter, the C
ONLAATTEN
, brings heavy snowfall for several months. Modern settlements are in the northern quarter of the island, where there is some shelter from the cold.

Keeilen Town, the administrative centre, is where most of the prison officers and other staff have their homes. There is some manufacturing industry and a small fishing fleet ventures out when the sea is not frozen. It is a cheerless, wind-blown place where rain or sleet often fall. The sun is rarely seen. The sky remains dark and cinereous for most of the year. In the interior of the island there is mining of a deep seam of coal.

Because of its location so close to the southern mainland, Keeilen is a common first stopping-off place for soldiers trying to desert from the war fronts. The Covenant of Neutrality defines shelterate provisions, under which deserters are guaranteed a safe haven should they manage to reach any of the free Archipelago islands of their own volition. Traditionally, Keeileners make these desperate and unhappy young people welcome, but strictly speaking Keeilen is not a free island, as defined in the Covenant.

Because of the recent upsurge in hostilities, and thus because of a greater number of deserters, islands such as Keeilen have been experiencing problems with housing and employment. Now there is an unofficial policy of encouraging deserters to move on to other islands. Many stay, though, and as a result escouades of black-caps are often seen scouring the island. This is a breach of the Covenant, but there seems little the people can do.

Visitors are welcome because Keeilen is not a wealthy place, but in truth there are few attractions. For fell walkers the southern cliff do provide a harsh challenge, but it is dangerous to move away from the marked viewpoints. The cliffs should not be attempted during winter as there are no emergency or rescue services on the island. The former tidal-flood punishment cells are well worth a visit, but only at low tide. Again, great care should be taken. Tunnelling is allowed on Keeilen, and there is a practice area close to the coal mines. Local architecture is vernacular; what few public buildings there are were built in the masonic style.

Currencies: Archipelagian simoleon; Ganntenian credit.

Lanna

TWO HORSE

Set alone in the tropics north of the Equator, L
ANNA
is swept daily by the hot trade winds from the horse latitudes. Bisected north to south by a range of high mountains, comprising several extinct volcanoes, the island enjoys two distinct climates.

The eastern side, which receives the prevailing winds, has a varied terrain, some of it desert, some thick forest – the slopes of the mountains on that side are steep and bare. Two or three of the peaks are favoured by climbers and fell walkers because of the challenges they present and the amazing views of the Midway Sea. Every year there is an informal mountaineering convention, in which people new to the sport of climbing are given tuition on the nursery slopes, and the experts tackle the spectacular sheer faces and overhangs.

The western side of the island, in the rain-shadow of the mountains for most of the year, has a hot, dry climate tempered by spells of heavy rain in every spring. Then that side of Lanna is carpeted with a profusion of wild flowers, bringing visitors from many of the adjacent islands to enjoy the brief awakening to summer.

Lanna Town, a port on the westernmost side, has a natural harbour in the bay against which it was built. Although there is a modern section of the town, where banks and insurance companies provide local jobs, it is in the Old Town of Lanna that poets, painters and composers have congregated. There in the narrow streets, many of them climbing steeply up the hills from the harbourside, is a warren of small houses and studios which may be rented inexpensively.

It was to one of these that the brilliant Muriseayan poet Kal Kapes and his new young wife, Sebenn, moved late one winter. After a short period in which they settled in to their new house Kapes sent a message to his close friend Dryd Bathurst, inviting him to Lanna to see the display of flowers for himself.