Currencies: Archipelagian simoleon; Ganntenian credit.
Lanna
TWO HORSE
Set alone in the tropics north of the Equator, LANNA 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.
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, LUICE 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 KIRUK AKHISER, 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.