The Islanders Read online

  The only solution would be for mapping to be conducted on a scientific or consistent basis, concentrating on small or local areas, drawn at ground level or from an extremely low altitude, then combined by some central authority so as to produce a comprehensive worldwide map. Until comparatively recently no attempt on this mammoth task has been made. You will read about the modern efforts in this gazetteer. Maybe they will enlighten you, as they have enlightened me, although not by much.

  The present-day cartographers use low-level aerial photography of the highest visual quality, but again because of the gravitational anomalies it has proved impossible to send out these pilotless aeroplanes in any planned or consistent way. The results are haphazard and random and it will be many years before anything approaching a definitive atlas of our world is produced. Until then the picture remains unclear and everyone continues to meander around in a way that is typical of islanders.

  * * *

  The dream-state of the Archipelago, which is what we islanders most respond to, and least wish to see changed, seems likely to continue without interference for a long time to come.

  We are not at war because we have no disputes. We do not spy on each other because we are trusting and incurious. We travel short distances because we can see other islands around where we live and our ambitions are satisfied by going there. We rarely travel long distances for the same general reason. We invent gadgets and leisure activities and pastimes without purpose, because that is what we like to do. We paint and draw and sculpt, we write adventurous and fantastic literature, we speak in metaphors and we designate symbols, we act out the plays of our forefathers. We brag about our past glories and we hope for a better life ahead. We love conversation and sitting around, good food and passionate affairs, standing on beaches, swimming in the warm seas, drinking ourselves into contentment, sitting under the stars. We start making things then forget to finish them. We are articulate and talkative, but we only quarrel for the excitement of it. We are guilty of self-indulgence, irrational behaviour, illogical arguments, sometimes indolence, a musing state of mind.

  Our palette of emotional colours is the islands themselves and the mysterious sea channels that churn between them. We relish our sea breezes, our regular monsoons, the banks of piling clouds that dramatize the seascapes, the sudden squalls, the colour of the light reflecting from the dazzling sea, the lazy heat, the currents and the tides and the unexplained gales, and on the whole prefer not to know whence they have come, nor whither they are destined.

  * * *

  As for this book, I declare that it will do no harm.

  It is in fact to be commended. It is a typical island enterprise: it is incomplete, a bit muddled and it wants to be liked. The unidentified writer or writers of these brief sketches have an agenda which is not mine, but I do not object to it.

  I did not write this book, although there have already been rumours that I did. This is the moment to aver that there is no truth in the rumours. I am in fact sceptical of the whole enterprise while liking it a great deal.

  The book is arranged in alphabetical order and it is intended that it should be read in that order. However, as most people are supposedly expected to use it as a work of reference, or as a travel guide, then the order in which the articles have been placed is completely irrelevant. I do maintain, though, that few will be able to ‘use’ this book in the way it is presumably intended, so the alphabet is as good a basis as any from which to start.

  One of the reasons for its lack of usefulness is something the reader should be warned about. Not every entry here is strictly factual. I found it surprising that in some cases the islands are described not by their physical characteristics, but by narratives concerning events that took place on them or people who did something while there. There is always a lot to be said for indirect truth, for metaphors, but if you are looking up a hotel in which you might wish to reserve a room, you probably do not want to read instead a biography of the proprietor. There is altogether too much of this kind of thing, but it is for some reason the chosen method of these gazetteers. I find it rather charming, but as a non-traveller I am always much more interested in the lives of hotel proprietors than I am in the rooms they have for rent.

  Finally, it seems to me innocuous and even attractive to be urging travel to so many places at once, but it is in fact pointless when so few readers will act on the recommendation.

  Any direction or travel plan within the Dream Archipelago more ambitious than being ferried across to the next island is usually a matter of guesswork or hazard. Because of the mapping problem, if you seek to land on any of the islands recommended by this gazetteer you will almost invariably turn up somewhere else. Furthermore, should you attempt to return whence you came, your difficulties will multiply.

  Our history has largely been created by adventurers and entrepreneurs who arrived somewhere other than on the island they sought. The ones who landed where they intended frequently found that matters were not as they expected. Our history is full of people going, becoming confused, and then coming back or wandering off somewhere else.

  Even so, finding any of these attractive places by chance, as that is the only way to appreciate them fully, will be a reward in itself, so it is my view that the foreknowledge these gazetteers are so keen to impart will always be irrelevant.

  Prepare yourself by all means for the no doubt maddening and illogical local currency, be warned of the sometimes inexplicable local laws, know in advance the best spot from which to observe a cathedral, a mountain, or a group of mendicant artists, discover the patois name for the forest through which you plan to dawdle, brush up your knowledge of ancient arguments and abandoned diggings and installations of art, because you must be ready for anything that might occur.

  None of it is real, though, because reality lies in a different, more evanescent realm. These are only the names of some of the places in the archipelago of dreams. The true reality is the one you perceive around you, or that which you are fortunate enough to imagine for yourself.

  Chaster Kammeston

  A GAZETTEER OF ISLANDS

  Island of Winds

  Calm Place

  Jaem Aubrac

  Rain Shadow

  Silent Rain

  Sharp Rocks

  Large Home

  Serene Depths

  Dark Home

  Her Home

  Evening Wind

  All Free

  Spoiled Sand

  Hanging Head

  Be Welcome

  Fragrant Spring

  Chill Wind

  The Seacaptain

  Peace Earned

  Grey Soreness

  Two Horse

  Remembered Love

  Half Completed

  Half Started

  Bearer of Messages

  Fast Wanderer

  The Drone

  Drifting Water

  Red Jungle

  Threshold of Love

  Big Island

  Yard of Bones

  Slow Tide

  Steep Hillside

  Followed Path

  Path Followed

  Declare

  Sing

  Spoor

  The Trace

  Hissing Waters

  Dead Tower

  The Glass

  High

  Brother

  Whistling One

  Old Ruin

  Stick for Stirring

  Cave With Echo

  Cathedral

  Dark Green

  Sir

  The Descant

  AAY

  ISLAND OF WINDS

  AAY is the largest of an arc of volcanic islands formed by the undersea Great Southern Ridge, close to the point where it crosses the Equator. It is known throughout the Dream Archipelago by the patois version of its name, ISLAND OF WINDS.

  It lies a few degrees north of the Equator, at the furthest extremity of the arc. Aay’s interior is dominated by three volcanic peaks, al
l presently dormant, as well as a series of lower foothills. The soil is extremely fertile. The island is heavily forested and there are still areas of the interior on the southern and western sides which are as yet unexplored. Two main rivers flow from the uplands towards the east, the Aayre and the Pleuve, which irrigate the coastal plain on that side of the island. A wide variety of crops and livestock are farmed. The principal town on the island is called Aay Port, and is in a sheltered position on the eastern side. Because of the island’s great beauty and attractive physical features, tourists visit Aay all year round – to the west and south Aay has a vast shallow lagoon enclosed by reefs, and on the northern side, open to the sea, several of the beaches receive high surf. The tropical climate is pleasantly moderated by trade winds.

  For all its tourist attractions, Aay is properly renowned as the location of the ACADEMY OF THE FOUR WINDS, which was set up two and a half centuries ago by the artist-philosopher ESPHOVEN MUY.

  As a young woman, Muy was an enthusiastic traveller. She moved extensively around the Archipelago, sailing in small boats between many of the islands which lie between the horse latitudes and the doldrums, sketching and photographing what she saw and keeping a detailed journal. Her motives at first were wholly recreational or artistic, but as she travelled more she began making connections that were part inspirational, part delineative and interpretative, part social or anthropological, part mythological. For a while she made recordings of folk narratives and songs, and she kept detailed notes about the various different island patois in use.

  She later wrote a two-volume work called Islands in the Dream: Undercurrents of life in the Archipelagian Neutral Zone, based on her notes and sketches. Although this was intended for an academic audience, a shortened version which followed a few years later became a mainstream title which sold strongly year after year. It permanently established her reputation and provided her with a solid income for the remainder of her life.

  By the time the book was selling well, Muy had moved to the island of Aay. She spent the first twelve months observing, measuring and recording the geophysical nature of the island, as she had in other places. Her discovery about Aay was that its unique position and subsea geography place it directly adjacent to the two main oceanic currents. It is these that create its characteristic microclimate.

  Muy noted that to the north and west of the island flows the warm current known as the NORTH FAIAND DRIFT, while to the south and east is the cold current called the SOUTHERN OSCILLATING STREAM.

  These two oceanic currents are both parts of the global ‘conveyor belt’. The Drift gains its warmth from a long circuitous passage through the tropical and subtropical regions of the Midway Sea. After passing the Aayian arc it separates into two channels, the smaller one continuing through the equatorial regions of the Midway Sea, but the larger and slower branch turning northwards and bringing a temperate climate to the southern areas of many countries on the northern continent.

  The two channels are eventually reunited in a deepwater area of the Southern Midway Sea, the remainder of the warmth being released in a zone of intense storms. The current then becomes known as the Southern Oscillating Stream and passes through the icy oceans that surround Sudmaieure, where the salinity is much lower than average due to the amount of fresh water entering the sea from glacier calving.

  Regaining salinity, the Stream moves slowly on towards the far side of the globe. It gradually sinks towards the deep ocean floor, passes far beneath the smaller of the two warm branches, then at last turns through a gyre and heads north towards the shallower stretches of the Archipelagian Midway Sea. It is still significantly cooler than the surrounding waters as it passes close against the Aayian arc of islands. Beyond Aay it turns east to meander through the main concentration of islands, tempering and cooling the more extreme aspects of the tropical latitudes, while starting to regain some heat for itself.

  In this way, the island of Aay is uniquely impacted by two oceanic drifts, to the north and south, one warm, the other cool.

  The currents were of course known to local people before Muy carried out her research – crude depictions of them appear on fishing charts that pre-date her birth by several centuries – but it was she who made the connection between the currents and the variety of winds that vent across the island all year round.

  As well as the mild trade winds, moving in steadily from the north-east and south-east, Aay receives irregular winds from every quarter. Two major winds prevail, each brought in by the energy of the underlying ocean current: a rain-bearing breeze from the warm north-east, watering the land, enriching the forests and filling the lakes and rivers, and a cooler, fresher wind from the south-west, raising high the surf on the northern beaches, ripening the crops, sweeping protective cumulus from the skies and parching the summer streets and resorts.

  When these winds meet, most often at night, violent and spectacular electric storms play around the summits of the central heights. Tornadoes cross the coastal plain at such times. But as well as these expectable winds there are many others, intermittent, surprising. Some arise from the hot flat islands to the north of Aay, others from the lagoons of the shallows to the south-east. One, bearing the heady scents of pines and resin, idles down from the northern mainland.

  There is a föhn wind that prevails in the cooler months, sweeping from the summit of the mountains, through the high valleys and across the towns and river estuaries, bringing a seasonal island-wide lethargy and inanition. The suicide rate increases, people depart Aay to find other homes, tourists suddenly leave without explanation.

  Less disruptive of everyday life, an equinoctial stream from the east precedes the autumnal gales, but seems not to be a part of them because it brings gritty air and a residue of fine sand to be left on the streets and roofs.

  No one before Esphoven Muy had attempted to trace the sources of these winds, nor even take enough interest to try to find out which other islands they traversed, but she studied them and tried to distinguish one from the other. After a time she was able to make reasonably accurate forecasts of when they would arrive and the effect they would have on temperatures, rainfall, and so on.

  The people who lived and worked on Aay began to depend on her forecasts. Other meteorologists, learning about her work, came to the island to meet Muy, to study with her, to seek her advice, to share ideas. That was how the Academy of the Four Winds was eventually set up, although for the first few years it was an institution that existed more in name than in bricks and mortar. It was informally based around Muy’s house in Aay Port, then later in temporary buildings on the edge of town. Today, the Academy is established in a magnificent campus close to the centre of the Port. Wind turbines, the first to be erected in the Archipelago, are scattered discreetly about Aay, generating enough electricity for everyone on the island.

  Once the winds of Aay had been identified and named, the Academy moved on to collect data about other winds experienced all over the Archipelago. The Academy was soon funded by the meteorological forecasts it produced, and to this day holds major contracts with industrial corporations, farming cooperatives, drilling companies, vineyards, tourism and sports promoters, and hundreds of other institutions with a vested interest in the predicted arrival of winds, seasonal or otherwise. In addition, the Academy has a less transparent source of income, unadvertised but never denied, from the many military and naval bodies which use or traverse the Midway Sea.

  However, weather forecasting was never Muy’s first interest. She charged the Academy with a purpose: the study of wind formation, of wind identification, of the social and mythological relevance of wind. The currents of air made up her universe.

  The Academy is divided into several different faculties.

  Astronomical and Mythological – the names or actions of gods, of heroes and explorers, of gallant feats of bravery, of epic tasks performed, of blessings and beatitudes bestowed. Thus, for example: the bleak polar wind that sweeps through the steep and un
explored valleys of the Western Fastness of the Sudmaieure continent is known to the islanders in that offshore area as the CONLAATTEN, named after Conlaatt, an ancient deity of the south whose breath was reputed to freeze victims to death. (In common with almost every wind in the Archipelago, the Conlaatten is known by other names in other contexts, and there are several patois names for it too.)

  Natural World – winds that are named after the effect, benign or otherwise, on plants, animals, birds, insects, etc. Thus: the LENFEN, a breeze related to the island of Fellenstel, which every springtime carries young gossamer spiders to many different parts of the Archipelago. The WOTON is a wind that is said to hasten or ease the migratory passage of birds from south to north. Its companion or opposite wind, blowing a few months later, is called in the vernacular the NOTOW.

  Anthropomorphism – winds which are described as having human characteristics: gentleness, jealousy, mischief-making, anger, mirth, pain, love, revenge, etc. Many of these winds are identified from folklore, or the oral tradition, and exist under a maze of different patois names. Some are related to necromancy (below). One area of learning is called Subjective Anthropomorphism, which collects data on the influence of winds on the human psyche: the föhn wind that causes depression, the sea breeze that promotes optimism and feelings of wealth, the lovers’ waft, and so on.

  Necromancy – winds which by repute are the product of evil, of witches’ brew, of disastrous attempts to weave spells, of malign or failed attempts to make a deal with the devil. Notorious amongst these is a cold north-easterly hard blow occurring every five years or so in the Hetta Group of islands. Although this is conventionally sourced in the Faiandland mountains when there has been an unusual amount of snowfall, Hettans persist in believing that it is an accursed wind they call the GOORNAK. A woman being tortured on suspicion of witchery on the Hettan island of Goorn is said to have expired with a prolonged curse on her lips. Her dying gasp was a croak of hatred. It rose from her as an icy wind, froze to death every one of her persecutors, then swept northwards to the mountains of the mainland, where it is believed it lurks forever more. Even in the present day it is said that no one on Goorn will venture outdoors when the curse wind is blowing. The Academy has so far discovered and recorded more than one hundred different curse winds in the Archipelago. Naturally, most winds of this type are identified by islanders in the less developed regions of the Archipelago, and serious study of them involves detailed researches into folkloric matters. Many of the strangest and most evocative names for winds arise from necromantic sources: the COMBINER, the POISONER, the MANTRAP, the GARGLER, the ABYSS, and so on. These winds all have scientific names: for example, the Goornak is more correctly known as the FAIANDLAND BISE.