Episode 44
Travelling Light E44S02 Transcript
H.R. Owen
Hello friends, Hero here, just popping in to tell you all about Eeler's Choice, a maritime horror fantasy perfect for fans of The Silt Verses and Hello From The Hallowoods. The show is currently fundraising for their second season, so stick around to the end of the credits to hear their trailer or see the show-notes for more details.
[Title music: rhythmic electronic folk.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light: Episode Forty Four.
[The music fades out.]
The Traveller
27th Savna 850
To the community at Emerraine, who carry the Light.
I have been thinking of you all a great deal today. I was at worship this morning, which always makes me think of you.
No matter how unlikely it is, given the vastness of time and space that lies between us, still I cannot help but imagine us all at worship together at the same time – I in Clanagh, and you in the temple where I grew up. It is a comforting thought, however fantastical.
After the service, I was in the forecourt taking tea and making conversation – nothing so unusual. Óli had remained at the cottage, and so I was alone.
N-no, not alone. I was with the community, of course! I only meant that- Óli was not there, that is all.
[sighs] Regardless, I fell into conversation with Ranaí, of whom I have already told you, and an older community member named Ornush, who happens to work at the local educational centre teaching archaeology. Naturally, this made me think of Tsabec and the dig on Doyino and about Óli's burgeoning interest in the field.
We talked a while and… Well. I suppose at some point I mentioned… [sighs] Oh, it was foolish of me. I just did not think!
I mentioned the trade that the crew of the Tola had engaged in. The trade in artefacts. [clears throat] The smuggling.
Ornush did not seem at first to understand what I was saying. “Artefacts?” they repeated. “What sort of artefacts?”
“I am not sure,” I admitted. “There was a helmet? But I do not remember the details.”
“Well, where did they come from?”
“I think they mostly traded with private collectors,” I said, suddenly uncertain.
Ornush tutted. [tuts] “Not the owners,” they said. “I mean, the people these artefacts belonged to. The originators, the-the creators.”
“I… do not know,” I confessed, feeling the ground of the conversation slipping slowly out from beneath me. “There were experts on the team, they reassured me that they never dealt in anything that anyone would be upset about.”
I trailed off, realising this did not sound as reassuring as it had when I was aboard the Tola. Certainly Ranaí was not appeased.
“They told you that? The people doing the smuggling?”
“Well, no. Yes. But they are good people. They were not doing anything…”
“Illegal?” Ranaí prompted.
“Immoral,” I said.
“How do you know? You didn't even think to ask where the objects came from.”
It was not intended as an insult. I almost wish it was. It was more painful, far more painful, to hear the frank dismissal in Ranaí's voice, as if I were a person too foolish and self-deluding to even be worth the conversation.
“They were my friends,” I said hotly. “They would not- You are accusing-”
“I am not accusing anyone,” said Ranaí, with infuriating calm. “I am repeating the facts you yourself have told us: that these people, whom you call your friends, and whom you knew for all of six months, were regularly trading cultural artefacts on the black market.”
I opened my mouth to say something, though I know not what, and Ornush interrupted.
“Come, Ranaí,” they said, laying a hand on his arm. “I'm sure our friend here was guided by the Light. Let us leave the matter be, for now.”
Ranaí did not look as if he believed the Light had anything to do with it. Still, he let Ornush lead him away, leaving me standing there, hot-cheeked and near trembling with emotion.
I left the temple soon after. I meant to go straight home, but found my feet taking me along one of the footpaths into the countryside. It is a walk I have done many times, an easy climb through the woods and up onto one of the hills beyond.
It did not help my mood. I was embarrassed and angry – furious! To be called out in that fashion, put down as if I were a child who does not know my own business. As if I could not possibly have weighed the issues at hand for myself and judged by my own lights what the best path might be. [sighs]
It took a long time for my anger to cool. Every time it started to ebb, I would think again of Ranaí's words, of his cold, contemptuous expression, and feel my emotions surging once more.
Oh, I wish- [sighs] I wish I was with you all! I wish I could speak with you. One hour of rational conversation with people whose wisdom I trust! [sighs] People who know me. And love me.
People, frankly, who would not hesitate to call me fool if I have been one, and whom I could hear it from without rancour.
[sighs] I spent the rest of the day finding odd jobs to do around the cottage. Óli took themselves off to the pub after a while, declaring it would be more restful there than sitting at home with me banging about the place.
They think I am just bored – that it is the same restlessness that got into me whenever the Tola was too long in the black. They are not wrong, I suppose. I am bored. But it is more than that, I fear.
Every day, I watch as Óli throws themselves into this life with their whole heart. They came back from the pub earlier with a jar of honey from the landlady's beehives, and plans to help her collect the next batch when it is ready. They are even going to join the choir.
I told them about Ornush's work at the educational centre, and they are talking of perhaps enrolling in some classes there. They are making plans. Making friends. And I am delighted for them – I am!
They have everything ahead of them – a new life waiting for them to shape is as they will, after so many years living under the stifling constraints of their childhood.
But I look at my life here and all have is... Óli. [sighs]
I need- Oh, I do not know what I need! I need something to do. I need to make friends here. I need to get out of here. [sighs] I need to go to bed.
I will write soon. I love you all. And the next time you are at worship, think of me, standing along side you – however far away I may be.
[The click of a data stick being inserted into a drive that whirs as it reads]
The Traveller
Entry 850SV27-1. A discussion with a fellow archivist of the faith.
Key words: children and infants; Clanagh; community; interview; Kerrin.
Notes:
I was walking one day through Clanagh when I came upon a child at the side of the road. Nie was young, several years off from nir gender declaration, and sat upon an upturned fruit box behind a desk fashioned from two crates and a plank.
Upon the desk was a sign. 'Interviews available,' it read, with a great deal of creativity in the spelling.
I have seen the child at the temple a few times, fidgeting in nir seat when the children rejoin the main congregation for the final part of the service. Nie was writing something on a portable notation device when I approached, nir stylus scribbling across the screen with furious intensity.
“Hello,” I said. Nie did not look up. I tried again. “Your name is Galín, is it not?”
Galín held up one hand in a gesture which would have been more at home in a corporate boardroom. Finally, nie finished writing and deigned to look at me.
“50p a go,” nie said brusquely. “One go per person, unless you're really interesting, then you can go again.”
“Hold on – you mean I would be paying you to interview me?”
“Obviously. I don't do this out of the goodness of my own heart.”
“But why should I want to be interviewed in the first place? 50p is not nothing. I want to know I am getting value for money.”
Nie let out a long-suffering sigh. [sighs] “You pay me because one day, I am going to be a great archivist, and you shall have your interview included among my works. That is a high honour. Or it will be, later, when I have made myself something. Besides,” they added primly, “it's for the community.”
I know from my own experience as a child of the faith that 'it is for the community' is a phrase that only ever accompanies the most drudging chores – sweeping the temple forecourt, washing up after grandmother's discussion group, polishing the tea service. It was something, to hear the phrase turned against me once again.
“You know,” I said, pulling out a spare fruit box and taking a seat, “I am an archivist myself.”
Galín eyed me warily. “You don't look like an archivist.”
“What is an archivist supposed to look like?”
[sighs] “Well you don't look like our archivist. He is tall and strong and has colours in his braids and he tells all the best stories.”
“I am not as tall as Ranaí,” I admitted. “That is true. But I am still an archivist. That is how I came to be here. I am travelling for my community back on Serran.”
“Where's Serran?” nie said.
“Oh, a very long way off. Half a galaxy away. I could tell you about it, if you want.”
Immediately, Galín's face fell, stern and unwavering. “50p! Cash or transfer?”
“Perhaps we could swap? One archivist to the other. Then your story shall be in the archive on Serran. That would be an honour, would it not? Even if I am not so glamorous as Ranaí.”
“I don't have anything to tell,” nie said. “I've not done anything yet.”
“You have grown up here,” I said. “I would like to know about that, if you would tell me.”
Galín sat for a moment, considering. Then, they said.
[sighing] “Alright. Fair swap.”
Nie began by taking my photograph. Then nie had me recite my name, age and place of birth into nir recording device, and asked me a few cursory questions about where I lived and how I spent my days.
Then, nie fixed me with a piercing look.
“And what is your guiding principle in life?”
“Uh. Pardon?”
“Your guiding principle. How do you see the world, on a basic level?”
“I-I am not sure,” I said. “Do people usually have an answer for that?”
Doubt crept into Galín's expression. “I think so? They must. That is what an archive is for – to capture the world's ways of seeing itself.”
It was an oddly formal phrase, and had the sound of recitation about it.
“Did Ranaí tell you that?”
Galín nodded fervently. “He said that is the whole purpose of travelling for the faith – to see the world, and to capture the world's ways of seeing, and in so seeing, see yourself.”
It sounded a wafty, circuitous way of putting things to me, but I did not argue.
“The thing is,” I said, “most people do not just come out and tell you something like that. If you are to be a traveller for the faith, you must learn to let people tell their stories in their own fashion.”
Galín looked profoundly sceptical. “I'm supposed to ask people questions."
“That is not all we do,” I countered. "We also record the plants or animals we have seen, or the landscapes, or the clothes people wear, or-”
“But I like the stories with the people best!” Galín interrupted. “And you can't ask a plant or a landscape a question.”
I was not sure I agreed there, but decided not to confuse matters.
“I only mean that you need not to ask someone outright like that. Instead, you let their answers to other questions show you how they think about the world. For example, I might ask you what your favourite thing is to learn about at school.”
Galín did not look convinced, but answered all the same. “I like history. And Voranel,” nie added, naming a common language in this part of Kerrin. It was not the language Galín was speaking to me in and thus, I deduced, was not nir native tongue.
“And why do you like them in particular?” I prompted.
Galín shrugged. “My teachers are nice? And I like the stories. I like to hear about what people were doing all those years and years and years ago. Some of the things, we still do – like well-dressing or the Harvest Dance. But some things we don't need to any more, because we have washing machines and the comms office.”
“I see. And what do you like about learning Voranel?"
[sighs] “I don't know! It's just good. It's nice to be able to talk to people even if you forgot to wear your translator, or if they don't have one or something.
“And sometimes the words are the same, which is fun. Or sometimes they look the same but they mean different things. [tuts] I don't know!” nie said again, exasperated. “It's just good! But what has that to do with anything at all?”
“It has everything to do with it,” I said. “The way you answered those questions tells me more about you and your life, and your community, than you think.
“You have told me that your community keeps some traditions like the well dressing and the Harvest Dance, even while they have replaced others with new technology. You have told me that your community values the past enough to make sure young people learn about it at school.
“You have also told me that enough of your neighbours speak Voranel – and perhaps only Voranel – that it is important and useful for you to learn, even though you may use a translator device in other circumstances. And you have told me a great deal about yourself, too.
“Everything you have said about the stories you like, the reasons you like your classes, even the way you are sitting here today tells me that you care very much about other people.
“You are somebody who wants to reach out and connect with others, and to find out all the ways you are the same as them and all the ways you are different.
“And even though you do not think you have done much of interest in your life yet, you are still a very confident, self-assured young person who is not afraid to tell the truth about what you think.
“That is quite a lot to be going on with, do you not agree?”
For a moment, Galín did not seem sure how to respond. Nir face twisted this way and that as nie considered, banging nir feet thoughtfully against the side of the fruit box nie sat on.
[sighing] “Fine! That was good, I suppose.”
“You are welcome. Now, I must get on and leave you to your archiving.”
“Not much of an archive,” nie said. “You're the first person to stop all morning.”
“Have you considered perhaps lowering your price? Nope, never mind,” I said quickly, seeing Galín's immediate, horrified expression.
“Your friend with the earrings is from even further away than you, aren't they? Can you tell them to talk to me?”
“I can ask,” I said. “But I should warn you – they have no money.”
Galín looked rueful. “Tell them… [tuts and sighs] Tell them they can talk to me for free. But only because they are from so far off!”
“I shall pass it on. Do you know, Galín, I think you have all the makings of a very fine archivist indeed.”
Finally, for the first time since our conversation had begun, Galín smiled – a big happy kid smile, like the sun bursting through clouds.
“Just like Ranaí!” nie said, delighted.
[sighing] “Just like Ranaí,” I agreed.
[Title music: rhythmic instrumental folk. It plays throughout the closing credits.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light was created by H.R. Owen and Matt McDyre, and is a Monstrous Productions podcast. This episode was written and performed by H.R. Owen.
This week’s entry to the archives was based on an idea by Matt McDyre. You can see Matt's illustration for the entry on our social media accounts.
If you've got an idea for the archive, we want to hear it. We accept anything from a one line prompt to a fully written entry through our website, by email, or on social media. For more information, see the show notes.
This episode includes an audience decision. Should the Traveller join the choir practice and spend time with the community, or clear their head with a day trip away? Vote by making a donation at ko-fi.com/monstrousproductions.
Our tiers start at £1 a month, with all supporters getting access to bonus art, annotated scripts, weekly blogs, and an invitation to the Monstrous Productions Discord server.
This podcast is distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. The theme tune is by Vinca.
[Fade to silence. Eeler's Choice trailer begins with gentle music and the sound of a fire burning in the background throughout.]
Anguille Lacehill
Esteemed Scrimchanter Laureate. Enclosed is my report on the recovery of Eskmouth after the devastating attack this spring. It has been difficult to carry on given the extent of the damage, but we are determined to rebuild.
We have struggled to retain workers due to a series unfortunate rumours that have spread about the ruins. The craftsfolk report strange whispers from the rubble, tools disappearing, feelings of being watched. All nonsense, of course, but they are determined that the place is haunted.
We are doing our best to maintain morale. The students are all holding up as bes they can in the dreadful circumstances. Many of them are with us here in the Temple of the Bone Weaver.
The Temple have graciously agreed to host us during rebuilding, for which I am eternally grateful. The rest have taken rooms around the town. I am run ragged but I will try to find time to check on your granddaughter and the family she is staying with on the east cliff.
In truth, the situation here is not as well in hand as I should like. Something feels amiss at the scrim chantry. I struggle to put my finger on it. Something in the air. A feeling like a hum in my bones.
I confess, I would like your advice on the matter of rebuilding. The principle adept left some very large shoes for me to fill. Adept Selvage has been helping but has his hands full caring for the students' welfare. As such, he is not always available to assist me.
If you can spare any of your valuable time to visit us, it would be greatly appreciated. Yours sincerely, Principal Adept Anguille Lacehill.
Announcer
Eeler's Choice Season Two is crowd-funding May 2025 and will return to Eskmouth later in 2025.
--END TRANSCRIPT--
