Episode 47
Travelling Light E047S02 Transcript
[Title music: rhythmic electronic folk.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light: Episode Forty Seven.
[The music fades out.]
The Traveller
Entry DM85022-1. A discussion of the stories told of Ar Lethlín in the Ionad System.
Keywords: Ar Lethlín; galactic history; Ionad System; myths and legends; oral literature.
Notes:
It took me almost two months of living in Clanagh before I was able to visit the local bookshop. Whenever I walked past it upon the high street, no matter the day or the time of day, I was met with a locked door and no signs of life within.
This is, of course, entirely in keeping with what I would expect from a second-hand bookseller. I have never met a group of alleged business-people less inclined to do business. Still, I did feel a little hard done by, having such pleasure so close to hand and yet so impossible to reach.
So, when I walked past one morning and found the door ajar, I was over the threshold before I had finished reading the OPEN sign.
It was everything a bookshop ought to be – full of sun-warmed dust, with the books stacked two deep on rickety shelves that lined every wall from floor to ceiling.
After a very happy while rummaging through the stacks, I came across a section dedicated to local legends and folklore. Or rather, to one legend in particular – the creature known as Ar Lethlín.
Tales of Ar Lethlín are not limited to Kerrin. Stories are told of the creature throughout the Ionad System. And, as with any widely told tale, the details differ vastly in each telling.
From the pages of Secrets of Ar Lethlín by Asat nar Morran, came this account:
“Ar Lethlín's rippling, serpentine body slides through the black like a shadow against shadows. Its skin is so dark, it reflects none of the Great Rálta's light and goes unseen, unheard, unsuspected. It slinks between the system's desolate moons, glimpsed only rarely by those few sailors who cross its path…”
A Pan-System Encyclopaedia of Mythic Beasts reports that, “The local people are emphatic that in certain corners of the system there dwells an enormous creature that they name Ar Lethlín, the Lone Figure, which they say has the jaws of a dog, the eyes of a man, and the tail of a gastor in flight.”
Most of the accounts speak of a single creature. But in a self-published pamphlet entitled My Truth and What Ought Be Done About It, Carlin Devers of Banach Precinct reported sighting no less than seven creatures in the black around Cahu Station.
“They moved fast as a solar skiff but even faster,” Carlin writes, “zipping around in flashes of white and green. But only one intelligence controlled them, one brain doing all the work. They moved in sync, like synchronised swimmer but in space and the swimmers were much weirder.”
Echoes of Ionad, meanwhile, offered a glimpse of a culture that understood Ar Lethlín as a force to be respected as well as feared. It told of a legend from the small moon of Clonarty, about a hauler captain whose ship ran afoul of unexplained equipment failures and was thrown dramatically off course.
The captain – a Kerrinite person – began to charge the ship's broad-field pulse in hopes of driving the creature off. The Clonarty ship-mates begged the captain not to use the weapon, saying that the creature would let the ship be if only they made the proper rites. But to no avail.
The captain sent out the pulse, and the ship's systems were restored. But the Clonarty sailors warned that the captain would suffer for their act of violence. Soon enough, the captain fell ill, their condition deteriorating until, mere days after the incident, they died – of no cause the ship's doctor could ascertain.
Finally, I picked up a volume written by one Osínin na Ladhard. It had the rather unwieldy title Early Narratives of the Peoples of the Ionad Region, and painted an entirely different picture.
“The creature's conceptual roots are evident in the name it yet bears,” read one striking paragraph. “Ar Lethlín is often translated as 'the Lonely One' or 'the Solitary One'. However, it is better rendered as 'the One Who Stands Apart'.
“Ar Lethlín is an expression of the Ionad religious concept of incomplete transcendence. It lurks in the middle ground of Ionad cosmology – neither in the world – upon a planet, a moon, or a station – nor in the heavenly realm of the gods, but trapped evermore in the liminality of the black.”
It was a fascinating idea, and I would have gladly read on much further. But at that moment, I was interrupted.
A small, round person with very large eyes – or perhaps spectacles – stumbled out of the stacks and blinked at me.
“What are you doing?” they demanded.
“Uh. Reading?” Then, remembering where I was, “Browsing. Looking for something to buy?”
“Buy?! Buy a book? One of my books?”
“More than one, I am afraid.” I patted the little pile I had made as I perused the shelves. The person scowled at it. After a long silence I asked, “You are the proprietor?”
They let out an enormous sigh, as if they had been caught out. They still did not look at me, shifting from foot to foot, weighing their choices. Then they sighed again, and reached for the pile.
“You can't have this one,” they said, snatching one of the novels. “Not this, or this! You can't have any of these!” they said, gesturing at the entire Ar Lethlín section.
“Oh, I would like-” I tried to object, but they cut me off.
“No. Mine. Not for sale. Get your own!”
[laughing] “I am trying to get my own!” I said, laughing despite myself.
The bookseller did not laugh with me. They glanced up at me and away, their mouth twisting in frustration. Again, that bobbing, side to side dance as they considered their options.
Finally, they plucked the Devers pamphlet from the shelf.
[sighing] “This one. If you must.”
“I would prefer this,” I said, holding up the copy of na Ladhard's Early Narratives.
They waved their hands in furious capitulation and fairly ran to the till to ring me up, handing over my new books with a look of raw regret.
I had barely stepped outside and was about to turn back to thank them when the door slammed shut behind me, the lights already dimmed, and the sign flipped firmly to CLOSED.
[The sound of the data stick whirring fades in, cutting out when the data stick is removed with a click.]
The Traveller
22nd Dima 850
To the community at Emerraine, who carry the Light.
It is always incredible to me, the quickening effect of making a decision. In the week or so since I decided to take a trip away from Clanagh, my plans have come together with remarkable speed.
It was the same, I remember, when I set out from Emerraine. Months of reflection as we discerned whether or not I ought to travel at all – and then, almost as soon as we decided I would go, I was gone.
At the time, I took it as a good sign. It felt like proof that we had made the right decision – that the universe was giving way so I might forge the proper path.
I think the same is happening here. I cannot stay in Clanagh. Or not yet. I need… more.
[laughing nervously] Uh, not that I am leaving forever, of course! This is just a break. A short trip to clear my head and reassess my priorities. I shall be back before I know it!
I have chosen Cahu Station for my little holiday. It is a larger facility than one might expect in a system as relatively small and out of the way as Ionad. But most of the planets simply do not have the infrastructure to support trade without it.
Kerrin Port is the largest port in Ionad System, and I do not believe it could berth any vessel much bigger than the Tola. Scarry and his crew would have had to leave the Guillemot in port at Cahu and come by shuttle down to the planet itself.
Such is the way for most merchant haulers and trading ships. They dock at Cahu Station and sell their wares to in-system merchants, who then ship them out to various planets and moons of the system on far smaller vessels.
It was Ranaí who suggested Cahu for my visit. He mentioned it over dinner one night. He and I have not suddenly become bosom friends, but we have found our way to a sort of restrained, mutual tolerance.
We have done so largely on Óli's behalf. They are fond of Ranaí and wished to make good on their offer to have him round for dinner. And so, he came.
It was not the boisterous, convivial affair of hosting Sinséar and their wife, Clia. I do not think Ranaí is ever boisterous. He is always so unflappable, like a big, pipe-smoking boulder.
“He is just sure of himself,” said Óli as we discussed the evening over the washing up.
It is really a sight, Óli in their dinner party finery and a pair of rubber gloves, the sleeves of their gown rolled up to keep out of the suds. I felt very soft, looking at them and not only from the wine we had with dinner.
It was late enough that it had grown dark outside, but the light within the kitchen was warm and golden, glinting off their jewellery. Making them glow.
“He reminds me a bit of Duytren,” they went on, pulling me back to the moment.
“You never cared for Duytren,” I pointed out, picking up the plate they had just set aside and starting to dry it.
Óli pulled a face. “It was… complicated. I did not like feeling beholden to her. And there was a-a swagger to her bearing that… [sighs] Oh, well. It is not very refined.”
“If refinement is your measure of acceptability, I must be on very thin ice.”
They shot me a wry look, eyes twinkling. “You are a lost cause. But under the swagger, you could see she really believed in herself. She never hesitated. Ranaí is a bit like that, I think. He is not arrogant. Only sure of himself. [beat] What? What are you smiling at?”
[laughs softly] “I am thinking of Kerrin Port,” I said, “when you strode in and faced down Scarry and his crew.”
They let out a sudden, undignified snort of laughter. [snorting] “That! That was just bluster. I was terrified! No, that was just playing a part.”
“It suited you.”
I had been putting the plate away as I said it, and with them still facing the sink, I could not see their expression. But I caught the twitch of muscle at the back of their neck, as if they were resisting the urge to duck their head and blush.
I stood for a moment, just watching them. Taking in the elegant sweep of their shoulders. The vulnerable patch of skin at the nape of their neck.
Words unsaid crowded against my teeth, wanting so badly to be set loose. I have wanted to say something for a long time now. More and more, since we came here.
But then Óli was speaking again, changing the subject, telling me about a bursary Ornush is helping them apply to so they can support themselves through their studies. I swallowed my words, letting the moment drop.
They are at such an important juncture of their life. They have so much going on – their separation from their parents, beginning their education afresh, learning how to build a life for themselves. It would be no kindness to add to the pile.
Besides, they prefer to leave things unsaid. Theirs is a far less direct culture than ours, and they often communicate through implication and inference. I will bite my tongue and let them read my thoughts and feelings through my actions. They will know what I mean, without my clumsy efforts to say it out loud.
And when I come back from Cahu, who knows. Perhaps we will discuss these matters. [beat] Perhaps.
[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 a submission by The Menagerie. 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 spend time with Óli before their trip by staying up late the night before they leave, or by getting up in the morning to get breakfast together? 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]
--END TRANSCRIPT--
