Episode 80
Travelling Light E080S02 Transcript
H.R. Owen
Hello friends, Hero here, at the end of Season 2. As is traditional, we’re celebrating the season finale with a Q&A, so send in your questions for me or co-creator and artist Matt through the website, on social media or by email.
We’re taking a pretty hefty break from Travelling Light at the end of this. The third and final season is scheduled to kick off in the new year, probably around January. However, the submissions inbox is staying open so if inspiration strikes, feel free to send us your suggestions for the archive.
We’ll also very much be around on social media and in the Monstrous Productions Discord server. Grab your invitation by making a donation on our Ko-Fi page. In the meantime, we’ll be hard at work on our new show, The Lion and the Adder, which is due to release this autumn.
Before we start, I want to give a very special shout-out to our archive entry submitter this week. Doctor Lou Sutcliffe is a writer and composer with some serious chops. Ey did a spectacular job on this week’s entry and if you want to hear more of eir work, I really recommend Eeler’s Choice, a maritime horror fantasy perfect for fans of The Silt Verses.
Finally, thank you all so much for your support and enthusiasm this season. It’s been enormously good fun and I can’t wait to get back into it for Season 3. Now, sit back, enjoy the episode, and remember to send in your questions! We’ll see you soon.
[Title music: rhythmic electronic folk.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light: Episode Eighty.
[The music fades out.]
The Traveller
25th Nisa 851
To the community at Emerraine, who carry the Light.
Well, friends. I find myself once again writing to you from the cusp of a new adventure. In just a few hours I will leave the Tilfar system and begin my journey back to Kerrin and whatever will await me there.
I did not have long to mull over Annaliese's offer to keep me company on the first leg of my journey. She had a few more speaking engagements in Tilfar but her tour itinerary did not leave much room for delay.
I did try to talk the matter through with Scarry but he… Well. The truth of it is, he was too hurt to discuss it. He did not say so. All he would say was that the decision was mine, and I must make it myself. But I know him by now. And it is not as if I have not earnt his defensiveness.
I do not love his habit of shutting down a conversation as soon as it becomes uncomfortable! I can appreciate why he does it without appreciating that he does it.
Maybe, if we put a few months' work in together, we could break him of the impulse. But we do not have a few months. I made my decision, and sent word to Annaliese accepting her offer.
I arranged with Masha to disembark on the planet of Kalle, where the Guillemot was due to make a delivery just a few days before Annaliese's final lecture.
The lecture itself was on Kalle's moon, Mutua. I would take the shuttle from Kalle alone and spend some days on Mutua before meeting up with Annaliese at last.
Under more cheerful circumstances, I would have expected my crew-mates to be full of questions and unsolicited advice before I departed. Instead, they have taken the news with subdued acceptance – as clear a sign as any that the strain between myself and Scarry has not gone unnoticed.
But it would take more than a little social awkwardness to dampen this crew's spirits! The night before we arrived in Kalle, I came into the galley for dinner to find it decorated with paper bunting, and all my favourite foods waiting for me.
"Didn't think you were getting away without a party, did you?" Masha grinned.
"It's a bit cobbled together," Resimus said, neck fluttering, "but we wanted to give you a proper send off."
"I got you present!" Oyan blurted. They handed me a square wrapped in newspaper, about a foot on each side and two inches deep.
"It's from all of us," Masha corrected.
"But you mustn't open it now!" said Oyan. "It's bad luck to open a going away present before you go."
"On your planet, maybe," Tarlin put in.
"Luck doesn't care about planets," Oyan shot back. "Just save it for t'shuttle."
[laughing] "I will. Thank you. And thank you all for… all of this. You have been good friends to me, and I would like to-"
But the threat of a speech was too much. There was a chorus of booing, and someone – Tarlin, I think – started playing music loud enough to drown me out. [laughing] I was too full of fondness to take offence.
Scarry was at the party. He was working so hard at being cheerful, trying his best to rise to the occasion. It was almost worse than if he had sulked in his room. When he slipped out after an hour or so, I did not follow.
We landed in Kalle the next morning, all rather the worse for wear. I finished the last of my packing and had nothing else to do. But I could not leave just yet. Instead, I made my way down to the engine room one last time.
"Scarry? May I speak with you?"
His legs were all I could see, sprawling out from where he lay beneath the engine. Immediately, they tensed, as if he was bracing to leap up and escape. His tools fell silent. But he made no move to come out from where he was working.
"I haven't yet found a way to stop you from speaking," he said, voice falsely light.
"I will leave if you ask me to."
There was a long pause. Then he started working again – not an invitation for me to continue, exactly, but not a request to stop either. I took a steadying breath, focusing on what I wanted to say.
“You told me, before we spent the night together… You said no matter how things fell out between us, it would be a whole thing. I thought you were talking about the crew gossiping. But that is not what you meant. I see that now.
“You meant there was no way for it to be just a fling. You meant to tell me, being involved with you means being involved with the whole of you."
I paused, trying to find the right words. I was dimly aware the engine room had grown quiet. Scarry's tools were still. He was listening.
"This ship is your home. The crew are your family. I cannot sweep in and expect to pick and choose which parts of that I want to be part of.
"But I have tried to pick and choose. I have wanted to be part of the crew while casting judgement on your work. I have wanted your affection without taking care of your feelings. I have spent this whole trip with one foot still on Kerrin…"
In a flurry of movement, Scarry pushed himself out from under the engine and stood. He was breathing hard. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he stared at the floor, gathering himself enough to speak.
"You're a selfish wee prick!" he burst out.
The words stung, I opened my mouth to shoot something back – but then our eyes met. His expression was raw and open as a wound. I let my mouth fall shut.
Scarry tore his eyes away. He snatched up a rag, wiping his hands just to have something to do.
"You're also the most recklessly generous person I have ever met! You go around throwing your heart out at the whole galaxy. Everywhere we go, you find something to care about. Everyone you meet. And then you turn round, and you-"
He broke off, voice cracking. Shame twisted in my chest. I pressed my lips together, eyes prickling with tears.
"You turn round, and you treat me like an afterthought. Like a placeholder, keeping the spot warm until you can get back to Óli. As if you didn't run away from them to begin with!"
He looked at me, imploring me to understand. I wanted to argue, to snap back with all the defensiveness rising in my gut. [sighs] I took a breath instead, and made myself settle. I did not like what he was saying – but I could not deny it.
"I know . I have not been fair to either of you."
Scarry's shoulders slumped. I think he had expected me to argue. Without anything to fight back against, he just looked tired.
"I just don't know what you want from all this. You aren't going to join the crew, live on the Gilly the rest of your life. And I’m not asking you too, any more than you’re asking me to sell up and buy a cottage on Kerrin!”
"Annaliese says I want the whole galaxy," I offered, and was rewarded with a huff of bitter laughter.
"Aye. [sighing] Aye, that sounds about right."
He stepped forwards, closing the distance between us. I was standing on the walkway beside the engine pit, my eyes level with his for once.
"I don't care that you’re in love someone else. I've never cared about that. Saints know you've a heart big enough for two – for twenty! But you wouldn't even let me get my foot in the door. Or you would, and then you'd slam it in my face the next moment."
"I know. [sighs] I am so sorry."
He took another step, and let his head fall on my shoulder. “I’m sorry too,” he murmured, breath gentle against my neck. [sighing] “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
I held him for a long time, breathing in the familiar smell of sweat and engine oil.
"Will you come with me to the shuttle?"
"Why? You pack too much, need a hand with your bags?"
"No. I just want to spend some more time with you."
He lifted his head and scowled. "Perhaps you should have thought about that."
[laughing] "I know. Come here."
I kissed him, wishing it would make up for… [sighing] Oh, any of it.
He did come with me, in the end. We did not talk much. There was not much to say. But he was warm and solid beside me, and I gave thanks for a softer parting than we might have had otherwise.
He walked me to the terminal in the shuttle port and we stood a little awkwardly, not quite sure how to go on.
"I got you something," he said at last, breaking the silence.
"Oh, you did not have to," I began, but he was already hanging me an envelope.
Inside was a card and a pre-paid voucher for a limited content comm, of the sort I had sent to Óli. And in the card, marching across the paper in Scarry's neat handwriting, the Guillemot's predicted itinerary for the next eight months.
"It is not set in stone," he said quickly. "We probably won't- I mean, if you sent anything, we might not pick it up in time. It-It's not serious, I just thought-"
"Scarry. Thank you. I-"
But the shuttle was being called. We said a hasty, awkward goodbye and then he kissed me once and pushed me gently towards the terminal doors.
It was not til I was aboard that I remembered my other present. I trust I have not invited Oyan's superstition upon me by opening Scarry's card before I boarded.
I dug out the parcel and tore off the newspaper to reveal the painting Oyan had threatened make all the way back in Shadoch, of me slung over Masha's shoulder in a dead swoon after tranquillising myself in the Mistkey Adventure Centre.
I laughed… And then cried for a bit! And finally fell asleep hugging my bag and feeling very loved and very alone.
I am writing this in a cafe in the shuttle port in Mutua, having spent a pleasant few days here. I fear I will talk Annaliese's ear off when we are reunited, I have so many thoughts buzzing about my skull. I am very glad I am not starting this journey alone. I cannot imagine how daunting the prospect would be.
I must leave off now. This letter is quite long enough as it is, and I want to get it sent before Annaliese arrives to pick me up. Please, rest assured that I am well and… Uh. Not precisely happy. But at peace.
I think I can see the shape of the path before me. It will not be an easy one, and I imagine I have a great deal to learn about myself and the world before it is done. But there is nothing for it but to gather my spirits, place my faith before me, and walk. I love you, all.
[The sound of the data stick whirring fades in, cutting out when the data stick is removed with a click.]
The Traveller
Entry NI85125-1. The Equinox Wind Festival at the Spires of Undur Samkhag.
Keywords: arts and crafts; atmospheric phenomena; music; Mutua; natural world; occasions and ceremonies; places and landmarks; Undur Samkhag.
Notes:
Mutua is a small moon in the Tilfar system. I came there alone, having said my goodbyes to the crew of the Guillemot on Kalle, the planet Mutua orbits. But the friend I was meeting would not arrive on Mutua for a few days after I did.
I was glad for the break. My departure from the Guillemot had been… emotionally challenging and some time alone was just what I needed to clear my head and prepare for the next stage of my journey.
I arrived at the shuttle port in Elzit, a city in the lowlands largely constructed from tents, their fabric walls in constant motion, adding to the bustle and movement of the streets.
I found lodgings, and prepared for a restful, if reflective, period of solitude. This lasted until I went to fetch water, when I met Chulu, a woodcarver from the heavily forested hills of Noogoon Khus, half a day’s travel from Elzit.
Chulu only visits Elzit when he has enough carvings to sell to make it worthwhile. As such, he likes to gather as much news as he can while among the lowlanders. I greatly enjoyed talking to him about his life in Noogoon Khus and told him much about my own travels in return, over a cup of fermented milk.
When the invitation came to visit Chulu’s home in the mountains, I was not sure at first whether he intended it as a mere courtesy, such as one offers to a friend one has not seen for a while, not meaning them to do so immediately.
However, when I tentatively expressed a desire to accept the offer, he responded with joy, stamping his cloven hooves and shaking his shaggy beige fur with delight. He informed me I had chosen “an auspicious time indeed” for my visit.
If we left soon, he said, we would pass within a short distance of the Spires of Undur Samkhag just in time for the Equinox Wind Festival, an event he assured me was not to be missed. He had intended to go himself, and would be delighted if I would accompany him on the journey.
It was not as if I had other plans, or anyone to consult on the matter. I had not even unpacked. I gathered my supplies, cancelled my stay at the lodging house, and was ready to go. I wrapped up warm as Chulu told me the high passes were very windy and cold this early in the year, and we began the trek on foot.
The sun was setting by the time we left Elzit, the light tinted slightly green as we headed up into the mountains. I later learned this colouring was due to equinoctial solar winds interacting with the planet’s magnetic field, scattering other wavelengths of light in the upper atmosphere.
As I was admiring it, several transports full of tourists, many of whom carried musical instruments, drove by us on the dirt road. Chulu told me they were also heading to the Wind Festival. When I asked about the instruments, he said he did not wish to spoil the surprise.
We paused an hour or so into the night for some food and a short doze. Then we walked through the dark, interrupted occasionally by transports full of revellers, some of whom stopped to offer us greetings and refreshment.
We passed others on foot too, some in contemplative silence, others laughing with friends. A great many of them carried instruments as well, but Chulu kept his silence, reassuring me I would understand soon.
We reached Undur Samkhag some time before dawn. As we crossed over the edge and into the valley proper, I paused to appreciate its beauty. Cobalt-blue spires of wind-eroded rock towered above us, stretching into the distance, fading away in the faint morning light.
As we slithered down the blue scree slope, I saw the bottom of the valley was scattered with tents, parked transports, and people all gathered together, tuning their instruments or looking up in wonder at the rocky towers.
There was even what looked like a choir, all in cobalt-coloured robes, with their director standing in front of them preparing a musical score.
And over everything, a hush, as if the valley itself was waiting for something. Chulu guided me next to a tower that resembled a squat spinning top, whispering it was “one of the best places”. And there, we joined the waited.
As the first rays of the sun pierced the horizon, the solar winds of the equinox began to vibrate the magnetically charged spires. [vibration sounds begin] It began as a gentle hum, like an engine being turned on.
Then the vibration intensified, causing the whole valley to blur slightly and making my teeth rattle. [music fades in: humming, resonant chords layered over the vibrations]
The winds swept through the spires, bringing with them a coruscating rainbow of flickering magnetically charged particles. And the music began. Each spire sang with a different tone, some deep and rolling, some high and piercing bright.
The music slid through successive patterns as the winds changed and shifted and the tones echoed off the sides of the valley, reflected back in on themselves in ever-decreasing sound-spirals.
Everyone listened, gazing in rapt attention, save for those who could not hear or see, who leaned against the rocks to feel the vibrations through their bodies. I thought of Wolph doing the same with the ice harps of Verkaren, my heart swelling with emotion.
Gradually, the pilgrims began to join in. They lifted their instruments to reverent hands and lips, playing quietly at first, but gradually swelling in volume as more tones were added to the sea of sounds.
[instruments join the humming, building on the music]
The choir director lifted their paws and signalled their chorus to begin.
[choral voices begin singing]
Other listeners joined the song. One by one, then in their dozens, and finally hundreds of people raising their voices, until everyone in the valley was humming, singing or playing along with the songs of the spires.
I heard sung prayers, thanking the sun goddess for coming close to the planet to touch them with her rainbow fingers. Other attendees simply gazed at the lights playing among the rocks, and let the music wash through them.
[The music plays, building in complexity until it comes to an end and fades to silence]
As the music faded Chulu shook his fur happily and asked me how it was. I was speechless, tears rolling freely down my cheeks. Chulu shivered again in appreciation of my response, and we sat together watching the sun fill the valley with light.
At some unspoken point, it came time to leave. We walked in friendly silence through the forest until we reached Chulu’s house, carved out of a huge tree root. There, we slept for several peaceful hours, and woke to a fresh green afternoon.
I do not know what the next stage of my journey will hold. I feel I am leaving one tangle behind me to walk towards another, and both must come undone eventually, somehow. But I take comfort in this: that wherever I go, there will be music, and sunlight, and people to sit beside and weep for the beauty of it all.
[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 written and scored by Doctor Lou Sutcliffe. 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’re keeping the inbox open so send in your ideas for Season 3 through our website, by email, or on social media. For more information, see the show notes.
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This podcast is distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. The theme tune is by Vinca.
[Fade to silence.]
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