Armand’s First Letter. Amelia’s First Letter.
17 August 1022, 22 Merton Street, Edenford
My dearest cousin Armand,
We have returned to Edenford, though perhaps not for long—for Maximilian has taken a notion.
Maximilian and I began studying the ley lines and nodes not with any idea of making use of them, but simply to determine the spell of which they were a part, in accord with Cumbrian notions of wizardry in which every spell is defined by an array of nodes and the magic the flows between them. And so we embarked our survey, a survey which even now our colleagues in Malague and Hanondorf are pursuing in a desultory fashion in their own Lands.
But now we know what that spell was, or at least we think we do; and we know that that the Iturian’s grand array of ley lines and nodes is not a single spell but a rather a vast number of individual spells laid badly “end to end” with no greater plan but to speed transport from hither-to-yon. We had had visions of a greater, more powerful form of Cumbrian wizardry, now lost to the ages, from which we could learn; now we know that the Iturians were pursuing a much more limited form of wizardry with great industry but, alas for them, little understanding. It is small wonder that this form of magic was shunned and forgotten after the Catastrophe, n’est-ce pas?
The intriguing possibility remains that we might still use what we have learned from the Iturians to revolutionize transport in Cumbria and other lands, and do so rather more safely and with vastly greater comprehension of the powers we are managing; yet for Max and I this has been a disappointing end to our quest. I had thought that little remained to me but to assist Jérôme and Dr. Tillotson in bringing the Iturian Relay to fruition, and otherwise to continue my studies in Old Cumbrian and possibly many other dead languages (here you may insert a deep sigh) looking for signs of the Iturians and their relays.
But Maximilian has revived our quest in a delightful fashion.
Do you recall our discovery of the broken ley lines along the edges of Cumbria and Provençe, and how, with the help of your Captain Grier, we were able to line them up and demonstrate that Cumbria and Provençe have been drifting apart and rotating slightly relative to each other over the many centuries? If we cut apart our chart along the edges of each Land, as I assure we have done, we can see that the broken ley lines match up perfectly once the two Lands are brought close.
Maximilian’s notion is this: if we survey the edges of each of the Old Lands, the bordering edges if I may so call them, we will be able to create a chart in which each Land is positioned exactly in its correct relation to the other Lands, just as they were prior to the Catastrophe!
This, we know, will leave a great gulf in the center, the gulf where, we believe, Ituria and the City of Flowers once lay. And along the edges that border that Gulf of Ituria, for so we have begun to call it, oh, Armand, do you see? All ways lead to Florentia!
There will be broken ley lines all around the Gulf. If we can first put the Old Lands in their positions as part of the One Land, the Autocratoria of the Iturians, and then find the broken ley lines along the edges of the Gulf, we can trace them inwards! And there, at their crossings, will lie the floating rubble that remains of the City of Flowers. Is there anything left there in that Gulf? We do not know, for the great sky-ships do not go there; there, perhaps, there be dragons.
It is not that simple, of course; while we can assume that each Land has drifted outwards from Ituria, we shall nevertheless have to consider rates of drift and rotation and so forth. But we believe this to be a practical endeavor; and then, of course, one need only find a ship. Or, perhaps, a fast packet, which, not beholden to the winds, can traverse the Gulf of Ituria, avoiding its hazards and speedily running from its unknown dangers.
Perhaps Maximilian and I will undertake this survey of the edges ourselves, leaving Jane and her nurse with Edward and his brood in Wickshire—though I feel I am an unnatural mother even to consider it. Or we may share some of our conjectures with our colleagues abroad in hopes that they might participate in our vision. We shall see.
Your assuredly gulf-bound cousin,
Amelia
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Photo by Samuel Ferrara on Unsplash
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