Excerpt: The Transporter in Wetledale

The Transporter halted his cart where the track began to descend steeply into Wetledale. The mist still sat in wisps over fields that edged the river as it flowed along the valley floor. Even though the mist had nearly lifted, everything the Transporter could see beneath him remained grey, white, brown, or occasionally, the blood red of rust.

Wetledale was the most northerly of the seven valleys that made up the Seven Valleys Region. The Transporter was one of the few who could cross the mountains into Wetledale in the winter. He had crossed the Last Mountains that morning in the dark, with the wind sweeping in from the sea beyond the end of Wetledale Valley. Even at this advanced autumn time of year, a heavy cloak could not keep the cold out of his limbs.

From the Transporter's vantage point, where the track began its steep descent to the valley floor, Wetledale had undergone a significant transformation over several years. While this change may have been good for a resident of Wetledale Valley, it certainly was not good for a Transporter.

Wetledale, with its unsurpassed ability to grow trees, with its streams and rivers that drove the watermills and joineries, had evolved into the valley of cabinet makers. The exquisite cabinets made in Wetledale were highly priced and highly prized. Unlike many goods, cabinets are durable and could be transported by sea outside of the autumn and winter storm seasons. The creation of the cabinet industry transformed Wetledale from a “community of concern” at the very edge of the habitable region, to a valley that could significantly contribute to the valuable needs of the Ruling Council of the Great Southern City.

Because the Fraternity of Cabinet Makers could ship their valuable and non-perishable products by sea, the work for Transporters crossing the Last Mountains into Wetledale fell by three quarters. Only occasionally would a bespoke cabinet need transporting overland to a customer unable to wait until the quieter spring seas returned to the Wetledale coast.

The Transporter stood a while, his gaze sweeping the valley floor for any signs of change that might prove useful. A sudden gust of wind disturbed his cloak, and his thoughts shifted.

He thought, transportation is about cargo, and cargo is about the future. By observing a valley for long enough, one can discern its future. A Transporter who can glimpse that future understands precisely what cargo to transport to ensure profitable winter journeys across the Last Mountains.

I remember looking into Greydale from the edge of the fells, he thought to himself. I could see two carts hurrying down different streets towards each other. I could see a clash was imminent. I could see their future at that moment. I was the only person in the entire world who could do so.

His eyes traveled along the valley to Wetledale Town, huddled around its new canal basin. The distant canal pulled his eyes onwards to the sea gate and the unruly sea beyond it.

It is the changing colour of a valley that allows a Transporter to see the future. Every change in colour he sees from the edge of one of the seven valleys tells him that something is reducing or something is growing. These are the indications of where cargo will be required or will be produced. Know the future, and you know where value will appear; and you can be that Transporter who is there to collect it.

Wetledale, the northernmost of the seven valleys, was a landscape of muted tones, dominated by granite and limestone. However, since the Wetledale Conformance Council implemented regulations to promote the cabinet industry, even that subtle palette had vanished. For a Transporter, Wetledale offered no colour, no future. Standing at the valley's edge, as the last tendrils of morning mist dissolved from the fields, it was starkly evident that, at least to his eye, nothing had changed.

The Transporter had previously journeyed south and learned to cross the Great Southern River. Bright colours were abundant in the Flatlands beyond the Southern River, and there was a strong demand for them to brighten the interior of the Government Halls in the Southern City of the Seven Valleys.

The Transporter had only returned to these northern valleys of Armdale, Greydale, and Wetledale because the Warehouse Manager had summoned him. The Warehouse Manager was in dire need of a Transporter capable of crossing the Last Mountains in winter. Just as the Warehouse Manager had promised, new opportunities for profit had also emerged in the North.

The mist still clung to a small lake high in the valley, the result of a dammed and excavated tributary that served as a power reservoir for Wetledale's wood processing mills. A shape moved across the water of the lake. The Transporter, his eyes accustomed to years of scanning the seven valleys, caught a movement on the water. He focused on the lake, where a figure emerged from the mist, pulling a rowing boat towards the shore. The figure reached the shrubland along the side of the lake and then simply disappeared. The Transporter stared at the spot where the figure had vanished, but could see nothing more.

'That', the Transporter said to himself, 'must be a Fishwick. Only a Fishwick could disappear like that.'

The glimpse of this Fishwick redirected the Transporter's thoughts to the demanding work of the day.

The Transporter had crossed the Last Mountains during the night. The last vestiges of mist were clearing in Wetledale valley. He would remain in Wetledale for two days. He had two days ahead in which to derive value from this journey across the Last Mountains into Wetledale.

He reluctantly pulled his gaze from the valley floor and urged his cart forward, beginning its slow descent along the Valley Head Road. The cart creaked but easily restrained the weight of its cargo. It had been designed to carry three times this weight.

There was a track running along the high edge of the wooded hillside, easily missed without prior study of the valley's layout from its surrounding hills. The Transporter turned his cart onto this track and followed the contour of the headland. At its end stood a stone cottage, set into the hillside. The cottage was intentionally built to overlook the entire valley and the distant sea beyond its edge.

The Last Mountains' lower slopes featured several mountain slate outcrops, which Wetledale's farmers had quarried to build shelters for people and animals on the high moorland. The Fishwick’s cottage had used such an abandoned quarry to provide shelter and form its back wall.

The cottage was built from a mixture of wood and slate scavenged from the waste surrounding the quarries. This saved both building time and material, whilst also contributing to its concealment. The brown wood and grey slate blended perfectly into the brown and grey of the wooded hillside.

The Transporter climbed down from the cart and knocked on the door of the grey cottage. Then he waited, knowing it would take a while.