The walls of Troika do exist, contrary to what you would expect of an endless city. There is a square, and in that square is a circle made of stone with a gate in it. The gate is always open, and inside the circle wall people deposit rubbish and other unwanted things. Most visitors to Troika do not come by the gate but some do, carefully clambering over the heaving detritus.
The city gate is not the centre of the city, and you would be considered stupid to suggest it.
Some days the circle wall is bigger or smaller. Its contractions are welcomed since they clear out much of the accumulated rubbish.
If you travel far enough in one direction you will return to where you started. If you fly up high enough you will eventually start to fall.
The Bucket Fellows are the law and enforce the few rules agreed upon by the Universal Council.
The covered market is famous for its fires and is independently recursive. Tourists are stuck until someone takes pity on them and tells them how to leave. Pity is gained by spending money on unbelievable bargains.
Some parks are so large and wild that foreigners think they have escaped the city, only to be disappointed when they come out the other side some days later. However some of them really do make it.
Two of the city's most prestigious halls of sorcery occupy the exact same space. Which building currently manifests in three dimensional reality depends on the prestige it is held in. The most respected takes precedence, requiring students and faculty of the other to slip sideways to get to classes.
There was once a third school to share that spot, but it slipped so far that people stopped thinking about it entirely. Stepping sideways can't reach it. Indeed, even a seasoned wizard taking a full step backwards won't pierce its fog of mediocrity.
The School of Architecture is another centre for katarology and general wizardry. They learn how to create scrolls, over months or years, to summon new structures into existence. After their arrival people will swear blind that they were there all along, and that they had been living there for generations. The architects do not disagree. Certain other schools accuse them of quackery, who are in turn accused of professional jealousy.
Councillors are elected by the people. Election intervals are determined by the obscure tides of ennui that sweep across neighbourhoods sporadically. The nominations are inflicted rather than asked for, and the favourite recipients are those new to the city and ignorant of its ways, as they seem them as having the purest perspective on governance. Also the typical fear and unwillingness found in foreigners is considered to be a desirable trait in politicians. Any that end up being genuinely unfit for the job are organically ejected by disinterest.
No comments:
Post a Comment