An Afternoons Adventure in Var-Kor

I rose stiffly from the high, slanted desk, the smell of heavy inks and dried parchment suddenly suffocating. I had spent too many Ahns hunched over the scrolls, my shadow lengthening against the limestone walls as the day burned away. I needed the air of the city; I needed to escape the crushing weight of the scribes' building.

I descended into the streets, wandering the lower levels where the tall buildings cast long, heavy shadows across the pavers. I let the city take me, navigating the stone labyrinth, moving through twists of alleyways that smelled of roasting tarsk and the dust of the wagons. The sheer height of the towers around me made the streets feel like canyons, deep and dim. Eventually, the polished stone gave way to the wilder edge of the district, where the city walls met the neglect of the outskirts.

I faced a dense, tangled thicket—wild berry brambles and thorny brush that had reclaimed a forgotten garden. It was a hostile barrier, the branches snagging at my tunic like the claws of a marsh shark, warning off the idle and the soft. But I forced my way through the scratching limbs, breaking into a clearing that felt like a secret kept by the planet itself.

The view was worth the blood. Before me stretched a dark, brooding forest of needle-trees, their scent sharp and resinous in the wind. Cutting through the green darkness was a river, cold and fast, carving a silver path violently toward the vastness of the Thassa. Far out over the sea, the weather was turning. I watched the heavy clouds bruise the horizon, dropping curtains of blue-gray rain into the heaving waters. It was a storm viewed from the safety of the shore—raw, untamed, and magnificent.

The first heavy drops of the storm began to spot the pavement as I made my way back from the thicket. I walked briskly through the darkening streets, the scent of wet stone rising around me, until I reached the administrative district. I was aiming for my own chambers, but as I passed the imposing structure next door—the Tower of the Builders—impulse struck me. We were neighbors in this district, after all, and a Magistrate should know those who shape the city's walls.

I stepped into the foyer, shaking the rain from my cloak, and approached the heavy inner door. I knocked firmly—the knock of a man who expects an answer, yet respectful of the work being done within.

There was a pause, and then a voice bid me enter.

The room inside was warm, lit by the glow of several tharlarion-oil lamps. It smelled of graphite, parchment, and dried clay. Seated at a wide, cluttered drafting table was a woman. She was dressed in the bright, distinctive yellow of the Builders Caste. She was deeply engrossed in a complex schematic spread out before her, measuring angles with a compass.

As the door clicked shut, she looked up, her expression shifting from intense concentration to startled surprise. She clearly hadn't expected a visitor this late in the day, especially as the storm broke outside.

Evening Serenade

"Tal," I said, offering the universal Gorean greeting, keeping my voice level and reassuring. "Forgive the intrusion. The door was unlatched, and I saw the light."

She set down her compass, smoothing the yellow silk of her dress as she sat up straighter. "Tal," she replied, her eyes scanning my robes.

"I am the new Magistrate of Var-Kor," I explained, gesturing toward the building adjacent to hers. "My offices are next door. I realized I had not yet paid my respects to my neighbors, and seeing you working so late, I thought to introduce myself."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, recognizing the authority of the White Caste, but maintaining the pride of her own station. "I am Evening Serenade," she said. Her voice was melodic, fitting her name, but possessed the firmness of one who deals in stone and steel.

"A pleasure, Evening Serenade," I said. I glanced at the rain lashing against the windowpane. "I was about to send for a pot of hot tea in my chambers to ward off the chill. I wondered if you might care to join me? A brief respite from the drafting table."

She looked at the tea, and then back to the complex drawings of the city infrastructure spread before her. A look of genuine regret passed over her face, but duty clearly held the stronger hand.

"That is a gracious offer, Magistrate," she said with a polite nod. "But the High Builder requires these structural assessments by the first Ahn of the morning. I fear I cannot leave my post until the calculations are balanced."

She paused, offering a faint, tired smile. "However... on another evening, when the deadlines are not so pressing, I believe I would enjoy that very much."

"I understand completely," I replied, bowing slightly. "Industry builds the city; law only guides it. I shall not keep you from your work."

"I thank you for your time, Magistrate," she said, already reaching for her quill.

I stepped back out into the hallway, leaving her to the quiet geometry of her tower, pleased to have made the connection in this new, rain-swept city.