The Merchant to the Right

Carola 

I stepped away from the chaos of my room, needing a moment of air. The unpacking was endless; the space was still cluttered with crates and the dust of travel, and I felt the walls closing in. I unlatched the heavy lock and pushed open the massive front door, stepping out onto the threshold.

My new residence is a fine structure, built to the standards of the High Castes. The walls are smooth plaster the color of thick cream, a bright contrast to the green of the grass in the city. Flanking my door are two impressive, full-length windows that speak of the expense poured into this district, and high above the lintel sits a single, small window like a watching eye. The roof is crowned with the characteristic interlocking tiles of baked red clay—the double-roll style common to the better districts.

My door faces South, catching the warmth of the midday sun. As I stood there, adjusting my robes, my gaze drifted diagonally to my right.

There stands the twin to my own home. It is identical in every way—the same cream plaster, the same massive timber door flanked by tall glass, and the same red-tiled roof. However, its orientation is different; her home faces East, positioned to greet the dawn.

It was from this eastern-facing door that the voices came.

Curiosity drew me across the pavers. Standing by her entrance was a woman of striking poise, dressed in the fabrics of the Merchant Caste. This was Carola. She had been overseeing the movement of goods, and the air around her house was not stale like mine, but alive.

She deals in spices, and even from the street, I could smell the difference. While my room behind me smelled of dry limestone and packing straw, her doorway breathed out the complex, warming scents of the Torvaldsland coasts and the deep jungles of the south.

It is a comforting thought to know that such a friendly face lives just to my right. In a city as large and sometimes cold as Var-Kor, knowing a neighbor of quality makes the district feel like a community. I admit, I am already looking forward to visiting that east-facing door again. I suspect my larder will need the exotic flavors she provides, if only to give me an excuse to cross the street once more.