I really do have a breakfast recipe for you, a low-gluten Kabocha cake made in the Japanese style. But this morning I woke from a very, very vivid dream of being given a tour of a faerie city. A tour by train, carriage, and canal boat, no less--I was never permitted to actually set foot in the city. But I remember the layout, and most of what I was told on the tour, and spent the morning furiously typing it up so I wouldn't forget.
It was called Zurin, although that's a phonetic spelling--I sort of remember it being written like Zeurin, except the e and the u were joined, like œ is a joined a and e. But I don't think that actually happens in American english. Only in faerie english, I guess.
Anyway, I wanted to share my write-up with you. It's raw and unpolished, for which I apologize, but it you could hack into my brain and see the beautiful images that linger there, you'd understand why I had to commit what little I could to paper. Later if I have time, I'll sketch out a rough map, and add that to this post.
Zurin: a faerie city between the lake and the sea.
To the far west, the ancient citadel stands on the high,
rocky hill that caps the thinnest strip of land between the two waters. “The
Castle on the Hill” is now a university.
Sweeping down the hill to the east is “The Park,” the wood
that used to serve as the castle groves for hunts and picnics. It has grown
handsome, but feral—like an F1 Bengal cat. Although lovely and filled with
delights, many consider it dangerous, and few would walk through alone, even in
broad daylight.
The north edge of the Park plunges off as rocky cliffs to
the sea. The top of this is fenced with an old, crumbling wall, dotted with
promontories. Although technically a part of the university, it is utterly
unused. It is claimed to be haunted.
Where the Park meets the lower, broader strip of land is "Gray Market"—sometimes referred to as Gay Market, because it is in fact a merry, quaint old part of town. Cozy buildings of brick and wood line cobblestone
lanes. Houses and shops hide vegetable gardens or chicken coops behind them.
There are, in fact, a number of market squares in Gray Market, and delicious
smells and plain, quality goods are always in good supply. On the rocky shores
below the Haunted Wall is the merry, bustling fish market. There are docks on
both the sea- and the lake-side of Gray Market, where stout wooden ships are built,
and carry their passengers with the same steadfast loyalty as the hands that
built them. Most of the denizens here are gnomes, pulling their pigs and baking
their loaves in the same tradition as their great-great-great-great
grandfathers.
A river branches between the lake and the sea, separating
Gray Market from the rest of the city. The locks sit close to the lake,
overseen by gardens and café’s on either side. There are three major bridges
for commerce across the river, and anywhere from three to six footbridges,
depending on who you ask. These cross tiny, privately owned islands in the river,
which hold pubs, a distillery, a fine restaurant, a cemetery, and an elegant
public garden. Branching away to the east of the river are a number of
channels, which turn into canals for the uptown section of Zurin: the "Pumpkin
Carnival."
You know you are reaching Pumpkin Carnival proper when you
begin to see ghostly images of giant grinning jack-o-lanterns on the creamy
ceramic walls of the wide canals. Then you pass through the most elaborate of
black, wrought-iron gates, and find yourself in a neighborhood somewhere
between 1880’s Galveston and Dr. Seuss. The elegant and sophisticated buildings
are painted in bright jewel tones with glowing white and creamy gold trim. One
of these is the Silver Bell Hotel, a grape purple building with pearl-white
trim, built up and around an enormous silver bell, easily large enough to
encase a full size house. The bell never rings, but it is said that if it did,
it would not be heard inside the hotel itself, for so carefully was it built
for privacy and quiet. Pumpkin Carnival gets its name from the
jack-o-lantern-headed Goblins that supposedly live below, in the dank caverns
of empty pipes. So long as they are treated with thanks and respect, they keep
Pumpkin Carnival wealthy and safe. They are revered as the gracious patrons of
this neighborhood, and woe betide any who speak ill of them.
East of Pumpkin Carnival the canals meet in a handsome moat,
and drain away back into the lake. The stretch of land beyond this moat is "Marsh Town." True to its name, it is damp, and overgrown with reeds and
moss-draped trees. There are low wooden houses here, where lanterns are always
lit to counteract the odd, perpetual gloom. It is said this part of the city
was born to house the servants that work in Pumpkin Carnival by day. It is a
place full of secrets, but contented to be so. While guests received a
laid-back but friendly welcome, they receive a farewell in the same manner—for
very, very few people decide to stay. Those who belong there, belong. And those who do not, only visit.
North of Pumpkin Carnival, also touching the river, is the
most modern part of Zurin, known alternately as "The Smithies" (the old name) and "The Towers" (the new name). To see it from the lake you would think you were looking at the most contemporary of American cities. Here is where Dwarves have advanced their skills to
create skyscrapers and electric cars. The most fascinating toys and technical
wonders are designed and manufactured in this state-of-the-art clump of city
blocks. Every idea is given a place to be displayed. Rooms are separated by
curtains of water. Furniture folds into artwork that in turn graces the walls.
Roads move and expand to accommodate extra traffic. And the hospital there
houses devices unknown in the rest of the world.
East of The Smithies/The Towers and still north of Pumpkin
Carnival is a hilly wedge of a neighborhood known as the "Justice Quarter." Although cramped, it is nevertheless a handsome part of town, primarily built
of white marble and granite in the style of courthouses and temples. Here are
the academies of Lost Law and the Unspoken Histories, with their accompanying
museums. Here also are the banks, courthouses, capitol building, and mayor’s
offices. It is a fine place to acquaint
oneself with the finer points of law. It is an even finer place to waste time
in debate or discussion on almost any topic, as you are sure to find several
people who will take that topic extremely seriously, and have nothing but
sober-faced joy in talking it to death.
The city ends to the east of the Justice Quarter, and a
single paved road winds away into the wind-swept hills. The land meets the
ocean with a long stretch of soft beaches, appropriately known as the "Sandy
Leagues." The odd farm or fish house dots the Sandy Leagues, and the pace of
life here is slower. Slower, to the point of lulling; it is rumored that many
people go there on holiday, or to take a day of rest after hard hours at work,
only to lose track of time and not return for weeks, months, or even years. For
this reason, despite its lovely appearance and open landscaping, no proper map
has ever been made of the Sandy Leagues, and what lies beyond them is unknown.