by Melantha

To Cities and Provinces Treatises

Few places in the world deliver the beholder with such strange and disturbing sights as what one finds in Tanjaat.

Maejen Lor itself is an oddity – in Casara, a province where magic is forbidden to all but court-sanctioned practitioners, there exists a city where fully one fifth of all citizens are practitioners of magic. Maejen Lor has a flavour quite unlike other cities of the world – although public exhibitions or practice is illegal, magic is always a topic of conversation, and a walk down the main shopping districts will offer up a variety of alchemy shoppes, magicians’ supply stores, and arcane bookstores, in addition to the usual inns, taverns, and gem shoppes, which are common in both Maejen Lor and its sister city, New Ennalae.

Near the back of Maejen Lor, however, is a section of the city that is walled off. Most Casarans pretend it doesn’t exist, and if they could, the Casaran authorities would surely destroy it and slay its inhabitants. This sections is called the Tanjaat District.

The word comes from one of the various magical languages, and translates, roughly, to ‘purity’. But pure, at least by most standards, Tanjaat is not.

Imagine stepping up to the gates of the district. Two Maejen Lor guards, both competent magicians, stand guard, warning all who wish to enter that what lies beyond is exceedingly dangerous. Still, they are no more bold than that, and won’t stop you from going in or anyone from Tanjaat from coming out.

Once inside, prepare to be amazed.

To understand why, you should know a little history. About three years before the Founding of Aranor, the great city of Antara, a port that lies south of Rilhaven on the province of the New World, was abandoned. The story goes that there were so many magical practitioners in Antara, and most of them were practicing so irresponsibly, that the magic there took on a life of its own, and began what is now known as The Haunting. Many of the citizens of Antara eventually made their way to Aranor to begin new lives, but most of the magicians from Antara, intent on finding a community where they could freely practice their arts, came to Maejen Lor, famed the world over as being the ‘City of Wizards’.

They came as a group – eighty or ninety of the most potent mages and majae of Carador. In Maejen Lor they found kindred spirits – others who could understand their obscure philosophies and ideas. But it wasn’t long until the authorities of Casara confronted them. Maejen Lor was not a place where magic could be freely practiced – indeed, all the practitioners of the city were, directly or indirectly, sanctioned by the Province of Casara. And the immigrants from Antara were not.

The Antarans were forced to make a decision – move on and seek another land that would accept them, or forge themselves a place in this society. And they decided to stay.

With potent elemental magics a wall was raised within Maejen Lor, and all the inhabitants of that part of the city were forced to leave or accept the new dictates of Tanjaat.

Casara responded as they would to anyone who might attempt to steal provincial lands. They attacked. And their forces, magical and mundane alike, were easily vanquished by the potent magicians of Tanjaat.

The residents of Tanjaat sent an official declaration to Casara –

We, immigrant residents of Casara, claim the right to live on the lands we have taken, and without any deceit or ill will, firmly state that we will dwell peaceably here, not attempting to secure more lands, and shall keep the ways of our culture. Attempt to destroy us, and Casara will weep. Attempt to hold us in esteem, and Casara will rejoice.

Casara simply turned its back, and since that time Tanjaat has been largely ignored, left to the residents of Maejen Lor to deal with. And Tanjaat has lain quietly, shifting and twisting behind its dark walls.

Ah yes. We were stepping past the outer guards and into the district proper. Before us lies a huge open roadway, thirty paces across or more. It runs down the center of the district, where, upon the far side, there lies another gate leading out into the foothills of the Jacinth Mountains. To either side are the dwellings of the Tanjaat residents – fabulous and strange buildings, most shaped by magic, with high towers and twisting stairways and bridges. These dwellings serve not only as the homes of the residents, but as gathering-places for parties and offered services – services unlike any that can be purchased elsewhere in the world. Here you’ll find illusionary shows that are fabulous beyond description. Rooms where you can watch demons feast upon human victims. Halls where there are carnal offerings that defy description. Offerings of exotic and forbidden foods. Demonstrations of magical experimentation. And battles between human slaves and captured creatures of fae.

These are private, unofficial sorts of things. But then, nothing in Tanjaat is official. There is no council, no magistrate. Only the residents, bonded by the commonality of magic.

But back to the roadway. The Bazaar. Here is a place where the most wondrous and terrible things are sold, all from open stands or magically-created cages or arenas.

And what can you buy? Drugs, rare magical items, old grimoires, and spells are only the beginning. Nymphs and tyver, trolls and Sereg, pixies and fae dragons can all be purchased as slaves or pets. These are captured in the Jacinths and brought in through the rear gate. Human slaves, too, are on the market, as are personal illusionary enhancements, enchanted animals (many that would be otherwise too dangerous to keep), magically created gems and treasures, predatory plants, strange reagents, and clothes that couldn’t possibly be crafted of real fabrics. In other words, the exact sorts of things that made life in Antara fall apart.

Everyone who lives in Tanjaat (if they haven’t run afoul of a more powerful magician) is wealthy. Everyone is magical.

Life, some say, has lost meaning.

Here is a description of a man who visited the district.

I walked about with my mouth agape. Here was being sold a box that played music when you opened it. Here was a mirror that would let me shape my face before my very eyes. Here was a stand of magical rings. A mermaid, trapped in a cart that held water – for sale to the highest bidder. An enchanted Chimera, docile as a kitten. And a man, whooping with delight as he flew overhead, supported by nothing but air.

Merely a taste of what Tanjaat offers. It is the place to go if you need to purchase something illicit or highly magical. But be careful, for there is a price to pay, and when people can, without compunction, create gold out of the air, you have to wonder what they want.

It’s known that few who enter Tanjaat come out again. Visitors are simply too valuable – valuable as diversions, or for magical experimentation, or as slaves. But still the visitors come, lured by the promise of gemstones as large as a person’s head, of nymph slaves, more beautiful than any human girl, of some magical artifact that will make their life more amazing than they could imagine.

Tanjaat is filled with dark practitioners. They are probably the most potent magicians in the world, and yet they are tainted by the desire for new and more fabulous diversions and experiences.

Its only grace is that Tanjaat stays within its walls. They seem content, at least for now, to keep their perversions and experimentations to themselves and those who willingly enter their domain.

Tanjaat is a place of experience, but it is also a place of the foulest sorceries.

Travelers beware.

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