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Mirrored from Sythyry.
The ExhortationMe: “Why in Hren Tzen’s name couldn’t Nanggi-Zi just work out an immortality talisman like everywiz else?”
Wingsa: “I take it you have not looked at her in detail?”
Me: “My medical training, while intensive and extensive and just-plain-tensive, is a bit low on corpse-curing. Especially when the subject has been mummified for years.”
Wingsa: “No — the wizard’s mind and spirit in the prince’s body.”
 So I did. Excellent explanation! Nanggi-Zi’s Corpador branch is hideously deformed. I doubt she can cast a simple contraception spell without risking giving herself a second head. An immortality spell would be too exciting for words. Even for some of my favorite words, like “doom”. 
Me: “So, those rumors about offending Kvarse are true?”
Wingsa: “I don’t much know and I don’t much care. The effect is the same.”
The ArgumentWingsa, Phaniet, Me: argue! argue, discuss, dispute, dissect… and argue!
Phaniet: “This is getting silly. Does Nanggi-Zi have any notes?”
 Well, of course she did. They were written in code or cypher, though. 
Me: “Aieee! I know nothing of breaking codes!”
Phaniet: “I have worked on it for two hours, and gotten precisely nothing.”
Wingsa: “Attempting to break a wizard’s code is an exercise in futility! She is brilliant and smart and clever! She will not devise a key which can be broken!”
Jagraton: “This trio of wooden disks that I found near the bookshelf, mounted so that the inner two can swivel or can be locked in place, with common words in Hanjan and the alphabet written on one scale, some perplexing numbers on the second, and the strange marks of the wizard’s code on the third — could it be anything important?”
Me: “Some silly magical tool.”
Phaniet: “Oh, that must be the encoder.” She poked at it for a few minutes, and we could read whatever of Nanggi-Zi’s notes we liked.
Me: “Well-done, both of you!”
Wingsa: “Hmph.”
Magical Details Then we had to explain to Prince Rastomil and Lady Noshi. 
Me: “The mind-swapping spell is fancy ritual magic.” I explained a little bit more.
Rastomil: “While I am sure that, in a certain mood, I would be quite fascinated by the technical details — and I might even understand them! — for today, I would be rather more interested in learning how soon I might get back to my proper body.”
Me: “Well, that’s a hard one. We could simply break the spell.”
Rastomil: “I seem to recall having requested some such service, did I not?”
Me: “Alas! If we did it, your body would be over there, and your mind and spirit over there, misconnected, causing a substantial risk of psychic disunity.”
Rastomil: “I am already having psychic disunity!”
Me: “Not like this. This one means you’d die.”
Rastomil: “Ah! I have a wonderful Heal the Awful Wound!”
Me: “Unfortunately, that only works on bodily wounds. A Spirit Reunion might work here, with supreme good fortune.”
Rastomil: “How supreme must this good fortune be?”
Me: “About like leaping off the edge of the world-branch, falling hundreds of miles tumbled about by whirling winds, and crashing into a heap in front of someone on the branch below — someone who is not only able to heal you, but is your one true love of all time.”
Rastomil: “I think I’m on my third ‘one true love of all time’, and all three experiences have been so dreadful that I think I will not risk this one.”
Me: “A wise choice.”
Rastomil: “So, breaking the spell leaves me dead. Not breaking it leaves me a bit Noshi, and, while I do appreciate her body, I would find it awkwards to always be wishing a snack.”
Noshi: “What?”
Rastomil: “Simply a pun, and one that only works in the dialect of Barency.”
Me: “You have the outlines of the problem right.”
Rastomil: “Well … what do we do?”
Me: “Cast the spell again, I think, to put you back in your original bodies.”
Rastomil: “Cast away! I am prepared!”
Me: “Unfortunately there are several problems … do you remember how the spell was cast in the first place?”
Rastomil: “I seem to remember something about a multi-hour mind-rape, yes.”
Me: “Well, that’s part of the casting.”
Rastomil: “Hah! I knew it! Sythyry, wrongest of all the wrongfolk, this is nothing but an elaborate ploy for you to get in my trousers! Well, in Lady Noshi’s trousers, at least, but my mind is the mind dropping them.”
Me: “Well, that brings us to the second problem. I don’t want to swap your body and mine, I want to swap yours around.”
Noshi: “So I would have to endure his embraces again?”
Me: “That is how it works, I’m afraid. The two people being exchanged must be engaged thuswise for the duration of the ritual-cast. Which, from your story, is hours.”
Rastomil: “If I must screw, screw I must. (Why is it that everyone is determined to involve me in carnal congress these days, but, when I am lucky, they want to involve me with someone other than themselves?) Can we at least keep the wizard unconscious for the duration of the act? Bad enough that I have to be intimate with myself — I mean her — but I’d rather that she didn’t get to enjoy it, anyhow.”
Me: “And that’s the next problem. The ritual isn’t written for exchanging any two people, just the caster and someone else.”
Rastomil: “We’re back to you doing me! I knew I wasn’t going to get back to Barency with my Zi-Virginity intact.”
Me: “Well, no. I’m not going to be doing that. For one thing, my keeper would be quite upset. I’ve had plenty of trouble from breaking the tofyof laws here, and plenty of broken bones too.”
Phaniet: “Boss, you’re being silly. Arfaen doesn’t care about that. Your keeper is the biggest slut on board.”
Me: “She is not, that’s Inconnu.”
Rastomil: “Leaving aside that particular badge of honor, who will perform the ritual?”
Me: “The actual question is, who can perform the ritual?”
Rastomil: “Then let us assume that question asked: who can perform the ritual?”
Me: “Currently, nobody.”
Phaniet: “Except for Nanggi-Zi, of course.”
Me: “Whom we do not trust to do it properly.”
Rastomil: “I would not trust her either, actually, somehow. So, taking her away, that leaves … nobody. Why nobody?”
Me: “Well, one needs to be good at both Mentador and Ritual Magic. I’m not. Wingsa says zie’s not, and huffs with considerable indignation when the possibility of assisting is mentioned.”
Rastomil: “What, helping the disreputable foreign prince and wizard is so bad?”
Me: “Being known as good at Mentador is so bad.”
Rastomil: “Well, then, what am I to do? Given that the only choices are (1) death or (2) remaining in this body, since healing me is a great crime and humiliation.”
Me: “Actually no. Did you meet Saza? You and zie overlapped on board for a bit.”
Rastomil: “The other Zi Ri? We exchanged a few words.”
Me: “Zie is a karcist, and already has a bit of a bad reputation for Mentador magic. I believe zie could be induced to modify the ritual to cast it on two people neither of whom is the ritualist. And fixing Mentador-caused troubles is one of the few legitimate uses for Mentador; I daresay zie’d be quite happy.”
Rastomil: “I approve of this course of action! Seeing, in particular, that there are few alternatives short of death or dishonor.”
Other Considerations (And of course Saza is constantly poor, and we should be able to coerce at least one of the two cities involved to pay a respectable sum for the work involved. Plus, of course, I get to have Saza around for a while while zie’s trying to invent the spell.) 
 (How zie feels when zie learns I’ve gotten legally attached to Arfaen remains to be seen.) 

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Phaniet: “First of all, we’d better dispose of the hiding-spell. Everything would go a lot more smoothly if all these Mentador spells were visible.”

Rastomil (in Noshi): “I imagine it might be easier to put someone back in their body if you can actually see the someone.”

Phaniet: “That too. I was more thinking that we’re less likely to end up in that nasty underground prison cell if everyone can tell we’re fighting a Mentador mage.”

Me: “Oh, dearie. That is an important consideration.”

Wingsa: “And how do you propose breaking this big illusion spell? It is a quite powerful effect! The ritual spell of a substantial and crazed wizard, not a bit weaker than you or I!”

Phaniet: “I hereby outline an elegant but quite technical plan. And if that doesn’t work, we’ve got a Glory of Mircannis to use as a hammer.”

Wingsa: “That’s quite clever, in an extremely technical way.”

Me: “Phaniet and I break a lot of spells.” Which is true, but not ritual spells, which are often harder.

We tried the elegant but quite technical plan. It didn’t work. We tried it again, using the Glory of Mircannis as a hammer. That worked.

Lots and Lots

There was lots and lots of Mentador and Spiridor about, now that we could see it. The servants and household soldiers all had mind-control spells dancing like flies around their heads. Noshi, Kethji, and Rastomil had considerably more going on — horrible thick cables tangling them up with each other. And, for extra joy, with the corpse tied to the table in the last upstairs room.

Phaniet, Wingsa, and I got to work. Not on fixing the spells, which would not be easy. On understanding the spells. They were quite subtle, and I don’t think we got the details right.

The first approximation is body-swapping. Nanggi-Zi is in Rastomil’s body. Rastomil is in Noshi’s. Noshi is in Kethji’s. Kethji is in Nanggi-Zi’s corpse — and so heavily wrapped with preservation spells that neither Kethji nor Nanggi-Zi can actually die properly, despite the ruin of the body. I’m pretty sure neither of them can use the body; Kethji is just stuck there.

The second approximation is tethered body-swapping. Each of the participants (I guess that’s the right word) is still partially attached to their own original body, and to all the other ones that they have occupied — Nanggi-Zi has been in all four bodies, and is still attached to them. I think this has something to do with the heavily preserved corpse. Or something. I don’t think it was an intentional part of the body-swapping; I think that Nanggi-Zi wanted a clean and complete swap. Perhaps she botched the spell, or perhaps the clean swap was beyond her skills, or perhaps she intended to clean up later and couldn’t or didn’t.

The third approximation is like the second, but way the dashitzie messier.

The Story

We did our best to interrogate Lady Noshi (body: Lord Kethji) and Prince Rastomil (body: Lady Noshi). And, of course, Wingsa and the servants and the guards and all. Here’s what we think happened.

A long time ago — decades and decades — the mind-wizard Nanggi-Zi decided not to die. For some reason — there are rumors that she had offended Kvarse, and did not want to trust her life to Corpador magics (but there are often such rumors about mind-mages) — for some reason, she thought it best to switch bodies, rather than preserve her original body as most wizards would do. This switch had two other advantages to her: (1) her new body, that of Lord Kethji, was wealthy and reclusive, both features she could take advantage of, and (2) her use of Mentador was starting to awaken unpleasant emotions in the general populace of Hanija, and, by switching bodies, she could avoid the popular rage.

So, Nanggi-Zi married Kethji. Kethji, probably, got no real say in the matter. The wedding was private, and neither one left the mansion much after it. In fact, few people did; Nanggi-Zi was quite generous with mind-control. The cloud of unseeing Mentador probably dates to this time. In due course, Nanggi-Zi and Kethji switched bodies. Nanggi-Zi died in public — or rather, Nanggi-Zi’s body, with Kethji’s mind in it did. This provided Nanggi-Zi’s psyche an excellent alibi for nearly anything.

And it revealed a flaw in the technology. Nanggi-Zi-in-Kethji could not get far from Nanggi-Zi’s original body. Wingsa proposes one mechanism for this, I propose another, and Phaniet, not to be outdone, suggested three. But the original body of each one is supporting the psyche, somehow. So Nanggi-Zi-in-Kethji had Kethji-in-Nanggi-Zi’s body embalmed and preserved, and fastened Kethji’s spirit to it by mighty spells. The poor gentleman must be quite mad by now.

Well, time proceeded apace, and Kethji’s body grew aged, and his fortune diminished. Time for another transfer! Hence the Lady Noshi: an orphan with few friends and no great stature, but in line — far back in line — to inherit a substantial fortune. The first meeting was arranged largely by post. When Noshi met Kethji, she was instantly captivated, in a quite literal if entirely mental sense. The wedding was arranged quite soon. The wedding night was evidently exhausting, and, when it was over, Nanggi-Zi was in Noshi’s body, and Noshi in Lord Kethji’s.

Well, Nanggi-Zi needed to keep Kethji’s body around, for the same sort of reason as she needed her original body. Keeping Kethji alive was useful for practical reasons too, as Kethji was of a very high rank by birth, and Noshi not yet accepted at that rank. (And, given how reclusive everyone had to be, it would take a long while before she was fully accepted — she is not exactly so, even now.) The wizard embarked on a program of blackmail (mind-reading is good for that) and occasional murders, and in a decade or so, Noshi — or, rather, Nanggi-Zi-in-Noshi — inherited that substantial fortune, augmented by various other hush-monies.

But keeping Noshi-in-Kethji around and active was not required. Once or twice Noshi-in-Kethji tried to escape and beg for help; one of these attempts required the wizard to work hard blackmailing the city guard. So the wizard formulated that nacreous purple dazing-potion, and had Noshi-in-Kethji kept in a very passive state. Save in those times when activity was necessary, such as accepting possession of Noshi’s inheritance. Noshi was very heavily mind-controlled on those occasions.

But Lady Noshi’s body was wearing out as well: a congenital flaw? A disorder caused by over-long possession? Simply age? In any case, it was time for the wizard to take another one. Who better than a despised prince of a far-different country? Rastomil’s family would probably be glad to have him stay in Hanija, and of course Rastomil had no native friends or relatives to fret about his fate. And surely a prince’s estates could be sold or traded for extra cash.

And, if Jagraton had been a bit less devoted and persistant, Rastomil probably would be drugged and in the tower for quite a long time — and perhaps mummified and soul-trapped after that.

What Now?

Noshi and Rastomil: “Can we have our bodies back please now?”

The real expert at this sort of psyche-shuffling being Nanggi-Zi, and we don’t much want to let her out just now. And I daresay she doesn’t really want to go back to her original body, either, since it’s kind of dead.

Which leaves Wingsa, and Phaniet, and me. We collectively have plenty of magical power, even Mentador power, but not much experience. Perhaps with help from other locals — though there isn’t a helpful local mind-mage of any power. Or help from Vae, say. Let’s not do that.

Wingsa, Phaniet, and me: “Oh, dear. We were afraid you were going to ask for that.”

Addendum

Yes indeed, it is rather as several of you guessed, and yes indeed, we shall take a next step that several of you suggested. Alas that I was writing after the fact and did not have the advantage of your foresight!

Mirrored from Sythyry.

Phaniet: “First of all, we’d better dispose of the hiding-spell. Everything would go a lot more smoothly if all these Mentador spells were visible.”

Rastomil (in Noshi): “I imagine it might be easier to put someone back in their body if you can actually see the someone.”

Phaniet: “That too. I was more thinking that we’re less likely to end up in that nasty underground prison cell if everyone can tell we’re fighting a Mentador mage.”

Me: “Oh, dearie. That is an important consideration.”

Wingsa: “And how do you propose breaking this big illusion spell? It is a quite powerful effect! The ritual spell of a substantial and crazed wizard, not a bit weaker than you or I!”

Phaniet: “I hereby outline an elegant but quite technical plan. And if that doesn’t work, we’ve got a Glory of Mircannis to use as a hammer.”

Wingsa: “That’s quite clever, in an extremely technical way.”

Me: “Phaniet and I break a lot of spells.” Which is true, but not ritual spells, which are often harder.

We tried the elegant but quite technical plan. It didn’t work. We tried it again, using the Glory of Mircannis as a hammer. That worked.

Lots and Lots

Phaniet, Wingsa, and I got to work. Not on fixing the spells, which would not be easy. On understanding the spells. They were quite subtle, and I don’t think we got the details right.

The third approximation is like the second, but way the dashitzie messier.

The Story

We did our best to interrogate Lady Noshi (body: Lord Kethji) and Prince Rastomil (body: Lady Noshi). And, of course, Wingsa and the servants and the guards and all. Here’s what we think happened.

And, if Jagraton had been a bit less devoted and persistant, Rastomil probably would be drugged and in the tower for quite a long time — and perhaps mummified and soul-trapped after that.

What Now?

Noshi and Rastomil: “Can we have our bodies back please now?”

Wingsa, Phaniet, and me: “Oh, dear. We were afraid you were going to ask for that.”

Addendum

This is a hard question. What sort of economic foundation should a Sythyry-built city have?

Assume, arguendo, that the city is floating in the air not too far from Vheshrame --- something like a skyboat, and something like a sky-bridge city (like Oorah Thrassen). So it will have no natural resources whatever. It may have quasi-natural resources: I could, for example, build rooms in which one could grow crops, with labor.

I could also, in principle, support the whole city myself -- well, for a small city, a village perhaps. I don't much want to. A cityful of sycophants and clients and people who live by accepting gifts from me seems a bit off. Also I would probably have to spend all my mornings doing high-price enchantments -- as it is, I spend half them doing that sort and half doing ones for fun or emergency -- and that would not please me much.

A city of crafters would work fine. Oorah Thrassen is somewhat like that. I can't, however, import a pile of master-whittlers or master-clockmakers or something. I might be able to find one or two masters who want to move to a new Ketherian citylet and start a guild-chapter and craft-lineage there. It may take decades to get established, and we will need other things in the meantime.... but this seems like a good long-term approach. What crafts, though? Of course it depends somewhat on what crafters are available, but I could court, oh, a certain glassmaker, or tailor, or this or that.

I'm sure there's a lot I'm not thinking of, too.

This will be difficult, I suspect. I have appreciated your thoughts on other topics; I would appreciate them on this one, perhaps even more.

Mirrored from Sythyry.
Wingsa: “Hello. The guard who called for me did not explain too clearly precisely what needs to be done.”
Me: “Wingsa! A pleasure to see you again!”
Wingsa: “I am not wholly certain of that. Or, at any rate, I am not wholly certain that it is a pleasure to see you again. After hearing the news about you, I would just as soon avoid you for the next seven years.”
Me: “Oh, my marriage, you mean? This isn’t about that.”
Wingsa: “Your tofitude to your own servant. What in walls possessed you to do such a thing? Did you think of the insult to the name of Glikkonen even for an instant?” Glikkonen being my common ancestor, with Wingsa.
Me: “Glikkonen’s reputation is safe in many, many history books — as is yours. My own reputation is less so. In any case, the current issue is not about that.”
Wingsa: “This injured Rassimel?” Zie looked at the body of Prince Rastomil, still unconscious and badly wounded — and carefully kept that way because, while it was certainly his body, it was certainly not his mind and spirit in it. “What is he, that he requires a wizard to heal him, when there are so many fine and well-trained members of the Healers’ Guild about?”
Me: “I am one!”
Wingsa: “You, Sythyry, are the kept lizard of a mediocre chef.”
Me: “True! But my marital duties have not caused me to forget my advanced training as a healer. Or as a wizard, for that matter.”
Wingsa: “Then why didn’t you heal him?”
Me: “He’s actually occupied by the spirit of the Lady Noshi … or perhaps Lord Kethji or even the supposedly-dead wizard Nanggi-Zi. We haven’t sorted the matter out for certain yet. “
Wingsa: “Nanggi-Zi? Nanggi-Zi is dead these decades, and the World Tree is a better place for it!”
Phaniet: “Who did she marry? Or do you have some other reason for despising wizards?”
Wingsa: “Lord Kethji. That wasn’t the problem. She was a subtle and vicious Mentador mage.”
Me: “Still is, I suspect.” And we explained matters.
Wingsa: “Fools! I don’t suppose you discussed the matter with the supposed Lord Kethji?”
Me: “… We’ve been a bit busy.”
Noshi So we went back upstairs, and untied the doddering Lord Kethji, and administered various purgatives, curatives, remedies, and washings. He really needed the washings; the household routine had been rather disrupted by the battle in front of Kethji’s cell. 
Jagraton: “So! Who are you, in there?”
Noshi (in Kethji’s body): “I am Lady Noshi. I’ve been trying to tell you that all along.”
Jagraton: “You were not!” But we looked at his record of events later, and, indeed, Noshi had several times corrected someone who called her by the wrong name. 
Wingsa: “Now! Tell us about Nanggi-Zi!”
Me: “And how you came to be in Lord Kethji’s body.”
Noshi: “Oh, I’m still in … “ She wailed.
Rastomil: “And I seem to have yours. I will attempt to take good care of it — now that I’m not tied to a table and fed on dazing-drugs!”
Noshi: “Can I have it back please?”
Rastomil: “Now that we are rescued, perhaps it would be time for a spot of victim-restoring, what?”
Wingsa and Me: “We hope it is that easy, but rather anticipate complications.”

Mirrored from Sythyry.
Wingsa: “Hello. The guard who called for me did not explain too clearly precisely what needs to be done.”
Me: “Wingsa! A pleasure to see you again!”
Wingsa: “I am not wholly certain of that. Or, at any rate, I am not wholly certain that it is a pleasure to see you again. After hearing the news about you, I would just as soon avoid you for the next seven years.”
Me: “Oh, my marriage, you mean? This isn’t about that.”
Wingsa: “Your tofitude to your own servant. What in walls possessed you to do such a thing? Did you think of the insult to the name of Glikkonen even for an instant?” Glikkonen being my common ancestor, with Wingsa.
Me: “Glikkonen’s reputation is safe in many, many history books — as is yours. My own reputation is less so. In any case, the current issue is not about that.”
Wingsa: “This injured Rassimel?” Zie looked at the body of Prince Rastomil, still unconscious and badly wounded — and carefully kept that way because, while it was certainly his body, it was certainly not his mind and spirit in it. “What is he, that he requires a wizard to heal him, when there are so many fine and well-trained members of the Healers’ Guild about?”
Me: “I am one!”
Wingsa: “You, Sythyry, are the kept lizard of a mediocre chef.”
Me: “True! But my marital duties have not caused me to forget my advanced training as a healer. Or as a wizard, for that matter.”
Wingsa: “Then why didn’t you heal him?”
Me: “He’s actually occupied by the spirit of the Lady Noshi … or perhaps Lord Kethji or even the supposedly-dead wizard Nanggi-Zi. We haven’t sorted the matter out for certain yet. “
Wingsa: “Nanggi-Zi? Nanggi-Zi is dead these decades, and the World Tree is a better place for it!”
Phaniet: “Who did she marry? Or do you have some other reason for despising wizards?”
Wingsa: “Lord Kethji. That wasn’t the problem. She was a subtle and vicious Mentador mage.”
Me: “Still is, I suspect.” And we explained matters.
Wingsa: “Fools! I don’t suppose you discussed the matter with the supposed Lord Kethji?”
Me: “… We’ve been a bit busy.”
Noshi So we went back upstairs, and untied the doddering Lord Kethji, and administered various purgatives, curatives, remedies, and washings. He really needed the washings; the household routine had been rather disrupted by the battle in front of Kethji’s cell. 
Jagraton: “So! Who are you, in there?”
Noshi (in Kethji’s body): “I am Lady Noshi. I’ve been trying to tell you that all along.”
Jagraton: “You were not!” But we looked at his record of events later, and, indeed, Noshi had several times corrected someone who called her by the wrong name. 
Wingsa: “Now! Tell us about Nanggi-Zi!”
Me: “And how you came to be in Lord Kethji’s body.”
Noshi: “Oh, I’m still in … “ She wailed.
Rastomil: “And I seem to have yours. I will attempt to take good care of it — now that I’m not tied to a table and fed on dazing-drugs!”
Noshi: “Can I have it back please?”
Rastomil: “Now that we are rescued, perhaps it would be time for a spot of victim-restoring, what?”
Wingsa and Me: “We hope it is that easy, but rather anticipate complications.”

Well, that gave me a great deal to think about. [Apologies for not responding much, but Livejournal was being quite balky. -bb]

I don't know that it'll be a whole city-state quickly. (If all the traff-folk from the branch decide they want to live there, it might have enough people for that! But that is unlikely, especially if we are generous with monsters.) I expect to come up with some sort of semi-autonomous citylet sort of thing. We might be able to make our own laws; that happens sometimes.

And, as a lot of the point of the city is to have laws that we like ... how shall we make laws, in general?

A typical city has a legeriat, a dozen or so people representing the major factions and moieties in the city, who construct laws. Which, in some cities, simply become laws; in other cities, they must be promulgated by the duke (or whatever); in other cities, they must be voted on popularly, or approved by a court, or various other things.

Or, some other cities have, say, the duke proclaim all laws. Or a pure democratic approach, in which the citizens as a whole vote on all laws. Or a prophetic mirror that reveals wise laws. Or, I suppose, nearly anything else imaginable.

In any case, I want two things from a legal system.

First: I want to have some laws that please me. The city must be traff-friendly. In essence, it is Castle Wrong (or Strayway) in city form.

Second: I want to have just, fair, wise, and good laws. Not that I could give a good definition of any of those adjectives, or even necessarily recognize them if I were confronted by them.

So, how would you suggest designing a lawmaking apparatus for a young and probably tiny World Tree city?

Well, that gave me a great deal to think about. [Apologies for not responding much, but Livejournal was being quite balky. -bb]

And, as a lot of the point of the city is to have laws that we like ... how shall we make laws, in general?

In any case, I want two things from a legal system.

First: I want to have some laws that please me. The city must be traff-friendly. In essence, it is Castle Wrong (or Strayway) in city form.

Second: I want to have just, fair, wise, and good laws. Not that I could give a good definition of any of those adjectives, or even necessarily recognize them if I were confronted by them.

So, how would you suggest designing a lawmaking apparatus for a young and probably tiny World Tree city?

Several of you gave me things to think about. Two of you -- kris_schnee and foomf -- even gave me homework. I shall do this homework, albeit somewhat flippantly. I am not being flippant because the questions are bad or irrelevant -- the questions are quite good, and the answers matter. I am being flippant because I am tired and I do not wish to write very much today.

(By the way, why do fantasy races always seem to be Capitalized? We don't write about "Humans".) The names of prime species are given the markers of respect in the language and orthography in question. The names of non-prime species are not. Actually we are being relatively nice -- some orthographic systems don't capitalize the names of individual non-primes: "Vae" would be "vae" in such systems.

What's the purpose of a city? To provide a place where many primes or (and?) monsters may live comfortably, fashionably, safely, and happily in close proximity.

How is that different from the purpose of a government? Well, flippantly, a government is not a place. Less flippantly, I think governments have other purposes (some of them worthwhile).

Does government and governance require a city? I can't see why it does.

Can there be a form of governance that works for all sentients living in an area? If the area is small enough, yes. For an area that contains two or more sentients, I suspect not.

Why did Primes form cities in the first place? I'll have to ask a relative about that. My vague impression is no more than, "It seemed the thing to do at the time." Mutual defense and all was crucial. It still is.

Why did non-primes form their cities? I have no idea. I don't even know if there's anyone around to ask.

Why did Primes exclude non-primes from their cities? Mostly because non-primes exist to trouble us, and we don't want to be troubled that way at home. This reason still obtains.

What benefits accrue to forming a mixed-prime-and-non-prime city? Vae is a lot happier. Some foolish concept of justice that I seem to want to observe will be satisfied.

What detriments would be inevitable? Trouble. Lots and lots of trouble, of the forms suitable to the non-prime inhabitants.

What detriments would be easily managed? Um ... if we let taptet in, we could outlaw potion-making, I suppose.

Who decides on the form of governance? The founders of the city.

What do the Gods of the World Tree think about all this? I can't see why that could possibly matter. It's not as if they'll be nice to us even if they like it.