Ziruna

Home is a strange concept, sometimes. If Ziruna was asked, she would always have said that Dolom is her home, of course she would. And there are ways in which this has always been true. Dolom is her city. She believes in its dreams, works for its future, protects it and its people from harm even at cost to herself.

But there have also always been small ways in which Dolom is not home, not really. Ziruna’s job has been to travel; to be away from her city serves its best interests. How can somewhere be home, when those there do not know you, when you serve and protect but are not really a part of? None would doubt that she loved the city, but she has not before given the city a chance to love her in return.

Maybe, that is starting to change.

Home starts with bringing back visitors. Ziruna knows every inch of the city — where better to train a spy? But it is a marvel to see it through the eyes of another. To feel excited about what their reaction might be when they turn the corner. To watch their expression when told about controversial local history. To teach them local slang, to insist on their visiting the best markets, and try all of the wonderful things her city has to offer. For Ziruna, pride in one’s city was an abstract until she had someone to show it off to.

Ziruna’s friends do draw a decent amount of attention. The sight of the Gallia Lucrece of the Northern Empire making a face when Ziruna insists she try a local dish of salted fish certainly does. As does the bee, armed to the hilt and scowling at the many people who take a second, and then a third, glance at the spider with glowing golden wings. As does the Slimefolk covered in leaves, enthusiastically discussing the possible uses of a trade-secret silk dye with her bat companion. As does the little Ssar man who throws salt at everyone. Even the black-clad, sea-worn Word-Keeper draws some notice. But Ziruna does not mind. She has always been stuck to the shadows, and there is considerable joy in having the opportunity to bathe in her friends’ glow, to be visible because of them.

Friendship also bring community. One day, a Dragonblooded arrives in Dolom, calling himself Sephar, and Ziruna vouches for his scholarly skills enough to get him a position working off his two years to citizenship in the city’s civil service. It is clear that Ziruna and Sephar know each other from their travels, and Sephar quickly makes a name for himself as efficient, clever, and discrete.

Scholar Sephar knows how to build a community, and he sets about doing so in his new home, making friends, settling in. He pulls Ziruna with him, insisting that she help him taste test all of the local tea houses, climb up the nearest hills, take part in the city’s lively social scene. As Sephar makes friends in Dolom, so does Ziruna, and the bird who has always felt herself to be on the outside of her city is finally drawn into the heart of it.

One evening, as she walks arm in arm down the cobbled streets with her husband Calidus, listening to him laugh with her friend, taking in the sights and sounds of her city, Ziruna realizes:

Finally, she is truly home.

— written by Liana W.

The visitor’s presence is noticed well before they even reach the door.

Training never leaves, and Ziruna’s proficiency in information-gathering hasn’t waned in the years since her retirement. From the sounds of it, the visitor was making no effort to conceal their arrival, but waryness doesn’t go away easily.

The house itself is an isolated dwelling in the wilderness beyond Dolom. It’s a modest size and well-kept, a central building encircled by a number of storehouses. Leucai had the dwelling built ready for their own retirement. Now, it belongs to Ziruna.

The visitor knocks. Ziruna is ready to greet them only moments later. The speed takes them by surprise slightly, but they introduce themself, Record-Keeper Prescience. Their livery gives them away as a city servant, on duty. Pleasantries are exchanged, and they continue to elaborate.

“I apologise, Diplomat Ziruna, but the city is in need of your… consultation.”

It’s not a title that’s been used in years. Ziruna expresses her confusion, and Prescience explains.

“Well… we have… notes of your activities, and… thought that you would be the best person for the job. The Surimutan jewellers we have trade agreements with are being waylaid by northern raiders, and we need some more… expertise in smoothing out the matter quicker than the Tharenan diplomats are able.”

They fumble around with several sheets of parchment, before continuing.

“You have… quite an impressive selection of accomplishments to your name. There’s the matter, obviously, of the Tharenan war, combined with the Kytharan peace. Then, of course, the incorporation and extended protection of the Guilds, and then some smaller matters with shipping lanes across Thyslann. It’s… I don’t think I’ve met anyone personally before who has quite the portfolio.”

A slight half-sigh from Ziruna. She had been trying to retire into obscurity, but, evidently, that was harder than it seemed. Not all of the activities were attributed accurately, but rumours have a way of spreading in unexpected and unpredictable patterns.

“So… are you… do you think you can help?”

The question leaves her with space for thought. This was supposed to be someone else’s duty now, but life as a city servant never truly finishes. Even when Leucai had taken a step back from their responsibilities, had broken up and reassigned the public business as a merchant of silks and the private life as a spymaster, they were active when called upon.

But Ziruna isn’t her mentor, and her choice is her own, made in consideration of herself and her family. She bids farewell to Prescience, committing to think on the subject and issue a reply by the end of the day.

And if she helps, it will be on her terms.