There is a city of perfect justice. It sits behind square walls on a plain of rock and low vegetation. There are mountains within view, but pushed far enough aside that their shadows never touch the city.

Anywhere within those walls—whether in one of the cobbled streets, the half-shaded veranda of one of its palaces, or the arched nave of a chapel—any wrong deed is met with a perfect and equal retribution. No court is needed. A man who seeks to strike another will find his own hand crippled when it contacts an imperturbable barrier created at that instant. A knife directed with violence will reverse itself and slice its wielder. Simple. Immediate. Evil is not given the grace of doubt or the harbor of secrecy, let alone clemency.

Because evil thoughts are the grandsires of evil deeds, they are punished as well. Envious thoughts will make a man stumble and bruise himself on the ground. Spite makes the gusting wind sharp enough to cut. Jealousy will compel a woman to pluck her own hair from a soon-bloodied scalp.

It is a beautiful place. No human can survive there beyond a night and a day.