This is the beginning of a story that I’ve been playing with for a while. Nothing concrete yet, but I really like the characters and the city I’ve created. If anyone has thoughts on where you’d like to see it go, I’m open to ideas and comments. This is just a working title, it’s called ‘Sapphic Ashtar-Keh’ because I genuinely don’t know where I’m going or what I’ll call it.

~~~~~~~~~

Ashtar-Keh

Speak to me, Oh Ashtar-Keh

Jeweled city of lust and absolution

Oh, glittering towers, Oh golden palaces

Oh, gilded snakes of flame and poison

Oh, speaker of secrets, Oh teller of falsehoods

Say your sweet words with painted lips

My sword sings at my thigh

And clamours for your nectared justice

Speak to me, Oh Ashtar-Keh

Nest of ancient magic

Oh, latticed windows, Oh, vivid streets

Speak to me your riddles and let me live

~~~~~~~~~~

A woman-kept home would be nice, Solveig thought. A small piece of softness to return to at the end of the day. Solveig was getting older, though not elderly by any stretch, hot food and warm breasts appealed as a nightly occurrence, not just the occasional purchase.

Tomorrow then, the barbarian would pass through the gates of Ashtar-Keh to look for a suitable woman. Solveig wanted no girl. A fey little wisp of a thing who shrieked at spiders and burned the rice would not do.

No, what Solveig wanted was someone old enough to know what she was doing and young enough for some fun between the sheets. Solveig was bored with the life of a nomad. She would still travel and adventure, but she wished for a place to call home.

 Ashtar-Keh was the best option. An ancient walled city set against the Wildlands, Ashtar-Keh was on the fringe of civilization. It was a city of delight and danger, where coin could buy anything if the price was right. The city was as savage as the lands surrounding it, peace being maintained by adherence to the old adage ‘mind your own business’.

It appealed to Solveig, a wild thing herself, though she had developed a taste for creature comforts in her travels. She had managed to save a tidy sum of money, enough to buy a comfortable, though not large, house in Ashtar-Keh on her last visit.

It was made of stone with a sloping roof, living space on the first floor, sleeping room above. Ever practical, Solveig made sure it had it’s own small cobbled yard behind and it’s well, complete with an average-sized earthenware tub. At the back of the house was a small kitchen space. Overall, there was nothing fancy about it. There were thousands of such houses in Ashtar-Keh but Solveig was proud to finally have one of her own, a home to return to.

The following day dawned with a blush of pink and soon, the climbing spires of the city came into view.

Solveig’s first stop was her new house. There was very little in the way of furniture or possessions, but Solveig hadn’t owned it long. Besides, she would be living here now, so there would be plenty of time to acquire comfortable things.

Speaking of which…

After a simple morning meal of bread and cheese, the staple of every wanderer’s diet, she decided to turn her attention to her next task ~ a woman.

With a sigh, she heaved herself to her feet from the cushions she’d been reclining on. Buckling on her sword and pulling her fur-lined cloak over shoulders (the mornings were chilly now) Solveig shut the door behind her and carefully locked it, feeling a small burst of contentment as she dropped the heavy key into the pocket of her leather pants.

Solveig headed to the market.

The markets of Ashtar-Keh were a wonder unto themselves. Everything in the world could be purchased there from simple kitchen dishes to exotic spices and fabrics. Even in these early hours, the market was already alive with music and the cries of merchants. The smell of incense and cooking food mingled with the crisp scent of autumn air.

Solveig breathed it all in.

The warrior stopped to buy a baked potato from one of the many food stalls before making her way to one of the less savoury parts of the market.

Tucked away at the back, against a crumbling wall of ancient stone, were the slave traders. Solveig fought to keep the disgust from her face, settling instead for tugging one of her blonde braids into place. The buying and selling of people had never appealed to her, as it could never appeal to any creature that valued freedom above all else.

Ever practical, Solveig recognized the hypocrisy of what she was doing. She condemned the practice of owning another intelligent being in bondage, and yet she was about to purchase one for herself. Her actions didn’t sit right, but Solveig was a solitary woman with little use for socializing and so knew no other way to find a companion.

Solveig told herself that she would be no harsh master. She would never beat or coerce and if it truly was deplorable to her, she would free whoever she bought. Never one to examine her emotions too closely, Solveig pushed her unease away and approached the stalls.

Ashtar-Keh’s slave market was better than those in most other places. The wealth of the city meant that only slaves in good condition were desirable, and so the usual horrors were absent in Ashtar-Keh.

Even so, there was an expected air of general misery as humans, elves, goblins, and beings of every type were bought and sold at auction like horseflesh.

Solveig wandered past each stall, the slavers barking the virtues of their various offerings. She looked carefully, wanting to be sure of herself. She definitely wanted a woman, a human, not too young…

Suddenly, someone caught the barbarian’s eye.

Sitting crouched against the wooden slats of a slaver’s stall was a dark-haired woman of at least thirty. Her eyes were downcast, although Solveig noticed that she took the occasional furtive, darting glance at her surroundings. Her long hair dearly needed a wash and from what Solveig could see of her that wasn’t covered by the formless, colourless shift that she wore, so did the rest of her.

The clanking collar around her neck seemed too heavy, pulling her head towards her knees that were bent and held to her chest. Something in manner interested Solveig, though she could not put her finger on it.

The stall owner noticed Solveig’s interest and approached.

He was short, round, and loud, with a greasy mustache that twitched as he boomed his greeting.

“Just got that one in! Not a better piece of woman-flesh in the place! I won’t have her long in, I guarantee so if you’re serious, act now!” he said it all with a laugh, as if he weren’t offering something as precious as the life of a person.

Solveig didn’t care for the man but was interested in the woman, so she came closer. He smelled of sweat, badly concealed with scented oil. Her nose wrinkled slightly.

“Show her to me, then,” Solveig said, her voice calm and neutral.

The slaver laughed again and yanked the chain attached to the woman’s collar, pulling her roughly to her feet. The woman kept her eyes down.

“See? Nothing better! Strong limbs, clean teeth, fit for any work you need her for!” As he described her, the man puppeted her about, showing off.

“Alright,” Solveig replied quietly, the man withdrew his finger from the woman’s mouth after showing off the superior condition of the slave’s teeth.

She was shorter than Solveig, but most women and quite a few men, were. Her eyes and hair were both dark, contrasting with her pale skin. All told, Solveig found her looks pleasing and was about to ask the price when the man started prattling on again.

“You’re lucky to get her! A former peasant from the Westlands! Her parents died and the lord of the manor didn’t want the excess baggage! He’s a friend of mine, wanted to have her work in brothel and earn her keep that way but I told him, a woman like this would never last long in a whorehouse!” the slaver gave another loud guffaw. “Too much hard work from too young! Why, she’d be used up in no time, even with…”

As he spoke, the round man reached for the tie at the neck of the woman’s thin shift. In one motion, he undid it and pulled it down, baring her to her waist.

Solveig got an unexpected look at full, high breasts and pink nipples, already pebbled in the morning cold. She noticed the woman’s arms twitch at her sides, wanting to cover herself up again.

“How much?” Solveig was losing patience with the man’s unending speech.

She and the slaver went back and forth on price as the slave woman righted her clothing, red staining her cheeks.

“Done!” the man said cheerfully and went to write up a bill of sale.

He handed Solveig a piece of parchment and grabbed the collar, intending to release the chain.

“Keep the collar, too,” Solveig instructed. She had no intention of keeping this woman leashed like a lowly kitchen mutt.

“But…” the slaver’s ever-present smile faltered. “She may run, ma’am. You’ll need something to keep hold of!”

Solveig scoffed.

“Alright,” he said with a shake of his head. “But you won’t get a refund if she gets away!”

Solveig was no longer paying attention. Instead, she placed her palm in the middle of the woman’s back and began steering her into the busier part of the market.

Once out of sight of the slave stalls, Solveig took a closer look at her purchase.

The woman kept her eyes lowered as they walked. She was obviously cold in the chilly morning air and she had no shoes. Evidently the lord of the manor had only allowed her to keep the shift.

“Are you hungry?” Solveig asked. Truth be told, she was now at a bit of a loss. She had made her desired purchase but wasn’t sure how to bring about the domestic comfort she was after.

“A… a little, Mistress,” the voice was soft and low, making Solvieg think of gurgle of a tide pool.

“Solveig.”

“Pardon, Mistress?”

“My name is Solveig. No need for titles.”

“As you like, Mist… Solveig.”

They passed the potato stall again, and Solveig bought another, telling the old man running the operation to cover it in butter. Wordlessly, she handed it to the woman, who thanked her and began to eat.

The potato didn’t last long, and Solveig wondered how long her new purchase had gone without food.

“What’s your name, then?” Solveig asked.

“Edyth,” the response was quiet and unsure.

“Edyth,” the barbarian repeated it, liking the sound. It was definitely a Westland name.

“Edyth, there is a bathhouse nearby that I favour. We will go there and talk. Then we will need to return to the market.”

“Yes, Solveig,” Edyth said obediently.

Edyth wasn’t sure if she was starting to relax or if she was now so tense that she couldn’t feel it anymore. This was the moment she had feared, since the lord had given her over to be sold. Where would she end up? Would her owner be cruel? What sort of life would she have? Ashtar-Keh was so far from her home… Her home that made her ache whenever she thought of it.

But this barbarian who bought her was showing some kindness, she hadn’t been expecting food before work or for her new mistress to insist on being called by her name. Edyth risked a quick look at Solveig. She was tall and strong, obviously a seasoned warrior of some kind. She was dressed in well-kept though rough clothing, with a wicked looking sword at her side, though Edyth was no judge of such things. Solveig’s blonde braids and sky-blue eyes were typical of people from the Grey Islands.

Looking down, Edyth noticed the callouses on Solveig’s hands. She was obviously accustomed to hard living. Was that the sort of life she would bring Edyth into?

“Here,” the barbarian woman said, stopping in front of a large green door, intricately carved with patterns of flowers being carried on flowing water.

A boy, dressed in the white uniform of the bathhouse, pulled the door open with a creak, ushering the two women inside.

Edyth could only stare. She had never been in a bathhouse before. On the estate, everyone bathed in their homes, if they had the time or else in the empty laundry tubs. Nothing in her life could compare to the beautiful interior of the bathhouse.

The Lucky Lotus, as it was called, was quite common, as far as bathhouses in Ashtar-Keh went. The tiles were a pleasing mix of blues and greens, murals of lakes meeting mountains, boats on oceans, and other water motifs decorated the interior. Edyth could hear water running in pipes, could smell bath oils and perfumes, and the low murmur of voices mixed with soft music.

Feeling out of place in her dirty shift, she kept close to Solveig as the barbarian ordered a private room for the two of them and more food.

Edyth wished she could move more slowly to take in her surroundings but kept up with her new mistress as a different boy showed them down a long hallway, pushing open another large door, this one made from fragrant cypress wood.

Once inside, Edyth couldn’t stop herself from gasping. More green and blue tiles that covered the floor and went halfway up the wall where they met a mural of marshlands dotted with herons and dragonflies. The space was bathed in the yellow light from five floor lamps, standing at intervals around the walls. In the middle of the room, sunken into the floor, was a large tub of polished green tile with fish painted on the bottom.

“It’s beautiful!” she couldn’t help saying, feeling immediately silly.

Solveig smiled. “I have always liked the murals. That’s why this bathhouse is my favourite.”

The barbarian removed her cloak and sword, hanging them up on some pegs just as two young women entered carrying trays of food. They were simple dishes of fritters filled with fruit, soft bread rolls, and something steaming inside a jug.

Simple as the fare was, Edyth was from a miserly estate where the lord was petty and grasping down to the last plum on every tree and to her, it was plenty.

“Eat. I’m sure you’re still hungry,” Solveig began to pour from the jug into two earthenware mugs, blue to match the décor. She handed one to Edyth. It turned out to be strong black tea mixed with a bit of milk to lighten the flavour. Edyth drank, cold still biting at her.

She stared at the food, hesitant to take any despite Solveig’s instruction. She’d heard of such things being tests, slaves being punished for daring to eat before their masters.

Unconcerned, Solveig grabbed a fritter and began to undress. Only when her back was turned did Edyth take a bread roll. She broke it apart, marveling at the fluffy whiteness inside. This was not like the heavy bread of the estate. As she ate and drank, Edyth felt some of the tension leaving her body.

Meanwhile, Solveig had stripped and was climbing into the tub. The barbarian sat on the ledge beneath the surface and leaned against the tile of the bathtub, warm water feeling good against her skin. She’d told them to add a bit of oil to the water and the effect was very pleasant indeed.

Solveig looked to Edyth who was hesitating.

“Come, Edyth. I will not hurt you.” Solveig tried to be reassuring. Belatedly, she realized that Edyth was likely to make… certain assumptions about their visit to a private bathing room. “And I will not force you,” she added.

Edyth felt some of her fears subside. Turning, she pulled the dirty shift over head and hung it next to Solveig’s things. She crossed the tile floor and slipped into the tub, across from Solveig.

Solveig tried her best to appear uninterested, but she couldn’t help looking at a naked Edyth as she slipped into the bath water. Her breasts were large and full, her hips wide and pleasant. Her skin was both pale and rosy and looked very soft. She was well formed and full-figured with very little extra around the edges. It was the body of someone who had worked hard all their life and was very capable.

Perfect.

Without thinking, Solveig reached across the tub and pulled Edyth into her lap, resting her chin on top of the other woman’s dark hair. She felt Edyth tense slightly but did not relinquish her hold. Instead, she embraced Edyth around the shoulders and rested her cheek against her tresses, sighing the deep sigh of one who is extremely comfortable.

After a few moments, it became clear to Edyth that Solveig had genuinely meant her previous reassurances, so she leaned back against the barbarians more athletic body and tried to savour the warmth from the muscular frame behind her.

“I need you to keep house for me,” Solveig murmured against her hair, resisting the urge to reach lower than Edyth’s shoulders.

“Pardon?” Edyth wanted to make sure she understood.

“I have a house in the city. I am an adventurer by trade. Treasure-hunting, sellsword, that sort of thing. I bought a house. I no longer wish to spend all my time traveling and sleeping on the ground, so I bought a house. But I am no housekeeper. You are to keep house, cook, do the domestic things.”

“Alright,” Edyth was relieved. If this was to be her fate, being housekeeper to an adventurer who didn’t know which end of an oven to light, she was getting off easy. A small voice at the back of her head spoke a quiet warning.

“Will there be anything else?” Edyth asked, acutely aware of Solveig’s fingers tracing little circles over her collar bone.

“Hmmmm,” Solveig’s response was another murmur against the top of her head. “You wish to know if I will bed you?” the barbarian was very direct, Edyth noted.

“Well… yes,” Edyth’s voice was quiet, afraid.

“I would like to,” Solveig saw no reason not to be honest. “I have seen you and you please me very much. But I will not force you. I will never force you,” she repeated herself again.

Edyth could have cried in relief.

“For now, we will bathe and then shop. You need proper clothing, and I don’t know how to supply a kitchen.”

Edyth could tell that Solveig was dangerous under different circumstances. Her calloused hands, strong muscles, the scars marking her body, all showed a woman who knew how to fight and did it often. Idly, Edyth wondered how much damage those hands could do even without a sword.

Her musings were interrupted as Solveig brought a soap-lathered sponge across her shoulders and down her arms. Edyth was startled to realize that the barbarian was washing her.

Solveig hummed quietly as she worked, scrubbing the dirt and fear away from Edyth, even massaging the smaller woman’s scalp as she washed her hair.

Finished with Edyth, Solveig told her to eat and drink as much as she wanted while she carried on washing her own form. Edyth’s skin was as soft as she had suspected. Remembering suddenly, Solveig told Edyth about the other products the bathhouse provided for its patrons, free of charge of course. One was an especially popular oil for the skin, softly scented and good for the pores. Solveig mentioned it casually, then turned her back to Edyth as she took out her braids to wash her hair.

Solveig smiled slightly when she heard the soft sound of the oil being applied to skin.

:::::::::::::

The pair left the Lucky Lotus and headed back into the market. Edyth, freshly bathed, was Solveig’s first priority. The poor woman had only that thin shift and already, Solveig was concerned about her bare feet, seeing that her toes were red from cold not long after leaving the warmth of the bathhouse.

Fortunately, one of the first market stalls by the entrance, under two grand stone pillars, sold used clothing by weight. Edyth had never had new clothing in her life and was just glad to wear something other than thin linen but Solveig hoped that sometime soon, she would be able to buy her finer things.

The used clothing booth was owned by twin sisters, both so old that they routinely claimed to have sold the Sun his first pair of pants. Despite their advanced years, they were quick and clever, pulling items from various haphazard piles in front of them after giving Edyth a brief once-over.

After an encouraging nod from Solveig, Edyth ran her fingers over a soft wool blend of deep blue which turned out to be a simple dress, fitted by basic lacings at the sides. The dress was slightly worn but the fabric was good and had years left in it. Solveig said they’d take it. The barbarian also added two new shifts, stockings, and a pair of brown ankle boots to the pile.

Edyth stammered a thank-you as one of the sisters ushered her behind the back of the stall to change.

Finally in decent clothes, Edyth fell into step beside Solveig, carrying the rest of her new clothing in a bundle clutched to her chest. She felt human again.  

The markets of Ashtar-Keh have every necessity and every luxury available. Solveig had more experience with the former than the later.

Edyth, used to differing to her betters, was trying to balance the attitude expected of someone in her position with the fact that her new mistress had no idea what she was doing. Solveig was not exaggerating when she said she had no clue how to run a household.

Lucky for her, Edyth could do it with her eyes closed.

With Edyth’s careful suggestion, they left the market with supplies of flour, rice, potatoes, lentils, basic salt and spices, yeast, dried fruit and meats, and other odds and ends. Solveig carried what she could, arranging the rest to be delivered by dog-cart.

As Solveig headed back towards home, she found herself growing slightly nervous. Strictly speaking, she was the power in her tiny household, but Edyth clearly knew what she was about, and Solveig found herself worried that her little house might not pass muster.

“This one,” Solveig’s words were blunt as she stopped outside their new home and produced her key.

Edyth’s knowing eyes took in the clean state of the stonework, the good repair of the roof. There was a click from the lock and the barbarian opened the door, leading her slave inside.

Edyth’s first impression was that it was very bare. There were a few cushions in front of a fireplace, a wooden chest against a wall and… that was about it. She turned to Solveig, silently asking permission to head into the back half of the house.

At Solveig’s nod, Edyth stepped through into a small kitchen. There was a raised grate for cooking, to the relief of Edyth and her back, a sturdy looking table, stone sink, and lots of hooks and pegs along the walls. Through the window, she could see a well and a stone basin under an awning. Outside the back of the house was a cobbled yard surrounded by a high stone wall that separated this house from the ones on either side. There was a space for a kitchen garden, though it was currently barren.

The small house was a good one. It needed a bit of care – the window shudders should be painted before the winter snows, and definitely some more furnishings. All in all…

“You made a good choice, I think. Solveig.” Edyth said with approval.

The barbarian grinned.

~~~

Edyth snuggled closer to the warmth behind her. Strong arms pulled her close as a strange voice murmured something in sleep.

For a moment, Edyth was confused before she remembered Solveig.

It was still very early, the sleeping room lit only by the dying embers in the fireplace and the wobbly, crepuscular pre-dawn light.

Her first day as a… slave (the word still filled her with horror) had gone remarkably well, in her opinion. Using Solveig’s meagre supply of cooking pots, intended to be travelled with, she had scoured the small kitchen from top to bottom. There was a huge accumulation of dust and cobwebs but thankfully, no real filth.

The barbarian herself had sat in the back doorway, seemingly content to watch and puff on a small pipe. Edyth had felt revulsion when Solveig pulled out a tobacco pouch and began to fill the pipe’s bowl, the only person she had ever known to smoke was one of the ostlers back on the estate. Whatever he put in his pipe had smelled absolutely foul, with thick, dark smoke that stained walls and curtains. The head housekeeper was always on the alert, lest the man have the audacity to smoke in the house, even if it was just the back servant’s areas.

But whatever Solveig was smoking was almost… pleasant. There was no greasy residue and the smoke itself was white and fragrant, rising from the pipe in thin, winding tendrils. Between the tobacco and the lemon balm Edyth added to her cleaning water, the little house smelled almost like home by the end of the day. After a simple meal of fragrant saffron rice and chicken (Edyth admitted to herself that she was showing off) she had gone to bed feeling distinctly homesick.

Solveig, pulling Edyth closer on the wide pallet they now shared, had pressed a kiss to her hair with surprising tenderness. The barbarian had held Edyth until she’d fallen asleep.

The cold air of morning felt rude to Solveig, a personal slight after Edyth had poured so much care into the house the day prior.

Oh well, she would have to stock up on firewood anyways. The season would change to winter soon enough. A vulgar voice at the back of her mind also pointed out that it would be a good excuse to have a cuddle and tumble with the sweet Westland woman in bed beside her.

Solveig pushed the idea away. She would not force Edyth. But if this firm rear end was to be pressed against her every night, well, it would be a long, long winter.