/lit/ - Literature

>“We want a room,” said Corson, banging her fist on a table.
>A portly, well-dressed man approached, regarding them with disapproval. “Our rooms are all taken,” he said. “Perhaps down the street ....”
>Corson smiled. She opened the pouch at her belt and pulled out a few gold coins, tossing them in her palm. “A large room,” she continued. “The best you have.”
>The owner bowed. He classed Corson as a soldier fresh from a successful campaign. Nyctasia he dismissed as a penniless student whom the other had undoubtedly picked up for the night. Students as a class were notorious whores.
>He waved a servant over. “Show them the corner room upstairs. Lay on fresh bedding. Is there anything else you require?” he asked, turning back to Corson.
>“I want a bath,” Nyctasia put in. “Hot water, and plenty of it. And something clean to wear.”
>The innkeeper looked at Corson inquiringly.
>“It’s all right,” she said, with a sweeping gesture. “Get her anything she wants.” She grinned at Nyctasia, who suddenly flushed as she realized how things appeared. Swallowing her pride, she meekly followed Corson upstairs.
>Corson was delighted with the room. It was large and well-aired, with windows looking on the courtyard and the street. Tile bed was wide, with an oaken chest at its foot, and a table and two chairs stood at the hearth. There was even a sheepskin rug, Corson fell onto the bed and sank into the down mattresses, laughing.
>“Get your boots off the bed,” said Nyctasia.
>“A little more respect from you, slut. I’ll have you thrown into the street, where you belong, if you don’t behave.”
>Nyctasia sighed. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
>Corson pulled off her boots and dug her toes into the rug. “I’ve always wanted to have my way in a grand place like this.”