A Sellsword in the Bath House
by N.C. Weber
Aeslinn wrapped the ties from her apron around her waist twice before tying them securely behind her. The morning air was heavy with moisture. Though any mist had failed to form, dew hung from everything. Not a good day for the bath house. People tended not to think about taking a hot bath on a day like this. It was going to be a slow day, which meant that the proprietor, a dried up old woman with the disposition of a jackal, was going to be in an especially sour mood.
Aeslinn sighed. She really could use the slow day, but knew that she and the other women who serviced customers in the bath house would most likely be doing cleanup and repair of the different rooms. Squaring her shoulders, Aeslinn stepped out into the common room where customers normally entered and requested baths. The proprietor sat behind the counter fanning herself furiously. Aeslinn shook her