Adventures of a Curious Bard

Temora shaded her face against the sun as she approached the city of Kakila. Though it was only the early days of spring, the sandy dunes that wound around the coastal city radiated heat, and the leather coat she usually wore hung loose over her shoulders, grilling under the sun. Her cotton shirt was sticky and damp, and so were her rough trousers. Kakila was an ancient, walled city made from gold sandstone common to these parts, marked by old minarets and the faces of their strange gods rising as obelisks from the well-trod highway that led into the city.

"Impressive, isn't it?" the eunuch said as he rode alongside her upon his camel. He was a dwarf, rare in the northlands she came from but common enough in the Western Reaches.

"Yeah," Temora asked, looking away from the city. She was a dark-haired woman of medium height and athletic build, grey eyes set in sunburned, well-traveled skin that made her appear older than she really was. "You're certain your Lady will wish to hire me?"

"She is very interested in your particular... gifts," the dwarf said, his voice oily and feminine. His head was shaved beneath the turban he wore, she knew, and he reeked of cheap perfume. His eyes were dotted with kohl. After she'd departed from the Highlands on her way to Kakila, she had encountered him in the process of being robbed and fought off the assailants. Since then he'd been kind enough to let her join his little caravan, and feed her along the way. And perhaps, as she'd performed her tales and played her songs, she'd told him a few too many things. He was generous with his wine, and his sexlessness made her feel at ease when it came to discussing her exploits.

But she'd play the coy girl for now. "Surely you mean my gifts with this," Temora replied, smirking as she waggled her flute at him. "A pretty bard such as I, performing for a Lady's court?"

The dwarf smiled. "I can think of more than a few people who'd pay a lot for your skills, Temora. And the Lady has many friends, who she likes to entertain. You'll be a worthy addition to her household in Kakila."

Temora kept up her winsome smile. She was here on a mission, and if entering a dwarven noblewoman's household got her closer to her goals, she would do what it took.

They passed into the gates of the city, the dwarf paying the guardsmen tolls for their entry. The interior was busy and bustling with traders who roamed the bazaar, their great mules and camels stinking and shitting everywhere. Wine jugs and amphoras of perfume and oil were passed about. The seaside city, the capital of the Western Reaches, drew travelers from all over the world. Temora even saw a few brown-skinned, pale-eyed northerners like herself. She made sure to keep her face turned away, lest anyone recognize her. As far as everyone back home knew, she was dead and gone, and she preferred it that way.

They passed through the markets and headed towards the wealthier parts of town. Soon enough the homes and buildings were constructed of fine marble and granite, rather than the rough-hewn sandstone. The houses turned to a series of mansions, clustered around and old and ancient palace. "That's where the Greatlord of Kakila lives. My Lady lives nearby, among the mansions of the noble houses. Be wary and speak not to anyone who does not address you." Noble women in their flowing western silks, veils covering their faces, passed by seated on palanquins carried by their servants.

"I find it surprising the Greatlord allows a non-human to live so close to his palace. I had heard the Western cities were quite diverse, but segregated."

The eunuch raised his eyebrows. "Ah, but my Lady comes from a great house. You shall see, you shall see. We approach!"

The mansion was a massive building, with four walls and a large central courtyard. A marble fountain stood in the center, and the gardens were filled with exotic trees and flowers. A small grove of olive trees was in the center. Servants in the livery of the House moved through the courtyard, cleaning, washing and doing the chores necessary for the functioning of the estate.

"Come, come!" the eunuch said, leaping from his saddle. Temora followed.

"Lady Yalid!" the eunuch called out as he entered the mansion. A beautiful dark-skinned servant girl appeared. "My Lady will see you at once," the dwarf said. "Come, follow."

"You're not coming?"

"Not I," the eunuch replied, shaking his head. "I have other matters to attend to."

Temora shrugged and followed the servant girl through the halls of the mansion. The architecture was unlike any she'd seen before, with tall ceilings and arched windows and doors that overlooked the courtyard. The walls were covered with fine murals and frescoes. Temora couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship.

They arrived at a set of double doors, carved with images of dancing girls. The servant opened the doors and ushered Temora inside. The room was a large bedroom, with a canopied bed and a sitting area. At the center was a divan, and reclining on the divan was a dwarven woman. She was olive-skinned, with long black hair and dark brown eyes. She was clad in silken trousers and a sequined blouse. Her full figure, with thick dwarven hips and a robust bosom, was accentuated by the sheer fabric. Her face was delicate and beautiful, with high cheekbones and full lips. She had a small, pert nose, and her eyelids were lined with kohl, like the eunuch. She looked up at Temora with a cool gaze.

"Come, sit," the Lady Yalid said, gesturing to the chair across from her. Temora did so, settling her leather coat down and resting her arms on the wooden armrests. The Lady's gaze was cold and appraising in equal turns, and Temora felt as though she were being undressed, both of her clothes and her mental defenses.

"So, you are the bard they call Honeytongue. I heard tell you have caused quite a stir in the Highlands and the lands beyond them." She gestured to the serving girl to pour them cups of wine. "Do you play well, I wonder?"

"I know a thing or two about music," Temora replied, taking a sip of the wine. It was excellent. "And I have been told I have a way with words."

"And a way with women, too, no?" Yalid chuckled, taking a long draught of wine. "The Nymph Queen sent envoys to every corner of the continent, even here. She's still quite upset that you seduced her daughter."

Temora stiffened. She had thought herself far enough away from the Karyg country to be safe, but it appeared otherwise. "I did not leave her court on the kindest of terms," she admitted. "Will you turn me in?"

Yalid waved a dismissive hand. "The Nymph Queen has nothing to offer me. But I'd stay out of the public houses around here. Someone might turn you into the Greatlord, and he would have no qualms about sending you back to the Karyg."

Temora could tell there was more to Yalid's generosity than what she said. The dwarven noblewoman had an ulterior motive, and it had something to do with her.

"You seem like a woman who is used to getting what she wants," Yalid said. "Tell me, what do you want? What is it you seek?"

Temora looked the Lady Yalid in the eye. "What I want is no concern of yours."

"You're wrong," Yalid replied. "I know you have traveled a long way, and that you are here for something important. Perhaps I can help."

Temora paused. She had not told anyone about her quest, and yet somehow this stranger had guessed. "I am seeking something," Temora replied. "Or rather, someone."

Lady Yalid smiled coolly. "You're not after my father, are you?" She shifted her legs and took a long sip from her wine cup. "He has his share of enemies, but I didn't count a wandering bard amongst them."

Temora raised her eyebrows. "I don't know who your father is, but given you live in a mansion in the shadow of the Greatlord's keep, in a city that abhors dwarves, he must be a powerful man." She sipped the wine and grimaced. It was sweet and cloying.

"He's the Lord of the Blackhill, the dwarven realm I hail from." Her Western accent faded briefly, evincing a Subterranean twang. "I merely represent him in the Greatlord's court, since we were made his subjects."

Temora nodded. The Western Reaches were a vast and diverse territory, with many races and cultures, and the Greatlord had conquered them all. He had been the first to unite the disparate tribes and peoples under one banner. By coin, by influence, or by the sword - the Greatlord ruled.

And he funneled his wealth to evil people, including the ones who had ravaged her homeland.

It was clear that Lady Yalid was a rare and powerful dwarf, one of the few who lived outside of the Blackhill realm and could move freely among humans. Her status as the daughter of a lord, and her wealth, no doubt afforded her certain privileges.

Yalid took another long sip, and then set the cup aside. "So now that you know who I am, know that I am wealthy and powerful, will you tell me your purpose?"

Temora weighed her options. Yalid did not seem an altruist and Temora had no doubt that she would be used and discarded if the need arose. However, if Yalid had information that could help her find what she was looking for, it would be worth the risk.

"I want to meet him."

"Who?"

"The Greatlord."

Yalid laughed, a cold, dark sound almost masculine in timbre. "You wish to meet the most powerful man in the world, the man who rules the Western Reaches and has his hands in every pot? He's notoriously paranoid, by the way. He rarely ever shows his face, and never leaves his Keep. If you want to meet him, you must be invited."

Temora frowned. "So you will not help me, then?"

"Oh, I will help you. I just have to see if you're worth my time."

Temora was silent for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Yalid's eyes roamed over Temora's form hungrily. "I wish for you to perform for my guests tonight. And if you perform satisfactorily, I have no doubt I can get you an invitation to perform for the Greatlord. I've heard your songs are often quite... bawdy."

Well, that wasn't so bad a deal.

"Very well," Temora replied. "I know a few things that will entertain them."

"Good. My staff will get you a room and draw you a bath."

Temora nodded, standing up and collecting her flute. Yalid's gaze roamed over her form once more, lingering on her breasts. Temora indulged her, bending over to display her ample cleavage.

"Do you have something more revealing to wear?" Yalid asked.

Temora smirked. "I'll wear whatever you supply."

Yalid smiled in return. "Excellent."

Temora bowed her head, and then turned and left. As she exited the room, she could feel the dwarf's eyes boring into her back.

#

#

As promised, a servant showed her to a guestroom. The furnishings were opulent. The bed was a large, canopied affair, and the window overlooked the gardens. Temora sat down on the bed, marveling at the softness. It was the most luxurious place she had ever stayed.

The servant girl returned after a while and bowed deeply. "A bath has been drawn for you, m'lady. Down the hall."

Temora followed the servant, and was led to a bathing chamber. There was a large, deep pool, and the walls were decorated with etchings depicting nubile nymphs and satyrs. Steam rose from the water, and the scent of sandalwood and citrus filled the air.

Temora started to unbutton her blouse, but the serving girl stopped her.

"Let me," the girl said, her voice calm and quiet. She began to unbutton Temora's blouse, slowly revealing her golden brown curves and dark nipples. Temora stood still, her eyes looking over the serving girl's delicate features. She had a small, round face, a slender nose, and wide brown eyes. Her black hair was braided into a bun, and her dark skin was smooth and unblemished. Her mouth was full and red, and her lips glistened. She was shorter than Temora, and her body was slight. She smelled of rosewater and jasmine.

The serving girl slid Temora's blouse off, letting it fall to the floor. Her hands drifted over Temora's skin, leaving a trail of warmth. She ran her fingers over Temora's breasts, caressing her nipples. Temora gasped, arching her back.

"Are you pleased with me, milady?"

"Yes," Temora breathed.

The servant girl smiled, and began to unlace Tamara's trousers. They fell to the floor, revealing Temora's firm, muscular ass and thighs, clad in simple, white underwear, yellowed from harsh days traveling. The servant girl slipped her hands beneath the waistband, sliding the fabric down Temora's legs. She knelt down, placing a soft kiss on each thigh. Temora shivered, feeling a familiar heat growing in her cunt.

"Come," the girl said, holding out her hand. Temora took it, allowing the servant girl to guide her into the water. The water was warm and soothing, and the sandalwood and citrus oils helped her relax.

"Does the temperature please you, milady?" the servant girl asked, her voice soft and melodious.

"Yes," Temora whispered. She sank down into the water as the girl kneeled by the edge of the pool.

"Close your eyes," the girl commanded.

Temora obeyed, letting the heat wash over her. She felt the girl's hands on her shoulders, massaging her gently. She leaned into the touch, her breathing growing heavy. The servant girl began to hum a soft melody, the sound echoing off the stone walls. Temora closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of the girl's hands.

"What is your name, girl?" Temora asked.

"Nuraya," the girl replied, her voice a low, sweet whisper.

"You have a lovely voice, Nuraya," Temora said.

"Thank you, m'lady."

Temora opened her eyes and gazed into the servant girl's deep brown eyes. The girl was young, no more than eighteen years old. Her body was slim and supple, her breasts small and pert. She had an air of innocence about her, despite her duties.

"How did you come to serve Lady Yalid?"

"I was given to her father as a gift from the Greatlord."

Temora stiffened. "So you are a slave."

The girl nodded, her expression neutral.

Temora felt a flash of anger, her muscles tensing. "That is a terrible fate," Temora said. "I cannot enjoy you like this. As a... bauble, a bribe, offered up."

"But do you not find me comely, milady?"

Tempura's loins quivered. Her urges, her hedonism wanted her to take her pleasure with this girl, as she usually did. But she knew it would be wrong. "I do. And I would gladly fuck you, were you won righteously. I am a seducer of women, it's true, but I will not take what is not earned nor given freely."

Nuraya looked down at the floor, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thank you, milady," she murmured. "You are kind. I am happy to wash your hair and finish bathing you... without any other activities," she said, giggling a bit into her hand.

Temora relaxed again, leaning into Nuraya's touch. The servant girl resumed her gentle humming, running her fingers through Temora's shaggy black hair. Temora closed her eyes, losing herself in the sensations. Nuraya lathered Temora's hair with sandalwood-scented soap, massaging her scalp.

After a while, Nuraya stood and dipped a cloth in the water, then used it to gently cleanse Temora's body. She rubbed the cloth over Temora's skin, her movements slow and deliberate. Temora could feel her arousal growing, but she contained herself until her bath was finished.

#

#

After the bath, Nuraya guided her to her bedroom.

"Good evening, milady," she said. "The eunuch will come take you to the great hall in a bit. I suggest you get dressed." She bowed deeply and left. Temora ruefully watched her swaying hips as she walked away.

Damn it! She hated being a good person.

She turned and examined the dress that had been laid out for her.

Temora sat down on the bed, and looked around the room. She noticed the dress that had been laid out for her. It was a sheer, gossamer confection, with a low-cut neckline and a long slit up the side. She was still nude, and she looked around for any undergarments that would go with the dress. She found nothing, and sighed, resigning herself to wearing the dress without them.

The dress was a tight fit, the hem barely reaching the tops of her thighs. It was a good thing, she supposed, that it was the only dress. She slipped her arms through the straps and adjusted the bodice. She admired her reflection in the mirror. Her dark nipples were clearly visible through the fabric, and her full breasts were pushed up and together.

Temora felt a familiar warmth growing in her belly, and she bit her lip. She had always had a weakness for fine things, and this dress was no exception. The feel of the fabric against her skin was exquisite, and the sight of her own body, wrapped in such finery, aroused her. Her cunt was still hungry after the tease in the bath chamber, and she knew a particularly raunchy performance was likely oncoming.

She withdrew her flute from her rucksack. The instrument was carved from bamboo, the embouchures shaped by her father in days of old. She put the mouthpiece to her lips and blew a few experimental notes. The sound was clear and bright, and she adjusted the stops until she was satisfied. She took a deep breath and let the music flow through her.

The eunuch entered the room. His perfume preceded his appearance, causing her nostrils to wrinkle as she turned to face him.

"Temora, it's time for your performance."

"I'm ready."

The eunuch bowed his head, and led her through the mansion. The sounds of chatter and music echoed through the halls, and Temora felt a nervous energy coursing through her. No matter how many times she performed, the jitters before a show always came. It was way of life for a bard, even one as practiced and skilled as her.

The eunuch opened the door to the great hall, and Temora stepped inside.

The room was large, with a high ceiling and arched windows. The walls were covered with ornate tapestries, and a large chandelier hung overhead. At the center of the room was a table, where Lady Yalid and a number of nobles were seated. There was a crowd of guests standing around the perimeter, chatting and drinking.

As Temora entered the room, the chatter ceased. All eyes were on her, and she could feel the weight of their gaze. She curtsied appropriately, and she could feel their tension ease, as their probing eyes scaled her form. Knowing what she was here for, she sashayed her way up the hall and stood before the head table. Yalid was seated there, dressed in a garment of metallic dwarf-woven silk, which revealed much of her curvaceous figure but strategically concealed certain parts. At her side were various noblemen and noblewomen, dressed in the gaudy colors common to Kakila. The men leered and the women tittered. Temora's bent forward, exposing her sumptuous cleavage.

She looked at Yalid, whose lidded, dwarven eyes, radiated hunger. She felt her cunt twitch as she held out her flute.

"What shall I play for you, my Lady?"

Yalid paused, considering. "Something light, something sweet. Play us a song of love, Honeytongue."

Temora smirked. "As you wish."

She raised the flute to her lips and began to play. The tune was an old folk melody, one her mother had sung when she was a girl. She swayed her hips, feeling the music move through her. Her skirt swirled around her legs, and she could feel the eyes of the crowd following her.

The nobles' eyes were glazed over, and the servants had stopped their bustling to watch her.

As she danced, she summoned two wraiths to dance beside her, using the magic Hezerael had taught her. Two former lovers, nude and resplendent in their erotic glory. They danced and floated through the air, leaping from table to table. She trilled a frantic melody on her flute, the wraiths moving and swaying with each note.

The room was transfixed by her performance, the guests murmuring and sighing as they watched the wraiths move and dance. Yalid watched her intently, her expression unreadable. Temora held her gaze, swaying and undulating to the music, feeling the heat in her body grow as her movements became more suggestive. The crowd began to murmur and chatter, the men leering at the wraiths and the women eying Temora with a mix of fascination and desire.