Freedom Fighters of Trelandar

A Tale of Adventure in the Second Dark Age

Book Nine of the Warlady Series

By Jerome B. Bigge

Chapter Forty Six

      "Didn't Darlanis attempt to investigate?" Sharon Duval asked as she looked up from the manuscript that I'd been editing here. Her eyes, reminding me much of those of Darlanis, meeting mine...

      "She was chasing a `will of the wisp' that didn't exist," I smiled back. "Lady Lana had it set up so that no one would ever suspect the truth of what I was doing," I explained to Sharon now as she nodded thoughtfully. "There were several `others' too who pretended to be me, so that even Darlanis' spy network using the prostitutes of Lara's `Guild' did her but little good here now."

      "And most Trelandarians at that time had little love for her in any case," Sharon "agreed", no doubt now drawing upon memories fifty six years in the past. Now in her seventies, Sharon still was a beautiful woman, although not the awesome beauty that Dar- lanis herself had been. "Too, I suspect the fact that `you' were too `obvious' perhaps made Darlanis believe that someone else was impersonating you, using your maiden name for their purposes..."

      "I am very well read," I smiled, seeing Sharon nod. Darla- nis was not a well read person, and in a battle of wits mine was obviously the superior although the Empress was "quick witted", a useful trait no doubt for any of the Warrioress caste to have... *****************************************************************

      "I `worry'," Lady Lana Daris said to me as we spoke together in quiet tones by the Christmas tree that we were decorating now. Her son Brian was with Sarah, both watched over by a slave girl. It was a pleasant day, rather "chilly", but not that bad really. Carl and Jerry had gone into Thistle to do some "shopping" here.

      "We are at war, and when at war, risks are taken," I smiled.

      "You are more the `Warrioress' than I who bear the mark," I listened to her say, the "comment" making me smile to myself now. Her bravery and courage was something I'd always admired in her.

      "They are looking for someone hiding in the woods, leading a band of outlaws," I answered, knowing that was how most people in Trelandar now "thought" of me, a carefully waged plan that had so far sent the Empress' forces on a number of wild goose chases...

      "There are those in Thistle who know `who' you are," Lana said, reaching up to place the star there on the top of the tree.

      "Making me even more `safe' as the Imperials believe now the woman who has taken my `name' is hiding in the forests," I said in reply, placing the ornament I held on one of the tree's limbs. Those of the past once used electric lights on their Christmas trees, but that was a part of the technology now forbidden to us.

      "You are playing a dangerous `game' with a `woman' who will stop at nothing to maintain control of Trelandar," Lana answered.

      "All Darlanis can `do' to me is lop my head off if she takes me alive," I replied, aware that she would doubtlessly do so now. There was already a reward posted for "Lady Sanda Harles" dead or alive, wanted now for "crimes against the Empire of California". I had written a letter to the largest newspaper in Trella point- ing out that my name was well known, and that there were a lot of women in Trelandar who "met" my description, women who might very well be impersonating me for their own purposes here. This being my way of course of throwing Darlanis' own people off my "trail"!

      "She'll do `more' than just lop off your head," Lana spoke, standing there with a Christmas tree ornament in her hand, speak- ing a truth that I didn't like to think about if I was ever taken alive. Darlanis wouldn't do the torture herself, of course, but I had no doubts that Princess Tara would be "delighted" to do so.

      "I shouldn't have `involved' you as much as I did," I said.

      "I just feel that our cause is hopeless," Lana said to me.

      "We must be `patient'," I said, seeing Lana nod back now. *****************************************************************

      I watched Jerry take "aim" with the little bow Carl had made for him, the arrow here a bit low, hitting just below the target. It was a warm late spring day, with Lady Lana now gone to Trella. He doted on the boy, teaching him the ways of the Warrior, some- thing I wasn't all that pleased with, but could do little about. Carl always pointing out that it might take decades to free Tre- landar from the "clutches" of Darlanis, and my son might have his own role to play here. Sarah was walking a bit now, and had to be carefully watched, keeping me a bit more "busy" than before... We had plenty of slave girls about, but many weren't trustworthy. I thought of buying one for ourselves, but that would not be all that "fitting" with the nature of my position here on the estate.

      "Hi, Mrs. Talen," Phara Holt said to me, walking up to watch Jerry shoot an arrow, Phara being a couple years younger than my son. A nice girl, but not the sort of a girl that either Carl or I would have ever wanted our son to get "serious" about here now. The daughter of the blacksmith, she was an intelligent girl, and pretty enough, but I'd been a high born Lady of Trelandar, and my husband was of the Warriors, the highest caste there is, and nice or not, Phara Holt was not the sort of a girl here for Jerry now!

      "Hi, Phara," I smiled, keeping an eye on Sarah here. It was a nice warm spring day, the year now 2554, and I was thinking of how "little" I'd ever been able to "accomplish" here so far now. Granted, there were "incidents" here and there, and it was quite obvious that not all Trelandarians accepted the Imperial occupa- tion of their country, but so far we hadn't been able to really "do" much of anything effective against those who ruled us here.

      "I wish I could `read' like you do," Phara now said to me.

      "It takes years to learn," I said, not wishing to encourage the girl. I suppose it was "mean" on my part, but that was the way that I felt about it. I was a high caste woman, my parents having been titled, and of the black caste, and this girl was a daughter of an Iron Worker, who himself could not read or write.* * There is a note here by Lorraine: "Parallels the racial preju- dices of my own era to a surprising degree." I can only say that I had much to learn, even if I believed in "democracy". (Sanda)

      "Jerry sure `knows' a lot," Phara said to me then, her dark eyes looking hopefully up into mine. Her attire commonplace "at- tire" for a seven year old girl, her dress the worst for wear. I considered "shooing" her off, but knew it would only make the matter "worse" if I did so. And telling Jerry not to see her any more would be even a worse move on our part, Carl and I knew too! Hopefully Jerry would meet someone else eventually, hopefully one of higher caste than Phara Holt, and that would be the end of it! She had a younger brother, Stan, who I'd seen a time or two here.

      "I am of the `Scribes'," I smiled then, seeing her nod back. I had taught Jerry to read, giving him "easy" books to get him started, and now he could almost handle adult level books here.

      "Why are people `different'?" she asked, standing there.

      "People `are' what they do best," I answered quickly back.

      "Was it always `so'?" Phara asked, the picture of innocence.

      "There was a time long, long ago, when things were different than they are today, when people could fly in the air like birds do, when they could travel as far in an hour in a device called an `automobile' as we might riding from dawn to dusk," I replied. "When Men, like the Lorr, could even travel to other worlds..."

      "You must be very wise," Phara breathed, standing there. I saw in her eyes a pleading, as if she wished to know more of it. She was a very "likable" little girl, but I objected to the sort of relationship that was being formed between her and my own son.

      "Hi, Phara," Carl said to her, Jerry there now at his side.

      "Did these people who did all these things have `castes' like we do?" Phara asked, Jerry grinning at her from beside Carl.

      "Naw, that was only after `Our Lady' died," Jerry said now, using the impressive title by which Janet Rogers was once known. "Before that anyone could `be' anything they `wanted' to be," he added, Phara giving him a smile that left few doubts of things...

      "That girl is `trouble'," Carl said to me as we sat there overlooking the estate, Mischief as usual having run off with the two children. "And while I know you say its just `puppy love'," my husband continued on, "Still it worries me seeing them now." To Carl Jerry was now as much "his" as Sarah was, perhaps "more" in a way because he was a boy, the only "son" he'd ever have now.

      "He's nine and she's seven," I smiled. "They'll both `out- grow' it," I assured him, although I wasn't so sure here anymore. "They're both just children," I added, seeing my husband nodding.

      "They play together, and they're together all the time," he answered. "And you are a high born Lady of Trelandar," he added. "The sister of a Queen of Trelandar, and once its Warlady too..." His dark eyes meeting mine as I now nodded thoughtfully in reply.

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