"You did well, Lorraine," Darlanis smiled, raising her golden goblet in salute to me as we sat there in the beautifully furnished stern cabin of the Imperial flagship. I nodded in reply. Three of my women, women who I had known, who had names, identities, lives, who had loved, been loved, had died so that this Empress could sit here and salute me on another "victory" for her Empire! Another two nursed painful wounds there in Seahawk's sickbay with the couple dozen or so members of the crew who had been wounded in the battle with the Squala. We had put forty six bodies over the side of the Seahawk. The enemy had lost nearly twice that number. I hoped it satisfied her lust for "blood". Her love for this seemingly senseless war that had dragged on and on for years now! I was getting tired awfully fast of fighting her battles! Of shedding my own blood for her momentary glory!
"The credit should go to our young captain," Sharon answered for me, smiling at the young Bajan Prince across the table. Lara silent at his side, her gray-blue eyes in the lamplight unreadable. I recalled her actions before the battle, the way that she had touched him. She was a "mother" as well as a wife to him. I had very few doubts now that was why he had married her instead of Sela Dai or another of her type as no doubt both Darlanis and Tara had hoped: Lara being of low caste, and a "hip-swinger" to boot as prostitutes are commonly called here in the 26th Century.
"And to Lorraine for her as usual insight in suggesting our young Prince as captain of the Seahawk," Darlanis said, giving me another salute and a smile. Her use of the word "captain" also indicating Jers was to be promoted from the rank of "commander" to "captain" for the successful capture of the big Dularnian raider which had been before far too swift for any of California's galleys to capture! There had been over a hundred women held captive below decks. I had no doubt that many were thanking LYS for their freedom now! They would be put ashore when we reached our destination to make their ways as best they could back home to their husbands and children. I would help them as I could. The cost meant little to me. I was now rich, titled, a "Lady" of Trelandar with estates, servants, slaves to command.
"He has proven that I was not mistaken in my suggestion," I answered in a level voice, my dark eyes burning into the azure of Darlanis' at the other end of the table. "His success in taking an enemy fully equal to his own command proves that," I added, knowing that the crew of the Squala had been Dularn's finest fighting men and women. We had done well, although my warrioresses deserved some of the credit for that. I hoped Darlanis understood the cost in human life that we "paid" for the Squala! My hip was still sore from where the swordblade had slashed me.
"You are `right', of course," Darlanis answered, sipping at her wine, giving the couple a smile, Lara's eyes holding hers for a moment. I knew Lara had given a good account of herself with a bow, as had Sharon. There was no doubt now about Jers' bravery. About his ability to command men under battle in a ship to ship action. He well deserved his rank even if Tara was his mother. I saw Jers reaching under the table, no doubt to caress Lara. She was far more to him than just a wife. I understood that even if Darlanis didn't. I saw Lara kiss his cheek, whisper in his ear. Her eyes for a brief moment seemed to glow right into mine. I had little doubt what she had said to him. I knew the "type" of woman that Lara was. The sort of "skills" that she possessed!
"A word, if you please," Darlanis said to me as we rose from the table to return to the Seahawk. Her eyes were unreadable. I nodded for Sharon to go with the others. Watched them file out. A chill going over me despite the warmth of the cabin as the regal Empress silently regarded me from beneath long golden lashes.
"There is something between us that wasn't there before," I listened to Darlanis say as Lynn silently filled our goblets again, those azure eyes burning into mine. The luxury of the cabin speaking of the woman who ruled this great 26th Century Empire so many had died for. The golden mesh of her exotic attire glittering in the light from the lamps. Men followed her, worshiped her almost like she was a goddess. For the sake of her royal touch men would gladly march into the jaws of death itself singing the brave war-songs of her Empire to die for their ruler.
"You think thoughts, Lorraine, that others before you have thought of me," Darlanis said, lifting her goblet to me. "That I "use" people for my own benefit. That this senseless war between Dularn and California is merely an act of personal revenge on my own part because my brother raped me when I was fifteen. That did I not sit on the throne of California as its ruler that there might be lasting peace between our countries. That I am nothing but an overly ambitious and beautiful immoral `whore' who has used her beauty, her body, to gain whatever she wants." I wouldn't have gone quite all that far, but Darlanis did cover the field pretty well! "You think that those who died in the battle today gave their lives in vain, that someday if you continue to follow me I will be the one to stand over your body and speak the last words before you are given to the sea. That I am no different from the monarchs of the past six thousand years who carved out empires that died with them. That I have delusions of being another `Janet Rogers' and someday ruling the Earth as she did."
"I think more highly of you than that," I told her, sipping at the wine. I knew her. Knew her too well to believe that of her. There is an innate "goodness" to Darlanis that is hard to describe, to put into words. She is "ambitious", but it is an "ambition" like Janet had, an "ambition" to make things "better", not "worse" for Mankind. She isn't "perfect", but she was better than anything else we had even if she did use her sex for her own personal gain like many beautiful women have done in the past. I recalled her past conversations with me. She was at least honest enough to admit that she too had done things in her life that she wasn't very proud of having done. Of having given her body to men in return for their support of things she believed in doing.
"You have seen too much of death, too much of battle," she smiled. "You have seen friends die, held dying companions in your arms, seen their eyes glaze over in death." Darlanis was, I knew, one heck of a public speaker. People swarmed to hear her. She had a "way" with words that I wished I had. Janet had been like that too, I thought. They were much alike in a certain way.
"Perhaps," I answered, knowing the truth there in her words.
"It is perhaps `best' then," Darlanis said to me, "That you take the time to consider what you want to do with your life." I nodded back. I had no wish to follow the "way of the sword" anymore. To risk my life further for Darlanis' political ambitions!
"Any problems?" Sharon asked me as I joined them at the rail. My "word" with Darlanis had taken but a few minutes. The Seahawk floating about its reflection a hundred yards off there in the darkness of the night as the Moon glowed down upon us all.
Squala there behind Seahawk, the prize crew busy making repairs.
"Darlanis gave me Squala," I answered, still not believing. Jers and the crew of the Seahawk would still get the "prize money", but the ship itself would be mine to do with as I saw fit.
"Oh, Wow!" Sharon breathed, giving me a hug while Jers looked on, his arm around Lara's waist. His thoughts unreadable.
I wore the black of the Warrioress and the veil of the Lady. A sword there at my left hip, a long fighting dagger at my right, my hand on its hilt. Before me on the moonlit main deck between the masts stood the hundred or so women who had been captives aboard the Squala. They clutched whatever they could find to themselves as they regarded me standing there on the quarterdeck before them. I had a dozen seamen drawn from Sarnian Lady. Just enough to sail the Squala, nothing more. The sailors grinning to themselves at the delights before them, many of who had little to conceal their nakedness as they stood there on the deck below me.
"I am Lorraine, Lady Lorraine of Trelandar," I told them. "You will be under my protection until we reach my estates where I will help you as I can in making a safe return to your homes." My words being received with almost disbelief as I had suspected. A number of the women had been slave girls before being captured by the Dularnians, which meant that under Californian Law I was obligated to notify their masters and mistresses that I was in possession of them. The law is not often obeyed, of course, the female slave being an item of "property" that few men with any drop of red blood in their veins ever wish to give up! However, the Dularnians had removed the collars from these, and there was no way that I could determine their own true status as being "free" or "slave". Also, it was possible given the nature of things that some of the women might not even be "Californians" as the Squala had no doubt carried a number of "ship's girls" before her capture by the Seahawk! Thus there was little doubt at least five or six girls among the women who were actually Dularnians!
Another would have probably collared and chained the lot and sold them all to slavers in Sarn or Trella. Such has happened before. Given an average wholesale value of say 20 gold crowns per woman, which is realistic given the market conditions as they prevailed, I could have made say 2000 gold crowns on the entire lot. The gold crown of California is slightly over an ounce of pure gold having a value, I believe, of about $300 in 1988 dollars. The current value of my estates and holdings is about twenty thousand gold crowns. The Squala itself, which Darlanis gave me as a gift, has a value of about five hundred gold crowns.
"I wish the women who are of high caste to step over here," I said to them, pointing with my hand. High caste women are often marked with a small brand indicating their caste. The three high castes are: Warrioresses, Physicians, and "Builders", which covers what one might consider the "scientific and engineering" arts. The Priestesses of Lys stand above the caste system. Merchants and Scribes and other "clerk-types" requiring a middle level of education are considered "medium" caste, it being believed that anyone who applies themselves can do such things. Lawyers are not often highly thought of as a rule, there being considerable prejudice against the profession that I understand dates back to before The War when they opposed Janet Rogers and greatly suffered for their hopelessly futile actions against her.
The low castes are split among various sorts of workers and the Peasants, who form a series of castes of their own. Prostitutes may be of any caste, although they do have a "guild" to which they belong, which offers them some degree of "protection".
I watched ten women separate themselves from the rest and go stand where I indicated, well aware that my activities were being watched from the other ships, the Seahawk being only a few hundred yards off. I then separated out the prostitutes, of which I had seven, such being considered desirable slave girls as they had already been "trained" by their occupation to "please men"!
"This ship carried `ship's girls' and others who were slaves before they came aboard, " I said, regarding the women standing before me. Telling them to stand where I pointed. A brief disturbance there among the women resulted in the ejection of a couple dozen women, who clutched what scanty attire they could to themselves as they stood there looking at me and the others. As they were already slaves, they would continue to remain slaves.
"Each of you will be responsible for the women who lived in your area," I said to the ten who stood clutching bits and pieces of attire to themselves before me there in the late captain's cabin. The chains and ankle shackle there on the floor leaving no doubt that he had kept at least one beauty to himself during the voyage. I thought briefly of Janis, what had been "done" to her.
"They are `nothing' but low-caste sluts!" I heard one mutter to herself, regarding me. The woman of high caste often considers her lower caste sisters to be good for little more than the slave collar. There is little racial prejudice as such, but there is enough "caste prejudice" to keep any "bigot" delighted!
"They will be your responsibility," I snapped back, putting an "edge" to my voice. "Or I will collar you and sell you as a slave girl!" She knew I had the "authority" to do just that too! I was for all practical purposes an absolute dictator in my own lands, having much the same authority as some feudal Lord of old. "We need more like you," a tall Warrioress smiled as the others then filed out, muttering in low tones among themselves about me. I smiled, nodded. "I'm glad that we're going to be neighbors," she added with a friendly smile. The attractive older brunette explaining that she owned the estate next to mine to the north of me towards Sarn. "I'm the Lady Tirana Greyson."
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