"FREE-41" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jerome Bigge - Warlady 9 - The Freedom Fighters Of Trelandar)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 One "I don't `like' this one bit!" Lady Lana Daris said as she sat watching Carl make up my face so that I looked as much like a member of the Prostitute Guild as was possible. I was nursing my little Sarah, letting her take from me what nourishment she need- ed, well aware that I might well be dead before day came again... The half blouse of the Guild there on the bed with the neck band that I'd wear while "posing" as a member of Lara's organization. Outside the window that looked out upon the street below I could hear the sounds of life here in spring time Trella, the clip clop of hooves, the sounds of wagon wheels, the yellings of teamsters. Lady Lana's slave girl, a dark haired Peasant woman, sent away so that we might converse freely without any extra ears hearing us. A "Lady" of Lana's statue hardly could be expected to go shopping without having a slave girl along here to carry the packages. Or a Warrior to protect her from anyone who might now wish her harm. She might take with her too a "companion", someone to assist her. "War is not always a matter of battle horns, of flags flying in the wind, of steel shod lances. The feel of a charger between your thighs when you ride into battle. Your armor glistening in the sunlight as you say a last prayer to Lys to keep you safe," I answered back, holding her hazel eyes with the darkness of mine. "Sometimes war is a matter of your sharpened steel `pick' driven from behind into an enemy's brain stem, a razor held between your fingers to slash a throat as you yank his neck back. A crossbow bolt shot on a dark night at a shadowy figure walking below you. A simple note left next to a body that warns that more will die." During the war with the Empire all these and more had been done. War is not just a matter of weapons or killing people. Often it can be matter of confusing an enemy, making them "distrustful" of any they meet, not knowing who is "friend" and who is "enemy"... "It is perhaps `well' that you do not bear the `mark'," Lana "snapped" back, the tone of her voice leaving no doubts as to her feelings here. "Perhaps you are truly a `terrorist' after all!" It being held by those of the black castes that "terrorists" are without honor, that they are merely "killers", and nothing more. "You prefer to have Darlanis ruling Trelandar?" I asked. "I only know what I feel..." Lana spoke, looking at me. "I do not enjoy doing this either," I pointed out to her. "My wife is not a `terrorist'," Carl said to the brownette. "I think that will `do'," I said, looking at myself in the grimy mirror, the room obviously not of the "best quality" here. Lana taking my daughter from me as I fastened my nursing halter. Carl getting the half blouse I would wear, handing it to me then. A large blowfly buzzing about the room, zooming back and forth... Lana now holding my daughter to herself, her eyes hot, accusing. "We will wait until it gets dark and the bar room fills," I said. I looked over the men in the bar room, trying to pick out one that I could kill without feeling too much "emotion" over it, aware of the "truth" that there had been in Lana's heated words. My provocative attire as a prostitute drawing little notice here. I tried to "justify" to myself that I was acting in behalf of my own country, but Lana's "comment" kept coming back to me again... That I was truly a "terrorist", a woman who "killed" for an idea. Who slew those who meant her no harm, who had done nothing wrong. That this time I would be killing just to make a point, to throw suspicion upon an innocent organization, to sow doubt, suspicion upon others. That I was now truly becoming a "terrorist" here... Lana having stated that I believed that "the end `justified' the means", her words echoing again through my mind as I stood there. My attire such that it left no doubt as to the sort of job I did. Even Carl had said that he felt "uncomfortable" doing this, that without a formal declaration of war against Darlanis that I was actually a murderess if I carried out my plans here. I'd had no answer for him, well aware that I had enough doubts myself as to the moral "rightness" of doing this despite the fact that I'd already come to the conclusion that nothing else would work here! I had killed enough times before that killing itself didn't much bother me any more, nor did the thought of what might happen to me concern me too much, as I was prepared mentally to die for my country should it become necessary for me to do so here now... It was however more the issue of killing someone who was not "do- ing" anything that justified killing them for. I could keep say- ing to myself that the Empire was Evil, that any who served it as part of its military forces was a servant of Evil, but even so, I was well aware that I would be killing a fellow human being just for political reasons. Just to make a "point" with Darlanis now! The man stumbled against me as I stood there by the bar, his drink blurred eyes seeking mine as I forced a smile in reply now. I thought he would do for my purposes, as good as any might here as I grabbed his arm, gave him a smile and whispered in his ear. "Why so `low'?" he queried, studying me as I stood there. "My `price' is whatever I set it," I pointed out to him. "Better an eagle in the hand than none at all," he agreed. "Bring your bottle with you," I grinned, taking it from him. Lifting it to my lips, the whisky burning my throat as I drank... "You don't look like a whore," the man said to me as I shut the door behind myself, my left hand on the hilt of my sword now. The room left a lot to be desired, but I am a bit "fastidious". The sounds of a drunken sailor singing below us faintly audible. Some "ditty" about a sailor lost on an island with a dozen women. "I'm not," I said, drawing the weapon from its sheath then. "Oh, Lys!" he gasped, the keen tip now against his throat. "I want you to listen to what I have to say," I said to him. "You have my undivided attention," he assured me earnestly. "I am a member of the Free Trelandar Movement," I said then. "My `assignment' was to kill a member of the Imperial occupation forces, using this weapon (I reached back and drew the "icepick") and then leave this note with the body," I said, giving him both the icepick weapon and the note that I'd written here earlier... "I hope you have changed your mind," he said, looking at me. Aware that only a motion of my hand would be enough to kill him. The bottle clutched there in his hand almost forgotten just now. "Tell your superiors that there are many of us, that we can disguise ourselves as almost anyone, that we can strike from the shadows at any time, kill any time we wish to do so now," I said. "And thank Lys that I did not wish to kill this night," I added. With this I stepped back, sheathed my sword, and dashed from the room, leaving him sitting there on the bed with the note I'd written and the icepick weapon that was proof of what I had said! "No `bloodstains'," Lady Lana said, looking at me, the look in her eyes making me feel that she saw me as something loathsome here. Carl standing there with the slave girl, the gentle ripple of the waves against the hull audible here in the ship's cabin. I could see Sarah's eyes glistening in the light from the lamp. "I didn't find it necessary to kill," I said to her then. "Then perhaps there is `hope' for you," she smiled back. "There will be times that it will be necessary," I said. "Let it be someone else than you," Lana said to me then. ***************************************************************** "The `mail' from Trella," Lady Lana said to me as she walked into my office where I kept the accounts and did everything else. Such work keeping me from thinking too much about how "hopeless" this all was. The smile on her rich lips leaving little "doubt" of what the mail contained here. We'd returned several days ago from the city, not knowing whether or not my activities there had "accomplished" anything at all now. What I was attempting to do here was practice "psychological warfare" of a "sort" that hadn't existed for the past six centuries since the death of Janet. An "enemy" that you can't find, can't kill is far more "terrifying" than one that stands in ranks before you, something that I'd done much to teach the Imperials here in the last months of the war... There was no army of "terrorists" waiting to strike, but no doubt some Imperial trooper would be waylaid somewhere, and then it was certain that the Free Trelandar Movement would get the "credit"! "I made the papers?" I smiled back, aware that I must have. "Occupation command is ordering its men to be `cautious'," she smiled back. "To take every possible precaution," she added. "Warnings are being issued to all Imperial Lords and Ladies about the `Free Trelandar Movement' and possible attacks upon them..." "I suppose it might be wise to increase `security'," I said, grinning at her. "You will recall that three Imperial troopers were killed early last summer by some unknown `terrorist' here." "Perhaps it might be wise to organize a militia," she said. "One never knows when these `terrorists' will strike." I re- plied, grinning like a fool back at the lovely Lady Lana Daris... "No, no one will," she smiled, her eyes glowing into mine. 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 One "I don't `like' this one bit!" Lady Lana Daris said as she sat watching Carl make up my face so that I looked as much like a member of the Prostitute Guild as was possible. I was nursing my little Sarah, letting her take from me what nourishment she need- ed, well aware that I might well be dead before day came again... The half blouse of the Guild there on the bed with the neck band that I'd wear while "posing" as a member of Lara's organization. Outside the window that looked out upon the street below I could hear the sounds of life here in spring time Trella, the clip clop of hooves, the sounds of wagon wheels, the yellings of teamsters. Lady Lana's slave girl, a dark haired Peasant woman, sent away so that we might converse freely without any extra ears hearing us. A "Lady" of Lana's statue hardly could be expected to go shopping without having a slave girl along here to carry the packages. Or a Warrior to protect her from anyone who might now wish her harm. She might take with her too a "companion", someone to assist her. "War is not always a matter of battle horns, of flags flying in the wind, of steel shod lances. The feel of a charger between your thighs when you ride into battle. Your armor glistening in the sunlight as you say a last prayer to Lys to keep you safe," I answered back, holding her hazel eyes with the darkness of mine. "Sometimes war is a matter of your sharpened steel `pick' driven from behind into an enemy's brain stem, a razor held between your fingers to slash a throat as you yank his neck back. A crossbow bolt shot on a dark night at a shadowy figure walking below you. A simple note left next to a body that warns that more will die." During the war with the Empire all these and more had been done. War is not just a matter of weapons or killing people. Often it can be matter of confusing an enemy, making them "distrustful" of any they meet, not knowing who is "friend" and who is "enemy"... "It is perhaps `well' that you do not bear the `mark'," Lana "snapped" back, the tone of her voice leaving no doubts as to her feelings here. "Perhaps you are truly a `terrorist' after all!" It being held by those of the black castes that "terrorists" are without honor, that they are merely "killers", and nothing more. "You prefer to have Darlanis ruling Trelandar?" I asked. "I only know what I feel..." Lana spoke, looking at me. "I do not enjoy doing this either," I pointed out to her. "My wife is not a `terrorist'," Carl said to the brownette. "I think that will `do'," I said, looking at myself in the grimy mirror, the room obviously not of the "best quality" here. Lana taking my daughter from me as I fastened my nursing halter. Carl getting the half blouse I would wear, handing it to me then. A large blowfly buzzing about the room, zooming back and forth... Lana now holding my daughter to herself, her eyes hot, accusing. "We will wait until it gets dark and the bar room fills," I said. I looked over the men in the bar room, trying to pick out one that I could kill without feeling too much "emotion" over it, aware of the "truth" that there had been in Lana's heated words. My provocative attire as a prostitute drawing little notice here. I tried to "justify" to myself that I was acting in behalf of my own country, but Lana's "comment" kept coming back to me again... That I was truly a "terrorist", a woman who "killed" for an idea. Who slew those who meant her no harm, who had done nothing wrong. That this time I would be killing just to make a point, to throw suspicion upon an innocent organization, to sow doubt, suspicion upon others. That I was now truly becoming a "terrorist" here... Lana having stated that I believed that "the end `justified' the means", her words echoing again through my mind as I stood there. My attire such that it left no doubt as to the sort of job I did. Even Carl had said that he felt "uncomfortable" doing this, that without a formal declaration of war against Darlanis that I was actually a murderess if I carried out my plans here. I'd had no answer for him, well aware that I had enough doubts myself as to the moral "rightness" of doing this despite the fact that I'd already come to the conclusion that nothing else would work here! I had killed enough times before that killing itself didn't much bother me any more, nor did the thought of what might happen to me concern me too much, as I was prepared mentally to die for my country should it become necessary for me to do so here now... It was however more the issue of killing someone who was not "do- ing" anything that justified killing them for. I could keep say- ing to myself that the Empire was Evil, that any who served it as part of its military forces was a servant of Evil, but even so, I was well aware that I would be killing a fellow human being just for political reasons. Just to make a "point" with Darlanis now! The man stumbled against me as I stood there by the bar, his drink blurred eyes seeking mine as I forced a smile in reply now. I thought he would do for my purposes, as good as any might here as I grabbed his arm, gave him a smile and whispered in his ear. "Why so `low'?" he queried, studying me as I stood there. "My `price' is whatever I set it," I pointed out to him. "Better an eagle in the hand than none at all," he agreed. "Bring your bottle with you," I grinned, taking it from him. Lifting it to my lips, the whisky burning my throat as I drank... "You don't look like a whore," the man said to me as I shut the door behind myself, my left hand on the hilt of my sword now. The room left a lot to be desired, but I am a bit "fastidious". The sounds of a drunken sailor singing below us faintly audible. Some "ditty" about a sailor lost on an island with a dozen women. "I'm not," I said, drawing the weapon from its sheath then. "Oh, Lys!" he gasped, the keen tip now against his throat. "I want you to listen to what I have to say," I said to him. "You have my undivided attention," he assured me earnestly. "I am a member of the Free Trelandar Movement," I said then. "My `assignment' was to kill a member of the Imperial occupation forces, using this weapon (I reached back and drew the "icepick") and then leave this note with the body," I said, giving him both the icepick weapon and the note that I'd written here earlier... "I hope you have changed your mind," he said, looking at me. Aware that only a motion of my hand would be enough to kill him. The bottle clutched there in his hand almost forgotten just now. "Tell your superiors that there are many of us, that we can disguise ourselves as almost anyone, that we can strike from the shadows at any time, kill any time we wish to do so now," I said. "And thank Lys that I did not wish to kill this night," I added. With this I stepped back, sheathed my sword, and dashed from the room, leaving him sitting there on the bed with the note I'd written and the icepick weapon that was proof of what I had said! "No `bloodstains'," Lady Lana said, looking at me, the look in her eyes making me feel that she saw me as something loathsome here. Carl standing there with the slave girl, the gentle ripple of the waves against the hull audible here in the ship's cabin. I could see Sarah's eyes glistening in the light from the lamp. "I didn't find it necessary to kill," I said to her then. "Then perhaps there is `hope' for you," she smiled back. "There will be times that it will be necessary," I said. "Let it be someone else than you," Lana said to me then. ***************************************************************** "The `mail' from Trella," Lady Lana said to me as she walked into my office where I kept the accounts and did everything else. Such work keeping me from thinking too much about how "hopeless" this all was. The smile on her rich lips leaving little "doubt" of what the mail contained here. We'd returned several days ago from the city, not knowing whether or not my activities there had "accomplished" anything at all now. What I was attempting to do here was practice "psychological warfare" of a "sort" that hadn't existed for the past six centuries since the death of Janet. An "enemy" that you can't find, can't kill is far more "terrifying" than one that stands in ranks before you, something that I'd done much to teach the Imperials here in the last months of the war... There was no army of "terrorists" waiting to strike, but no doubt some Imperial trooper would be waylaid somewhere, and then it was certain that the Free Trelandar Movement would get the "credit"! "I made the papers?" I smiled back, aware that I must have. "Occupation command is ordering its men to be `cautious'," she smiled back. "To take every possible precaution," she added. "Warnings are being issued to all Imperial Lords and Ladies about the `Free Trelandar Movement' and possible attacks upon them..." "I suppose it might be wise to increase `security'," I said, grinning at her. "You will recall that three Imperial troopers were killed early last summer by some unknown `terrorist' here." "Perhaps it might be wise to organize a militia," she said. "One never knows when these `terrorists' will strike." I re- plied, grinning like a fool back at the lovely Lady Lana Daris... "No, no one will," she smiled, her eyes glowing into mine. |
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