Title: The master mind of Mars
Author: Burroughs, Edgar Rice
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.


*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The master mind of Mars" ***


                          [Cover Illustration]



                             BATTLE DAMAGE

    Dar Tarus called in alarm, “We can’t alter our course—the ship
    is useless!”

    Almost at the same instant, one of my bullets found and
    extinguished the enemy searchlight. Our craft was out of
    control, running swiftly toward a collision with the Toonolian
    flyer.

    I asked Dar Tarus if our ship was beyond repair. His reply was
    that it would take hours—in which time the whole Toonolian air
    patrol would be upon us.

    “Then we must have another ship!” I said. I pointed at the enemy
    craft. “We shall not have to look far.”

    Dar Tarus shrugged. “Why not? It would be a glorious fight . . .
    and a worthy death!”



                          Edgar Rice Burroughs
                              MARS NOVELS

                       A PRINCESS OF MARS (#1)
                       THE GODS OF MARS (#2)
                       THE WARLORD OF MARS (#3)
                       THUVIA, MAID OF MARS (#4)
                       THE CHESSMEN OF MARS (#5)
                       THE MASTER MIND OF MARS (#6)
                       A FIGHTING MAN OF MARS (#7)
                       SWORDS OF MARS (#8)
                       SYNTHETIC MEN OF MARS (#9)
                       LLANA OF GATHOL (#10)
                       JOHN CARTER OF MARS (#11)



                                  THE
                              MASTER  MIND
                                OF  MARS


                          Edgar Rice Burroughs



    _The Master Mind of Mars_ was first published in _Amazing
    Stories Annual_ magazine, Volume I, number 1 on July 15, 1927.

    Copyright © 1927 Edgar Rice Burroughs, Inc.

    ISBN 0-345-33424-8



                             C O N T E N T S

              CHAPTER                                   PAGE
                   A Letter                                7

                 I The House of the Dead                  10

                II Preferment                             20

               III Valla Dia                              28

                IV The Compact                            42

                 V Danger                                 53

                VI Suspicions                             61

               VII Escape                                 72

              VIII Hands Up!                              81

                IX The Palace of Mu Tel                   92

                 X Phundahl                              106

                XI Xaxa                                  116

               XII The Great Tur                         129

              XIII Back to Thavas                        140

               XIV John Carter                           150



                                A LETTER


                                                 HELIUM, June 8th, 1925
MY DEAR MR. BURROUGHS:

It was in the Fall of nineteen seventeen at an officers’ training camp
that I first became acquainted with John Carter, War Lord of Barsoom,
through the pages of your novel “A Princess of Mars.” The story made a
profound impression upon me and while my better judgment assured me that
it was but a highly imaginative piece of fiction, a suggestion of the
verity of it pervaded my inner consciousness to such an extent that I
found myself dreaming of Mars and John Carter, of Dejah Thoris, of Tars
Tarkas and of Woola as if they had been entities of my own experience
rather than the figments of your imagination.

It is true that in those days of strenuous preparation there was little
time for dreaming, yet there were brief moments before sleep claimed me
at night and these were my dreams. Such dreams! Always of Mars, and
during my waking hours at night my eyes always sought out the Red Planet
when he was above the horizon and clung there seeking a solution of the
seemingly unfathomable riddle he has presented to the Earthman for ages.

Perhaps the thing became an obsession. I know it clung to me all during
my training camp days, and at night, on the deck of the transport, I
would lie on my back gazing up into the red eye of the god of battle—my
god—and wishing that, like John Carter, I might be drawn across the
great void to the haven of my desire.

And then came the hideous days and nights in the trenches—the rats, the
vermin, the mud—with an occasional glorious break in the monotony when
we were ordered over the top. I loved it then and I loved the bursting
shells, the mad, wild chaos of the thundering guns, but the rats and the
vermin and the mud—God! how I hated them. It sounds like boasting, I
know, and I am sorry; but I wanted to write you just the truth about
myself. I think you will understand. And it may account for much that
happened afterwards.

There came at last to me what had come to so many others upon those
bloody fields. It came within the week that I had received my first
promotion and my captaincy, of which I was greatly proud, though humbly
so; realizing as I did my youth, the great responsibility that it placed
upon me as well as the opportunities it offered, not only in service to
my country but, in a personal way, to the men of my command. We had
advanced a matter of two kilometers and with a small detachment I was
holding a very advanced position when I received orders to fall back to
the new line. That is the last that I remember until I regained
consciousness after dark. A shell must have burst among us. What became
of my men I never knew. It was cold and very dark when I awoke and at
first, for an instant, I was quite comfortable—before I was fully
conscious, I imagine—and then I commenced to feel pain. It grew until
it seemed unbearable. It was in my legs. I reached down to feel them,
but my hand recoiled from what it found, and when I tried to move my
legs I discovered that I was dead from the waist down. Then the moon
came out from behind a cloud and I saw that I lay within a shell hole
and that I was not alone—the dead were all about me.

It was a long time before I found the moral courage and the physical
strength to draw myself up upon one elbow that I might view the havoc
that had been done me. One look was enough, I sank back in an agony of
mental and physical anguish—my legs had been blown away from midway
between the hips and knees. For some reason I was not bleeding
excessively, yet I know that I had lost a great deal of blood and that I
was gradually losing enough to put me out of my misery in a short time
if I were not soon found; and as I lay there on my back, tortured with
pain, I prayed that they would not come in time, for I shrank more from
the thought of going maimed through life than I shrank from the thought
of death. Then my eyes suddenly focussed upon the bright red eye of Mars
and there surged through me a sudden wave of hope. I stretched out my
arms towards Mars, I did not seem to question or to doubt for an instant
as I prayed to the god of my vocation to reach forth and succour me. I
knew that he would do it, my faith was complete, and yet so great was
the mental effort that I made to throw off the hideous bonds of my
mutilated flesh that I felt a momentary qualm of nausea and then a sharp
click as of the snapping of a steel wire, and suddenly I stood naked
upon two good legs looking down upon the bloody, distorted thing that
had been I. Just for an instant did I stand thus before I turned my eyes
aloft again to my star of destiny and with outstretched arms stand there
in the cold of that French night—waiting.

Suddenly I felt myself drawn with the speed of thought through the
trackless wastes of interplanetary space. There was an instant of
extreme cold and utter darkness, then——

But the rest is in the manuscript that, with the aid of one greater than
either of us, I have found the means to transmit to you with this
letter. You and a few others of the chosen will believe in it—for the
rest it matters not as yet. The time will come—but why tell you what
you already know?

My salutations and my congratulations—the latter on your good fortune
in having been chosen as the medium through which Earthmen shall become
better acquainted with the manners and customs of Barsoom, against the
time that they shall pass through space as easily as John Carter, and
visit the scenes that he has described to them through you, as have I.

     Your sincere friend,
                            ULYSSES PAXTON,
                                  _Late Captain, ——th Inf., U.S. Army_.



                               CHAPTER I
                          THE HOUSE OF THE DEAD


I must have closed my eyes involuntarily during the transition for when
I opened them I was lying flat on my back gazing up into a brilliant,
sun-lit sky, while standing a few feet from me and looking down upon me
with the most mystified expression was as strange a looking individual
as my eyes ever had rested upon. He appeared to be quite an old man, for
he was wrinkled and withered beyond description. His limbs were
emaciated; his ribs showed distinctly beneath his shrunken hide; his
cranium was large and well developed, which, in conjunction with his
wasted limbs and torso, lent him the appearance of top heaviness, as
though he had a head beyond all proportion to his body, which was, I am
sure, really not the case.

As he stared down upon me through enormous, many lensed spectacles I
found the opportunity to examine him as minutely in return. He was,
perhaps, five feet five in height, though doubtless he had been taller
in youth, since he was somewhat bent; he was naked except for some
rather plain and well-worn leather harness which supported his weapons
and pocket pouches, and one great ornament, a collar, jewel studded,
that he wore around his scraggy neck—such a collar as a dowager empress
of pork or real estate might barter her soul for, if she had one. His
skin was red, his scant locks grey. As he looked at me his puzzled
expression increased in intensity, he grasped his chin between the thumb
and fingers of his left hand and slowly raising his right hand he
scratched his head most deliberately. Then he spoke to me, but in a
language I did not understand.

At his first words I sat up and shook my head. Then I looked about me. I
was seated upon a crimson sward within a high walled enclosure, at least
two, and possibly three, sides of which were formed by the outer walls
of a structure that in some respects resembled more closely a feudal
castle of Europe than any familiar form of architecture that comes to my
mind. The façade presented to my view was ornately carved and of most
irregular design, the roof line being so broken as to almost suggest a
ruin, and yet the whole seemed harmonious and not without beauty. Within
the enclosure grew a number of trees and shrubs, all weirdly strange and
all, or almost all, profusely flowering. About them wound walks of
coloured pebbles among which scintillated what appeared to be rare and
beautiful gems, so lovely were the strange, unearthly rays that leaped
and played in the sunshine.

The old man spoke again, peremptorily this time, as though repeating a
command that had been ignored, but again I shook my head. Then he laid a
hand upon one of his two swords, but as he drew the weapon I leaped to
my feet, with such remarkable results that I cannot even now say which
of us was the more surprised. I must have sailed ten feet into the air
and back about twenty feet from where I had been sitting; then I was
sure that I was upon Mars (not that I had for one instant doubted it),
for the effects of the lesser gravity, the colour of the sward and the
skin-hue of the red Martians I had seen described in the manuscripts of
John Carter, those marvellous and as yet unappreciated contributions to
the scientific literature of a world. There could be no doubt of it, I
stood upon the soil of the Red Planet, I had come to the world of my
dreams—to Barsoom.

So startled was the old man by my agility that he jumped a bit himself,
though doubtless involuntarily, but, however, with certain results. His
spectacles tumbled from his nose to the sward, and then it was that I
discovered that the pitiful old wretch was practically blind when
deprived of these artificial aids to vision, for he got to his knees and
commenced to grope frantically for the lost glasses, as though his very
life depended upon finding them in the instant. Possibly he thought that
I might take advantage of his helplessness and slay him. Though the
spectacles were enormous and lay within a couple of feet of him he could
not find them, his hands, seemingly afflicted by that strange perversity
that sometimes confounds our simplest acts, passing all about the lost
object of their search, yet never once coming in contact with it.

As I stood watching his futile efforts and considering the advisability
of restoring to him the means that would enable him more readily to find
my heart with his sword point, I became aware that another had entered
the enclosure. Looking towards the building I saw a large red-man
running rapidly towards the little old man of the spectacles. The
newcomer was quite naked, he carried a club in one hand, and there was
upon his face such an expression as unquestionably boded ill for the
helpless husk of humanity grovelling, mole-like, for its lost
spectacles.

My first impulse was to remain neutral in an affair that it seemed could
not possibly concern me and of which I had no slightest knowledge upon
which to base a predilection towards either of the parties involved; but
a second glance at the face of the club-bearer aroused a question as to
whether it might not concern me after all. There was that in the
expression upon the man’s face that betokened either an inherent
savageness of disposition or a maniacal cast of mind which might turn
his evidently murderous attentions upon me after he had dispatched his
elderly victim, while, in outward appearance at least, the latter was a
sane and relatively harmless individual. It is true that his move to
draw his sword against me was not indicative of a friendly disposition
towards me, but at least, if there were any choice, he seemed the lesser
of two evils.

He was still groping for his spectacles and the naked man was almost
upon him as I reached the decision to cast my lot upon the side of the
old man. I was twenty feet away, naked and unarmed, but to cover the
distance with my Earthly muscles required but an instant, and a naked
sword lay by the old man’s side where he had discarded it the better to
search for his spectacles. So it was that I faced the attacker at the
instant that he came within striking distance of his victim, and the
blow which had been intended for another was aimed at me. I sidestepped
it and then I learned that the greater agility of my Earthly muscles had
its disadvantages as well as its advantages, for, indeed, I had to learn
to walk at the very instant that I had to learn to fight with a new
weapon against a maniac armed with a bludgeon, or at least, so I assumed
him to be and I think that it is not strange that I should have done so,
what with his frightful show of rage and the terrible expression upon
his face.

As I stumbled about endeavouring to accustom myself to the new
conditions, I found that instead of offering any serious opposition to
my antagonist I was hard put to it to escape death at his hands, so
often did I stumble and fall sprawling upon the scarlet sward; so that
the duel from its inception became but a series of efforts, upon his
part to reach and crush me with his great club, and upon mine to dodge
and elude him. It was mortifying but it is the truth. However, this did
not last indefinitely, for soon I learned, and quickly too under the
exigencies of the situation, to command my muscles, and then I stood my
ground and when he aimed a blow at me, and I had dodged it, I touched
him with my point and brought blood along with a savage roar of pain. He
went more cautiously then, and taking advantage of the change I pressed
him so that he fell back. The effect upon me was magical, giving me new
confidence, so that I set upon him in good earnest, thrusting and
cutting until I had him bleeding in a half-dozen places, yet taking good
care to avoid his mighty swings, any one of which would have felled an
ox.

In my attempts to elude him in the beginning of the duel we had crossed
the enclosure and were now fighting at a considerable distance from the
point of our first meeting. It now happened that I stood facing towards
that point at the moment that the old man regained his spectacles, which
he quickly adjusted to his eyes. Immediately he looked about until he
discovered us, whereupon he commenced to yell excitedly at us at the
same time running in our direction and drawing his short-sword as he
ran. The red-man was pressing me hard, but I had gained almost complete
control of myself, and fearing that I was soon to have two antagonists
instead of one I set upon him with redoubled intensity. He missed me by
the fraction of an inch, the wind in the wake of his bludgeon fanning my
scalp, but he left an opening into which I stepped, running my sword
fairly through his heart. At least I thought that I had pierced his
heart, but I had forgotten what I had once read in one of John Carter’s
manuscripts to the effect that all the Martian internal organs are not
disposed identically with those of Earthmen. However, the immediate
results were quite as satisfactory as though I had found his heart, for
the wound was sufficiently grievous to place him _hors de combat_, and
at that instant the old gentleman arrived. He found me ready, but I had
mistaken his intentions. He made no unfriendly gestures with his weapon,
but seemed to be trying to convince me that he had no intention of
harming me. He was very excited and apparently tremendously annoyed that
I could not understand him, and perplexed, too. He hopped about
screaming strange sentences at me that bore the tones of peremptory
commands, rabid invective and impotent rage. But the fact that he had
returned his sword to its scabbard had greater significance than all his
jabbering, and when he ceased to yell at me and commenced to talk in a
sort of pantomime I realized that he was making overtures of peace if
not of friendship, so I lowered my point and bowed. It was all that I
could think of to assure him that I had no immediate intention of
spitting him.

He seemed satisfied and at once turned his attention to the fallen man.
He examined his pulse and listened to his heart, then, nodding his head,
he arose and taking a whistle from one of his pocket pouches sounded a
single loud blast. There emerged immediately from one of the surrounding
buildings a score of naked red-men who came running towards us. None was
armed. To these he issued a few curt orders, whereupon they gathered the
fallen one in their arms and bore him off. Then the old man started
towards the building, motioning me to accompany him. There seemed
nothing else for me to do but obey. Wherever I might be upon Mars, the
chances were a million to one that I would be among enemies; and so I
was as well off here as elsewhere and must depend upon my own
resourcefulness, skill and agility to make my way upon the Red Planet.

The old man led me into a small chamber from which opened numerous
doors, through one of which they were just bearing my late antagonist.
We followed into a large, brilliantly lighted chamber wherein there
burst upon my astounded vision the most gruesome scene that I ever had
beheld. Rows upon rows of tables arranged in parallel lines filled the
room and with few exceptions each table bore a similar grisly burden, a
partially dismembered or otherwise mutilated human corpse. Above each
table was a shelf bearing containers of various sizes and shapes, while
from the bottom of the shelf depended numerous surgical instruments,
suggesting that my entrance upon Barsoom was to be through a gigantic
medical college.

At a word from the old man, those who bore the Barsoomian I had wounded
laid him upon an empty table and left the apartment. Whereupon my host,
if so I may call him, for certainly he was not as yet my captor,
motioned me forward. While he conversed in ordinary tones, he made two
incisions in the body of my late antagonist; one, I imagine, in a large
vein and one in an artery, to which he deftly attached the ends of two
tubes, one of which was connected with an empty glass receptacle and the
other with a similar receptacle filled with a colourless, transparent
liquid resembling clear water. The connections made, the old gentleman
pressed a button controlling a small motor, whereupon the victim’s blood
was pumped into the empty jar while the contents of the other was forced
into the emptying veins and arteries.

The tones and gestures of the old man as he addressed me during this
operation convinced me that he was explaining in detail the method and
purpose of what was transpiring, but as I understood no word of all he
said I was as much in the dark when he had completed his discourse as I
was before he started it, though what I had seen made it appear
reasonable to believe that I was witnessing an ordinary Barsoomian
embalming. Having removed the tubes the old man closed the openings he
had made by covering them with bits of what appeared to be heavy
adhesive tape and then motioned me to follow him. We went from room to
room, in each of which were the same gruesome exhibits. At many of the
bodies the old man paused to make a brief examination or to refer to
what appeared to be a record of the case, that hung upon a hook at the
head of each of the tables.

From the last of the chambers we visited upon the first floor my host
led me up an inclined runway to the second floor where there were rooms
similar to those below, but here the tables bore whole rather than
mutilated bodies, all of which were patched in various places with
adhesive tape. As we were passing among the bodies in one of these rooms
a Barsoomian girl, whom I took to be a servant or slave, entered and
addressed the old man, whereupon he signed me to follow him and together
we descended another runway to the first floor of another building.

Here, in a large, gorgeously decorated and sumptuously furnished
apartment an elderly red-woman awaited us. She appeared to be quite old
and her face was terribly disfigured as by some injury. Her trappings
were magnificent and she was attended by a score of women and armed
warriors, suggesting that she was a person of some consequence, but the
little old man treated her quite brusquely, as I could see, quite to the
horror of her attendants.

Their conversation was lengthy and at the conclusion of it, at the
direction of the woman, one of her male escort advanced and opening a
pocket pouch at his side withdrew a handful of what appeared to me to be
Martian coins. A quantity of these he counted out and handed to the
little old man, who then beckoned the woman to follow him, a gesture
which included me. Several of her women and guard started to accompany
us, but these the old man waved back peremptorily; whereupon there
ensued a heated discussion between the woman and one of her warriors on
one side and the old man on the other, which terminated in his
proffering the return of the woman’s money with a disgusted air. This
seemed to settle the argument, for she refused the coins, spoke briefly
to her people and accompanied the old man and myself alone.

He led the way to the second floor and to a chamber which I had not
previously visited. It closely resembled the others except that all the
bodies therein were of young women, many of them of great beauty.
Following closely at the heels of the old man the woman inspected the
gruesome exhibit with painstaking care. Thrice she passed slowly among
the tables examining their ghastly burdens. Each time she paused longest
before a certain one which bore the figure of the most beautiful
creature I had ever looked upon; then she returned the fourth time to it
and stood looking long and earnestly into the dead face. For awhile she
stood there talking with the old man, apparently asking innumerable
questions, to which he returned quick, brusque replies, then she
indicated the body with a gesture and nodded assent to the withered
keeper of this ghastly exhibit.

Immediately the old fellow sounded a blast upon his whistle, summoning a
number of servants to whom he issued brief instructions, after which he
led us to another chamber, a smaller one in which were several empty
tables similar to those upon which the corpses lay in adjoining rooms.
Two female slaves or attendants were in this room and at a word from
their master they removed the trappings from the old woman, unloosed her
hair and helped her to one of the tables. Here she was thoroughly
sprayed with what I presume was an antiseptic solution of some nature,
carefully dried and removed to another table, at a distance of about
twenty inches from which stood a second parallel table.

Now the door of the chamber swung open and two attendants appeared
bearing the body of the beautiful girl we had seen in the adjoining
room. This they deposited upon the table the old woman had just quitted
and as she had been sprayed so was the corpse, after which it was
transferred to the table beside that on which she lay. The little old
man now made two incisions in the body of the old woman, just as he had
in the body of the red-man who had fallen to my sword; her blood was
drawn from her veins and the clear liquid pumped into them, life left
her and she lay upon the polished ersite slab that formed the table top,
as much a corpse as the poor, beautiful, dead creature at her side.

The little old man, who had removed the harness down to his waist and
been thoroughly sprayed, now selected a sharp knife from among the
instruments above the table and removed the old woman’s scalp, following
the hair line entirely around her head. In a similar manner he then
removed the scalp from the corpse of the young woman, after which, by
means of a tiny circular saw attached to the end of a flexible,
revolving shaft he sawed through the skull of each, following the line
exposed by the removal of the scalps. This and the balance of the
marvellous operation was so skilfully performed as to baffle
description. Suffice it to say that at the end of four hours he had
transferred the brain of each woman to the brain pan of the other,
deftly connected the severed nerves and ganglia, replaced the skulls and
scalps and bound both heads securely with his peculiar adhesive tape,
which was not only antiseptic and healing but anaesthetic, locally, as
well.

He now reheated the blood that he had withdrawn from the body of the old
woman, adding a few drops of some clear chemical solution, withdrew the
liquid from the veins of the beautiful corpse, replacing it with the
blood of the old woman and simultaneously administering a hypodermic
injection.

During the entire operation he had not spoken a word. Now he issued a
few instructions in his curt manner to his assistants, motioned me to
follow him, and left the room. He led me to a distant part of the
building or series of buildings that composed the whole, ushered me into
a luxurious apartment, opened the door to a Barsoomian bath and left me
in the hands of trained servants. Refreshed and rested I left the bath
after an hour of relaxation to find harness and trappings awaiting me in
the adjoining chamber. Though plain, they were of good material, but
there were no weapons with them.

Naturally I had been thinking much upon the strange things I had
witnessed since my advent upon Mars, but what puzzled me most lay in the
seemingly inexplicable act of the old woman in paying my host what was
evidently a considerable sum to murder her and transfer to the inside of
her skull the brain of a corpse. Was it the outcome of some horrible
religious fanaticism, or was there an explanation that my Earthly mind
could not grasp?

I had reached no decision in the matter when I was summoned to follow a
slave to another and nearby apartment where I found my host awaiting me
before a table loaded with delicious foods, to which, it is needless to
say, I did ample justice after my long fast and longer weeks of rough
army fare.

During the meal my host attempted to converse with me, but, naturally,
the effort was fruitless of results. He waxed quite excited at times and
upon three distinct occasions laid his hand upon one of his swords when
I failed to comprehend what he was saying to me, an action which
resulted in a growing conviction upon my part that he was partially
demented; but he evinced sufficient self-control in each instance to
avert a catastrophe for one of us.

The meal over he sat for a long time in deep meditation, then a sudden
resolution seemed to possess him. He turned suddenly upon me with a
faint suggestion of a smile and dove headlong into what was to prove an
intensive course of instruction in the Barsoomian language. It was long
after dark before he permitted me to retire for the night, conducting me
himself to a large apartment, the same in which I had found my new
harness, where he pointed out a pile of rich sleeping silks and furs,
bid me a Barsoomian good night and left me, locking the door after him
upon the outside, and leaving me to guess whether I were more guest or
prisoner.



                               CHAPTER II
                               PREFERMENT


Three weeks passed rapidly. I had mastered enough of the Barsoomian
tongue to enable me to converse with my host in a reasonably
satisfactory manner, and I was also progressing slowly in the mastery of
the written language of his nation, which is different, of course, from
the written language of all other Barsoomian nations, though the spoken
language of all is identical. In these three weeks I had learned much of
the strange place in which I was half guest and half prisoner and of my
remarkable host-jailer, Ras Thavas, the old surgeon of Toonol, whom I
had accompanied almost constantly day after day until gradually there
had unfolded before my astounded faculties an understanding of the
purposes of the institution over which he ruled and in which he laboured
practically alone; for the slaves and attendants that served him were
but hewers of wood and carriers of water. It was his brain alone and his
skill that directed the sometimes beneficent, the sometimes malevolent,
but always marvellous activities of his life’s work.

Ras Thavas himself was as remarkable as the things he accomplished. He
was never intentionally cruel; he was not, I am sure, intentionally
wicked. He was guilty of the most diabolical cruelties and the basest of
crimes; yet in the next moment he might perform a deed that if
duplicated upon Earth would have raised him to the highest pinnacle of
man’s esteem. Though I know that I am safe in saying that he was never
prompted to a cruel or criminal act by base motives, neither was he ever
urged to a humanitarian one by high motives. He had a purely scientific
mind entirely devoid of the cloying influences of sentiment, of which he
possessed none. His was a practical mind, as evidenced by the enormous
fees he demanded for his professional services; yet I know that he would
not operate for money alone and I have seen him devote days to the study
of a scientific problem the solution of which could add nothing to his
wealth, while the quarters that he furnished his waiting clients were
overflowing with wealthy patrons waiting to pour money into his coffers.

His treatment of me was based entirely upon scientific requirements. I
offered a problem. I was either, quite evidently, not a Barsoomian at
all, or I was of a species of which he had no knowledge. It therefore
best suited the purposes of science that I be preserved and studied. I
knew much about my own planet. It pleased Ras Thavas’ scientific mind to
milk me of all I knew in the hope that he might derive some suggestion
that would solve one of the Barsoomian scientific riddles that still
baffle their savants; but he was compelled to admit that in this respect
I was a total loss, not alone because I was densely ignorant upon
practically all scientific subjects, but because the learned sciences on
Earth have not advanced even to the swaddling-clothes stage as compared
with the remarkable progress of corresponding activities on Mars. Yet he
kept me by him, training me in many of the minor duties of his vast
laboratory. I was entrusted with the formula of the “embalming fluid”
and taught how to withdraw a subject’s blood and replace it with this
marvellous preservative that arrests decay without altering in the
minutest detail the nerve or tissue structure of the body. I learned
also the secret of the few drops of solution which, added to the
rewarmed blood before it is returned to the veins of the subject,
revitalizes the latter and restores to normal and healthy activity each
and every organ of the body.

He told me once why he had permitted me to learn these things that he
had kept a secret from all others, and why he kept me with him at all
times in preference to any of the numerous individuals of his own race
that served him and me in lesser capacities both day and night.

“Vad Varo,” he said, using the Barsoomian name that he had given me
because he insisted that my own name was meaningless and impractical,
“for many years I have needed an assistant, but heretofore I have never
felt that I had discovered one who might work here for me wholeheartedly
and disinterestedly without ever having reason to go elsewhere or to
divulge my secrets to others. You, in all Barsoom, are unique—you have
no other friend or acquaintance than myself. Were you to leave me you
would find yourself in a world of enemies, for all are suspicious of a
stranger. You would not survive a dozen dawns and you would be cold and
hungry and miserable—a wretched outcast in a hostile world. Here you
have every luxury that the mind of man can devise or the hand of man
produce, and you are occupied with work of such engrossing interest that
your every hour must be fruitful of unparalleled satisfaction. There is
no selfish reason, therefore, why you should leave me and there is every
reason why you should remain. I expect no loyalty other than that which
may be prompted by egoism. You make an ideal assistant, not only for the
reasons I have just given you, but because you are intelligent and
quick-witted, and now I have decided, after observing you carefully for
a sufficient time, that you can serve me in yet another capacity—that
of personal bodyguard.

“You may have noticed that I alone of all those connected with my
laboratory am armed. This is unusual upon Barsoom, where people of all
classes, and all ages and both sexes habitually go unarmed. But many of
these people I could not trust armed as they would slay me; and were I
to give arms to those whom I might trust, who knows but that the others
would obtain possession of them and slay me, or even those whom I had
trusted turn against me, for there is not one who might not wish to go
forth from this place back among his own people—only you, Vad Varo, for
there is no other place for you to go. So I have decided to give you
weapons.

“You saved my life once. A similar opportunity might again present
itself. I know that, being a reasoning and reasonable creature, you will
not slay me, for you have nothing to gain and everything to lose by my
death, which would leave you friendless and unprotected in a world of
strangers where assassination is the order of society and natural death
one of the rarest of phenomena. Here are your arms.” He stepped to a
cabinet which he unlocked, displaying an assortment of weapons, and
selected for me a long-sword, a short-sword, a pistol and a dagger.

“You seem sure of my loyalty, Ras Thavas,” I said.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I am only sure that I know perfectly where
your interests lie—sentimentalists have words: love, loyalty,
friendship, enmity, jealousy, hate, a thousand others; a waste of
words—one word defines them all: self-interest. All men of intelligence
realize this. They analyse an individual and by his predilections and
his needs they classify him as friend or foe, leaving to the weak-minded
idiots who like to be deceived the drooling drivel of sentiment.”

I smiled as I buckled my weapons to my harness, but I held my peace.
Nothing could be gained by arguing with the man and, too, I felt quite
sure that in any purely academic controversy I should get the worst of
it; but many of the matters of which he had spoken had aroused my
curiosity and one had reawakened in my mind a matter to which I had
given considerable thought. While partially explained by some of his
remarks I still wondered why the red-man from whom I had rescued him had
seemed so venomously bent upon slaying him the day of my advent upon
Barsoom, and so, as we sat chatting after our evening meal, I asked him.

“A sentimentalist,” he said. “A sentimentalist of the most pronounced
type. Why that fellow hated me with a venom absolutely unbelievable by
any of the reactions of a trained, analytical mind such as mine; but
having witnessed his reactions I become cognizant of a state of mind
that I cannot of myself even imagine. Consider the facts. He was the
victim of assassination—a young warrior in the prime of life,
possessing a handsome face and a splendid physique. One of my agents
paid his relatives a satisfactory sum for the corpse and brought it to
me. It is thus that I obtain practically all of my material. I treated
it in the manner with which you are familiar. For a year the body lay in
the laboratory, there being no occasion during that time that I had use
for it; but eventually a rich client came, a not overly prepossessing
man of considerable years. He had fallen desperately in love with a
young woman who was attended by many handsome suitors. My client had
more money than any of them, more brains, more experience, but he lacked
the one thing that each of the others had that always weighs heavily
with the undeveloped, unreasoning, sentiment-ridden minds of young
females—good looks.

“Now 378-J-493811-P had what my client lacked and could afford to
purchase. Quickly we reached an agreement as to price and I transferred
the brain of my rich client to the head of 378-J-493811-P and my client
went away and for all I know won the hand of the beautiful moron; and
378-J-493811-P might have rested on indefinitely upon his ersite slab
until I needed him or a part of him in my work, had I not, merely by
chance, selected him for resurgence because of an existing need for
another male slave.

“Mind you now, the man had been murdered. He was dead. I bought and paid
for the corpse and all there was in it. He might have lain dead forever
upon one of my ersite slabs had I not breathed new life into his dead
veins. Did he have the brains to view the transaction in a wise and
dispassionate manner? He did not. His sentimental reactions caused him
to reproach me because I had given him another body, though it seemed to
me that, looking at the matter from a standpoint of sentiment, if one
must, he should have considered me as a benefactor for having given him
life again in a perfectly healthy, if somewhat used, body.

“He had spoken to me upon the subject several times, begging me to
restore his body to him, a thing of which, of course, as I explained to
him, was utterly out of the question unless chance happened to bring to
my laboratory the corpse of the client who had purchased his carcass—a
contingency quite beyond the pale of possibility for one as wealthy as
my client. The fellow even suggested that I permit him to go forth and
assassinate my client, bringing the body back that I might reverse the
operation and restore his body to his brain. When I refused to divulge
the name of the present possessor of his body he grew sulky, but until
the very hour of your arrival, when he attacked me, I did not suspect
the depth of his hate complex.

“Sentiment is indeed a bar to all progress. We of Toonol are probably
less subject to its vagaries than most other nations upon Barsoom, but
yet most of my fellow countrymen are victims of it in varying degrees.
It has its rewards and compensations, however. Without it we could
preserve no stable form of government and the Phundahlians, or some
other people, would overrun and conquer us; but enough of our lower
classes have sentiment to a sufficient degree to give them loyalty to
the Jeddak of Toonol and the upper classes are brainy enough to know
that it is to their own best interests to keep him upon his throne.

“The Phundahlians, upon the other hand, are egregious sentimentalists,
filled with crass stupidities and superstitions, slaves to every variety
of brain withering conceit. Why the very fact that they keep the old
termagant, Xaxa, on the throne brands them with their stupid idiocy. She
is an ignorant, arrogant, selfish, stupid, cruel virago, yet the
Phundahlians would fight and die for her because her father was Jeddak
of Phundahl. She taxes them until they can scarce stagger beneath their
burden, she misrules them, exploits them, betrays them, and they fall
down and worship at her feet. Why? Because her father was Jeddak of
Phundahl and his father before him and so on back into antiquity;
because they are ruled by sentiment rather than reason; because their
wicked rulers play upon this sentiment.

“She had nothing to recommend her to a sane person—not even beauty. You
know, you saw her.”

“I saw her?” I demanded.

“You assisted me the day that we gave her old brain a new casket—the
day you arrived from what you call your Earth.”

“She! That old woman was Jeddara of Phundahl?”

“That was Xaxa,” he assured me.

“Why, you did not accord her the treatment that one of the Earth would
suppose would be accorded a ruler, and so I had no idea that she was
more than a rich old woman.”

“I am Ras Thavas,” said the old man. “Why should I incline the head to
any other? In my world nothing counts but brain and in that respect, and
without egotism, I may say that I acknowledge no superior.”

“Then you are not without sentiment,” I said, smiling. “You acknowledge
pride in your intellect!”

“It is not pride,” he said, patiently, for him, “it is merely a fact
that I state. A fact that I should have no difficulty in proving. In all
probability I have the most highly developed and perfectly functioning
mind among all the learned men of my acquaintance, and reason indicates
that this fact also suggests that I possess the most highly developed
and perfectly functioning mind upon Barsoom. From what I know of Earth
and from what I have seen of you, I am convinced that there is no mind
upon your planet that may even faintly approximate in power that which I
have developed during a thousand years of active study and research.
Rasoom (Mercury) or Cosoom (Venus) may possibly support intelligences
equal to or even greater than mine. While we have made some study of
their thought waves, our instruments are not yet sufficiently developed
to more than suggest that they are of extreme refinement, power and
flexibility.”

“And what of the girl whose body you gave to the Jeddara?” I asked,
irrelevantly, for my mind could not efface the memory of that sweet body
that must, indeed, have possessed an equally sweet and fine brain.

“Merely a subject! Merely a subject!” he replied with a wave of his
hand.

“What will become of her?” I insisted.

“What difference does it make?” he demanded. “I bought her with a batch
of prisoners of war. I do not even recall from what country my agent
obtained them, or from whence they originated. Such matters are of no
import.”

“She was alive when you bought her?” I demanded.

“Yes. Why?”

“You—er—ah—killed her, then?”

“Killed her! No; I preserved her. That was some ten years ago. Why
should I permit her to grow old and wrinkled? She would no longer have
the same value then, would she? No, I preserved her. When Xaxa bought
her she was just as fresh and young as the day she arrived. I kept her a
long time. Many women looked at her and wanted her face and figure, but
it took a Jeddara to afford her. She brought the highest price that I
have ever been paid.

“Yes, I kept her a long time, but I knew that some day she would bring
my price. She was indeed beautiful and so sentiment has its uses—were
it not for sentiment there would be no fools to support this work that I
am doing, thus permitting me to carry on investigations of far greater
merit. You would be surprised, I know, were I to tell you that I feel
that I am almost upon the point of being able to produce rational human
beings through the action upon certain chemical combinations of a group
of rays probably entirely undiscovered by your scientists, if I am to
judge by the paucity of your knowledge concerning such things.”

“I would not be surprised,” I assured him. “I would not be surprised by
anything that you might accomplish.”



                              CHAPTER III
                                VALLA DIA


I lay awake a long time that night thinking of 4296-E-2631-H, the
beautiful girl whose perfect body had been stolen to furnish a gorgeous
setting for the cruel brain of a tyrant. It seemed such a horrid crime
that I could not rid my mind of it and I think that contemplation of it
sowed the first seed of my hatred and loathing for Ras Thavas. I could
not conjure a creature so utterly devoid of bowels of compassion as to
even consider for a moment the frightful ravishing of that sweet and
lovely body for even the holiest of purposes, much less one that could
have been induced to do so for filthy pelf.

So much did I think upon the girl that night that her image was the
first to impinge upon my returning consciousness at dawn, and after I
had eaten, Ras Thavas not having appeared, I went directly to the
storage room where the poor thing was. Here she lay, identified only by
a small panel, bearing a number: 4296-E-2631-H. The body of an old woman
with a disfigured face lay before me in the rigid immobility of death;
yet that was not the figure that I saw, but instead, a vision of radiant
loveliness whose imprisoned soul lay dormant beneath those greying
locks.

The creature here with the face and form of Xaxa was not Xaxa at all,
for all that made the other what she was had been transferred to this
cold corpse. How frightful would be the awakening, should awakening ever
come! I shuddered to think of the horror that must overwhelm the girl
when first she realized the horrid crime that had been perpetrated upon
her. Who was she? What story lay locked in that dead and silent brain?
What loves must have been hers whose beauty was so great and upon whose
fair face had lain the indelible imprint of graciousness! Would Ras
Thavas ever arouse her from this happy semblance of death?—far happier
than any quickening ever could be for her. I shrank from the thought of
her awakening and yet I longed to hear her speak, to know that that
brain lived again, to learn her name, to listen to the story of this
gentle life that had been so rudely snatched from its proper environment
and so cruelly handled by the hand of Fate. And suppose she were
awakened! Suppose she were awakened and that I—— A hand was laid upon
my shoulder and I turned to look into the face of Ras Thavas.

“You seem interested in this subject,” he said.

“I was wondering,” I replied, “what the reaction this girl’s brain would
be were she to awaken to the discovery that she had become an old,
disfigured woman.”

He stroked his chin and eyed me narrowly. “An interesting experiment,”
he mused. “I am gratified to discover that you are taking a scientific
interest in the labours that I am carrying on. The psychological phases
of my work I have, I must confess, rather neglected during the past
hundred years or so, though I formerly gave them a great deal of
attention. It would be interesting to observe and study several of these
cases. This one, especially, might prove of value to you as an initial
study, it being simple and regular. Later we will let you examine into a
case where a man’s brain has been transferred to a woman’s skull, and a
woman’s brain to a man’s. There are also the interesting cases where a
portion of diseased or injured brain has been replaced by a portion of
the brain from another subject; and, for experimental purposes alone,
those human brains that have been transplanted to the craniums of
beasts, and _vice versa_, offer tremendous opportunities for
observation. I have in mind one case in which I transferred half the
brain of an ape to the skull of a man, after having removed half of his
brain, which I grafted upon the remaining part of the brain in the ape’s
skull. That was a matter of several years ago and I have often thought
that I should like to recall these two subjects and note the results. I
shall have to have a look at them—as I recall it they are in vault
L-42-X, beneath building 4-J-21. We shall have to have a look at them
some day soon—it has been years since I have been below. There must be
some very interesting specimens there that have escaped my mind. But
come! let us recall 4296-E-2631-H.”

“No!” I exclaimed, laying a hand upon his arm. “It would be horrible.”

He turned a surprised look upon me and then a nasty, sneering smile
curled his lips. “Maudlin, sentimental fool!” he cried. “Who dare say no
to me?”

I laid a hand upon the hilt of my long-sword and looked him steadily in
the eye. “Ras Thavas,” I said, “you are master in your own house; but
while I am your guest treat me with courtesy.”

He returned my look for a moment but his eyes wavered. “I was hasty,” he
said. “Let it pass.” That, I let answer for an apology—really it was
more than I had expected—but the event was not unfortunate. I think he
treated me with far greater respect thereafter; but now he turned
immediately to the slab bearing the mortal remains of 4296-E-2631-H.

“Prepare the subject for revivification,” he said, “and make what study
you can of all its reactions.” With that he left the room.

I was now fairly adept at this work which I set about with some
misgivings but with the assurance that I was doing right in obeying Ras
Thavas while I remained a member of his entourage. The blood that had
once flowed through the veins of the beautiful body that Ras Thavas had
sold to Xaxa reposed in an hermetically sealed vessel upon the shelf
above the corpse. As I had before done in other cases beneath the
watchful eyes of the old surgeon I now did for the first time alone. The
blood heated, the incisions made, the tubes attached and the few drops
of life-giving solution added to the blood, I was now ready to restore
life to that delicate brain that had lain dead for ten years. As my
finger rested upon the little button that actuated the motor that was to
send the revivifying liquid into those dormant veins, I experienced such
a sensation as I imagined no mortal man has ever felt.

I had become master of life and death, and yet at this moment that I
stood there upon the point of resurrecting the dead I felt more like a
murderer than a saviour. I tried to view the procedure dispassionately
through the cold eye of science, but I failed miserably. I could only
see a stricken girl grieving for her lost beauties. With a muffled oath
I turned away. I could not do it! And then, as though an outside force
had seized upon me, my finger moved unerringly to the button and pressed
it. I cannot explain it, unless upon the theory of dual mentality, which
may explain many things. Perhaps my subjective mind directed the act. I
do not know. Only I know that I did it, the motor started, the level of
the blood in the container commenced gradually to lower.

Spell-bound, I stood watching. Presently the vessel was empty. I shut
off the motor, removed the tubes, sealed the openings with tape. The red
glow of life tinged the body, replacing the sallow, purplish hue of
death. The breasts rose and fell regularly, the head turned slightly and
the eyelids moved. A faint sigh issued from between the parting lips.
For a long time there was no other sign of life, then, suddenly, the
eyes opened. They were dull at first, but presently they commenced to
fill with questioning wonderment. They rested on me and then passed on
about that portion of the room that was visible from the position of the
body. Then they came back to me and remained steadily fixed upon my
countenance after having once surveyed me up and down. There was still
the questioning in them, but there was no fear.

“Where am I?” she asked. The voice was that of an old woman—high and
harsh. A startled expression filled her eyes. “What is the matter with
me? What is wrong with my voice? What has happened?”

I laid a hand upon her forehead. “Don’t bother about it now,” I said,
soothingly. “Wait until sometime when you are stronger. Then I will tell
you.”

She sat up. “I am strong,” she said, and then her eyes swept her lower
body and limbs and a look of utter horror crossed her face. “What has
happened to me? In the name of my first ancestor, what has happened to
me?”

The shrill, harsh voice grated upon me. It was the voice of Xaxa and
Xaxa now must possess the sweet musical tones that alone would have
harmonized with the beautiful face she had stolen. I tried to forget
those strident notes and think only of the pulchritude of the envelope
that had once graced the soul within this old and withered carcass.

She extended a hand and laid it gently upon mine. The act was beautiful,
the movements graceful. The brain of the girl directed the muscles, but
the old, rough vocal chords of Xaxa could give forth no sweeter notes.
“Tell me, please!” she begged. There were tears in the old eyes, I’ll
venture for the first time in many years. “Tell me! You do not seem
unkind.”

And so I told her. She listened intently and when I was through she
sighed. “After all,” she said, “it is not so dreadful, now that I really
know. It is better than being dead.” That made me glad that I had
pressed the button. She was glad to be alive, even draped in the hideous
carcass of Xaxa. I told her as much.

“You were so beautiful,” I told her.

“And now I am so ugly?” I made no answer.

“After all, what difference does it make?” she inquired presently. “This
old body cannot change me, or make me different from what I have always
been. The good in me remains and whatever of sweetness and kindness, and
I can be happy to be alive and perhaps to do some good. I was terrified
at first, because I did not know what had happened to me. I thought that
maybe I had contracted some terrible disease that had so altered
me—that horrified me; but now that I know—pouf! what of it?”

“You are wonderful,” I said. “Most women would have gone mad with the
horror and grief of it—to lose such wondrous beauty as was yours—and
you do not care.”

“Oh, yes, I care, my friend,” she corrected me, “but I do not care
enough to ruin my life in all other respects because of it, or to cast a
shadow upon the lives of those around me. I have had my beauty and
enjoyed it. It is not an unalloyed happiness I can assure you. Men
killed one another because of it; two great nations went to war because
of it; and perhaps my father lost his throne or his life—I do not know,
for I was captured by the enemy while the war still raged. It may be
raging yet and men dying because I was too beautiful. No one will fight
for me now, though,” she added, with a rueful smile.

“Do you know how long you have been here?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “It was the day before yesterday that they brought
me hither.”

“It was ten years ago,” I told her.

“Ten years! Impossible.”

I pointed to the corpses around us. “You have lain like this for ten
years,” I explained. “There are subjects here who have lain thus for
fifty, Ras Thavas tells me.”

“Ten years! Ten years! What may not have happened in ten years! It is
better thus. I should fear to go back now. I should not want to know
that my father, my mother too, perhaps, were gone. It is better thus.
Perhaps you will let me sleep again? May I not?”

“That remains with Ras Thavas,” I replied; “but for a while I am to
observe you.”

“Observe me?”

“Study you—your reactions.”

“Ah! and what good will that do?”

“It may do some good in the world.”

“It may give this horrid Ras Thavas some new ideas for his torture
chamber—some new scheme for coining money from the suffering of his
victims,” she said, her harsh voice saddened.

“Some of his works are good,” I told her. “The money he makes permits
him to maintain this wonderful establishment where he constantly carries
on countless experiments. Many of his operations are beneficent.
Yesterday a warrior was brought in whose arm was crushed beyond repair.
Ras Thavas gave him a new arm. A demented child was brought. Ras Thavas
gave her a new brain. The arm and the brain were taken from two who had
met violent deaths. Through Ras Thavas they were permitted, after death,
to give life and happiness to others.”

She thought for a moment. “I am content,” she said. “I only hope that
you will always be the observer.”

Presently Ras Thavas came and examined her. “A good subject,” he said.
He looked at the chart where I had made a very brief record following
the other entries relative to the history of Case No. 4296-E-2631-H. Of
course this is, naturally, a rather free translation of this particular
identification number. The Barsoomians have no alphabet such as ours and
their numbering system is quite different. The thirteen characters above
were represented by four Toonolian characters, yet the meaning was quite
the same—they represented, in contracted form, the case number, the
room, the table and the building.

“The subject will be quartered near you where you may regularly observe
it,” continued Ras Thavas. “There is a chamber adjoining yours. I will
see that it is unlocked. Take the subject there. When not under your
observation, lock it in.” _It_ was only another _case_ to him.

I took the girl, if I may so call her, to her quarters. On the way I
asked her her name, for it seemed to me an unnecessary discourtesy
always to address her and refer to her as 4296-E-2631-H, and this I
explained to her.

“It is considerate of you to think of that,” she said, “but really that
is all that I am here—just another subject for vivisection.”

“You are more than that to me,” I told her. “You are friendless and
helpless. I want to be of service to you—to make your lot easier if I
can.”

“Thank you again,” she said. “My name is Valla Dia, and yours?”

“Ras Thavas calls me Vad Varo,” I told her.

“But that is not your name?”

“My name is Ulysses Paxton.”

“It is a strange name, unlike any that I have ever heard, but you are
unlike any man I have ever seen—you do not seem Barsoomian. Your colour
is unlike that of any race.”

“I am not of Barsoom, but from Earth, the planet you sometimes call
Jasoom. That is why I differ in appearance from any you have known
before.”

“Jasoom! There is another Jasoomian here whose fame has reached to the
remotest corners of Barsoom, but I never have seen him.”

“John Carter?” I asked.

“Yes, The War Lord. He was of Helium and my people were not friendly
with those of Helium. I never could understand how he came here. And now
there is another from Jasoom—how can it be? How did you cross the great
void?”

I shook my head. “I cannot even guess,” I told her.

“Jasoom must be peopled with wonderful men,” she said. It was a pretty
compliment.

“As Barsoom is with beautiful women,” I replied.

She glanced down ruefully at her old and wrinkled body.

“I have seen the real you,” I said gently.

“I hate to think of my face,” she said. “I know it is a frightful
thing.”

“It is not you, remember that when you see it and do not feel too
badly.”

“Is it as bad as that?” she asked.

I did not reply. “Never mind,” she said presently. “If I had not beauty
of the soul, I was not beautiful, no matter how perfect my features may
have been; but if I possessed beauty of soul then I have it now. So I
can think beautiful thoughts and perform beautiful deeds and that, I
think, is the real test of beauty, after all.”

“And there is hope,” I added, almost in a whisper.

“Hope? No, there is no hope, if what you mean to suggest is that I may
some time regain my lost self. You have told me enough to convince me
that that can never be.”

“We will not speak of it,” I said, “but we may think of it and sometimes
thinking a great deal of a thing helps us to find a way to get it, if we
want it badly enough.”

“I do not want to hope,” she said, “for it will but mean disappointment
for me. I shall be happy as I am. Hoping, I should always be unhappy.”

I had ordered food for her and after it was brought Ras Thavas sent for
me and I left her, locking the door of her chamber as the old surgeon
had instructed. I found Ras Thavas in his office, a small room which
adjoined a very large one in which were a score of clerks arranging and
classifying reports from various departments of the great laboratory. He
arose as I entered.

“Come with me, Vad Varo,” he directed. “We will have a look at the two
cases in L-42-X, the two of which I spoke.”

“The man with half a simian brain and the ape with a half human brain?”
I asked.

He nodded and preceded me towards the runway that led to the vaults
beneath the building. As we descended, the corridors and passageways
indicated long disuse. The floors were covered with an impalpable dust,
long undisturbed; the tiny radium bulbs that faintly illuminated the
sub-barsoomian depths were likewise coated. As we proceeded, we passed
many doorways on either side, each marked with its descriptive
hieroglyphic. Several of the openings had been tightly sealed with
masonry. What gruesome secrets were hid within? At last we came to
L-42-X. Here the bodies were arranged on shelves, several rows of which
almost completely filled the room from floor to ceiling, except for a
rectangular space in the centre of the chamber, which accommodated an
ersite topped operating table with its array of surgical instruments,
its motor and other laboratory equipment.

Ras Thavas searched out the subjects of his strange experiment and
together we carried the human body to the table. While Ras Thavas
attached the tubes I returned for the vessel of blood which reposed upon
the same shelf with the corpse. The now familiar method of
revivification was soon accomplished and presently we were watching the
return of consciousness to the subject.

The man sat up and looked at us, then he cast a quick glance about the
chamber; there was a savage light in his eyes as they returned to us.
Slowly he backed from the table to the floor, keeping the former between
us.

“We will not harm you,” said Ras Thavas.

The man attempted to reply, but his words were unintelligible gibberish,
then he shook his head and growled. Ras Thavas took a step towards him
and the man dropped to all fours, his knuckles resting on the floor, and
backed away, growling.

“Come!” cried Ras Thavas. “We will not harm you.” Again he attempted to
approach the subject, but the man only backed quickly away, growling
more fiercely; and then suddenly he wheeled and climbed quickly to the
top of the highest shelf, where he squatted upon a corpse and gibbered
at us.

“We shall have to have help,” said Ras Thavas and, going to the doorway,
he blew a signal upon his whistle.

“What are you blowing that for?” demanded the man suddenly. “Who are
you? What am I doing here? What has happened to me?”

“Come down,” said Ras Thavas. “We are friends.”

Slowly the man descended to the floor and came towards us, but he still
moved with his knuckles to the pavement. He looked about at the corpses
and a new light entered his eyes.

“I am hungry!” he cried. “I will eat!” and with that he seized the
nearest corpse and dragged it to the floor.

“Stop! Stop!” cried Ras Thavas, leaping forward. “You will ruin the
subject,” but the man only backed away, dragging the corpse along the
floor after him. It was then that the attendants came and with their
help we subdued and bound the poor creature. Then Ras Thavas had the
attendants bring the body of the ape and he told them to remain, as we
might need them.

The subject was a large specimen of the Barsoomian white ape, one of the
most savage and fearsome denizens of the Red Planet, and because of the
creature’s great strength and ferocity Ras Thavas took the precaution to
see that it was securely bound before resurgence.

It was a colossal creature about ten or fifteen feet tall, standing
erect, and had an intermediary set of arms or legs midway between its
upper and lower limbs. The eyes were close together and non-protruding;
the ears were high set, while its snout and teeth were strikingly like
those of our African gorilla.

With returning consciousness the creature eyed us questioningly. Several
times it seemed to essay to speak, but only inarticulate sounds issued
from its throat. Then it lay still for a period.

Ras Thavas spoke to it. “If you understand my words, nod your head.” The
creature nodded.

“Would you like to be freed of your bonds?” asked the surgeon.

Again the creature nodded an affirmative.

“I fear that you will attempt to injure us, or escape,” said Ras Thavas.

The ape was apparently trying very hard to articulate and at last there
issued from its lips a sound that could not be misunderstood. It was the
single word no.

“You will not harm us or try to escape?” Ras Thavas repeated his
question.

“No,” said the ape, and this time the word was clearly enunciated.

“We shall see,” said Ras Thavas. “But remember that with our weapons we
may dispatch you quickly if you attack us.”

The ape nodded, and then, very laboriously: “I will not harm you.”

At a sign from Ras Thavas the attendants removed the bonds and the
creature sat up. It stretched its limbs and slid easily to the floor,
where it stood erect upon two feet, which was not surprising, since the
white ape goes more often upon two feet than six; a fact of which I was
not cognizant at the time, but which Ras Thavas explained to me later in
commenting upon the fact that the human subject had gone upon all fours,
which, to Ras Thavas, indicated a reversion to type in the fractional
ape-brain transplanted to the human skull.

Ras Thavas examined the subject at considerable length and then resumed
his examination of the human subject which continued to evince more
simian characteristics than human, though it spoke more easily than the
ape, because, undoubtedly, of its more perfect vocal organs. It was only
by exerting the closest attention that the diction of the ape became
understandable at all.

“There is nothing remarkable about these subjects,” said Ras Thavas,
after devoting half a day to them. “They bear out what I had already
determined years ago in the transplanting of entire brains; that the act
of transplanting stimulates growth and activity of brain cells. You will
note that in each subject the transplanted portions of the brains are
more active—they, in a considerable measure, control. That is why we
have the human subject displaying distinctly simian characteristics,
while the ape behaves in a more human manner; though if longer and
closer observation were desirable you would doubtless find that each
reverted at times to his own nature—that is the ape would be more
wholly an ape and the human more manlike—but it is not worth the time,
of which I have already given too much to a rather unprofitable
forenoon. I shall leave you now to restore the subjects to anaesthesia
while I return to the laboratories above. The attendants will remain
here to assist you, if required.”

The ape, who had been an interested listener, now stepped forward. “Oh,
please, I pray you,” it mumbled, “do not again condemn me to these
horrid shelves. I recall the day that I was brought here securely bound,
and though I have no recollection of what has transpired since I can but
guess from the appearance of my own skin and that of these dusty corpses
that I have lain here long. I beg that you will permit me to live and
either restore me to my fellows or allow me to serve in some capacity in
this establishment, of which I saw something between the time of my
capture and the day that I was carried into this laboratory, bound and
helpless, to one of your cold, ersite slabs.”

Ras Thavas made a gesture of impatience. “Nonsense!” he cried. “You are
better off here, where you can be preserved in the interests of
science.”

“Accede to his request,” I begged, “and I will myself take over all
responsibility for him while I profit by the study that he will afford
me.”

“Do as you are directed,” snapped Ras Thavas as he quit the room.

I shrugged my shoulders. “There is nothing for it, then,” I said.

“I might dispatch you all and escape,” mused the ape, aloud, “but you
would have helped me. I could not kill one who would have befriended
me—yet I shrink from the thought of another death. How long have I lain
here?”

I referred to the history of his case that had been brought and
suspended at the head of the table. “Twelve years,” I told him.

“And yet, why not?” he demanded of himself. “This man would slay me—why
should I not slay him first.”

“It would do you no good,” I assured him, “for you could never escape.
Instead you would be really killed, dying a death from which Ras Thavas
would probably think it not worth while ever to recall you, while I, who
might find the opportunity at some later date and who have the
inclination, would be dead at your hands and thus incapable of saving
you.”

I had been speaking in a low voice, close to his ear, that the
attendants might not overhear me. The ape listened intently.

“You will do as you suggest?” he asked.

“At the first opportunity that presents itself,” I assured him.

“Very well,” he said, “I will submit, trusting to you.”

A half hour later both subjects had been returned to their shelves.



                               CHAPTER IV
                               THE COMPACT


Days ran into weeks, weeks into months, as day by day I labored at the
side of Ras Thavas, and more and more the old surgeon took me into his
confidence, more and more he imparted to me the secrets of his skill and
his profession. Gradually he permitted me to perform more and more
important functions in the actual practice of his vast laboratory. I
started transferring limbs from one subject to another, then internal
organs of the digestive tract. Then he entrusted to me a complete
operation upon a paying client. I removed the kidneys from a rich old
man, replacing them with healthy ones from a young subject. The
following day I gave a stunted child new thyroid glands. A week later I
transferred two hearts and then, at last, came the great day for
me—unassisted, with Ras Thavas standing silently beside me, I took the
brain of an old man and transplanted it within the cranium of a youth.

When I had done Ras Thavas laid a hand upon my shoulder. “I could not
have done better myself,” he said. He seemed much elated and I could not
but wonder at this unusual demonstration of emotion upon his part, he
who so prided himself upon his lack of emotionalism. I had often
pondered the purpose which influenced Ras Thavas to devote so much time
to my training, but never had I hit upon any more satisfactory
explanation than that he had need of assistance in his growing practice.
Yet when I consulted the records, that were now open to me, I discovered
that his practice was no greater than it had been for many years; and
even had it been there was really no reason why he should have trained
me in preference to one of his red-Martian assistants, his belief in my
loyalty not being sufficient warrant, in my mind, for this preferment
when he could, as well as not, have kept me for a bodyguard and trained
one of his own kind to aid him in his surgical work.

But I was presently to learn that he had an excellent reason for what he
was doing—Ras Thavas always had an excellent reason for whatever he
did. One night after we had finished our evening meal he sat looking at
me intently as he so often did, as though he would read my mind, which,
by the way, he was totally unable to do, much to his surprise and
chagrin; for unless a Martian is constantly upon the alert any other
Martian can read clearly his every thought; but Ras Thavas was unable to
read mine. He said that it was due to the fact that I was not a
Barsoomian. Yet I could often read the minds of his assistants, when
they were off their guard, though never had I read aught of Ras Thavas’
thoughts, nor, I am sure, had any other read them. He kept his brain
sealed like one of his own blood jars, nor was he ever for a moment
found with his barriers down.

He sat looking at me this evening for a long time, nor did it in the
least embarrass me, so accustomed was I to his peculiarities. “Perhaps,”
he said presently, “one of the reasons that I trust you is due to the
fact that I cannot ever, at any time, fathom your mind; so, if you
harbor traitorous thoughts concerning me I do not know it, while the
others, every one of them, reveal their inmost souls to my searching
mind and in each one there is envy, jealousy or hatred of me. Them, I
know, I cannot trust. Therefore I must accept the risk and place all my
dependence upon you, and my reason tells me that my choice is a wise
one—I have told you upon what grounds it based my selection of you as
my bodyguard. The same holds true in my selection of you for the thing I
have in mind. You cannot harm me without harming yourself and no man
will intentionally do that; nor is there any reason why you should feel
any deep antagonism towards me.

“You are, of course, a sentimentalist and doubtless you look with horror
upon many of the acts of a sane, rational, scientific mind; but you are
also highly intelligent and can, therefore, appreciate better than
another, even though you may not approve them, the motives that prompt
me to do many of those things of which your sentimentality disapproves.
I may have offended you, but I have never wronged you, nor have I
wronged any creature for which you might have felt some of your
so-called friendship or love. Are my premises incorrect, or my reasoning
faulty?”

I assured him to the contrary.

“Very well! Now let me explain why I have gone to such pains to train
you as no other human being, aside from myself, has ever been trained. I
am not ready to use you yet, or rather you are not ready; but if you
know my purpose you will realize the necessity for bending your energy
to the consummation of my purpose, and to that end you will strive even
more diligently than you have to perfect yourself in the high,
scientific art I am imparting to you.

“I am a very old man,” he continued after a brief pause, “even as age
goes upon Barsoom. I have lived more than a thousand years. I have
passed the allotted natural span of life, but I am not through with my
life’s work—I have but barely started it. I must not die. Barsoom must
not be robbed of this wondrous brain and skill of mine. I have long had
in mind a plan to thwart death, but it required another with skill equal
to mine—two such might live for ever. I have selected you to be that
other, for reasons that I already have explained—they are undefiled by
sentimentalism. I did not choose you because I love you, or because I
feel friendship for you, or because I think that you love me, or feel
friendship towards me. I chose you because I knew that of all the
inhabitants of a world you were the one least likely to fail me. For a
time you will have my life in your hands. You will understand now why I
have not been able to choose carelessly.”

“This plan that I have chosen is simplicity itself provided that I can
count upon just two essential factors—skill and self-interested loyalty
in an assistant. My body is about worn out. I must have a new one. My
laboratory is filled with wonderful bodies, young and complete with
potential strength and health. I have but to select one of these and
have my skilled assistant transfer my brain from this old carcass to the
new one.” He paused.

“I understand now, why you have trained me,” I said. “It has puzzled me
greatly.”

“Thus and thus only may I continue my labors,” he went on, “and thus may
Barsoom be assured a continuance practically indefinitely, of the
benefits that my brain may bestow upon her children. I may live for
ever, provided I always have a skilled assistant, and I may assure
myself of such by seeing to it that he never dies; when he wears out one
organ, or his whole body, I can replace either from my great storehouse
of perfect parts, and for me he can perform the same service. Thus may
we continue to live indefinitely; for the brain, I believe, is almost
deathless, unless injured or attacked by disease.

“You are not ready as yet to be entrusted with this important task. You
must transfer many more brains and meet with and overcome the various
irregularities and idiosyncrasies that constitute the never failing
differences that render no two operations identical. When you gain
sufficient proficiency I shall be the first to know it and then we shall
lose no time in making Barsoom safe for posterity.”

The old man was far from achieving hatred of himself. However, his plan
was an excellent one, both for himself and for me. It assured us
immortality—we might live for ever and always with strong, healthy,
young bodies. The outlook was alluring—and what a wonderful position it
placed me in. If the old man could be assured of my loyalty because of
self-interest, similarly might I depend upon his loyalty; for he could
not afford to antagonize the one creature in the world who could assure
him immortality, or withhold it from him. For the first time since I had
entered his establishment I felt safe.

As soon as I had left him I went directly to Valla Dia’s apartment, for
I wanted to tell her this wonderful news. In the weeks that had passed
since her resurrection I had seen much of her and in our daily
intercourse there had been revealed to me little by little the wondrous
beauties of her soul, until at last I no longer saw the hideous,
disfigured face of Xaxa when I looked upon her, but the eyes of my heart
penetrated deeper to the loveliness that lay within that sweet mind. She
had become my confidant, as I was hers, and this association constituted
the one great pleasure of my existence upon Barsoom.

Her congratulations, when I told her of what had come to me, were very
sincere and lovely. She said that she hoped I would use this great power
of mine to do good in the world. I assured her that I would and that
among the first things that I should demand of Ras Thavas was that he
should give Valla Dia a beautiful body; but she shook her head.

“No, my friend,” she said, “if I may not have my own body this old one
of Xaxa’s is quite as good for me as another. Without my own body I
should not care to return to my native country; while were Ras Thavas to
give me the beautiful body of another, I should always be in danger of
the covetousness of his clients, any one of whom might see and desire to
purchase it, leaving to me her old husk, conceivably one quite terribly
diseased or maimed. No, my friend, I am satisfied with the body of Xaxa,
unless I may again possess my own, for Xaxa at least bequeathed me a
tough and healthy envelope, however ugly it may be; and for what do
looks count here? You, alone, are my friend—that I have your friendship
is enough. You admire me for what I am, not for what I look like, so let
us leave well enough alone.”

“If you could regain your own body and return to your native country,
you would like that?” I demanded.

“Oh, do not say it!” she cried. “The simple thought of it drives me mad
with longing. I must not harbour so hopeless a dream that at best may
only tantalize me into greater abhorrence of my lot.”

“Do not say that it is hopeless,” I urged. “Death, only, renders hope
futile.”

“You mean to be kind,” she said, “but you are only hurting me. There can
be no hope.”

“May I hope for you, then?” I asked. “For I surely see a way; however
slight a possibility for success it may have, still, it is a way.”

She shook her head. “There is no way,” she said, with finality. “No more
will Duhor know me.”

“Duhor?” I repeated. “Your—someone you care for very much?”

“I care for Duhor very much,” she answered with a smile, “but Duhor is
not someone—Duhor is my home, the country of my ancestors.”

“How came you to leave Duhor?” I asked. “You have never told me, Valla
Dia.”

“It was because of the ruthlessness of Jal Had, Prince of Amhor,” she
replied. “Hereditary enemies were Duhor and Amhor; but Jal Had came
disguised into the city of Duhor, having heard, they say, of the great
beauty attributed to the only daughter of Kor San, Jeddak of Duhor; and
when he had seen her he determined to possess her. Returning to Amhor he
sent ambassadors to the court of Kor San to sue for the hand of the
Princess of Duhor; but Kor San, who had no son, had determined to wed
his daughter to one of his own Jeds, that the son of this union, with
the blood of Kor San in his veins, might rule over the people of Duhor;
and so the offer of Jal Had was declined.

“This so incensed the Amhorian that he equipped a great fleet and set
forth to conquer Duhor and take by force that which he could not win by
honorable methods. Duhor was, at that time, at war with Helium and all
her forces were far afield in the south, with the exception of a small
army that had been left behind to guard the city. Jal Had, therefore,
could not have selected a more propitious time for an attack. Duhor
fell, and while his troops were looting the fair city Jal Had, with a
picked force, sacked the palace of the Jeddak and searched for the
princess; but the princess had no mind to go back with him as Princess
of Amhor. From the moment that the vanguard of the Amhorian fleet was
seen in the sky she had known, with the others of the city, the purpose
for which they came, and so she used her head to defeat that purpose.

“There was in her retinue a cosmetologist whose duty it was to preserve
the lustrous beauty of the princess’ hair and skin and prepare her for
public audiences, for fêtes and for the daily intercourse of the court.
He was a master of his art; he could render the ugly pleasant to look
upon, he could make the plain lovely, and he could make the lovely
radiant. She called him quickly to her and commanded him to make the
radiant ugly; and when he had done with her none might guess that she
was the Princess of Duhor, so deftly had he wrought with his pigments
and his tiny brushes.

“When Jal Had could not find the princess within the palace, and no
amount of threat or torture could force a statement of her whereabouts
from the loyal lips of her people, the Amhorian ordered that every woman
within the palace be seized and taken to Amhor; there to be held as
hostages until the princess of Duhor should be delivered to him in
marriage. We were, therefore, all seized and placed upon an Amhorian war
ship which was sent back to Amhor ahead of the balance of the fleet,
which remained to complete the sacking of Duhor.

“When the ship, with its small convoy, had covered some four thousand of
the five thousand haads that separate Duhor from Amhor, it was sighted
by a fleet from Phundahl which immediately attacked. The convoying ships
were destroyed or driven off and that which carried us was captured. We
were taken to Phundahl where we were put upon the auction block and I
fell to the bid of one of Ras Thavas’ agents. The rest you know.”

“And what became of the princess?” I asked.

“Perhaps she died—her party was separated in Phundahl—but death could
not more definitely prevent her return to Duhor. The Princess of Duhor
will never again see her native country.”

“But you may!” I cried, for I had suddenly hit upon a plan. “Where is
Duhor?”

“You are going there?” she asked, laughingly.

“Yes!”

“You are mad, my friend,” she said. “Duhor lies a full seven thousand,
eight hundred haads from Toonol, upon the opposite side of the snow-clad
Artolian Hills. You, a stranger and alone, could never reach it; for
between lie the Toonolian Marshes, wild hordes, savage beasts and
warlike cities. You would but die uselessly within the first dozen
haads, even could you escape from the island upon which stands the
laboratory of Ras Thavas; and what motive is there to prompt you to such
a useless sacrifice?”

I could not tell her. I could not look upon that withered figure and
into that hideous and disfigured face and say: “It is because I love
you, Valla Dia.” But that, alas, was my only reason. Gradually, as I had
come to know her through the slow revealment of the wondrous beauty of
her mind and soul, there had crept into my heart a knowledge of my love;
and yet, explain it I cannot, I could not speak the words to that
frightful old hag. I had seen the gorgeous mundane tabernacle that had
housed the equally gorgeous spirit of the real Valla Dia—_that_ I could
love; her heart and soul and mind I could love; but I could not love the
body of Xaxa. I was torn, too, by other emotions, induced by a great
doubt—could Valla Dia return my love. Habilitated in the corpse of
Xaxa, with no other suitor, nay, with no other friend she might, out of
gratitude or through sheer loneliness, be attracted to me; but once
again were she Valla Dia the beautiful and returned to the palace of her
king, surrounded by the great nobles of Duhor, would she have either
eyes or heart for a lone and friendless exile from another world? I
doubted it—and yet that doubt did not deter me from my determination to
carry out, as far as Fate would permit, the mad scheme that was
revolving in my brain.

“You have not answered my question, Vad Varo,” she interrupted my
surging thoughts. “Why would you do this thing?”

“To right the wrong that has been done you, Valla Dia,” I said.

She sighed. “Do not attempt it, please,” she begged. “You would but rob
me of my one friend, whose association is the only source of happiness
remaining to me. I appreciate your generosity and your loyalty, even
though I may not understand them; your unselfish desire to serve me at
such suicidal risk touches me more deeply than I can reveal, adding
still further to the debt I owe you; but you must not attempt it—you
must not.”

“If it troubles you, Valla Dia,” I replied, “we will not speak of it
again; but know always that it is never from my thoughts. Some day I
shall find a way, even though the plan I now have fails me.”

The days moved on and on, the gorgeous Martian nights, filled with her
hurtling moons, followed one upon another. Ras Thavas spent more and
more time in directing my work of brain transference. I had long since
become an adept; and I realized that the time was rapidly approaching
when Ras Thavas would feel that he could safely entrust to my hands and
skill his life and future. He would be wholly within my power and he
knew that I knew it. I could slay him; I could permit him to remain for
ever in the preserving grip of his own anaesthetic; or I could play any
trick upon him that I chose, even to giving him the body of a calot or a
part of the brain of an ape; but he must take the chance and that I
knew, for he was failing rapidly. Already almost stone blind, it was
only the wonderful spectacles that he had himself invented that
permitted him to see at all; long deaf, he used artificial means for
hearing; and now his heart was showing symptoms of fatigue that he could
not longer ignore.

One morning I was summoned to his sleeping apartment by a slave. I found
the old surgeon lying, a shrunken, pitiful heap of withered skin and
bones.

“We must hasten, Vad Varo,” he said in a weak whisper. “My heart was
like to have stopped a few tals ago. It was then that I sent for you.”
He pointed to a door leading from his chamber. “There,” he said, “you
will find the body I have chosen. There, in the private laboratory I
long ago built for this very purpose, you will perform the greatest
surgical operation that the universe has ever known, transferring its
most perfect brain to the most beautiful and perfect body that ever has
passed beneath these ancient eyes. You will find the head already
prepared to receive my brain; the brain of the subject having been
removed and destroyed—totally destroyed by fire. I could not possibly
chance the existence of a brain desiring and scheming to regain its
wondrous body. No, I destroyed it. Call slaves and have them bear my
body to the ersite slab.”

“That will not be necessary,” I told him; and lifting his shrunken form
in my arms as he had been an earthly babe, I carried him into the
adjoining room where I found a perfectly lighted and appointed
laboratory containing two operating tables, one of which was occupied by
the body of a red-man. Upon the surface of the other, which was vacant,
I laid Ras Thavas, then I turned to look at the new envelope he had
chosen. Never, I believe, had I beheld so perfect a form, so handsome a
face—Ras Thavas had indeed chosen well for himself. Then I turned back
to the old surgeon. Deftly, as he had taught me, I made the two
incisions and attached the tubes. My finger rested upon the button that
would start the motor pumping his blood from his veins and his
marvellous preservative-anaesthetic into them. Then I spoke.

“Ras Thavas,” I said, “you have long been training me to this end. I
have labored assiduously to prepare myself that there might be no
slightest cause for apprehension as to the outcome. You have,
coincidentally, taught me that one’s every act should be prompted by
self-interest only. You are satisfied, therefore, that I am not doing
this for you because I love you, or because I feel any friendship for
you; but you think that you have offered me enough in placing before me
a similar opportunity for immortality.

“Regardless of your teaching I am afraid that I am still somewhat of a
sentimentalist. I crave the redressing of wrongs. I crave friendship and
love. The price you offer is not enough. Are you willing to pay more
that this operation may be successfully concluded?”

He looked at me steadily for a long minute. “What do you want?” he
asked. I could see that he was trembling with anger, but he did not
raise his voice.

“Do you recall 4296-E-2631-H?” I inquired.

“The subject with the body of Xaxa? Yes, I recall the case. What of it?”

“I wish her body returned to her. That is the price you must pay for
this operation.”

He glared at me. “It is impossible. Xaxa has the body. Even if I cared
to do so, I could never recover it. Proceed with the operation!”

“When you have promised me,” I insisted.

“I cannot promise the impossible—I cannot obtain Xaxa. Ask me something
else. I am not unwilling to grant any reasonable request.”

“That is all I wish—just that; but I do not insist that you obtain the
body. If I bring Xaxa here will you make the transfer?”

“It would mean war between Toonol and Phundahl,” he fumed.

“That does not interest me,” I said. “Quick! Reach a decision. In five
tals I shall press this button. If you promise what I ask, you shall be
restored with a new and beautiful body; if you refuse you shall lie here
in the semblance of death for ever.”

“I promise,” he said slowly, “that when you bring the body of Xaxa to me
I will transfer to that body any brain that you select from among my
subjects.”

“Good!” I exclaimed, and pressed the button.



                               CHAPTER V
                                 DANGER


Ras Thavas awakened from the anaesthetic a new and gorgeous creature—a
youth of such wondrous beauty that he seemed of heavenly rather than
worldly origin; but in that beautiful head was the hard, cold,
thousand-year-old brain of the master surgeon. As he opened his eyes he
looked upon me coldly.

“You have done well,” he said.

“What I have done, I have done for friendship—perhaps for love,” I
said, “so you can thank the sentimentalism you decry for the success of
the transfer.”

He made no reply.

“And now,” I continued, “I shall look to you for the fulfilment of the
promise you have made me.”

“When you bring Xaxa’s body I shall transfer to it the brain of any of
my subjects you may select,” he said, “but were I you, I would not risk
my life in such an impossible venture—you cannot succeed. Select
another body—there are many beautiful ones—and I will give it the
brain of 4296-E-2631-H.”

“None other than the body now owned by the Jeddara Xaxa will fulfill
your promise to me,” I said.

He shrugged and there was a cold smile upon his handsome lips. “Very
well,” he said, “fetch Xaxa. When do you start?”

“I am not yet ready. I will let you know when I am.”

“Good and now begone—but wait! First go to the office and see what
cases await us and if there be any that do not require my personal
attention, and they fall within your skill and knowledge, attend to them
yourself.”

As I left him I noticed a crafty smile of satisfaction upon his lips.
What had aroused that? I did not like it and as I walked away I tried to
conjure what could possibly have passed through that wondrous brain to
call forth at that particular instant so unpleasant a smile. As I passed
through the doorway and into the corridor beyond I heard him summon his
personal slave and body servant, Yamdor, a huge fellow whose loyalty he
kept through the bestowal of lavish gifts and countless favors. So great
was the fellow’s power that all feared him, as a word to the master from
the lips of Yamdor might easily send any of the numerous slaves or
attendants to an ersite slab for eternity. It was rumored that he was
the result of an unnatural experiment which had combined the brain of a
woman with the body of a man, and there was much in his actions and
mannerisms to justify this general belief. His touch, when he worked
about his master, was soft and light, his movements graceful, his ways
gentle, but his mind was jealous, vindictive and unforgiving.

I believe that he did not like me, through jealousy of the authority I
had attained in the establishment of Ras Thavas; for there was no
questioning the fact that I was a lieutenant, while he was but a slave;
yet he always accorded me the utmost respect. He was, however, merely a
minor cog in the machinery of the great institution presided over by the
sovereign mind of Ras Thavas, and as such I had given him little
consideration; nor did I now as I bent my steps towards the office.

I had gone but a short distance when I recalled a matter of importance
upon which it was necessary for me to obtain instructions from Ras
Thavas immediately; and so I wheeled about and retraced my way towards
his apartments, through the open doorway of which, as I approached, I
heard the new voice of the master surgeon. Ras Thavas had always spoken
in rather loud tones, whether as a vocal reflection of his naturally
domineering and authoritative character, or because of his deafness, I
do not know; and now, with the fresh young vocal chords of his new body,
his words rang out clearly and distinctly in the corridor leading to his
room.

“You will, therefore, Yamdor,” he was saying, “go at once and, selecting
two slaves in whose silence and discretion you may trust, take the
subject from the apartments of Vad Varo and destroy it—let no vestige
of body or brain remain. Immediately after, you will bring the two
slaves to the laboratory F-30-L, permitting them to speak to no one, and
I will consign them to silence and forgetfulness for eternity.

“Vad Varo will discover the absence of the subject and report the matter
to me. During my investigation you will confess that you aided
4296-E-2631-H to escape, but that you have no idea where it intended
going. I will sentence you to death as punishment, but at last,
explaining how urgently I need your services and upon your solemn
promise never to transgress again, I will defer punishment for the term
of your continued good behaviour. Do you thoroughly understand the
entire plan?”

“Yes, master,” replied Yamdor.

“Then depart at once and select the slaves who are to assist you.”

Quickly and silently I sped along the corridor until the first
intersection permitted me to place myself out of sight of anyone coming
from Ras Thavas’ apartment; then I went directly to the chamber occupied
by Valla Dia. Unlocking the door I threw it open and beckoned her to
come out. “Quick! Valla Dia!” I cried. “No time is to be lost. In
attempting to save you I have but brought destruction upon you. First we
must find a hiding place for you, and that at once—afterwards we can
plan for the future.”

The place that first occurred to me as affording adequate concealment
was the half forgotten vaults in the pits beneath the laboratories, and
towards these I hastened Valla Dia. As we proceeded I narrated all that
had transpired, nor did she once reproach me; but, instead, expressed
naught but gratitude for what she was pleased to designate as my
unselfish friendship. That it had miscarried, she assured me, was no
reflection upon me and she insisted that she would rather die in the
knowledge that she possessed one such friend than to live on
indefinitely, friendless.

We came at last to the chamber I sought—vault L-42-X, in building
4-J-21, where reposed the bodies of the ape and the man, each of which
possessed half the brain of the other. Here I was forced to leave Valla
Dia for the time, that I might hasten to the office and perform the
duties imposed upon me by Ras Thavas, lest his suspicions be aroused
when Yamdor reported that he had found her apartment vacant.

I reached the office without it being discovered by anyone who might
report the fact to Ras Thavas that I had been a long time coming from
his apartment. To my relief, I found there were no cases. Without
appearing in any undue haste, I nevertheless soon found an excuse to
depart and at once made my way towards my own quarters, moving in a
leisurely and unconcerned manner and humming as was my wont (a habit
which greatly irritated Ras Thavas), snatches from some song that had
been popular at the time that I quit Earth. In this instance it was “Oh,
Frenchy.”

I was thus engaged when I met Yamdor moving hurriedly along the corridor
leading from my apartment, in company with two male slaves. I greeted
him pleasantly, as was my custom, and he returned my greeting; but there
was an expression of fear and suspicion in his eyes. I went at once to
my quarters, opened the door leading to the chamber formerly occupied by
Valla Dia and then hastened immediately to the apartment of Ras Thavas,
where I found him conversing with Yamdor. I rushed in apparently
breathless and simulating great excitement.

“Ras Thavas,” I demanded, “what have you done with 4296-E-2631-H? She
has disappeared; her apartment is empty; and as I was approaching it I
met Yamdor and two other slaves coming from that direction.” I turned
then upon Yamdor and pointed an accusing finger at him. “Yamdor!” I
cried. “What have you done with this woman?”

Both Ras Thavas and Yamdor seemed genuinely puzzled and I congratulated
myself that I had thus readily thrown them off the track. The master
surgeon declared that he would make an immediate investigation; and he
at once ordered a thorough search of the ground and of the island
outside the enclosure. Yamdor denied any knowledge of the woman and I,
at least, was aware of the sincerity of his protestations, but not so
Ras Thavas. I could see a hint of suspicion in his eyes as he questioned
his body servant; but evidently he could conjure no motive for any such
treasonable action on the part of Yamdor as would have been represented
by the abduction of the woman and the consequent gross disobedience of
orders.

Ras Thavas’ investigation revealed nothing. I think as it progressed
that he became gradually more and more imbued with a growing suspicion
that I might know more about the disappearance of Valla Dia than my
attitude indicated, for I presently became aware of a delicately
concealed espionage. Up to this time I had been able to smuggle food to
Valla Dia every night, after Ras Thavas had retired to his quarters.
Then, on one occasion, I suddenly became subconsciously aware that I was
being followed, and instead of going to the vaults I went to the office,
where I added some observations to my report upon a case I had handled
that day. Returning to my room I hummed a few bars from “Over There,”
that the suggestion of my unconcern might be accentuated. From the
moment that I quit my quarters until I returned to them I was sure that
eyes had been watching my every move. What was I to do? Valla Dia must
have food, without it she would die; and were I to be followed to her
hiding place while taking it to her, she would die; Ras Thavas would see
to that.

Half the night I lay awake, racking my brains for some solution to the
problem. There seemed only one way—I must elude the spies. If I could
do this but one single time I could carry out the balance of a plan that
had occurred to me, and which was, I thought, the only one feasible that
might eventually lead to the resurrection of Valla Dia in her own body.
The way was long, the risks great; but I was young, in love and utterly
reckless of consequences in so far as they concerned me; it was Valla
Dia’s happiness alone that I could not risk too greatly, other than
under dire stress. Well, the stress existed and I must risk that, even
as I risked my life.

My plan was formulated and I lay awake upon my sleeping silks and furs
in the darkness of my room, awaiting the time when I might put it into
execution. My window, which was upon the third floor, overlooked the
walled enclosure, upon the scarlet sward of which I had made my first
bow to Barsoom. Across the open casement I had watched Cluros, the
farther moon, take his slow deliberate way. He had already set. Behind
him, Thuria, his elusive mistress, fled through the heavens. In five
xats (about 15 minutes) she would set; and then for about three and
three quarters Earth hours the heavens would be dark, except for the
stars.

In the corridor, perhaps, lurked those watchful eyes. I prayed God that
they might not be elsewhere as Thuria sank at last beneath the horizon
and I swung to my window ledge, in my hand a long rope fabricated from
braided strips torn from my sleeping silks while I had awaited the
setting of the moons. One end I had fastened to a heavy sorapus bench
which I had drawn close to the window. I dropped the free end of the
rope and started my descent. My Earthly muscles, untried in such
endeavours, I had not trusted to the task of carrying me to my window
ledge in a single leap, when I should be returning. I felt that they
would, but I did not know; and too much depended upon the success of my
venture to risk any unnecessary chance of failure. And so I had prepared
the rope.

Whether I was being observed I did not know. I must go on as though none
were spying upon me. In less than four hours Thuria would return (just
before the sudden Barsoomian dawn) and in the interval I must reach
Valla Dia, persuade her of the necessity of my plan and carry out its
details, returning to my chamber before Thuria could disclose me to any
accidental observer. I carried my weapons with me and in my heart was
unbending determination to slay whoever might cross my path and
recognize me during the course of my errand, however innocent of evil
intent against me he might be.

The night was quiet except for the usual distant sounds that I had heard
ever since I had been here—sounds that I had interpreted as the cries
of savage beasts. Once I had asked Ras Thavas about them, but he had
been in ill humor and had ignored my question. I reached the ground
quickly and without hesitation moved directly to the nearest entrance of
the building, having previously searched out and determined upon the
route I would follow to the vault. No one was visible and I was
confident, when at last I reached the doorway, that I had come through
undetected. Valla Dia was so happy to see me again that it almost
brought the tears to my eyes.

“I thought that something had happened to you,” she cried, “for I knew
that you would not remain away so long of your own volition.”

I told her of my conviction that I was being watched and that it would
not be possible for me longer to bring food to her without incurring
almost certain detection, which would spell immediate death for her.

“There is a single alternative,” I said, “and that I dread even to
suggest and would not were there any other way. You must be securely
hidden for a long time, until Ras Thavas’ suspicions have been allayed;
for as long as he has me watched I cannot possibly carry out the plans I
have formulated for your eventual release, the restoration of your own
body and your return to Duhor.”

“Your will shall be my law, Vad Varo.”

I shook my head. “It will be harder for you than you imagine.”

“What is the way?” she asked.

I pointed to the ersite topped table. “You must pass again through that
ordeal that I may hide you away in this vault until the time is ripe for
the carrying out of my plans. Can you endure it?”

She smiled. “Why not?” she asked. “It is only sleep—if it lasts for
ever I shall be no wiser.”

I was surprised that she did not shrink from the idea, but I was very
glad since I knew that it was the only way that we had a chance for
success. Without my help she disposed herself upon the ersite slab.

“I am ready, Vad Varo,” she said, bravely; “but first promise me that
you will take no risks in this mad venture. You cannot succeed. When I
close my eyes I know that it will be for the last time if my
resurrection depends upon the successful outcome of the maddest venture
that ever man conceived; yet I am happy, because I know that it is
inspired by the greatest friendship with which any mortal woman has ever
been blessed.”

As she talked I had been adjusting the tubes and now I stood beside her
with my finger upon the starting button of the motor.

“Good-bye, Vad Varo,” she whispered.

“Not good-bye, Valla Dia, but only a sweet sleep for what to you will be
the briefest instant. You will seem but to close your eyes and open them
again. As you see me now, I shall be standing here beside you as though
I never had departed from you. As I am the last that you look upon
to-night before you close your eyes, so shall I be the first that you
shall look upon as you open them on that new and beautiful morning; but
you shall not again look forth through the eyes of Xaxa, but from the
limpid depths of your own beautiful orbs.”

She smiled and shook her head. Two tears formed beneath her lids. I
pressed her hand in mine and touched the button.



                               CHAPTER VI
                               SUSPICIONS


In so far as I could know I reached my apartment without detection.
Hiding my rope where I was sure it would not be discovered, I sought my
sleeping silks and furs and was soon asleep.

The following morning as I emerged from my quarters I caught a fleeting
glimpse of a figure in a nearby corridor and from then on for a long
time I had further evidence that Ras Thavas suspicioned me. I went at
once to his quarters, as had been my habit. He seemed restless, but he
gave me no hint that he held any assurance that I had been responsible
for the disappearance of Valla Dia, and I think that he was far from
positive of it. It was simply that his judgment pointed to the fact that
I was the only person who might have any reason for interfering in any
way with this particular subject, and he was having me watched to either
prove or disprove the truth of his reasonable suspicions. His
restlessness he explained to me himself.

“I have often studied the reaction of others who have undergone brain
transference,” he said, “and so I am not wholly surprised at my own. Not
only has my brain energy been stimulated, resulting in an increased
production of nervous energy, but I also feel the effects of the young
tissue and youthful blood of my new body. They are affecting my
consciousness in a way that my experiment had vaguely indicated, but
which I now see must be actually experienced to be fully understood. My
thoughts, my inclinations, even my ambitions have been changed, or at
least coloured, by the transfer. It will take some time for me to find
myself.”

Though uninterested, I listened politely until he was through and then I
changed the subject. “Have you located the missing woman?” I asked.

He shook his head, negatively.

“You must appreciate, Ras Thavas,” I said, “that I fully realize that
you must have known that the removal or destruction of that woman would
entirely frustrate my entire plan. You are master here. Nothing that
passes is without your knowledge.”

“You mean that I am responsible for the disappearance of the woman?” he
demanded.

“Certainly. It is obvious. I demand that she be restored.”

He lost his temper. “Who are you to demand?” he shouted. “You are naught
but a slave. Cease your impudence or I shall erase you—erase you. It
will be as though you never had existed.”

I laughed in his face. “Anger is the most futile attribute of the
sentimentalist,” I reminded him. “You will not erase me, for I alone
stand between you and mortality.”

“I can train another,” he parried.

“But you could not trust him,” I pointed out.

“But you bargained with me for my life when you had me in your power,”
he cried.

“For nothing that it would have harmed you to have granted willingly. I
did not ask anything for myself. Be that as it may, you will trust me
again. You will trust, for no other reason than that you will be forced
to trust me. So why not win my gratitude and my loyalty by returning the
woman to me and carrying out in spirit as well as in fact the terms of
our agreement?”

He turned and looked steadily at me. “Vad Varo,” he said, “I give you
the word of honor of a Barsoomian noble that I know absolutely nothing
concerning the whereabouts of 4296-E-2631-H.”

“Perhaps Yamdor does,” I persisted.

“Nor Yamdor. Of my knowledge no person in any way connected with me
knows what became of it. I have spoken the truth.”

Well, the conversation was not as profitless as it might appear, for I
was sure that it had almost convinced Ras Thavas that I was equally as
ignorant of the fate of Valla Dia as was he. That it had not wholly
convinced him was evidenced by the fact that the espionage continued for
a long time, a fact which determined me to use Ras Thavas’ own methods
in my own defence. I had had allotted to me a number of slaves, and
these I had won over by kindness and understanding until I knew that I
had the full measure of their loyalty. They had no reason to love Ras
Thavas and every reason to hate him; on the other hand they had no
reason to hate me, and I saw to it that they had every reason to love
me.

The result was that I had no difficulty in enlisting the services of a
couple of them to spy upon Ras Thavas’ spies, with the result that I was
soon apprised that my suspicions were well founded—I was being
constantly watched every minute that I was out of my apartments, but the
spying did not come beyond my outer chamber walls. That was why I had
been successful in reaching the vault in the manner that I had, the
spies having assumed that I would leave my chamber only by its natural
exit, had been content to guard that and permit my windows to go
unwatched.

I think it was about two of our months that the spying continued and
then my men reported that it seemed to have ceased entirely. All that
time I was fretting at the delay, for I wanted to be about my plans
which would have been absolutely impossible for me to carry out if I
were being watched. I had spent the interval in studying the geography
of the north-eastern Barsoomian hemisphere where my activities were to
be carried on, and also in scanning a great number of case histories and
inspecting the subjects to which they referred; but at last, with the
removal of the spies, it began to look as though I might soon commence
to put my plans in active operation.

Ras Thavas had for some time permitted me considerable freedom in
independent investigation and experiment, and this I determined to take
advantage of in every possible way that might forward my plans for the
resurrection of Valla Dia. My study of the histories of many of the
cases had been with the possibility in mind of discovering subjects that
might be of assistance to me in my venture. Among those that had
occupied my careful attention were, quite naturally, the cases with
which I had been most familiar, namely: 378-J-493811-P, the red-man from
whose vicious attack I had saved Ras Thavas upon the day of my advent
upon Mars; and he whose brain had been divided with an ape.

The former, 378-J-493811-P, had been a native of Phundahl—a young
warrior attached to the court of Xaxa, Jeddara of Phundahl—and a victim
of assassination. His body had been purchased by a Phundahlian noble for
the purpose, as Ras Thavas had narrated, of winning the favor of a young
beauty. I felt that I might possibly enlist his services, but that would
depend upon the extent of his loyalty towards Xaxa, which I could only
determine by reviving and questioning him.

He whose brain had been divided with an ape had originated in Ptarth,
which lay at a considerable distance to the west of Phundahl and a
little south and about an equal distance from Duhor, which lay north and
a little west of it. An inhabitant of Ptarth, I reasoned, would know
much of the entire country included in the triangle formed by Phundahl,
Ptarth and Duhor; the strength and ferocity of the great ape would prove
of value in crossing beast infested wastes; and I felt that I could hold
forth sufficient promise to the human half of the great beast’s brain,
which really now dominated the creature, to win its support and loyalty.
The third subject that I had tentatively selected had been a notorious
Toonolian assassin, whose audacity, fearlessness and swordsmanship had
won for him a reputation that had spread far beyond the boundaries of
his country.

Ras Thavas, himself a Toonolian, had given me something of the history
of this man whose grim calling is not without honor upon Barsoom, and
which Gor Hajus had raised still higher in the esteem of his countrymen
through the fact that he never struck down a woman or a good man and
that he never struck from behind. His killings were always the results
of fair fights in which the victim had every opportunity to defend
himself and slay his attacker; and he was famous for his loyalty to his
friends. In fact this very loyalty had been a contributing factor in his
downfall which had brought him to one of Ras Thavas’ ersite slabs some
years since, for he had earned the enmity of Vobis Kan, Jeddak of
Toonol, through his refusal to assassinate a man who once had befriended
Gor Hajus in some slight degree; following which Vobis Kan conceived the
suspicion that Gor Hajus had him marked for slaying. The result was
inevitable: Gor Hajus was arrested and condemned to death; immediately
following the execution of the sentence an agent of Ras Thavas had
purchased the body.

These three, then, I had chosen to be my partners in my great adventure.
It is true that I had not discussed the matter with any one of them, but
my judgment assured me that I would have no difficulty in enlisting
their services and loyalty in return for their total resurrection.

My first task lay in renewing the organs of 378-J-493811-P and of Gor
Hajus which had been injured by the wounds that had laid them low; the
former requiring a new lung and the latter a new heart, his executioner
having run him through with a short-sword. I hesitated to ask Ras
Thavas’ permission to experiment on these subjects for fear of the
possibility of arousing his suspicions, in which event he would probably
have them destroyed; and so I was forced to accomplish my designs by
subterfuge and stealth. To this end I made it a practice for weeks to
carry my regular laboratory work far into the night, often requiring the
services of various assistants that all might become accustomed to the
sight of me at work at unusual hours. In my selection of these
assistants I made it a point to choose two of the very spies that Ras
Thavas had set to watching me. While it was true that they were no
longer employed in this particular service, I had hopes that they would
carry word of my activities to their master; and I was careful to see
that they received from me the proper suggestions that would mould their
report in language far from harmful to me. By the merest suggestion I
carried to them the idea that I worked thus late purely for the love of
the work itself and the tremendous interest in it that Ras Thavas had
awakened within my mind. Some nights I worked with assistants and as
often I did not, but always I was careful to assure myself that the
following morning those in the office were made aware that I had labored
far into the preceding night.

This groundwork carefully prepared, I had comparatively little fear of
the results of actual discovery when I set to work upon the warrior of
Phundahl and the assassin of Toonol. I chose the former first. His lung
was badly injured where my blade had passed through it, but from the
laboratory where were kept fractional bodies I brought a perfect lung,
with which I replaced the one that I had ruined. The work occupied but
half the night. So anxious was I to complete my task that I immediately
opened up the breast of Gor Hajus, for whom I had selected an unusually
strong and powerful heart, and by working rapidly I succeeded in
completing the transference before dawn. Having known the nature of the
wounds that had dispatched these two men, I had spent weeks in
performing similar operations that I might perfect myself especially in
this work; and having encountered no unusual pathological conditions in
either subject, the work had progressed smoothly and with great
rapidity. I had completed what I had feared would be the most difficult
part of my task and now, having removed as far as possible all signs of
the operation except the therapeutic tape which closed the incisions, I
returned to my quarters for a few minutes of much needed rest, praying
that Ras Thavas would not by any chance examine either of the subjects
upon which I had been working; although I had fortified myself against
such a contingency by entering full details of the operation upon the
history card of each subject that, in the event of discovery, any
suspicion of ulterior motives upon my part might be allayed by my play
of open frankness.

I arose at the usual time and went at once to Ras Thavas’ apartment,
where I was met with a bombshell that nearly wrecked my composure. He
eyed me closely for a long minute before he spoke.

“You worked late last night, Vad Varo,” he said.

“I often do,” I replied, lightly; but my heart was heavy as a stone.

“And what might it have been that so occupied your interest?” he
inquired.

I felt as a mouse with which the cat is playing. “I have been doing
quite a little lung and heart transference of late,” I replied, “and I
became so engrossed with my work that I did not note the passage of
time.”

“I have known that you worked late at night. Do you think it wise?”

At that moment I felt that it had been very unwise, yet I assured him to
the contrary.

“I was restless,” he said. “I could not sleep and so I went to your
quarters after midnight, but you were not there. I wanted someone with
whom to talk, but your slaves knew only that you were not there—where
you were they did not know—so I set out to search for you.” My heart
went into my sandals. “I guessed that you were in one of the
laboratories, but though I visited several I did not find you.” My heart
arose with the lightness of a feather. “Since my own transference I have
been cursed with restlessness and sleeplessness, so that I could almost
wish for the return of my old corpse—the youth of my body harmonizes
not with the antiquity of my brain. It is filled with latent urges and
desires that comport illy with the serious subject matter of my mind.”

“What your body needs,” I said, “is exercise. It is young, strong,
virile. Work it hard and it will let your brain rest at night.”

“I know that you are right,” he replied. “I have reached that same
conclusion myself. In fact, not finding you, I walked in the gardens for
an hour or more before returning to my quarters, and then I slept
soundly. I shall walk every night when I cannot sleep, or I shall go
into the laboratories and work as do you.”

This news was most disquieting. Now I could never be sure but that Ras
Thavas was wandering about at night and I had one more very important
night’s work to do, perhaps two. The only way that I could be sure of
him was to be with him.

“Send for me when you are restless,” I said, “and I will walk and work
with you. You should not go about thus at night alone.”

“Very well,” he said, “I may do that occasionally.”

I hoped that he would do it always, for then I would know that when he
failed to send for me he was safe in his own quarters. Yet I saw that I
must henceforth face the menace of detection; and knowing this I
determined to hasten the completion of my plans and to risk everything
on a single bold stroke.

That night I had no opportunity to put it into action as Ras Thavas sent
for me early and informed me that we would walk in the gardens until he
was tired. Now, as I needed a full night for what I had in mind and as
Ras Thavas walked until midnight, I was compelled to forego everything
for that evening, but the following morning I persuaded him to walk
early on the pretext that I should like to go beyond the enclosure and
see something of Barsoom beside the inside of his laboratories and his
gardens. I had little confidence that he would grant my request, yet he
did so. I am sure he never would have done it had he possessed his old
body; but thus greatly had young blood changed Ras Thavas.

I had never been beyond the buildings, nor had I seen beyond, since
there were no windows in the outside walls of any of the structures and
upon the garden side the trees had grown to such a height that they
obstructed all view beyond them. For a time we walked in another garden
just inside the outer wall, and then I asked Ras Thavas if I might go
even beyond this.

“No,” he said. “It would not be safe.”

“And why not?” I asked.

“I will show you and at the same time give you a much broader view of
the outside world than you could obtain by merely passing through the
gate. Come, follow me!”

He led me immediately to a lofty tower that rose at the corner of the
largest building of the group that comprised his vast establishment.
Within was a circular runway which led not only upward, but down as
well. This we ascended, passing openings at each floor, until we came at
last out upon its lofty summit.

About me spread the first Barsoomian landscape of any extent upon which
my eyes had yet rested during the long months that I had spent upon the
Red Planet. For almost an Earthly year I had been immured within the
grim walls of Ras Thavas’ bloody laboratory, until, such creatures of
habit are we, the weird life there had grown to seem quite natural and
ordinary; but with this first glimpse of open country there surged up
within me an urge for freedom, for space, for room to move about, such
as I knew would not be long denied.

Directly beneath lay an irregular patch of rocky land elevated perhaps a
dozen feet or more above the general level of the immediately
surrounding country. Its extent was, at a rough guess, a hundred acres.
Upon this stood the buildings and grounds, which were enclosed in a high
wall. The tower upon which we stood was situated at about the centre of
the total area enclosed. Beyond the outer wall was a strip of rocky
ground on which grew a sparse forest of fair sized trees interspersed
with patches of a jungle growth, and beyond all, what appeared to be an
oozy marsh through which were narrow water courses connecting occasional
open water—little lakes, the largest of which could have comprised
scarce two acres. This landscape extended as far as the eye could reach,
broken by occasional islands similar to that upon which we were and at a
short distance by the skyline of a large city, whose towers and domes
and minarets glistened and sparkled in the sun as though plated with
shining metals and picked out with precious gems.

This, I knew, must be Toonol and all about us the Great Toonolian
Marshes which extend nearly eighteen hundred Earth miles east and west
and in some places have a width of three hundred miles. Little is known
about them in other portions of Barsoom as they are frequented by fierce
beasts, afford no landing places for fliers and are commanded by
Phundahl at their western end and Toonol at the east; inhospitable
kingdoms that invite no intercourse with the outside world and maintain
their independence alone by their inaccessibility and savage aloofness.

As my eyes returned to the island at our feet I saw huge form emerge
from one of the nearby patches of jungle a short distance beyond the
outer wall. It was followed by a second and a third. Ras Thavas saw that
the creatures had attracted my notice.

“There,” he said, pointing to them, “are three of a number of similar
reasons why it would not have been safe for us to venture outside the
enclosure.”

They were great white apes of Barsoom, creatures so savage that even
that fierce Barsoomian lion, the banth, hesitates to cross their path.

“They serve two purposes,” explained Ras Thavas. “They discourage those
who might otherwise creep upon me by night from the city of Toonol,
where I am not without many good enemies, and they prevent dissertion
upon the part of my slaves and assistants.”

“But how do your clients reach you?” I asked. “How are your supplies
brought in?”

He turned and pointed down toward the highest portion of the irregular
roof of the building below us. Built upon it was a large, shed-like
structure. “There,” he said, “I keep three small ships. One of them goes
every day to Toonol.”

I was overcome with eagerness to know more about these ships, in which I
thought I saw a much needed means of escape from the island; but I dared
not question him for fear of arousing his suspicions.

As we turned to descend the tower runway I expressed interest in the
structure which gave evidence of being far older than any of the
surrounding buildings.

“This tower,” said Ras Thavas, “was built some twenty-three thousand
years ago by an ancestor of mine who was driven from Toonol by the
reigning Jeddak of the time. Here, and upon other islands, he gathered a
considerable following, dominated the surrounding marshes and defended
himself successfully for hundreds of years. While my family has been
permitted to return to Toonol since, this has been their home; to which,
one by one, have been added the various buildings which you see about
the tower, each floor of which connects with the adjacent building from
the roof to the lowest pits beneath the ground.”

This information also interested me greatly since I thought that I saw
where it too might have considerable bearing upon my plan of escape, and
so, as we descended the runway, I encouraged Ras Thavas to discourse
upon the construction of the tower, its relation to the other buildings
and especially its accessibility from the pits. We walked again in the
outer garden and by the time we returned to Ras Thavas’ quarters it was
almost dark and the master surgeon was considerably fatigued.

“I feel that I shall sleep well to-night,” he said as I left him.

“I hope so, Ras Thavas,” I replied.



                              CHAPTER VII
                                 ESCAPE


It was usually about three hours after the evening meal, which was
served immediately after dark, that the establishment quieted down
definitely for the night. While I should have preferred waiting longer
before undertaking that which I had in mind, I could not safely do so,
since there was much to be accomplished before dawn. So it was that with
the first indications that the occupants of the building in which my
work was to be performed had retired for the night, I left my quarters
and went directly to the laboratory, where, fortunately for my plans,
the bodies of Gor Hajus, the assassin of Toonol, and 378-J-493811-P both
reposed. It was the work of a few minutes to carry them to adjoining
tables, where I quickly strapped them securely against the possibility
that one or both of them might not be willing to agree to the
proposition I was about to make them, and thus force me to anaesthetize
them again. At last the incisions were made, the tubes attached and the
motors started. 378-J-493811-P, whom I shall hereafter call by his own
name, Dar Tarus, was the first to open his eyes; but he had not regained
full consciousness when Gor Hajus showed signs of life.

I waited until both appeared quite restored. Dar Tarus was eyeing me
with growing recognition that brought a most venomous expression of
hatred to his countenance. Gor Hajus was frankly puzzled. The last he
remembered was the scene in the death chamber at the instant that his
executioner had run a sword through his heart. It was I who broke the
silence.

“In the first place,” I said, “let me tell you where you are, if you do
not already know.”

“I know well enough where I am,” growled Dar Tarus.

“Ah!” exclaimed Gor Hajus, whose eyes had been roaming about the
chamber. “I can guess where I am. What Toonolian has not heard of Ras
Thavas? So they sold my corpse to the old butcher did they? And what
now? Did I just arrive?”

“You have been here six years,” I told him, “and you may stay here for
ever unless we three can reach an agreement within the next few minutes,
and that goes for you too, Dar Tarus.”

“Six years!” mused Gor Hajus. “Well, out with it, man. What do you want?
If it is to slay Ras Thavas, no! He has saved me from utter destruction;
but name me some other, preferably Vobis Kan, Jeddak of Toonol. Find me
a blade and I will slay a hundred to regain life.”

“I seek the life of none unless he stands in the way of the fulfilment
of my desire in this matter that I have in hand. Listen! Ras Thavas had
here a beautiful Duhorian girl. He sold her body to Xaxa, Jeddara of
Phundahl, transplanting the girl’s brain to the wrinkled and hideous
body of the Jeddara. It is my intention to regain the body, restore it
to its own brain and return the girl to Duhor.”

Gor Hajus grinned. “You have a large contract on your hands,” he said,
“but I can see that you are a man after my own heart and I am with you.
It will give freedom and fighting, and all that I ask is a chance for
one thrust at Vobis Kan.”

“I promise you life,” I replied; “but with the understanding that you
serve me faithfully and none other, undertaking no business of your own,
until mine has been carried to a successful conclusion.”

“That means that I shall have to serve you for life,” he replied, “for
the thing you have undertaken you can never accomplish; but that is
better than lying here on a cold ersite slab waiting for old Ras Thavas
to come along and carve out my gizzard. I am yours! Let me up, that I
may feel a good pair of legs under me again.”

“And you?” I asked, turning to Dar Tarus as I released the bonds that
held Gor Hajus. For the first time I now noticed that the ugly
expression that I had first noted upon the face of Dar Tarus had given
place to one of eagerness.

“Strike off my bonds!” he cried. “I will follow you to the ends of
Barsoom and the way leads thus far to the fulfilment of your design; but
it will not. It will lead to Phundahl and to the chamber of the wicked
Xaxa, where, by the generosity of my ancestors, I may be given the
opportunity to avenge the hideous wrong the creature did me. You could
not have chosen one better fitted for your mission than Dar Tarus, one
time soldier of the Jeddara’s Guard, whom she had slain that in my
former body one of her rotten nobles might woo the girl I loved.”

A moment later the two men stood at my side, and without more delay I
led them towards the runway that descended to the pits beneath the
building. As we went, I described to them the creature I had chosen to
be the fourth member of our strange party. Gor Hajus questioned the
wisdom of my choice, saying that the ape would attract too much
attention to us. Dar Tarus, however, believed that it might be helpful
in many respects, since it was possible that we might be compelled to
spend some time among the islands of the marshes which were often
infested with these creatures; while, once in Phundahl, the ape might
readily be used in the furtherance of our plans and would cause no
considerable comment in a city where many of these beasts are held in
captivity and often are seen performing for the edification of street
crowds.

We went at once to the vault where the ape lay and where I had concealed
the anaesthetized body of Valla Dia. Here I revived the great anthropoid
and to my great relief found that the human half of its brain still was
dominant. Briefly I explained my plan as I had to the other two and won
the hearty promise of his support upon my engaging to restore his brain
to its rightful place upon the completion of our venture.

First we must get off the island, and I outlined two plans I had in
mind. One was to steal one of Ras Thavas’ three fliers and set out
directly for Phundahl, and the other, in the event that the first did
not seem feasible, was to secrete ourselves aboard one of them on the
chance that we might either overpower the crew and take over the ship
after we had left the island, or escape undetected upon its arrival in
Toonol. Dar Tarus liked the first plan; the ape, whom we now called by
the name belonging to the human half of his brain, Hovan Du, preferred
the first alternative of the second plan; and Gor Hajus the second
alternative.

Dar Tarus explained that as our principal objective was Phundahl, the
quicker we got there the better. Hovan Du argued that by seizing the
ship after it had left the island we would have longer time in which to
make our escape before the ship was missed and pursuit instituted, than
by seizing it now in the full knowledge that its absence would be
discovered within a few hours. Gor Hajus thought that it would be better
if we could come into Toonol secretly and there, through one of his
friends, secure arms and a flier of our own. It would never do, he
insisted, to attempt to go far without arms for himself and Dar Tarus,
nor could we hope to reach Phundahl without being overhauled by
pursuers; for we must plan on the hypothesis that Ras Thavas would
immediately discover my absence; that he would at once investigate; that
he would find Dar Tarus and Gor Hajus missing and thereupon lose no time
in advising Vobis Kan, Jeddak of Toonol, that Gor Hajus the assassin was
at large, whereupon the Jeddak’s best ships would be sent in pursuit.

Gor Hajus’ reasoning was sound and coupled with my recollection that Ras
Thavas had told me that his three ships were slow, I could readily
foresee that our liberty would be of short duration were we to steal one
of the old surgeon’s fliers.

As we discussed the matter we had made our way through the pits and I
had found the exit to the tower. Silently we passed upward along the
runway and out upon the roof. Both moons were winging low through the
heavens and the scene was almost as light as day. If anyone was about
discovery was certain. We hastened towards the hangar and were soon
within it, where, for a moment at least, I breathed far more easily than
I had beneath those two brilliant moons upon the exposed roof.

The fliers were peculiar looking contrivances, low, squat, with rounded
bows and sterns and covered decks, their every line proclaiming them as
cargo carriers built for anything but speed. One was much smaller than
the other two and a second was evidently undergoing repairs. The third I
entered and examined carefully. Gor Hajus was with me and pointed out
several places where we might hide with little likelihood of discovery
unless it were suspected that we might be aboard, and that of course
constituted a very real danger; so much so that I had about decided to
risk all aboard the small flier, which Gor Hajus assured me would be the
fastest of the three, when Dar Tarus stuck his head into the ship and
motioned me to come quickly.

“There is someone about,” he said when I reached his side.

“Where?” I demanded.

“Come,” he said, and led me to the rear of the hangar, which was flush
with the wall of the building upon which it stood, and pointed through
one of the windows into the inner garden where, to my consternation, I
saw Ras Thavas walking slowly to and fro. For an instant I was sick with
despair, for I knew that no ship could leave that roof unseen while
anyone was abroad in the garden beneath, and Ras Thavas least of all
people in the world; but suddenly a great light dawned upon me. I called
the three close to me and explained my plan.

Instantly they grasped the possibilities in it and a moment later we had
run the small flier out upon the roof and turned her nose toward the
east, away from Toonol. Then Gor Hajus entered her, set the various
controls as we had decided, opened the throttle, slipped back to the
roof. The four of us hastened into the hangar and ran to the rear window
where we saw the ship moving slowly and gracefully out over the garden
and the head of Ras Thavas, whose ears must instantly have caught the
faint purring of the motor, for he was looking up by the time we reached
the window.

Instantly he hailed the ship and stepping back from the window that he
might not see me I answered: “Good-bye, Ras Thavas! It is I, Vad Varo,
going out into a strange world to see what it is like. I shall return.
The spirits of your ancestors be with you until then.” That was a phrase
I had picked up from reading in Ras Thavas’ library and I was quite
proud of it.

“Come back at once,” he shouted up in reply, “or you will be with the
spirits of your own ancestors before another day is done.”

I made no reply. The ship was now at such a distance that I feared my
voice might no longer seem to come from it and that we should be
discovered. Without more delay we concealed ourselves aboard one of the
remaining fliers, that upon which no work was being done, and there
commenced as long and tiresome a period of waiting as I can recall ever
having passed through.

I had at last given up any hope of the ship’s being flown that day when
I heard voices in the hangar, and presently the sound of footsteps
aboard the flier. A moment later a few commands were given and almost
immediately the ship moved slowly out into the open.

The four of us were crowded into a small compartment built into a tiny
space between the forward and aft starboard buoyancy tanks. It was very
dark and poorly ventilated, having evidently been designed as a storage
closet to utilize otherwise waste space. We dared not converse for fear
of attracting attention to our presence, and for the same reason we
moved about as little as possible, since we had no means of knowing but
that some member of the crew might be just beyond the thin door that
separated us from the main cabin of the ship. Altogether we were most
uncomfortable; but the distance to Toonol is not so great but that we
might hope that our situation would soon be changed—at least if Toonol
was to be the destination of the ship. Of this we soon had cheering
hope. We had been out but a short time when, faintly, we heard a hail
and then the motors were immediately shut down and the ship stopped.

“What ship?” we heard a voice demand, and from aboard our own came the
reply:

“The Vosar, Tower of Thavas for Toonol.” We heard a scraping as the
other ship touched ours.

“We are coming aboard to search you in the name of Vobis Kan, Jeddak of
Toonol. Make way!” shouted one from the other ship. Our cheer had been
of short duration. We heard the shuffling of many feet and Gor Hajus
whispered in my ear.

“What shall we do?” he asked.

I slipped my short-sword into his hand. “Fight!” I replied.

“Good, Vad Varo,” he replied, and then I handed him my pistol and told
him to pass it on to Dar Tarus. We heard the voices again, but nearer
now.

“What ho!” cried one. “It is Bal Zak himself, my old friend Bal Zak!”

“None other,” replied a deep voice. “And whom did you expect to find in
command of the Vosar other than Bal Zak?”

“Who could know but that it might have been this Vad Varo himself, or
even Gor Hajus,” said the other, “and our orders are to search all
ships.”

“I would that they were here,” replied Bal Zak, “for the reward is high.
But how could they, when Ras Thavas himself with his own eyes saw them
fly off in the Pinsar before dawn this day and disappear in the east?”

“Right you are, Bal Zak,” agreed the other, “and it were a waste of time
to search your ship. Come men! to our own!”

I could feel the muscles about my heart relax with the receding
footfalls of Vobis Kan’s warriors as they quitted the deck of the Vosar
for their own ship, and my spirits rose with the renewed purring of our
own motor as Ras Thavas’ flier again got under way. Gor Hajus bent his
lips close to my ear.

“The spirits of our ancestors smile upon us,” he whispered. “It is night
and the darkness will aid in covering our escape from the ship and the
landing stage.”

“What makes you think it is night?” I asked.

“Vobis Kan’s ship was close by when it hailed and asked our name. By
daylight it could have seen what ship we were.”

He was right. We had been locked in that stuffy hole since before dawn,
and while I had thought that it had been for a considerable time, I also
had realized that the darkness and the inaction and the nervous strain
would tend to make it seem much longer than it really had been; so that
I would not have been greatly surprised had we made Toonol by daylight.

The distance from the Tower of Thavas to Toonol is inconsiderable, so
that shortly after Vobis Kan’s ship had spoken to us we came to rest
upon the landing stage at our destination. For a long time we waited,
listening to the sounds of movement aboard the ship and wondering, upon
my part at least, as to what the intentions of the captain might be. It
was quite possible that Bal Zak might return to Thavas this same night,
especially if he had come to Toonol to fetch a rich or powerful patient
to the laboratories; but if he had come only for supplies he might well
lie here until the morrow. This much I had learned from Gor Hajus, my
own knowledge of the movements of the fliers of Ras Thavas being
considerably less than nothing; for, though I had been months a
lieutenant of the master surgeon, I had learned only the day before of
the existence of his small fleet, it being according to the policy of
Ras Thavas to tell me nothing unless the telling of it coincided with
and furthered his own plans.

Questions which I asked he always answered, if he reasoned that the
effects would not be harmful to his own interests, but he volunteered
nothing that he did not particularly wish me to know; and the fact that
there were no windows in the outside walls of the building facing
towards Toonol, that I had never before the previous day been upon the
roof and that I never had seen a ship sail over the inner court towards
the east all tended to explain my ignorance of the fleet and its
customary operations.

We waited quietly until silence fell upon the ship, betokening either
that the crew had retired for the night or that they had gone down into
the city. Then, after a whispered consultation with Gor Hajus, we
decided to make an attempt to leave the flier. It was our purpose to
seek a hiding place within the tower of the landing stage from which we
might investigate possible avenues of escape into the city, either at
once or upon the morrow when we might more easily mix with the crowd
that Gor Hajus said would certainly be in evidence from a few hours
after sunrise.

Cautiously I opened the door of our closet and looked into the main
cabin beyond. It lay in darkness. Silently we filed out. The silence of
the tomb lay upon the flier, but from far below arose the subdued noises
of the city. So far, so good! Then, without sound, without warning, a
burst of brilliant light illuminated the interior of the cabin. I felt
my fingers tighten upon my sword-hilt as I glanced quickly about.

Directly opposite us, in the narrow doorway of a small cabin, stood a
tall man whose handsome harness betokened the fact that he was no common
warrior. In either hand he held a heavy Barsoomian pistol, into the
muzzles of which we found ourselves staring.



                              CHAPTER VIII
                                HANDS UP!


In quiet tones he spoke the words of the Barsoomian equivalent of our
Earthly _hands up!_ The shadow of a grim smile touched his lips, and as
he saw us hesitate to obey his commands he spoke again.

“Do as I tell you and you will be well off. Keep perfect silence. A
raised voice may spell your doom; a pistol shot most assuredly.”

Gor Hajus raised his hands above his head and we others followed his
example.

“I am Bal Zak,” announced the stranger. My heart slumped.

“Then you had better commence firing,” said Gor Hajus, “for you will not
take us alive and we are four to one.”

“Not so fast, Gor Hajus,” admonished the captain of the Vosar, “until
you learn what is in my mind.”

“That, we already know for we heard you speak of the large reward that
awaited the captor of Vad Varo and Gor Hajus,” snapped the assassin of
Toonol.

“Had I craved that reward so much I could have turned you over to the
dwar of Vobis Kan’s ship when he boarded us,” said Bal Zak.

“You did not know we were aboard the Vosar,” I reminded him.

“Ah, but I did.”

Gor Hajus snorted his disbelief.

“How then,” Bal Zak reminded us, “was I able to be ready upon this very
spot when you emerged from your hiding place? Yes, I knew that you were
aboard.”

“But how?” demanded Dar Tarus.

“It is immaterial,” replied Bal Zak, “but to satisfy your natural
curiosity I will tell you that I have quarters in a small room in the
Tower of Thavas, my windows overlook the roof and the hangar. My long
life spent aboard fliers has made me very sensitive to every sound of a
ship—motors changing their speed will awaken me in the dead of night,
as quickly as will their starting or their stopping. I was awakened by
the starting of the motors of the Pinsar; I saw three of you upon the
roof and the fourth drop from the deck of the flier as she started and
my judgment told me that the ship was being sent out unmanned for some
reason of which I had no knowledge. It was too late for me to prevent
the act and so I waited in silence to learn what would follow. I saw you
hasten into the hangar and I heard Ras Thavas’ hail and your reply, and
then I saw you board the Vosar. Immediately I descended to the roof and
ran noiselessly to the hangar, apprehending that you intended making
away with this ship; but there was no one about the controls; and from a
tiny port in the control room, through which one has a view of the main
cabin, I saw you enter the closet. I was at once convinced that your
only purpose was to stow away for Toonol and consequently, aside from
keeping an eye upon your hiding place, I went about my business as
usual.”

“And you did not advise Ras Thavas?” I asked.

“I advised no one,” he replied. “Years ago I learned to mind my own
business, to see all, to hear all and to tell nothing unless it profited
me to do so.”

“But you said that the reward is high for our apprehension,” Gor Hajus
reminded him. “Would it not be profitable to collect it?”

“There are in the breasts of honourable men,” replied Bal Zak, “forces
that rise superior to the lust for gold, and while Toonolians are
supposedly a people free from the withering influences of sentiment yet
I for one am not totally unconscious of the demand of gratitude. Six
years ago, Gor Hajus, you refused to assassinate my father, holding that
he was a good man, worthy to live and one that had once befriended you
slightly. To-day, through his son, you reap your reward and in some
measure are repaid for the punishment that was meted out to you by Vobis
Kan because of your refusal to slay the sire of Bal Zak. I have sent my
crew away that none aboard the Vosar but myself might have knowledge of
your presence. Tell me your plans and command me in what way I may be of
further service to you.”

“We wish to reach the streets, unobserved,” replied Gor Hajus. “Can you
but help us in that we shall not put upon your shoulders further
responsibility for our escape. You have our gratitude and in Toonol, I
need not remind you, the gratitude of Gor Hajus is a possession that
even the Jeddak has craved.”

“Your problem is complicated,” said Bal Zak, after a moment of thought,
“by the personnel of your party. The ape would immediately attract
attention and arouse suspicion. Knowing much of Ras Thavas’ experiments
I realized at once this morning, after watching him with you, that he
had the brain of a man; but this very fact would attract to him and to
you the closer attention of the masses.”

“I do not need acquaint them with the fact,” growled Hovan Du. “To them
I need be but a captive ape. Are such unknown in Toonol?”

“Not entirely, though they are rare,” replied Bal Zak. “But there is
also the white skin of Vad Varo! Ras Thavas appears to have known
nothing of the presence of the ape with you; but he full well knew of
Vad Varo, and your description has been spread by every means at his
command. You would be recognized immediately by the first Toonolian that
lays eyes upon you, and then there is Gor Hajus. He has been as dead for
six years, yet I venture there is scarce a Toonolian that broke the
shell prior to ten years ago who does not know the face of Gor Hajus as
well as he knows that of his own mother. The Jeddak himself was not
better known to the people of Toonol than Gor Hajus. That leaves but one
who might possibly escape suspicion and detection in the streets of
Toonol.”

“If we could but obtain weapons for these others,” I suggested, “we
might even yet reach the house of Gor Hajus’ friend.”

“Fight your way through the city of Toonol?” demanded Bal Zak.

“If there is no other way we should have to,” I replied.

“I admire the will,” commented the commander of the Vosar, “but fear
that the flesh is without sufficient strength. Wait! there is a
way—perhaps. On the stage just below this there is a public depot where
equilibrimotors are kept and rented. Could we find the means to obtain
four of these there would be a chance, at least, for you to elude the
air patrols and reach the house of Gor Hajus’ friend; and I think I see
a way to the accomplishment of that. The landing tower is closed for the
night but there are several watchmen distributed through it at different
levels. There is one at the equilibrimotor depot and, as I happen to
know, he is a devotee of jetan. He would rather play jetan than attend
to his duties as watchman. I often remain aboard the Vosar at night and
occasionally he and I indulge in a game. I will ask him up to-night and
while he is thus engaged you may go to the depot, help yourselves to
equilibrimotors and pray to your ancestors that no air patrol suspects
you as you cross the city towards your destination. What think you of
this plan, Gor Hajus?”

“It is splendid,” replied the assassin. “And you, Vad Varo?”

“If I knew what an equilibrimotor is I might be in a better position to
judge the merits of the plan,” I replied. “However, I am satisfied to
abide by the judgment of Gor Hajus. I can assure you, Bal Zak, of our
great appreciation, and as Gor Hajus has put the stamp of his approval
upon your plan I can only urge you to arrange that we may put it into
effect with as little delay as possible.”

“Good!” exclaimed Bal Zak. “Come with me and I will conceal you until I
have lured the watchman to the jetan game within my cabin. After that
your fate will be in your own hands.”

We followed him from the ship on to the deck of the landing stage and
close under the side of the Vosar opposite that from which the watchman
must approach the ship and enter it. Then, bidding us good luck, Bal Zak
departed.

From the summit of the landing tower I had my first view of a Martian
city. Several hundred feet below me lay spread the broad, well-lighted
avenues of Toonol, many of which were crowded with people. Here and
there, in this central district, a building was raised high upon its
supporting, cylindrical metal shaft; while further out, where the
residences predominated, the city took on the appearance of a colossal
and grotesque forest. Among the larger palaces only an occasional suite
of rooms was thus raised high above the level of the others, these being
the sleeping apartments of the owners, their servants or their guests;
but the smaller homes were raised in their entirety, a precaution
necessitated by the constant activities of the followers of Gor Hajus’
ancient profession that permitted no man to be free from the constant
menace of assassination. Throughout the central district the sky was
pierced by the lofty towers of several other landing stages; but, as I
was later to learn, these were comparatively few in number. Toonol is in
no sense a flying nation, supporting no such enormous fleets of merchant
ships and vessels of war as, for example, the twin cities of Helium or
the great capital of Ptarth.

A peculiar feature of the street lighting of Toonol, and in fact the
same condition applies to the lighting of other Barsoomian cities I have
visited, I noted for the first time that night as I waited upon the
landing stage for the return of Bal Zak with the watchman. The
luminosity below me seemed confined directly to the area to be lighted;
there was no diffusion of light upward or beyond the limits the lamps
were designed to light. This was effected, I was told, by lamps designed
upon principles resulting from ages of investigation of the properties
of light waves and the laws governing them which permit Barsoomian
scientists to confine and control light as we confine and control
matter. The light waves leave the lamp, pass along a prescribed circuit
and return to the lamp. There is no waste nor, strange this seemed to
me, are there any dense shadows when lights are properly installed and
adjusted; for the waves in passing around objects to return to the lamp,
illuminate all sides of them.

The effect of this lighting from the great height of the tower was
rather remarkable. The night was dark, there being no moons at that hour
upon this night, and the effect was that obtained when sitting in a
darkened auditorium and looking upon a brilliantly lighted stage. I was
still intent upon watching the life and colour beneath when we heard Bal
Zak returning. That he had been successful in his mission was apparent
from the fact that he was conversing with another.

Five minutes later we crept quietly from our hiding place and descended
to the stage below where lay the equilibrimotor depot. As theft is
practically unknown upon Barsoom, except for purposes entirely
disassociated from a desire to obtain pecuniary profit through the thing
stolen, no precautions are taken against theft. We therefore found the
doors of the depot open and Gor Hajus and Dar Tarus quickly selected
four equilibrimotors and adjusted them upon us. They consist of a broad
belt, not unlike the life belt used aboard trans-oceanic liners upon
Earth; these belts are filled with the eighth Barsoomian ray, or ray of
propulsion, to a sufficient degree to just about equalize the pull of
gravity and thus to maintain a person in equilibrium between that force
and the opposite force exerted by the eighth ray. Permanently attached
to the back of the belt is a small radium motor, the controls for which
are upon the front of the belt. Rigidly attached to and projecting from
each side of the upper rim of the belt is a strong, light wing with
small hand levers for quickly altering its position.

Gor Hajus quickly explained the method of control, but I could apprehend
that there might be embarrassment and trouble awaiting me before I
mastered the art of flying in an equilibrimotor. He showed me how to
tilt the wings downward in walking so that I would not leave the ground
at every step, and thus he led me to the edge of the landing stage.

“We will rise here,” he said, “and keeping in the darkness of the upper
levels seek to reach the house of my friend without being detected. If
we are pursued by air patrols we must separate; and later those who
escape may gather just west of the city wall where you will find a small
lake with a deserted tower upon its northern rim—this tower will be our
rendezvous in event of trouble. Follow me!” He started his motor and
rose gracefully into the air.

Hovan Du followed him and then it was my turn. I rose beautifully for
about twenty feet, floating out over the city which lay hundreds of feet
below, and then, quite suddenly, I turned upside down. I had done
something wrong—I was quite positive of it. It was a most startling
sensation, I can assure you, floating there with my head down, quite
helpless; while below me lay the streets of a great city and no softer,
I was sure, than the streets of Los Angeles or Paris. My motor was still
going, and as I manipulated the controls which operated the wings I
commenced to describe all sorts of strange loops and spirals and spins;
and then Dar Tarus came to my rescue. First he told me to lie quietly
and then directed the manipulation of each wing until I had gained an
upright position. After that I did fairly well and was soon rising in
the wake of Gor Hajus and Hovan Du.

I need not describe in detail the hour of flying, or rather floating,
that ensued. Gor Hajus led us to a considerable altitude and there,
through the darkness above the city, our slow motors drove us towards a
district of magnificent homes surrounded by spacious grounds; and here,
as we hovered over a large palace, we were suddenly startled by a sharp
challenge coming from directly above us.

“Who flies by night?” a voice demanded.

“Friends of Mu Tel, Prince of the House of Kan,” replied Gor Hajus
quickly.

“Let me see your night flying permit and your flier’s licence,” ordered
the one above us, at the same time swooping suddenly to our level and
giving me my first sight of a Martian policeman. He was equipped with a
much swifter and handier equilibrimotor than ours. I think that was the
first fact to impress us deeply, and it demonstrated the futility of
flight; for he could have given us ten minutes start and overhauled each
of us within another ten minutes, even though we had elected to fly in
different directions. The fellow was a warrior rather than a policeman,
though detailed to duty such as our Earthly police officers perform; the
city being patrolled both day and night by the warriors of Vobis Kan’s
army.

He dropped now close to the assassin of Toonol, again demanding permit
and license and at the same time flashing a light in the face of my
comrade.

“By the sword of the Jeddak!” he cried. “Fortune heaps her favors upon
me. Who would have thought an hour since that it would be I who would
collect the reward for the capture of Gor Hajus?”

“Any other fool might have thought it,” returned Gor Hajus, “but he
would have been as wrong as you,” and as he spoke he struck with the
short-sword I had loaned him.

The blow was broken by the wing of the warrior’s equilibrimotor, which
it demolished, yet it inflicted a severe wound in the fellow’s shoulder.
He tried to back off, but the damaged wing caused him only to wheel
around erratically; and then he seized upon his whistle and attempted to
blow a mighty blast that was cut short by another blow from Gor Hajus’
sword that split the man’s head open to the bridge of his nose.

“Quick!” cried the assassin. “We must drop into the gardens of Mu Tel,
for that signal will bring a swarm of air patrols about our heads.”

The others I saw falling rapidly towards the ground, but again I had
trouble. Depress my wings as I would I moved only slightly downward and
upon a path that, if continued, would have landed me at a considerable
distance from the gardens of Mu Tel. I was approaching one of the
elevated portions of the palace, what appeared to be a small suite that
was raised upon its shining metal shaft far above the ground. From all
directions I could hear the screaming whistles of the air patrols
answering the last call of their comrade whose corpse floated just above
me, a guide even in death to point the way for his fellows to search us
out. They were sure to discover him and then I would be in plain view of
them and my fate sealed.

Perhaps I could find ingress to the apartment looming darkly near! There
I might hide until the danger had passed, provided I could enter,
undetected. I directed my course towards the structure; an open window
took form through the darkness and then I collided with a fine wire
netting—I had run into a protecting curtain that fends off assassins of
the air from these high-flung sleeping apartments. I felt that I was
lost. If I could but reach the ground I might find concealment among the
trees and shrubbery that I had seen vaguely outlined beneath me in the
gardens of this Barsoomian prince; but I could not drop at a sufficient
angle to bring me to ground within the garden, and when I tried to
spiral down I turned over and started up again. I thought of ripping
open my belt and letting the eighth ray escape; but in my unfamiliarity
with this strange force I feared that such an act might precipitate me
to the ground with too great violence, though I was determined to have
recourse to it as a last alternative if nothing less drastic presented
itself.

In my last attempt to spiral downward I rose rapidly feet foremost to a
sudden and surprising collision with some object above me. As I
frantically righted myself, fully expecting to be immediately seized by
a member of the air patrol, I found myself face to face with the corpse
of the warrior Gor Hajus had slain. The whistling of the air patrols
sounded ever nearer—it could be only a question of seconds now before I
was discovered—and with the stern necessity that confronted me, with
death looking me in the face, there burst upon me a possible avenue of
escape from my dilemma.

Seizing tightly with my left hand the harness of the dead Toonolian, I
whipped out my dagger and slashed his buoyancy belt a dozen times.
Instantly, as the rays escaped, his body started to drag me downward.
Our descent was rapid, but not precipitate, and it was but a matter of
seconds before we landed gently upon the scarlet sward of the gardens of
Mu Tel, Prince of the House of Kan, close beside a clump of heavy
shrubbery. Above me sounded the whistles of the circling patrols as I
dragged the corpse of the warrior into the concealing depth of the
foliage. Nor was I an instant too soon for safety, as almost immediately
the brilliant rays of a searchlight shot downward from the deck of a
small patrol ship, illuminating the open spaces of the garden all about
me. A hurried glance through the branches and the leaves of my sanctuary
revealed nothing of my companions and I breathed a sigh of relief in the
thought that they, too, had found concealment.

The light played for a short time about the gardens and then passed on,
as did the sound of the patrol’s whistles, as the search proceeded
elsewhere; thus giving me the assurance that no suspicion was directed
upon our hiding place.

Left in darkness I appropriated such of the weapons of the dead warrior
as I coveted, after having removed my equilibrimotor, which I was first
minded to destroy, but which I finally decided to moor to one of the
larger shrubs against the possibility that I might again have need for
it; and now, secure in the conviction that the danger of discovery by
the air patrol had passed, I left my concealment and started in search
of my companions.

Keeping well in the shadows of the trees and shrubs I moved in the
direction of the main building, which loomed darkly near at hand; for in
this direction I believed Gor Hajus would lead the others as I knew that
the palace of Mu Tel was to have been our destination. As I crept along,
moving with utmost stealth, Thuria, the nearer moon, shot suddenly above
the horizon, illuminating the night with her brilliant rays. I was close
to the building’s ornately carved wall at the moment; beside me was a
narrow niche, its interior cast in deepest shadow by Thuria’s brilliant
rays; to my left was an open bit of lawn upon which, revealed in every
detail of its terrifying presence, stood as fearsome a creature as my
Earthly eyes ever had rested upon. It was a beast about the size of a
Shetland pony, with ten short legs and a terrifying head that bore some
slight resemblance to that of a frog, except that the jaws were equipped
with three rows of long, sharp tusks.

The thing had its nose in the air and was sniffing about, while its
great pop eyes moved swiftly here and there, assuring me, beyond the
shadow of a doubt, that it was searching for someone. I am not inclined
to be egotistical, yet I could not avoid the conviction that it was
searching for me. It was my first experience of a Martian watch dog; and
as I sought concealment within the dark shadows of the niche behind me,
at the very instant that the creature’s eyes alighted upon me, and heard
his growl and saw him charge straight towards me, I had a premonition
that it might prove my last experience with one.

I drew my long-sword as I backed into the niche, but with a sense of the
utter inadequacy of the unaccustomed weapon in the face of this three or
four hundred pounds of ferocity incarnate. Slowly I backed away into the
shadows as the creature bore down upon me and then, as it entered the
niche, my back collided with a solid obstacle that put an end to further
retreat.



                               CHAPTER IX
                          THE PALACE OF MU TEL


As the calot entered the niche I experienced, I believe, all of the
reactions of the cornered rat, and I certainly know that I set myself to
fight in that proverbial manner. The beast was almost upon me and I was
metaphorically kicking myself for not having remained in the open where
there were many tall trees when the support at my back suddenly gave
way, a hand reached out of the darkness behind me and seized my harness
and I was drawn swiftly into inky blackness. A door slammed and the
silhouette of the calot against the moonlit entrance to the niche was
blotted out.

A gruff voice spoke in my ear. “Come with me!” it said. A hand found
mine and thus I was led along through the darkness of what I soon
discovered was a narrow corridor from the constantly recurring
collisions I had first with one side of it and then with the other.

Ascending gradually, the corridor turned abruptly at right angles and I
saw beyond my guide a dim luminosity that gradually increased until
another turn brought us to the threshold of a brilliantly lighted
chamber—a magnificent apartment, the gorgeous furnishings and
decorations of which beggar the meagre descriptive powers of my native
tongue. Gold, ivory, precious stones, marvelous woods, resplendent
fabrics, gorgeous furs and startling architecture combined to impress
upon my earthly vision such a picture as I had never even dreamed of
dreaming; and in the center of this room, surrounded by a little group
of Martians, were my three companions.

My guide conducted me towards the party, the members of which had turned
towards us as we entered the chamber, and stopped before a tall
Barsoomian, resplendent in jewel encrusted harness.

“Prince,” he said, “I was scarce a tal too soon. In fact, as I opened
the door to step out into the garden in search of him, as you directed,
there he was upon the opposite side with one of the calots of the garden
almost upon him.”

“Good!” exclaimed he who had been addressed as prince, and then he
turned to Gor Hajus. “This is he, my friend, of whom you told me?”

“This is Vad Varo, who claims to be from the planet Jasoom,” replied Gor
Hajus; “and this, Vad Varo, is Mu Tel, Prince of the House of Kan.”

I bowed and the prince advanced and placed his right hand upon my left
shoulder in true Barsoomian acknowledgment of an introduction; when I
had done similarly, the ceremony was over. There was no silly
pleased-to-meet-you, how-do-you-do? or it’s-a-pleasure-I-assure-you.

At Mu Tel’s request I narrated briefly what had befallen me between the
time I had become separated from my companions and the moment that one
of his officers had snatched me from impending disaster. Mu Tel gave
instructions that all traces of the dead patrol be removed before dawn
lest their discovery bring upon him the further suspicion of his uncle,
Vobis Kan, Jeddak of Toonol, whom it seemed had long been jealous of his
nephew’s growing popularity and fearful that he harbored aspirations for
the throne.

It was later in the evening, during one of those elaborate meals for
which the princes of Barsoom are justly famous, when mellowed slightly
by the rare vintages with which he delighted his guests, that Mu Tel
discoursed with less restraint upon his imperial uncle.

“The nobles have long been tired of Vobis Kan,” he said, “and the people
are tiring of him—he is a conscienceless tyrant—but he is our
hereditary ruler, and so they hesitate to change. We are a practical
people, little influenced by sentiment; yet there is enough to keep the
masses loyal to their Jeddak even after he has ceased to deserve their
loyalty, while the fear of the wrath of the masses keeps the nobles
loyal. There is also the natural suspicion that I, the next in line for
succession, would make them no less tyrannical a Jeddak than has Vobis
Kan, while, having youth, I might be much more active in cruel and
nefarious practices.

“For myself, I would not hesitate to destroy my uncle and seize his
throne were I sure of the support of the army, for with the warriors of
Vobis Kan at my back I might defy the balance of Toonol. It is because
of this that I long since offered my friendship to Gor Hajus; not that
he might slay my uncle, but that when I had slain him in fair fight Gor
Hajus might win to me the loyalty of the Jeddak’s warriors, for great is
the popularity of Gor Hajus among the soldiers, who ever look up to such
a great fighter with reverence and devotion. I have offered Gor Hajus a
high place in the affairs of Toonol should he cast his lot with me; but
he tells me that he has first to fulfil his obligations to you, Vad
Varo, and for the furtherance of your adventure he has asked me to give
you what assistance I may. This I offer gladly, from purely practical
motives, since your early success will hasten mine. Therefore I propose
to place at your disposal a staunch flier that will carry you and your
companions to Phundahl.”

This offer I naturally accepted, after which we fell to discussing plans
for our departure which we finally decided to attempt early the
following night, at a time when neither of the moons would be in the
heavens. After a brief discussion of equipment we were, at my request,
permitted to retire since I had not slept for more than thirty-six hours
and my companions for twenty-four.

Slaves conducted us to our sleeping apartments, which were luxuriously
furnished, and arranged magnificent sleeping silks and furs for our
comfort. After they had left us Gor Hajus touched a button and the room
rose swiftly upon its metal shaft to a height of forty or fifty feet;
the wire netting automatically dropped about us, and we were safe for
the night.

The following morning, after our apartment had been lowered to its
daylight level and before I was permitted to leave it, a slave was sent
to me by Mu Tel with instructions to stain my entire body the beautiful
copper-red of my Barsoomian friends; furnishing me with a disguise which
I well knew to be highly essential to the success of my venture, since
my white skin would have drawn unpleasant notice upon me in any city of
Barsoom. Another slave brought harness and weapons for Gor Hajus, Dar
Tarus and myself, and a collar and chain for Hovan Du, the ape-man. Our
harness, while of heavy material, and splendid workmanship, was quite
plain, being free of all insignia either of rank or service—such
harness as is customarily worn by the Barsoomian panthan, or soldier of
fortune, at such times as he is not definitely in the service of any
nation or individual. These panthans are virtually men without a
country, being roving mercenaries ready to sell their swords to the
highest bidder. Although they have no organization they are ruled by a
severe code of ethics and while in the employ of a master are, almost
without exception, loyal to him. They are generally supposed to be men
who have flown from the wrath of their own Jeddaks or the justice of
their own courts, but there is among them a sprinkling of adventurous
souls who have adopted their calling because of the thrills and
excitement it offers. While they are well paid, they are also great
gamblers and notorious spenders, with the result that they are almost
always without funds and often reduced to strange expedients for the
gaining of their livelihood between engagements; a fact which gave great
plausibility to our possession of a trained ape, which upon Mars would
appear no more remarkable than would to us the possession of a monkey or
parrot by an old salt just returned, from a long cruise, to one of our
Earthly ports.

This day that I stayed in the palace of Mu Tel I spent much in the
company of the prince, who found pleasure in questioning me concerning
the customs, the politics, the civilization and the geography of Earth,
with much of which, I was surprised to note, he seemed quite familiar; a
fact which he explained was due to the marvelous development of
Barsoomian astronomical instruments, wireless photography and wireless
telephony; the last of which has been brought to such a state of
perfection that many Barsoomian savants have succeeded in learning
several Earthly languages, notably Urdu, English and Russian, and, a
few, Chinese also. These have doubtless been the first languages to
attract their attention because of the fact that they are spoken by
great numbers of people over large areas of the world.

Mu Tel took me to a small auditorium in his palace that reminded me
somewhat of private projection rooms on Earth. It had, I should say, a
capacity of some two hundred persons and was built like a large camera
obscura; the audience sitting within the instrument, their backs towards
the lens and in front of them, filling one entire end of the room, a
large ground glass upon which is thrown the image to be observed.

Mu Tel seated himself at a table upon which was a chart of the heavens.
Just above the chart was a movable arm carrying a pointer. This pointer
Mu Tel moved until it rested upon the planet Earth, then he switched off
the light in the room and immediately there appeared upon the ground
glass plate a view such as one might obtain from an airplane riding at
an elevation of a thousand feet. There was something strangely familiar
about the scene before me. It was of a desolate, wasted country. I saw
shattered stumps whose orderly arrangement proclaimed that here once an
orchard had blossomed and borne fruit. There were great, unsightly holes
in the earth and over and across all a tangle of barbed wire. I asked Mu
Tel how we might change the picture to another locality. He lighted a
small radio bulb between us and I saw a globe there, a globe of Earth,
and a small pointer fixed over it.

“The side of this globe now presented to you represents the face of the
Earth turned towards us,” explained Mu Tel. “You will note that the
globe is slowly revolving. Place this pointer where you will upon the
globe and that portion of Jasoom will be revealed for you.”

I moved the pointer very slowly and the picture changed. A ruined
village came into view. I saw some people moving among its ruins. They
were not soldiers. A little further on I came upon trenches and
dug-outs—there were no soldiers here, either. I moved the pointer
rapidly north and south along a vast line of trenches. Here and there in
villages there were soldiers, but they were all French soldiers and
never were they in the trenches. There were no German soldiers and no
fighting. The war was over, then! I moved the pointer to the Rhine and
across. There were soldiers in Germany—French soldiers, English
soldiers, American soldiers. We had won the war! I was glad, but it
seemed very far away and quite unreal—as though no such world existed
and no such peoples had ever fought—it was as though I were recalling
through its illustrations a novel that I had read a long time since.

“You seem much interested in that war torn country,” remarked Mu Tel.

“Yes,” I explained, “I fought in that war. Perhaps I was killed. I do
not know.”

“And you won?” he asked.

“Yes, my people won,” I replied. “We fought for a great principle and
for the peace and happiness of a world. I hope that we did not fight in
vain.”

“If you mean that you hope that your principle will triumph because you
fought and won, or that peace will come, your hopes are futile. War
never brought peace—it but brings more and greater wars. War is
Nature’s natural state—it is folly to combat it. Peace should be
considered only as a time for preparation for the principal business of
man’s existence. Were it not for constant warring of one form of life
upon another, and even upon itself, the planets would be so overrun with
life that it would smother itself out. We found upon Barsoom that long
periods of peace brought plagues and terrible diseases that killed more
than the wars killed and in a much more hideous and painful way. There
is neither pleasure nor thrill nor reward of any sort to be gained by
dying in bed of a loathsome disease. We must all die—let us therefore
go out and die in a great and exciting game, and make room for the
millions who are to follow us. We have tried it out upon Barsoom and we
would not be without war.”

Mu Tel told me much that day about the peculiar philosophy of
Toonolians. They believe that no good deed was ever performed except for
a selfish motive; they have no god and no religion; they believe, as do
all educated Barsoomians, that man came originally from the Tree of
Life, but unlike most of their fellows they do not believe that an
omnipotent being created the Tree of Life. They hold that the only sin
is failure—success, however achieved, is meritorious; and yet,
paradoxical as it may seem, they never break their given word. Mu Tel
explained that they overcame the baneful results of this degrading
weakness—this sentimental bosh—by seldom, if ever, binding themselves
to loyalty to another, and then only for a definitely prescribed period.

As I came to know them better, and especially Gor Hajus, I began to
realize that much of their flaunted contempt of the finer sensibilities
was specious. It is true that generations of inhibition had to some
extent atrophied those characteristics of heart and soul which the
noblest among us so highly esteem; that friendship’s ties were lax and
that blood kinship awakened no high sense of responsibility or love even
between parents and children; yet Gor Hajus was essentially a man of
sentiment, though he would doubtless have run through the heart any who
had dared accuse him of it, thus perfectly proving the truth of the
other’s accusation. His pride in his reputation for integrity and
loyalty proved him a man of heart as truly as did his jealousy of his
reputation for heartlessness prove him a man of sentiment; and in all
this he was but typical of the people of Toonol. They denied deity, and
in the same breath worshiped the fetish of science that they had
permitted to obsess them quite as harmfully as do religious fanatics
accept the unreasoning rule of their imaginary gods; and so, with all
their vaunted knowledge, they were unintelligent because unbalanced.

As the day drew to a close I became the more anxious to be away. Far to
the west across desolate leagues of marsh lay Phundahl, and in Phundahl
the beauteous body of the girl I loved and that I was sworn to restore
to its rightful owner. The evening meal was over and Mu Tel himself had
conducted us to a secret hangar in one of the towers of his palace. Here
artisans had prepared a flier for us, having removed during the day all
signs of its real ownership, even to slightly altering its lines; so
that in the event of capture Mu Tel’s name might in no way be connected
with the expedition. Provisions were stored, including plenty of raw
meat for Hovan Du, and, as the farther moon sank below the horizon and
darkness fell, a panel of the tower wall, directly in front of the
flier’s nose, slid aside. Mu Tel wished us luck and the ship slipped
silently out into the night. The flier, like many of her type, was
without cockpit or cabin; a low, metal hand-rail surmounted her gunwale;
heavy rings were set substantially in her deck and to these her crew was
supposed to cling or attach themselves by means of their harness hooks
provided for this and similar purposes; a low wind shield, with a rakish
slant, afforded some protection from the wind; the motor and controls
were all exposed, as all the space below decks was taken up by the
buoyancy tanks. In this type everything is sacrificed to speed; there is
no comfort aboard. When moving at high speed each member of the crew
lies extended at full length upon the deck, each in his allotted place
to give the necessary trim, and hangs on for dear life. These Toonolian
crafts, however, are not overly fast, so I was told, being far
outstripped in speed by the fliers of such nations as Helium and Ptarth
who have for ages devoted themselves to the perfection of their navies;
but this one was quite fast enough for our purposes, to the consummation
of which it would be pitted against fliers of no higher rating, and it
was certainly fast enough for me. In comparison with the slow moving
Vosar, it seemed to shoot through the air like an arrow.

We wasted no time in strategy or stealth, but opened her wide as soon as
we were in the clear, and directed her straight towards the west and
Phundahl. Scarcely had we passed over the gardens of Mu Tel when we met
with our first adventure. We shot by a solitary figure floating in the
air and almost simultaneously there shrilled forth the warning whistle
of an air patrol. A shot whistled above us harmlessly and we were gone;
but within a few seconds I saw the rays of a searchlight shining down
from above and moving searchingly to and fro through the air.

“A patrol boat!” shouted Gor Hajus in my ear. Hovan Du growled savagely
and shook the chain upon his collar. We raced on, trusting to the big
gods and the little gods and all our ancestors that the relentless eye
of light would not find us out; but it did. Within a few seconds it fell
full upon our deck from above and in front of us and there it clung as
the patrol boat dropped rapidly towards us while it maintained a high
rate of speed upon a course otherwise identical with ours. Then, to our
consternation, the ship opened fire on us with explosive bullets. These
projectiles contain a high explosive that is detonated by light rays
when the opaque covering of the projectile is broken by impact with the
target. It is therefore not at all necessary to make a direct hit for a
shot to be effective. If the projectile strikes the ground or the deck
of a vessel or any solid substance near its target, it does considerably
more damage when fired at a group of men than if it strikes but one of
them, since it will then explode if its outer shell is broken and kill
or wound several; while if it enters the body of an individual the light
rays cannot reach it and it accomplishes no more than a non-explosive
bullet. Moonlight is not powerful enough to detonate this explosive and
so projectiles fired at night, unless touched by the powerful rays of
searchlights, detonate at sunrise the following morning, making a
battlefield a most unsafe place at that time even though the contending
forces are no longer there. Similarly they make the removal of the
unexploded projectiles from the bodies of the wounded a most ticklish
operation which may well result in the instant death of both the patient
and the surgeon.

Dar Tarus, at the controls, turned the nose of our flier upward directly
towards the patrol boat and at the same time shouted to us to
concentrate our fire upon her propellers. For myself, I could see little
but the blinding eye of the searchlight, and at that I fired with the
strange weapon to which I had received my first introduction but a few
hours since when it was presented to me by Mu Tel. To me that all
searching eye represented the greatest menace that confronted us, and
could we blind it the patrol boat would have no great advantage over us.
So I kept my rifle straight upon it, my finger on the button that
controlled the fire, and prayed for a hit.

Gor Hajus knelt at my side, his weapon spitting bullets at the patrol
boat. Dar Tarus’ hands were busy with the controls and Hovan Du squatted
in the bow and growled.

Suddenly Dar Tarus voiced an exclamation of alarm. “The controls are
hit!” he shouted. “We can’t alter our course—the ship is useless.”
Almost the same instant the searchlight was extinguished—one of my
bullets evidently having found it. We were quite close to the enemy now
and heard their shout of anger. Our own craft, out of control, was
running swiftly towards the other. It seemed that if there was not a
collision we would pass directly beneath the keel of the air patrol. I
asked Dar Tarus if our ship was beyond repair.

“We could repair it if we had time,” he replied, “but it would take
hours and while we were thus delayed the whole air patrol force of
Toonol would be upon us.”

“Then we must have another ship,” I said. Dar Tarus laughed. “You are
right, Vad Varo,” he replied, “but where shall we find it?”

I pointed to the patrol boat. “We shall not have to look far.”

Dar Tarus shrugged his shoulders. “Why not!” he exclaimed. “It would be
a glorious fight and a worthy death.”

Gor Hajus slapped me on the shoulder. “To the death, my captain!” he
cried.

Hovan Du shook his chain and roared.

The two ships were rapidly approaching one another. We had stopped
firing now for fear that we might disable the craft we hoped to use for
our escape; and for some reason the crew of the patrol ship had ceased
firing at us—I never learned why. We were moving in a line that would
bring us directly beneath the other ship. I determined to board her at
all costs. I could see her keel boarding tackle slung beneath her, ready
to be lowered to the deck of a quarry when once her grappling hooks had
seized the prey. Doubtless they were already manning the latter, and as
soon as we were beneath her the steel tentacles would reach down and
seize us as her crew swarmed down the board tackle to our deck.

I called Hovan Du and he crept back to my side where I whispered my
instructions in his ear. When I was done he nodded his head with a low
growl. I cast off the harness hook that held me to the deck, and the ape
and I moved to our bow after I had issued brief, whispered instructions
to Gor Hajus and Dar Tarus. We were now almost directly beneath the
enemy craft; I could see the grappling hooks being prepared for
lowering. Our bow ran beneath the stern of the other ship and the moment
was at hand for which I had been waiting. Now those upon the deck of the
patrol boat could not see Hovan Du or me. The boarding tackle of the
other ship swung fifteen feet above our heads; I whispered a word of
command to the ape and simultaneously we crouched and sprang for the
tackle. It may sound like a mad chance—failure meant almost certain
death—but I felt that if two of us could reach the deck of the patrol
boat while her crew was busy with the grappling gear it would be well
worth the risk.

Gor Hajus had assured me that there would not be more than six men
aboard the patrol ship; that one would be at the controls and the others
manning the grappling hooks. It would be a most propitious time to gain
a footing on the enemy’s deck.

Hovan Du and I made our leaps and Fortune smiled upon us, though the
huge ape but barely reached the tackle with one outstretched hand, while
my Earthly muscles carried me easily to my goal. Together we made our
way rapidly towards the bow of the patrol craft and without hesitation,
and as previously arranged, he clambered quickly up the starboard side
and I the port. If I were the more agile jumper Hovan Du far outclassed
me in climbing, with the result that he reached the rail and was
clambering over while my eyes were still below the level of the deck,
which was, perhaps, a fortunate thing for me since, by chance, I had
elected to gain the deck directly at a point where, unknown to me, one
of the crew of the ship was engaged with the grappling hooks. Had his
eyes not been attracted elsewhere by the shout of one of his fellows who
was first to see Hovan Du’s savage face rise above the gunwale, he could
have dispatched me with a single blow before ever I could have set foot
upon the deck.

The ape had also come up directly in front of a Toonolian warrior and
this fellow had let out a yell of surprise and sought to draw his sword,
but the ape, for all his great bulk, was too quick for him; and as my
eyes topped the rail I saw the mighty anthropoid seize the unfortunate
man by the harness, drag him to the side and hurl him to destruction far
below. Instantly we were both over the rail and squarely on deck while
the remaining members of the craft’s crew, abandoning their stations,
ran forward to overpower us. I think that the sight of the great, savage
beast must have had a demoralizing effect upon them, for they hesitated,
each seeming to be willing to accord his fellow the honour of first
engaging us; but they did come on, though slowly. This hesitation I was
delighted to see, for it accorded perfectly with the plan that I had
worked out, which depended largely upon the success which might attend
the efforts of Gor Hajus and Dar Tarus to reach the deck of the patrol
when our craft had risen sufficiently close beneath the other to permit
them to reach the boarding tackle, which we were utilizing with reverse
English, as one might say.

Gor Hajus had cautioned me to dispatch the man at the controls as
quickly as possible, since his very first act would be to injure them
the instant that there appeared any possibility that we might be
successful in our attempt to take his ship, and so I ran quickly towards
him and before he could draw I cut him down. There were now four against
us and we waited for them to advance that we might gain time for our
fellows to reach the deck.

The four moved slowly forward and were almost within striking distance
when I saw Gor Hajus’ head appear above the stern rail, quickly followed
by that of Dar Tarus.

“Look!” I cried to the enemy, “and surrender,” and I pointed astern.

One of them turned to look and what he saw brought an exclamation of
surprise to his lips. “It is Gor Hajus,” he cried, and then, to me:
“What is your purpose with us if we surrender?”

“We have no quarrel with you,” I replied. “We but wish to leave Toonol
and go our way in peace—we shall not harm you.”

He turned to his fellows while, at a sign from me, my three companions
stopped their advance and waited. For a few minutes the four warriors
conversed in low tones, then he who had first spoken addressed me.

“There are few Toonolians,” he said, “who would not be glad to serve Gor
Hajus, whom we had thought long dead, but to surrender our ship to you
would mean certain death for us when we reported our defeat at our
headquarters. On the other hand were we to continue our defence most of
us here upon the deck of this flier would be killed. If you can assure
us that your plans are not aimed at the safety of Toonol I can make a
suggestion that will afford an avenue of escape and safety for us all.”

“We only wish to leave Toonol,” I replied. “No harm can come to Toonol
because of what I seek to accomplish.”

“Good! and where do you wish to go?”

“That I may not tell you.”

“You may trust us, if you accept my proposal,” he assured me, “which is
that we convey you to your destination, after which we can return to
Toonol and report that we engaged you and that after a long running
fight, in which two of our number were killed, you eluded us in the
darkness and escaped.”

“Can we trust these men?” I asked, addressing Gor Hajus, who assured me
that we could, and thus the compact was entered into which saw us
speeding rapidly towards Phundahl aboard one of Vobis Kan’s own fliers.



                               CHAPTER X
                                PHUNDAHL


The following night the Toonolian crew set us down just inside the wall
of the city of Phundahl, following the directions of Dar Tarus who was a
native of the city, had been a warrior of the Jeddara’s Guard and, prior
to that, seen service in Phundahl’s tiny navy. That he was familiar with
every detail of Phundahl’s defences and her systems of patrols was
evidenced by the fact that we landed without detection and that the
Toonolian ship rose and departed apparently unnoticed.

Our landing place had been the roof of a low building built within and
against the city wall. From this roof Dar Tarus led us down an inclined
runway to the street, which, at this point, was quite deserted. The
street was narrow and dark, being flanked upon one side by the low
buildings built against the city wall and upon the other by higher
buildings, some of which were windowless and none showing any light. Dar
Tarus explained that he had chosen this point for our entrance because
it was a district of storage houses, and while a hive of industry during
the day, was always deserted at night, not even a watchman being
required owing to the almost total absence of thievery upon Barsoom.

By devious and roundabout ways he led us finally to a section of
second-rate shops, eating places and hotels such as are frequented by
the common soldiers, artisans and slaves, where the only attention we
attracted was due to the curiosity aroused by Hovan Du. As we had not
eaten since leaving Mu Tel’s palace, our first consideration was food.
Mu Tel had furnished Gor Hajus with money, so that we had the means to
gratify our wants. Our first stop was at a small shop where Gor Hajus
purchased four or five pounds of thoat steak for Hovan Du, and then we
repaired to an eating place of which Dar Tarus knew. At first the
proprietor would not let us bring Hovan Du inside, but finally, after
much argument, he permitted us to lock the great ape in an inner room
where Hovan Du was forced to remain with his thoat meat while we sat at
a table in the outer room.

I will say for Hovan Du that he played his role well, nor was there once
when the proprietor of the place, or any of his patrons, or the
considerable crowd that gathered to listen to the altercation, could
have guessed that the body of the great, savage beast was animated by a
human brain. It was really only when feeding or fighting that the simian
half of Hovan Du’s brain appeared to exercise any considerable influence
upon him; yet there seemed little doubt that it always coloured all his
thoughts and actions to some extent, accounting for his habitual
taciturnity and the quickness with which he was aroused to anger, as
well as to the fact that he never smiled, nor appeared to appreciate in
any degree the humor of a situation. He assured me, however, that the
human half of his brain not only appreciated but greatly enjoyed the
lighter episodes and occurrences of our adventure and the witty stories
and anecdotes related by Gor Hajus, the Assassin, but that his simian
anatomy had developed no muscles wherewith to evidence physical
expression of his mental reactions.

We dined heartily, though upon rough and simple fare, but were glad to
escape the prying curiosity of the garrulous and gossipy proprietor, who
plied us with so many questions as to our past performances and future
plans that Dar Tarus, who was our spokesman here, was hard put to it to
quickly fabricate replies that would be always consistent. However,
escape we did at last, and once again in the street, Dar Tarus set out
to lead us to a public lodging house of which he knew. As we went we
approached a great building of wondrous beauty in and out of which
constant streams of people were pouring, and when we were before it Dar
Tarus asked us to wait without as he must enter. When I asked him why,
he told me that this was a temple of Tur, the god worshipped by the
people of Phundahl.

“I have been away for a long time,” he said, “and have had no
opportunity to do honor to my god. I shall not keep you waiting long.
Gor Hajus, will you loan me a few pieces of gold?”

In silence the Toonolian took a few pieces of money from one of his
pocket pouches and handed them to Dar Tarus, but I could see that it was
only with difficulty that he hid an expression of contempt, since the
Toonolians are atheists.

I asked Dar Tarus if I might accompany him into the temple, which seemed
to please him very much; and so we fell in with the stream approaching
the broad entrance. Dar Tarus gave me two of the gold pieces that he had
borrowed from Gor Hajus and told me to follow directly behind him and do
whatever I saw him doing. Directly inside the main entrance, and spread
entirely across it at intervals that permitted space for the worshippers
to pass between them, was a line of priests, their entire bodies,
including their heads and faces, covered by a mantle of white cloth. In
front of each was a substantial stand upon which rested a cash drawer.
As we approached one of these we handed him a piece of gold which he
immediately changed into many pieces of lesser value, one of which we
dropped into a box at his side; whereupon he made several passes with
his hands above our heads, dipped one of his fingers into a bowl of
dirty water which he rubbed upon the ends of our noses, mumbled a few
words which I could not understand and turned to the next in line as we
passed on into the interior of the great temple. Never have I seen such
a gorgeous display of wealth and lavish ornamentation as confronted my
eyes in this, the first of the temples of Tur that it was my fortune to
behold.

The enormous floor was unbroken by a single pillar and arranged upon it
at regular intervals were carven images resting upon gorgeous pedestals.
Some of these images were of men and some of women and many of them were
beautiful; and there were others of beasts and of strange, grotesque
creatures and many of these were hideous indeed. The first we approached
was that of a beautiful female figure; and about the pedestal of this
lay a number of men and women prone upon the floor against which they
bumped their heads seven times and then arose and dropped a piece of
money into a receptacle provided for that purpose, moving on then to
another figure. The next that Dar Tarus and I visited was that of a man
with the body of a _silian_, about the pedestal of which was arranged a
series of horizontal wooden bars in concentric circles. The bars were
about five feet from the floor and hanging from them by their knees were
a number of men and women, repeating monotonously, over and over again,
something that sounded to me like, _bibble-babble-blup_.

Dar Tarus and I swung to the bars like the others and mumbled the
meaningless phrase for a minute or two, then we swung down, dropped a
coin into the box, and moved on. I asked Dar Tarus what the words were
that we had repeated and what they meant, but he said he did not know. I
asked him if anyone knew, but he appeared shocked and said that such a
question was sacrilegious and revealed a marked lack of faith. At the
next figure we visited the people were all upon their hands and knees
crawling madly in a circle about the pedestal. Seven times around they
crawled and then they arose and put some money in a dish and went their
ways. At another the people rolled about, saying, “Tur is Tur; Tur is
Tur; Tur is Tur,” and dropping money in a golden bowl when they were
done.

“What god was that?” I whispered to Dar Tarus when we had quit this last
figure, which had no head, but eyes, nose and mouth in the center of its
belly.

“There is but one god,” replied Dar Tarus solemnly, “and he is Tur!”

“Was that Tur?” I inquired.

“Silence, man,” whispered Dar Tarus. “They would tear you to pieces were
they to hear such heresy.”

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” I exclaimed. “I did not mean to offend. I see
now that that is merely one of your idols.”

Dar Tarus clapped a hand over my mouth. “S-s-s-t!” he cautioned to
silence. “We do not worship idols—there is but one god and he is Tur!”

“Well, what are these?” I insisted, with a sweep of a hand that embraced
the several score images about which were gathered the thousands of
worshippers.

“We must not ask,” he assured me. “It is enough that we have faith that
all the works of Tur are just and righteous. Come! I shall soon be
through and we may join our companions.”

He led me next to the figure of a monstrosity with a mouth that ran
entirely around its head. It had a long tail and the breasts of a woman.
About this image were a great many people, each standing upon his head.
They also were repeating, over and over, “Tur is Tur; Tur is Tur; Tur is
Tur.” When we had done this for a minute or two, during which I had a
devil of a time maintaining my equilibrium, we arose, dropped a coin
into the box by the pedestal and moved on.

“We may go now,” said Dar Tarus. “I have done well in the sight of Tur.”

“I notice,” I remarked, “that the people repeated the same phrase before
this figure that they did at the last—Tur is Tur.”

“Oh, no,” exclaimed Dar Tarus. “On the contrary they said just exactly
the opposite from what they said at the other. At that they said, Tur is
Tur; while at this they absolutely reversed it and said, Tur is Tur. Do
you not see? They turned it right around backwards, which makes a very
great difference.”

“It sounded the same to me,” I insisted.

“That is because you lack faith,” he said sadly, and we passed out of
the temple, after depositing the rest of our money in a huge chest, of
which there were many standing about almost filled with coins.

We found Gor Hajus and Hovan Du awaiting us impatiently, the center of a
large and curious throng among which were many warriors in the metal of
Xaxa, the Jeddara of Phundahl. They wanted to see Hovan Du perform, but
Dar Tarus told them that he was tired and in an ugly mood.

“To-morrow,” he said, “when he is rested I shall bring him out upon the
avenues to amuse you.”

With difficulty we extricated ourselves, and passing into a quieter
avenue, took a roundabout way to the lodging place, where Hovan Du was
confined in a small chamber while Gor Hajus, Dar Tarus and I were
conducted by slaves to a large sleeping apartment where sleeping silks
and furs were arranged for us upon a low platform that encircled the
room and was broken only at the single entrance to the chamber. Here
were already sleeping a considerable number of men, while two armed
slaves patrolled the aisle to guard the guests from assassins.

It was still early and some of the other lodgers were conversing in low
whispers so I sought to engage Dar Tarus in conversation relative to his
religion, about which I was curious.

“The mysteries of religions always fascinate me, Dar Tarus,” I told him.

“Ah, but that is the beauty of the religion of Tur,” he exclaimed, “it
has no mysteries. It is simple, natural, scientific and every word and
work of it is susceptible of proof through the pages of Turgan, the
great book written by Tur himself.

“Tur’s home is upon the sun. There, one hundred thousands years ago, he
made Barsoom and tossed it out into space. Then he amused himself by
creating man in various forms and two sexes; and later he fashioned
animals to be food for man and each other, and caused vegetation and
water to appear that man and the animals might live. Do you not see how
simple and scientific it all is?”

But it was Gor Hajus who told me most about the religion of Tur one day
when Dar Tarus was not about. He said that the Phundahlians maintained
that Tur still created every living thing with his own hands. They
denied vigorously that man possessed the power to reproduce his kind and
taught their young that all such belief was vile; and always they hid
every evidence of natural procreation, insisting to the death that even
those things which they witnessed with their own eyes and experienced
with their own bodies in the bringing forth of their young never
transpired.

Turgan taught them that Barsoom is flat and they shut their minds to
every proof to the contrary. They would not leave Phundahl far for fear
of falling off the edge of the world; they would not permit the
development of aeronautics because should one of their ships
circumnavigate Barsoom it would be a wicked sacrilege in the eyes of Tur
who made Barsoom flat.

They would not permit the use of telescopes, for Tur taught them that
there was no other world than Barsoom and to look at another would be
heresy; nor would they permit the teaching in their schools of any
history of Barsoom that antedated the creation of Barsoom by Tur, though
Barsoom has a well authenticated written history that reaches back more
than one hundred thousand years; nor would they permit any geography of
Barsoom except that which appears in Turgan, nor any scientific
researches along biological lines. Turgan is their only text book—if it
is not in Turgan it is a wicked lie.

Much of all this and a great deal more I gathered from one source or
another during my brief stay in Phundahl, whose people are, I believe,
the least advanced in civilization of any of the red nations upon
Barsoom. Giving, as they do, all their best thought to religious
matters, they have become ignorant, bigoted and narrow, going as far to
one extreme as the Toonolians do to the other.

However, I had not come to Phundahl to investigate her culture but to
steal her queen, and that thought was uppermost in my mind when I awoke
to a new day—my first in Phundahl. Following the morning meal we set
out in the direction of the palace to reconnoitre, Dar Tarus leading us
to a point from which he might easily direct us the balance of the way,
as he did not dare accompany us to the immediate vicinity of the royal
grounds for fear of recognition, the body he now possessed having
formerly belonged to a well-known noble.

It was arranged that Gor Hajus should act as spokesman and I as keeper
of the ape. This arranged, we bade farewell to Dar Tarus and set forth,
the three of us, along a broad and beautiful avenue that led directly to
the palace gates. We had been planning and rehearsing the parts that we
were to play and which we hoped would prove so successful that they
would open the gates to us and win us to the presence of the Jeddara.

As we strolled with seeming unconcern along the avenue, I had ample
opportunity to enjoy the novel and beautiful sights of this rich
boulevard of palaces. The sun shone down upon vivid scarlet lawns,
gorgeous flowered pimalia and a score of other rarely beautiful
Barsoomian shrubs and trees, while the avenue itself was shaded by
almost perfect specimens of the magnificent sorapus. The sleeping
apartments of the buildings had all been lowered to their daytime level,
and from a hundred balconies gorgeous silks and furs were airing in the
sun. Slaves were briskly engaged with their duties about the grounds,
while upon many a balcony women and children sat at their morning meal.
Among the children we aroused considerable enthusiasm, or at least Hovan
Du did, nor was he without interest to the adults. Some of them would
have detained us for an exhibition, but we moved steadily on towards the
palace, for nowhere else had we business or concern within the walls of
Phundahl.

Around the palace gates was the usual crowd of loitering curiosity
seekers; for after all human nature is much the same everywhere, whether
skins be black or white, red or yellow or brown, upon Earth or upon
Mars. The crowd before Xaxa’s gates were largely made up of visitors
from the islands of that part of the Great Toonolian Marshes which owes
allegiance to Phundahl’s queen, and like all provincials eager for a
glimpse of royalty; though none the less to be interested by the antics
of a simian, wherefore we had a ready made audience awaiting our
arrival. Their natural fear of the great brute caused them to fall back
a little at our approach so that we had a clear avenue to the very gates
themselves, and there we halted while the crowds closed in behind,
forming a half circle about us. Gor Hajus addressed them in a loud tone
of voice that might be overheard by the warriors and their officers
beyond the gates, for it was really them we had come to entertain, not
the crowds in which we had not the slightest interest.

“Men and women of Phundahl,” cried Gor Hajus, “behold two poor panthans,
who, risking their lives, have captured and trained one of the most
savage and ferocious and at the same time most intelligent specimens of
the great white ape of Barsoom ever before seen in captivity and at
great expense have brought it to Phundahl for your entertainment and
edification. My friends, this wonderful ape is endowed with human
intelligence; he understands every word that is spoken to him. With your
kind attention, my friends, I will endeavor to demonstrate the
remarkable intelligence of this ferocious, man-eating beast—an
intelligence that has entertained the crowned heads of Barsoom and
mystified the minds of her most learned savants.”

I thought Gor Hajus did pretty well as a bally-hoo artist. I had to
smile as I listened, here upon Mars, to the familiar lines that I had
taught him out of my Earthly experience of county fairs and amusement
parks, so highly ludicrous they sounded falling from the lips of the
Assassin of Toonol; but they evidently interested his auditors and
impressed them, too, for they craned their necks and stood in earnest
eyed silence awaiting the performance of Hovan Du. Even better, several
members of the Jeddara’s Guard pricked up their ears and sauntered
towards the gates; and among them was an officer.

Gor Hajus caused Hovan Du to lie down at word of command, to get up, to
stand upon one foot, and to indicate the number of fingers that Gor
Hajus held up by growling once for each finger, thus satisfying the
audience that he could count; but these simple things were only by way
of leading up to the more remarkable achievements which we hoped would
win an audience before the Jeddara. Gor Hajus borrowed a set of harness
and weapons from a man in the crowd and had Hovan Du don it and fence
with him, and then indeed did we hear exclamations of amazement.

The warriors and the officer of Xaxa had drawn near the gates and were
interested spectators, which was precisely what we wished, and now Gor
Hajus was ready for the final, astounding revelation of Hovan Du’s
intelligence.

“These things that you have witnessed are as nothing,” he cried. “Why
this wonderful beast can even read and write. He was captured in a
deserted city near Ptarth and can read and write the language of that
country. Is there among you one who, by chance, comes from that distant
country?”

A slave spoke up. “I am from Ptarth.”

“Good!” said Gor Hajus. “Write some simple instructions and hand them to
the ape. I will turn my back that you may know that I cannot assist him
in any way.”

The slave drew forth a tablet from a pocket pouch and wrote briefly.
What he wrote he handed to Hovan Du. The ape read the message and
without hesitation moved quickly to the gate and handed it to the
officer standing upon the other side, the gate being constructed of
wrought metal in fanciful designs that offered no obstruction to the
view or to the passage of small articles. The officer took the message
and examined it.

“What does it say?” he demanded of the slave that had penned it.

“It says,” replied the latter: “Take this message to the officer who
stands just within the gates.”

There were exclamations of surprise from all parts of the crowd and
Hovan Du was compelled to repeat his performance several times with
different messages which directed him to do various things, the officer
always taking a great interest in the proceedings.

“It is marvellous,” said he at last. “The Jeddara would be amused by the
performance of this beast. Wait here, therefore, until I have sent word
to her that she may, if she so desires, command your presence.”

Nothing could have better suited us and so we waited with what patience
we might for the messenger to return; and while we waited Hovan Du
continued to mystify his audience with new proofs of his great
intelligence.



                               CHAPTER XI
                                  XAXA


The officer returned, the gates swung out and we were commanded to enter
the courtyard of the palace of Xaxa, Jeddara of Phundahl. After that
events transpired with great rapidity—surprising and totally unexpected
events. We were led through an intricate maze of corridors and chambers
until I became suspicious that we were purposely being confused, and
convinced that whether such was the intention or not the fact remained
that I could no more have retraced my steps to the outer courtyard than
I could have flown without wings. We had planned that, in the event of
gaining admission to the palace, we would carefully note whatever might
be essential to a speedy escape; but when, in a whisper, I asked Gor
Hajus if he could find his way out again he assured me that he was as
confused as I.

The palace was in no sense remarkable nor particularly interesting, the
work of the Phundahlian artists being heavy and oppressing and without
indication of high imaginative genius. The scenes depicted were mostly
of a religious nature illustrating passages from Turgan, the Phundahlian
bible, and, for the most part, were a series of monotonous repetitions.
There was one, which appeared again and again, depicting Turgan creating
a round, flat Mars and hurling it into Space, that always reminded me of
a culinary artist turning a flap jack in a child’s window.

There were also numerous paintings of what appeared to be court scenes
delineating members of the Phundahlian royal line in various activities;
it was noticeable that the more recent ones in which Xaxa appeared had
had the principal figure repainted so that there confronted me from time
to time portraits, none too well done, of the beautiful face and figure
of Valla Dia in the royal trappings of a Jeddara. The effect of these
upon me is not easy of description. They brought home to me the fact
that I was approaching, and should presently be face to face with, the
person of the woman to whom I had consecrated my love and my life, and
yet in that same person I should be confronting one whom I loathed and
would destroy.

We were halted at last before a great door and from the number of
warriors and nobles congregated before it I was confident that we were
soon to be ushered into the presence of the Jeddara. As we waited those
assembled about us eyed us with, it seemed to me, more of hostility than
curiosity and when the door swung open they accompanied us, with the
exception of a few warriors, into the chamber beyond. The room was of
medium size and at the farther side, behind a massive table, sat Xaxa.
About her were grouped a number of heavily armed nobles. As I looked
them over I wondered if among them was he for whom the body of Dar Tarus
had been filched; for we had promised him that if conditions were
favorable we would attempt to recover it.

Xaxa eyed us coldly as we were halted before her. “Let us see the beast
perform,” she commanded, and then suddenly: “What mean you by permitting
strangers to enter my presence bearing arms?” she cried. “Sag Or, see
that their weapons are removed!” and she turned to a handsome young
warrior standing near her.

Sag Or! That was the name. Before me stood the noble for whom Dar Tarus
had suffered the loss of his liberty, his body and his love. Gor Hajus
had also recognized the name and Hovan Du, too; I could tell by the way
they eyed the man as he advanced. Curtly he instructed us to hand our
weapons to two warriors who advanced to receive them. Gor Hajus
hesitated. I admit that I did not know what course to pursue.

Everyone seemed hostile and yet that might be, and doubtless was, but a
reflection of their attitude towards all strangers. If we refused to
disarm we were but three against a room full, if they chose to resort to
force; or if they turned us out of the palace because of it we would be
robbed of this seemingly god given opportunity to win to the very heart
of Xaxa’s palace and to her very presence, where we must eventually win
before we could strike. Would such an opportunity ever be freely offered
us again? I doubted it and felt that we had better assume a vague risk
now than, by refusing their demand, definitely arm their suspicions. So
I quietly removed my weapons and handed them to the warrior waiting to
receive them; and following my example, Gor Hajus did likewise, though I
can imagine with what poor grace.

Once again Xaxa signified that she would see Hovan Du perform. As Gor
Hajus put him through his antics she watched listlessly; nor did
anything that the ape did arouse the slightest flicker of interest among
the entire group assembled about the Jeddara. As the thing dragged on I
became obsessed with apprehensions that all was not right. It seemed to
me that an effort was being made to detain us for some purpose—to gain
time. I could not understand, for instance, why Xaxa required that we
repeat several times the least interesting of the ape’s performances.
And all the time Xaxa sat playing with a long, slim dagger, and I saw
that she watched me quite as much as she watched Hovan Du, while I found
it difficult to keep my eyes averted from that perfect face, even though
I knew that it was but a stolen mask behind which lurked the cruel mind
of a tyrant and a murderess.

At last came an interruption to the performance. The door opened and a
noble entered, who went directly to the Jeddara whom he addressed
briefly and in a low tone. I saw that she asked him several questions
and that she seemed vexed by his replies. Then she dismissed him with a
curt gesture and turned towards us.

“Enough of this!” she cried. Her eyes rested upon mine and she pointed
her slim dagger at me. “Where is the other?” she demanded.

“What other?” I inquired.

“There were three of you, beside the ape. I know nothing about the ape,
nor where, nor how you acquired it; but I do know all about you, Vad
Varo, and Gor Hajus, the Assassin of Toonol, and Dar Tarus. Where is Dar
Tarus?” her voice was low and musical and entirely beautiful—the voice
of Valla Dia—but behind it I knew was the terrible personality of Xaxa,
and I knew too that it would be hard to deceive her, for she must have
received what information she had directly from Ras Thavas. It had been
stupid of me not to foresee that Ras Thavas would immediately guess the
purpose of my mission and warn Xaxa. I perceived instantly that it would
be worse than useless to deny our identity, rather I must explain our
presence—if I could.

“Where is Dar Tarus?” she repeated.

“How should I know?” I countered. “Dar Tarus has reasons to believe that
he would not be safe in Phundahl and I imagine that he is not anxious
that anyone should know his whereabouts—myself included. He helped me
to escape from the Island of Thavas, for which his liberty was to be his
reward. He has not chosen to accompany me further upon my adventures.”

Xaxa seemed momentarily disarmed that I did not deny my
identity—evidently she had supposed that I would do so.

“You admit then,” she said, “that you are Vad Varo, the assistant of Ras
Thavas?”

“Have I ever sought to deny it?”

“You have disguised yourself as a red-man of Barsoom.”

“How could I travel in Barsoom otherwise, where every man’s hand is
against a stranger?”

“And why would you travel in Barsoom?” Her eyes narrowed as she waited
for my reply.

“As Ras Thavas has doubtless sent you word, I am from another world and
I would see more of this one,” I told her. “Is that strange?”

“And you come to Phundahl and seek to gain entrance to my presence and
bring with you the notorious Assassin of Toonol that you may see more of
Barsoom?”

“Gor Hajus may not return to Toonol,” I explained, “and so he must seek
service for his sword at some other court than that of Vobis Kan—in
Phundahl perhaps, or if not here he must move on. I hope that he will
decide to accompany me as I am a stranger in Barsoom, unaccustomed to
the manners and ways of her people. I would fare ill without a guide and
mentor.”

“You shall fare ill,” she cried. “You have seen all of Barsoom that you
are destined to see—you have reached the end of your adventure. You
think to deceive me, eh? You do not know, perhaps, that I have heard of
your infatuation for Valla Dia or that I am fully conversant with the
purpose of your visit to Phundahl.” Her eyes left me and swept her
nobles and her warriors. “To the pits with them!” she cried. “Later we
shall choose the manner of their passing.”

Instantly we were surrounded by a score of naked blades. There was no
escape for Gor Hajus or me, but I thought that I saw an opportunity for
Hovan Du to get away. I had had the possibility of such a contingency in
mind from the first and always I had been on the look-out for an avenue
of escape for one of us, and so the open windows at the right of the
Jeddara had not gone unnoticed, nor the great trees growing in the
courtyard beneath. Hovan Du was close beside me as Xaxa spoke.

“Go!” I whispered. “The windows are open. Go, and tell Dar Tarus what
has happened to us,” and then I fell back away from him and dragged Gor
Hajus with me as though we would attempt to resist arrest; and while I
thus distracted their attention from him Hovan Du turned towards an open
window. He had taken but a few steps when a warrior attempted to halt
him; with that the ferocious brain of the anthropoid seemed to seize
dominion over the great creature. With a hideous growl he leaped with
the agility of a cat upon the unfortunate Phundahlian, swung him high in
giant hands and using his body as a flail tumbled his fellows to right
and left as he cut a swath towards the open window nearest him.

Instantly pandemonium reigned in the apartment. The attention of all
seemed centered upon the great ape and even those who had been
confronting us turned to attack Hovan Du. And in the midst of the
confusion I saw Xaxa step to some heavy hangings directly behind her
desk, part them and disappear.

“Come!” I whispered to Gor Hajus. Apparently intent only upon watching
the conflict between the ape and the warriors I moved forward with the
fighters but always to the left towards the desk that Xaxa had just
quitted. Hovan Du was giving a good account of himself. He had discarded
his first victim and one by one had seized others as they came within
range of his long arms and powerful hands, sometimes four at a time as
he stood well braced upon two of his hand-like feet and fought with the
other four. His shock of bristling hair stood erect upon his skull and
his fierce eyes blazed with rage as, towering high above his
antagonists, he fought for his life—the most feared of all the savage
creatures of Barsoom. Perhaps his greatest advantage lay in the inherent
fear of him that was a part of every man in that room who faced him, and
it forwarded my quickly conceived plan, too, for it kept every eye
turned upon Hovan Du, so that Gor Hajus and I were able to work our way
to the rear of the desk. I think Hovan Du must have sensed my intention
then, for he did the one thing best suited to attract every eye from us
to him and, too, he gave me notice that the human half of his brain was
still alert and watchful of our welfare.

Heretofore the Phundahlians must have looked upon him as a remarkable
specimen of great ape, marvelously trained, but now, of a sudden, he
paralyzed them with awe, for his roars and growls took the form of words
and he spoke with the tongue of a human. He was near the window now.
Several of the nobles were pushing bravely forward. Among them was Sag
Or. Hovan Du reached forth and seized him, wrenching his weapons from
him. “I go,” he cried, “but let harm befall my friends and I shall
return and tear the heart from Xaxa. Tell her that, from the Great Ape
of Ptarth.”

For an instant the warriors and the nobles stood transfixed with awe.
Every eye was upon Hovan Du as he stood there with the struggling figure
of Sag Or in his mighty grasp. Gor Hajus and I were forgotten. And then
Hovan Du turned and leaped to the sill of the window and from there
lightly to the branches of the nearest tree; and with him went Sag Or,
the favorite of Xaxa, the Jeddara. At the same instant I drew Gor Hajus
with me between the hangings in the rear of Xaxa’s desk, and as they
fell behind us we found ourselves in the narrow mouth of a dark
corridor.

Without knowledge of where the passage led we could only follow it
blindly, urged on by the necessity for discovering a hiding place or an
avenue of escape from the palace before the pursuit, which we knew would
be immediately instituted, overtook us. As our eyes became accustomed to
the gloom, which was partially dispelled by a faint luminosity, we moved
more rapidly and presently came to a narrow spiral runway which
descended into a dark hole below the level of the corridor and also
arose into equal darkness above.

“Which way?” I asked Gor Hajus.

“They will expect us to descend,” he replied, “for in that direction
lies the nearest avenue of escape.”

“Then we will go up.”

“Good!” he exclaimed. “All we seek now is a place to hide until night
has fallen, for we may not escape by day.”

We had scarcely started to ascend before we heard the first sound of
pursuit—the clank of accoutrements in the corridor beneath. Yet, even
with this urge from behind, we were forced to move with great caution,
for we knew not what lay before. At the next level there was a doorway,
the door closed and locked, but there was no corridor, nor anywhere to
hide, and so we continued on upward. The second level was identical with
that just beneath, but at the third a single corridor ran straight off
into darkness and at our right was a door, ajar. The sounds of pursuit
were appreciably nearer now and the necessity for concealment seemed
increasing as the square of their growing proportions until every other
consideration was overwhelmed by it. Nor is this so strange when the
purpose of my adventure is considered and that discovery now must
assuredly spell defeat and blast for ever the slender ray of hope that
remained for the resurrection of Valla Dia in her own flesh.

There was scarce a moment for consideration. The corridor before us was
shrouded in darkness—it might be naught but a blind alley. The door was
close and ajar. I pushed it gently inward. An odor of heavy incense
greeted our nostrils and through the small aperture we saw a portion of
a large chamber garishly decorated. Directly before us, and almost
wholly obstructing our view of the entire chamber, stood a colossal
statue of a squatting manlike figure. Behind us we heard voices—our
pursuers already were ascending the spiral—they would be upon us in a
few seconds. I examined the door and discovered that it fastened with a
spring lock. I looked again into the chamber and saw no one within the
range of our vision, and then I motioned Gor Hajus to follow me and
stepping into the room closed the door behind us. We had burned our
bridges. As the door closed the lock engaged with a sharp, metallic
click.

“What was that?” demanded a voice, originating, seemingly, at the far
end of the chamber.

Gor Hajus looked at me and shrugged his shoulders in resignation (he
must have been thinking what I was thinking—that with two avenues we
had chosen the wrong one) but he smiled and there was no reproach in his
eyes.

“It sounded from the direction of the Great Tur,” replied a second
voice.

“Perhaps someone is at the door,” suggested the first speaker.

Gor Hajus and I were flattened against the back of the statue that we
might postpone as long as possible our inevitable discovery should the
speakers decide to investigate the origin of the noise that had
attracted their suspicions. I was facing against the polished stone of
the figure’s back, my hands outspread upon it. Beneath my fingers were
the carven bits of its ornamental harness—jutting protuberances that
were costly gems set in these trappings of stone, and there were
gorgeous inlays of gold filagree; but these things I had no eyes for
now. We could hear the two conversing as they came nearer. Perhaps I was
nervous, I do not know. I am sure I never shrank from an encounter when
either duty or expediency called; but in this instance both demanded
that we avoid conflict and remain undiscovered. However that may be, my
fingers must have been moving nervously over the jeweled harness of the
figure when I became vaguely, perhaps subconsciously, aware that one of
the gems was loose in its setting. I do not recall that this made any
impression upon my conscious mind, but I do know that it seemed to catch
the attention of my wandering fingers and they must have paused to play
with the loosened stone.

The voices seemed quite close now—it could be but a matter of seconds
before we should be confronted by their owners. My muscles seemed to
tense for the anticipated encounter and unconsciously I pressed heavily
upon the loosened setting—whereat a portion of the figure’s back gave
noiselessly inward revealing to us the dimly lighted interior of the
statue. We needed no further invitation; simultaneously we stepped
across the threshold and in almost the same movement I turned and closed
the panel gently behind us. I think that there was absolutely no sound
connected with the entire transaction; and following it we remained in
utter silence, motionless—scarce breathing. Our eyes became quickly
accustomed to the dim interior which we discovered was lighted through
numerous small orifices in the shell of the statue, which was entirely
hollow, and through these same orifices every outside sound came clearly
to our ears.

We had scarcely closed the opening when we heard the voices directly
outside it and simultaneously there came a hammering on the door by
which we had entered the apartment from the corridor. “Who seeks
entrance to Xaxa’s Temple?” demanded one of the voices within the room.

“’Tis I, dwar of the Jeddara’s Guard,” boomed a voice from without. “We
are seeking two who came to assassinate Xaxa.”

“Came they this way?”

“Think you, priest, that I should be seeking them here had they not?”

“How long since?”

“Scarce twenty tals since,” replied the dwar.

“Then they are not here,” the priest assured him, “for we have been here
for a full zode[A] and no other has entered the temple during that time.
Look quickly to Xaxa’s apartments above and to the roof and the hangars,
for if you followed them up the spiral there is no other where they
might flee.”

-----

[A] A tal is about one second, and a zode approximately two and one-half
hours, Earth time.

-----

“Watch then the temple carefully until I return,” shouted the warrior
and we heard him and his men moving on up the spiral.

Now we heard the priests conversing as they moved slowly past the
statue.

“What could have caused the noise that first attracted our attention?”
asked one.

“Perhaps the fugitives tried the door,” suggested the other.

“It must have been that, but they did not enter or we should have seen
them when they emerged from behind the Great Tur, for we were facing him
at the time, nor have once turned our eyes from this end of the temple.”

“Then at least they are not within the temple.”

“And where else they may be is no concern of ours.”

“No, nor if they reached Xaxa’s apartment, if they did not pass through
the temple.”

“Perhaps they did reach it.”

“And they were assassins!”

“Worse things might befall Phundahl.”

“Hush! the gods have ears.”

“Of stone.”

“But the ears of Xaxa are not of stone and they hear many things that
are not intended for them.”

“The old she-banth!”

“She is Jeddara and High Priestess.”

“Yes, but——” the voices passed beyond the range of our ears at the far
end of the temple, yet they had told me much—that Xaxa was feared and
hated by the priesthood and that the priests themselves had none too
much reverence for their deity as evidenced by the remark of one that
the gods have ears of stone. And they had told us other things,
important things, when they conversed with the dwar of the Jeddara’s
Guard.

Gor Hajus and I now felt that we had fallen by chance upon a most ideal
place of concealment, for the very guardians of the temple would swear
that we were not, could not be, where we were. Already had they thrown
the pursuers off our track.

Now, for the first time, we had an opportunity to examine our hiding
place. The interior of the statue was hollow and far above us, perhaps
forty feet, we could see the outside light shining through the mouth,
ears and nostrils, just below which a circular platform could be
discerned running around the inside of the neck. A ladder with flat
rungs led upward from the base to the platform. Thick dust covered the
floor on which we stood, and the extremity of our position suggested a
careful examination of this dust, with the result that I was at once
impressed by the evidence that it revealed; which indicated that we were
the first to enter the statue for a long time, possibly for years, as
the fine coating of almost impalpable dust that covered the floor was
undisturbed. As I searched for this evidence my eyes fell upon something
lying huddled close to the base of the ladder and approaching nearer I
saw that it was a human skeleton, while a closer examination revealed
that the skull was crushed and one arm and several ribs broken. About it
lay, dust-covered, the most gorgeous trappings I had ever seen. Its
position at the foot of the ladder, as well as the crushed skull and
broken bones, appeared quite conclusive evidence of the manner in which
death had come—the man had fallen head foremost from the circular
platform forty feet above, carrying with him to eternity, doubtless, the
secret of the entrance to the interior of the Great Tur.

I suggested this to Gor Hajus who was examining the dead man’s trappings
and he agreed with me that such must have been the manner of his death.

“He was a high priest of Tur,” whispered Gor Hajus, “and probably a
member of the royal house—possibly a Jeddak. He has been dead a long
time.”

“I am going up above,” I said. “I will test the ladder. If it is safe,
follow me up. I think we shall be able to see the interior of the temple
through the mouth of Tur.”

“Go carefully,” Gor Hajus admonished. “The ladder is very old.”

I went carefully, testing each rung before I trusted my weight to it,
but I found the old sorapus wood of which it was constructed sound and
as staunch as steel. How the high priest came to his death must always
remain a mystery, for the ladder or the circular platform would have
carried the weight of a hundred red-men.

From the platform I could see through the mouth of Tur. Below me was a
large chamber along the sides of which were ranged other, though lesser,
idols. They were even more grotesque than those I had seen in the temple
in the city and their trappings were rich beyond the conception of
man—Earthman—for the gems of Barsoom scintillate with rays unknown to
us and of such gorgeous and blinding beauty as to transcend description.
Directly in front of the Great Tur was an altar of palthon, a rare and
beautiful stone, blood red, in which are traced in purest white Nature’s
most fanciful designs; the whole vastly enhanced by the wondrous polish
which the stone takes beneath the hand of the craftsman.

Gor Hajus joined me and together we examined the interior of the temple.
Tall windows lined two sides, letting in a flood of light. At the far
end, opposite the Great Tur, were two enormous doors, closing the main
entrance to the chamber, and here stood the two priests whom we had
heard conversing. Otherwise the temple was deserted. Incense burned upon
tiny altars before each of the minor idols, but whether any burned
before the Great Tur we could not see.

Having satisfied our curiosity relative to the temple, we returned our
attention to a further examination of the interior of Tur’s huge head
and were rewarded by the discovery of another ladder leading upward
against the rear wall to a higher and smaller platform that evidently
led to the eyes. It did not take me long to investigate and here I found
a most comfortable chair set before a control that operated the eyes, so
that they could be made to turn from side to side, or up or down,
according to the whim of the operator; and here too was a speaking-tube
leading to the mouth. This again I must needs investigate and so I
returned to the lower platform and there I discovered a device beneath
the tongue of the idol, and this device, which was in the nature of an
amplifier, was connected with the speaking-tube from above. I could not
repress a smile as I considered these silent witnesses to the perfidy of
man and thought of the broken thing lying at the foot of the ladder.
Tur, I could have sworn, had been silent for many years.

Together Gor Hajus and I returned to the higher platform and again I
made a discovery—the eyes of Tur were veritable periscopes. By turning
them we could see any portion of the temple and what we saw through the
eyes was magnified. Nothing could escape the eyes of Tur and presently,
when the priests began to talk again, we discovered that nothing could
escape Tur’s ears, for every slightest sound in the temple came clearly
to us. What a valuable adjunct to high priesthood this Great Tur must
have been in the days when that broken skeleton lying below us was a
thing of blood and life!



                              CHAPTER XII
                              THE GREAT TUR


The day dragged wearily for Gor Hajus and me. We watched the various
priests who came in pairs at intervals to relieve those who had preceded
them, and we listened to their prattle, mostly idle gossip of court
scandals. At times they spoke of us and we learned that Hovan Du had
escaped with Sag Or, nor had they been located as yet, nor had Dar
Tarus. The whole court was mystified by our seemingly miraculous
disappearance. Three thousand people, the inmates and attaches of the
palace, were constantly upon the look-out for us. Every part of the
palace and the palace grounds had been searched and searched again. The
pits had been explored more thoroughly than they had been explored
within the memory of the oldest retainer, and it seemed that queer
things had been unearthed there—things of which not even Xaxa dreamed;
and the priests whispered that at least one great and powerful house
would fall because of what a dwar of the Jeddara’s Guard had discovered
in a remote precinct of the pits.

As the sun dropped below the horizon and darkness came, the interior of
the temple was illuminated by a soft white light, brilliantly but
without the glare of Earthly artificial illumination. More priests came
and many young girls, priestesses. They performed before the idols,
chanting meaningless gibberish. Gradually the chamber filled with
worshippers, nobles of the Jeddara’s court with their women and their
retainers, forming in two lines along either side of the temple before
the lesser idols, leaving a wide aisle from the great entrance to the
foot of the Great Tur and towards this aisle they all faced, waiting.
For what were they waiting? Their eyes were turned expectantly towards
the closed doors of the great entrance and Gor Hajus and I felt our eyes
held there too, fascinated by the suggestion that they were about to
open and reveal some stupendous spectacle.

And presently the doors did swing slowly open and all we saw was what
appeared to be a great roll of carpet lying upon its side across the
opening. Twenty slaves, naked but for their scant leather harness, stood
behind the huge roll; and as the doors swung fully open they rolled the
carpet inward to the very feet of the altar before the Great Tur,
covering the wide aisle from the entranceway almost to the idol with a
thick, soft rug of gold and white and blue. It was the most beautiful
thing in the temple where all else was blatant, loud and garish or
hideous, or grotesque. And then the doors closed and again we waited;
but not for long. Bugles sounded from without, the sound increasing as
they neared the entrance. Once more the doors swung in. Across the
entrance stood a double rank of gorgeously trapped nobles. Slowly they
entered the temple and behind them came a splendid chariot drawn by two
banths, the fierce Barsoomian lion, held in leash by slaves on either
side. Upon the chariot was a litter and in the litter, reclining at
ease, lay Xaxa. As she entered the temple the people commenced to chant
her praises in a monotonous sing-song. Chained to the chariot and
following on foot was a red warrior and behind him a procession composed
of fifty young men and an equal number of young girls.

Gor Hajus touched my arm. “The prisoner,” he whispered, “do you
recognize him?”

“Dar Tarus!” I exclaimed.

It was Dar Tarus—they had discovered his hiding place and arrested him,
but what of Hovan Du? Had they taken him, also? If they had it must have
been only after slaying him, for they never would have sought to capture
the fierce beast, nor would he have brooked capture. I looked for Sag
Or, but he was nowhere to be seen within the temple and this fact gave
me hope that Hovan Du might be still at liberty.

The chariot was halted before the altar and Xaxa alighted; the lock that
held Dar Tarus’ chain to the vehicle was opened and the banths were led
away by their attendants to one side of the temple behind the lesser
idols. Then Dar Tarus was dragged roughly to the altar and thrown upon
it and Xaxa, mounting the steps at its base, came close to his side and
with hands outstretched above him looked up at the Great Tur towering
above her. How beautiful she was! How richly trapped! Ah, Valla Dia!
that your sweet form should be debased to the cruel purposes of the
wicked mind that now animates you!

Xaxa’s eyes now rested upon the face of the Great Tur. “O, Tur, Father
of Barsoom,” she cried, “behold the offering we place before you,
All-seeing, All-knowing, All-powerful One, and frown no more upon us in
silence. For a hundred years you have not deigned to speak aloud to your
faithful slaves; never since Hora San, the high priest, was taken away
by you on that long-gone night of mystery have you unsealed your lips to
your people. Speak, Great Tur! Give us some sign, ere we plunge this
dagger into the heart of our offering, that our works are pleasing in
thine eyes. Tell us whither went the two who came here to-day to
assassinate your high priestess; reveal to us the fate of Sag Or. Speak,
Great Tur, ere I strike,” and she raised her slim blade above the heart
of Dar Tarus and looked straight upward into the eyes of Tur.

And then, as a bolt from the blue, I was struck by the great
inspiration. My hand sought the lever controlling the eyes of Tur and I
turned them until they completed a full circuit of the room and rested
again upon Xaxa. The effect was magical. Never before had I seen a whole
room full of people so absolutely stunned and awe-struck as were these.
As the eyes returned to Xaxa she seemed turned to stone and her copper
skin to have taken on an ashen purple hue. Her dagger remained stiffly
poised above the heart of Dar Tarus. Not for a hundred years had they
seen the eyes of the Great Tur move. Then I placed the speaking-tube to
my lips and the voice of Tur rumbled through the chamber. As from one
great throat a gasp arose from the crowded temple floor and the people
fell upon their knees and buried their faces in their hands.

“Judgment is mine!” I cried. “Strike not lest ye be struck! To Tur is
the sacrifice!”

I was silent then, attempting to plan how best to utilize the advantage
I had gained. Fearfully, one by one, the bowed heads were raised and
frightened eyes sought the face of Tur. I gave them another thrill by
letting the god’s eyes wander slowly over the upturned faces, and while
I was doing this I had another inspiration, which I imparted to Gor
Hajus in a low whisper. I could hear him chuckle as he started down the
ladder to carry my new plan into effect. Again I had recourse to the
speaking-tube.

“The sacrifice is Tur’s,” I rumbled. “Tur will strike with his own hand.
Extinguish the lights and let no one move under pain of instant death
until Tur gives the word. Prostrate yourselves and bury your eyes in
your palms, for whosoever sees shall be blinded when the spirit of Tur
walks among his people.”

Down they went again and one of the priests hurriedly extinguished the
lights, leaving the temple in total darkness; and while Gor Hajus was
engaged with his part of the performance I tried to cover any accidental
noise he might make by keeping up a running fire of celestial
revelation.

“Xaxa, the high priestess, asks what has become of the two whom she
believed came to assassinate her. I, Tur took them to myself. Vengeance
is Tur’s! And Sag Or I took, also. In the guise of a great ape I came
and took Sag Or and none knew me; though even a fool might have guessed,
for who is there ever heard a great ape speak with tongue of man unless
he was animated by the spirit of Tur?”

I guess that convinced them, it being just the sort of logic suited to
their religion, or it would have convinced them if they had not already
been convinced. I wondered what might be passing in the mind of the
doubting priest who had remarked that the gods had ears of stone.

Presently I heard a noise upon the ladder beneath me and a moment later
someone climbed upon the circular landing.

“All’s well,” whispered the voice of Gor Hajus. “Dar Tarus is with me.”

“Light the temple!” I commanded through the speaking-tube. “Rise and
look upon your altar.”

The lights flashed on and the people rose, trembling, to their feet.
Every eye was bent upon the altar and what they saw there seemed to
crush them with terror. Some of the women screamed and fainted. It all
impressed me with the belief that none of them had taken this god of
theirs with any great amount of seriousness, and now when they were
confronted with absolute proof of his miraculous powers they were swept
completely off their feet. Where, a few moments before, they had seen a
live sacrifice awaiting the knife of the high priestess they saw now
only a dust-covered human skull. I grant you that without an explanation
it might have seemed a miracle to almost anyone so quickly had Gor Hajus
run from the base of the idol with the skull of the dead high priest and
returned again leading Dar Tarus with him. I had been a bit concerned as
to what the attitude of Dar Tarus might be, who was no more conversant
with the hoax than were the Phundahlians, but Gor Hajus had whispered
“For Valla Dia” in his ear and he had understood and come quickly.

“The Great Tur,” I now announced, “is angry with his people. For a long
time they have denied him in their hearts even while they made open
worship of him. The Great Tur is angry with Xaxa. Only through Xaxa may
the people of Phundahl be saved from destruction, for the Great Tur is
angry. Go then from the temple and the palace leaving no human being
here other than Xaxa, the high priestess of Tur. Leave her here in
solitude beside the altar. Tur would speak with her alone.”

I could see Xaxa fairly shrivel in fright.

“Is the Jeddara Xaxa, High Priestess of the Great God Tur, afraid to
meet her master?” I demanded. The woman’s jaw trembled so that she could
not reply. “Obey! or Xaxa and all her people shall be struck dead!” I
fairly screamed at them.

Like cattle they turned and fled towards the entrance and Xaxa, her
knees shaking so that she could scarce stand erect, staggered after
them. A noble saw her and pushed her roughly back, but she shrieked and
ran after him when he had left her. Then others dragged her to the foot
of the altar and threw her roughly down and one menaced her with his
sword, but at that I called aloud that no harm must befall the Jeddara
if they did not wish the wrath of Tur to fall upon them all. They left
her lying there and so weak from fright was she that she could not rise,
and a moment later the temple was empty, but not until I had shouted
after them to clear the whole palace within a quarter zode, for my plan
required a free and unobstructed as well as unobserved field of action.

The last of them was scarce out of sight ere we three descended from the
head of Tur and stepped out upon the temple floor behind the idol.
Quickly I ran towards the altar, upon the other side of which Xaxa had
dropped to the floor in a swoon. She still lay there and I gathered her
into my arms and ran quickly back to the door in the wall behind the
idol—the doorway through which Gor Hajus and I had entered the temple
earlier in the day.

Preceded by Gor Hajus and followed by Dar Tarus, I ascended the runway
towards the roof where the conversation of the priests had informed us
were located the royal hangars. Had Hovan Du and Sag Or been with us my
cup of happiness would have been full, for within half a day, what had
seemed utter failure and defeat had been turned almost to assured
success. At the landing where lay Xaxa’s apartments we halted and looked
within, for the long night voyage I contemplated would be cold and the
body of Valla Dia must be kept warm with suitable robes even though it
was inhabited by the spirit of Xaxa. Seeing no one we entered and soon
found what we required. As I was adjusting a heavy robe of orluk about
the Jeddara she regained consciousness. Instantly she recognized me and
then Gor Hajus and finally Dar Tarus. Mechanically she felt for her
dagger, but it was not there and when she saw my smile she paled with
anger. At first she must have jumped to the conclusion that she had been
the victim of a hoax, but presently a doubt seemed to enter her
mind—she must have been recalling some of the things that had
transpired within the temple of the Great Tur, and these, neither she
nor any other mortal might explain.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I am Tur,” I replied, brazenly.

“What is your purpose with me?”

“I am going to take you away from Phundahl,” I replied.

“But I do not wish to go. You are not Tur. You are Vad Varo. I shall
call for help and my guards will come and slay you.”

“There is no one in the palace,” I reminded her. “Did I, Tur, not send
them away?”

“I shall not go with you,” she announced firmly. “Rather would I die.”

“You shall go with me, Xaxa,” I replied, and though she fought and
struggled we carried her from her apartment and up the spiral runway to
the roof where, I prayed, I should find the hangars and the royal
fliers; and as we stepped out into the fresh night air of Mars we did
see the hangars before us, but we saw something else—a group of
Phundahlian warriors of the Jeddara’s Guard whom they had evidently
failed to notify of the commands of Tur. At sight of them Xaxa cried
aloud in relief.

“To me! To the Jeddara!” she cried. “Strike down these assassins and
save me!”

There were three of them and there were three of us, but they were armed
and between us we had but Xaxa’s slender dagger. Gor Hajus carried that.
Victory seemed turned to defeat as they rushed towards us; but it was
Gor Hajus who gave them pause. He seized Xaxa and raised the blade, its
point above her heart. “Halt!” he cried, “or I strike.”

The warriors hesitated; Xaxa was silent, stricken with fear. Thus we
stood in stalemate when, just beyond the three Phundahlian warriors, I
saw a movement at the roof’s edge. What was it? In the dim light I saw
something that seemed a human head, and yet unhuman, rise slowly above
the edge of the roof, and then, silently, a great form followed, and
then I recognized it—Hovan Du, the great white ape.

“Tell them,” I cried to Xaxa in a loud voice that Hovan Du might hear,
“that I am Tur, for see, I come again in the semblance of a white ape!”
and I pointed to Hovan Du. “I would not destroy these poor warriors. Let
them lay down their weapons and go in peace.”

The men turned, and seeing the great ape standing there behind them,
materialized, it might have been, out of thin air, were shaken.

“Who is he, Jeddara?” demanded one of the men.

“It is Tur,” replied Xaxa in a weak voice; “but save me from him! Save
me from him!”

“Throw down your weapons and your harness and fly!” I commanded, “or Tur
will strike you dead. Heard you not the people rushing from the palace
at Tur’s command? How think you we brought Xaxa hither with a lesser
power than Tur’s when all her palace was filled with her fighting men?
Go, while yet you may in safety.”

One of them unbuckled his harness and threw it with his weapons upon the
roof, and as he started at a run for the spiral his companions followed
his example. Then Hovan Du approached us.

“Well done, Vad Varo,” he growled, “though I know not what it is all
about.”

“That you shall know later,” I told him, “but now we must find a swift
flier and be upon our way. Where is Sag Or? Does he still live?”

“I have him securely bound and safely hidden in one of the high towers
of the palace,” replied the ape. “It will be easy to get him when we
have launched a flier.”

Xaxa was eyeing us ragefully. “You are not Tur!” she cried. “The ape has
exposed you.”

“But too late to profit you in any way, Jeddara,” I assured her. “Nor
could you convince one of your people who stood in the temple this night
that I am not Tur. Nor do you, yourself, know that I am not. The ways of
Tur, the all-powerful, all-knowing, are beyond the conception of mortal
man. To you then, Jeddara, I am Tur, and you will find me all-powerful
enough for my purposes.”

I think she was still perplexed as we found and dragged forth a flier,
aboard which we placed her, and turned the craft’s nose towards a lofty
tower where Hovan Du told us lay Sag Or.

“I shall be glad to see myself again,” said Dar Tarus, with a laugh.

“And you shall be yourself again, Dar Tarus,” I told him, “as soon as
ever we can come again to the pits of Ras Thavas.”

“Would that I might be reunited with my sweet Kara Vasa,” he sighed.
“Then, Vad Varo, the last full measure of my gratitude would be yours.”

“Where may we find her?”

“Alas, I do not know. It was while I was searching for her that I was
apprehended by the agents of Xaxa. I had been to her father’s palace
only to learn that he had been assassinated and his property
confiscated. The whereabouts of Kara Vasa they either did not know or
would not divulge; but they held me there upon one pretext or another
until a detachment of the Jeddara’s Guard could come and arrest me.”

“We shall have to make inquiries of Sag Or,” I said.

We were now coming to a stop alongside a window of the tower Hovan Du
had indicated, and he and Dar Tarus leaped to the sill and disappeared
within. We were all armed now, having taken the weapons discarded by the
three warriors at the hangars, and with a good flier beneath our feet
and all our little company reunited, with Xaxa and Sag Or, whom they
were now conducting aboard, we were indeed in high spirits.

As we got under way again, setting our nose towards the east, I asked
Sag Or if he knew what had become of Kara Vasa, but he assured me, in
surly tones, that he did not.

“Think again, Sag Or,” I admonished him, “and think hard, for perhaps
upon your answer your life depends.”

“What chance have I for life?” he sneered, casting an ugly look towards
Dar Tarus.

“You have every chance,” I replied. “Your life lies in the hollow of my
hand; and you serve me well it shall be yours, though in your own body
and not in that belonging to Dar Tarus.”

“You do not intend destroying me?”

“Neither you nor Xaxa,” I answered. “Xaxa shall live on in her own body
and you in yours.”

“I do not wish to live in my own body,” snapped the Jeddara.

Dar Tarus stood looking at Sag Or—looking at his own body like some
disembodied soul—as weird a situation as I have ever encountered.

“Tell me, Sag Or,” he said, “what has become of Kara Vasa. When my body
has been restored to me and yours to you I shall hold no enmity against
you if you have not harmed Kara Vasa and will tell me where she be.”

“I cannot tell you, for I do not know. She was not harmed, but the day
after you were assassinated she disappeared from Phundahl. We were
positive that she was spirited away by her father, but from him we could
learn nothing. Then he was assassinated,” the man glanced at Xaxa, “and
since, we have learned nothing. A slave told us that Kara Vasa, with
some of her father’s warriors, had embarked upon a flier and set out for
Helium, where she purposed placing herself under the protection of the
great War Lord of Barsoom; but of the truth of that we know nothing.
This is the truth. I, Sag Or, have spoken!”

It was futile then to search Phundahl for Kara Vasa and so we held our
course towards the east and the Tower of Thavas.



                              CHAPTER XIII
                             BACK TO THAVAS


All that night we sped beneath the hurtling moons of Mars, as strange a
company as was ever foregathered upon any planet, I will swear. Two men,
each possessing the body of the other, an old and wicked empress whose
fair body belonged to a youthful damsel beloved by another of this
company, a great white ape dominated by half the brain of a human being,
and I, a creature of a distant planet, with Gor Hajus, the Assassin of
Toonol, completed the mad roster.

I could scarce keep my eyes from the fair form and face of Xaxa, and it
is well that I was thus fascinated for I caught her in the act of
attempting to hurl herself overboard, so repugnant to her was the
prospect of living again in her own old and hideous corpse. After that I
kept her securely bound and fastened to the deck, though it hurt me to
see the bonds upon those fair limbs.

Dar Tarus was almost equally fascinated by the contemplation of his own
body, which he had not seen for many years.

“By my first ancestor,” he ejaculated. “It must be that I was the least
vain of fellows, for I give you my word I had no idea that I was so fair
to look upon. I can say this now without seeming egotism, since I am
speaking of Sag Or,” and he laughed aloud at his little joke.

But the fact remained that the body and face of Dar Tarus were beautiful
indeed, though there was a hint of steel in the eyes and the set of the
jaw that betokened fighting blood. Little wonder, then, that Sag Or had
coveted the body of this young warrior; for his own, which Dar Tarus now
possessed, was marked by dissipation and age; nor that Dar Tarus yearned
to come again into his own.

Just before dawn we dropped to one of the numerous small islands that
dot the Great Toonolian Marshes and nosing the ship between the boles of
great trees we came to rest upon the surface of the ground, half buried
in the lush and gorgeous jungle grasses, well hidden from the sight of
possible pursuers. Here Hovan Du found fruits and nuts for us which the
simian section of his brain pronounced safe for human consumption, and
instinct led him to a nearby spring from which there bubbled delicious
water. We four were half famished and much fatigued, so that the food
and water were most welcome to us; nor did Xaxa and Sag Or refuse them.
Having eaten, three of us lay down upon the ship’s deck to sleep, after
securely chaining our prisoners, while the fourth stood watch. In this
way, taking turns, we slept away most of the day and when night fell,
rested and refreshed, we were ready to resume our flight.

Making a wide detour to the south we avoided Toonol and about two hours
before dawn we sighted the high Tower of Thavas. I think we were all
keyed up to the highest pitch of excitement, for there was not one
aboard that flier but whose whole life would be seriously affected by
the success or failure of our venture. As a first precaution we secured
the hands of Xaxa and Sag Or behind their backs and placed gags in their
mouths, lest they succeed in giving warning of our approach.

Cluros had long since set and Thuria was streaming towards the horizon
as we stopped our motor and drifted without lights a mile or two south
of the tower while we waited impatiently for Thuria to leave the heavens
to darkness and the world to us. To the north-west the lights of Toonol
shone plainly against the dark background of the windows of the great
laboratory of Ras Thavas, but the tower itself was dark from plinth to
pinnacle.

And now the nearer moon dropped plummetlike beneath the horizon and left
the scene to darkness and to us. Dar Tarus started the motor, the
wonderful, silent motor of Barsoom, and we moved slowly, close to the
ground, towards Ras Thavas’ island, with no sound other than the gentle
whirring of our propeller; nor could that have been heard scarce a
hundred feet so slowly was it turning. Close off the island we came to a
stop behind a cluster of giant trees and Hovan Du, going into the bow,
uttered a few low growls. Then we stood waiting in silence, listening.
There was a rustling in the dense undergrowth upon the shore. Again
Hovan Du voiced his low, grim call and this time there came an answer
from the black shadows. Hovan Du spoke in the language of the great apes
and the invisible creature replied.

For five minutes, during which time we were aware from the different
voices that others had joined in the conversation from the shore, the
apes conversed, and then Hovan Du turned to me.

“It is arranged,” he said. “They will permit us to hide our ship beneath
these trees and they will permit us to pass out again when we are ready
and board her, nor will they harm us in any way. All they ask is that
when we are through we shall leave the gate open that leads to the inner
court.”

“Do they understand that while an ape goes in with us none will return
with us?” I asked.

“Yes; but they will not harm us.”

“Why do they wish the gate left open?”

“Do not inquire too closely, Vad Varo,” replied Hovan Du. “It should be
enough that the great apes make it possible for you to restore Valla
Dia’s body to her brain and escape with her from this terrible place.”

“It is enough,” I replied. “When may we land?”

“At once. They will help us drag the ship beneath the trees and make her
fast.”

“But first we must top the wall to the inner court,” I reminded him.

“Yes, true—I had forgotten that we cannot open the gate from this
side.”

He spoke again, then, to the apes, whom we had not yet seen; and then he
told us that all was arranged and that he and Dar Tarus would return
with the ship after landing us inside the wall.

Again we got under way and rising slowly above the outer wall dropped
silently to the courtyard beyond. The night was unusually dark, clouds
having followed Thuria and blotted out the stars after the moon had set.
No one could have seen the ship at a distance of fifty feet, and we
moved almost without noise. Quietly we lowered our prisoners over the
side and Gor Hajus and I remained with them while Dar Tarus and Hovan Du
rose again and piloted the ship back to its hiding place.

I moved at once to the gate and, unlatching it, waited. I heard nothing.
Never, I think, have I endured such utter silence. There came no sound
from the great pile rising behind me, nor any from the dark jungle
beyond the wall. Dimly I could see the huddled forms of Gor Hajus, Xaxa
and Sag Or beside me—otherwise I might have been alone in the darkness
and immensity of space.

It seemed an eternity that I waited there before I heard a soft
scratching on the panels of the heavy gate. I pushed it open and Dar
Tarus and Hovan Du stepped silently within as I closed and relatched it.
No one spoke. All had been carefully planned so that there was no need
of speech. Dar Tarus and I led the way, Gor Hajus and Hovan Du brought
up the rear with the prisoners. We moved directly to the entrance to the
tower, found the runway and descended to the pits. Every fortune seemed
with us. We met no one, we had no difficulty in finding the vault we
sought, and once within we secured the door so that we had no fear of
interruption—that was our first concern—and then I hastened to the
spot where I had hidden Valla Dia behind the body of a large warrior,
tucked far back against the wall in a dark corner. My heart stood still
as I dragged aside the body of the warrior, for always had I feared that
Ras Thavas, knowing my interest in her and guessing the purpose of my
venture, would cause every chamber and pit to be searched and every body
to be examined until he found her for whom he sought; but my fears had
been baseless, for there lay the body of Xaxa, the old and wrinkled
casket of the lovely brain of my beloved, where I had hidden it against
this very night. Gently I lifted it out and bore it to one of the two
ersite topped tables. Xaxa, standing there bound and gagged, looked on
with eyes that shot hate and loathing at me and at that hideous body to
which her brain was so soon to be restored.

As I lifted her to the adjoining slab she tried to wriggle from my grasp
and hurl herself to the floor, but I held her and soon had strapped her
securely in place. A moment later she was unconscious and the
re-transference was well under way. Gor Hajus, Sag Or and Hovan Du were
interested spectators, but to Dar Tarus, who stood ready to assist me,
it was an old story, for he had worked in the laboratory and seen more
than enough of similar operations. I will not bore you with a
description of it—it was but a repetition of what I had done many times
in preparation for this very event.

At last it was completed and my heart fairly stood still as I replaced
the embalming fluid with Valla Dia’s own life blood and saw the color
mount to her cheeks and her rounded bosom rise and fall to her gentle
breathing. Then she opened her eyes and looked up into mine.

“What has happened, Vad Varo?” she asked. “Has something gone amiss that
you have recalled me so soon, or did I not respond to the fluid?”

Her eyes wandered past me to the faces of the others standing about.
“What does it mean?” she asked. “Who are these?”

I raised her gently in my arms and pointed at the body of Xaxa lying
deathlike on the ersite slab beside her. Valla Dia’s eyes went wide. “It
is done?” she cried, and clapped her hands to her face and felt of all
her features and of the soft, delicate contours of her smooth neck; and
yet she could scarce believe it and asked for a glass and I took one
from Xaxa’s pocket pouch and handed it to her. She looked long into it
and the tears commenced to roll down her cheeks, and then she looked up
at me through the mist of them and put her dear arms about my neck and
drew my face down to hers. “My chieftain,” she whispered—that was all.
But it was enough. For those two words I had risked my life and faced
unknown dangers, and gladly would I risk my life again for that same
reward and always, for ever.

Another night had fallen before I had completed the restoration of Dar
Tarus and Hovan Du. Xaxa, and Sag Or and the great ape I left sleeping
the deathlike sleep of Ras Thavas’ marvelous anaesthetic. The great ape
I had no intention of restoring, but the others I felt bound to return
to Phundahl, though Dar Tarus, now resplendent in his own flesh and the
gorgeous trappings of Sag Or, urged me not to inflict them again upon
the long suffering Phundahlians.

“But I have given my word,” I told him.

“Then they must be returned,” he said.

“Though what I may do afterward is another matter,” I added, for there
had suddenly occurred to me a bold scheme.

I did not tell Dar Tarus what it was nor would I have had time, for at
the very instant we heard someone without trying the door and then we
heard voices and presently the door was tried again, this time with
force. We made no noise, but just waited. I hoped that whoever it was
would go away. The door was very strong and when they tried to force it
they must soon have realized the futility of it because they quickly
desisted and we heard their voices for only a short time thereafter and
then they seemed to have gone away.

“We must leave,” I said, “before they return.”

Strapping the hands of Xaxa and Sag Or behind them and placing gags in
their mouths I quickly restored them to life, nor ever did I see two
less grateful. The looks they cast upon me might well have killed could
looks do that, and with what disgust they viewed one another was writ
plain in their eyes.

Cautiously unbolting the door I opened it very quietly, a naked sword in
my right hand and Dar Tarus, Gor Hajus and Hovan Du ready with theirs at
my shoulder, and as it swung back it revealed two standing in the
corridor watching—two of Ras Thavas’ slaves; and one of them was
Yamdor, his body servant. At sight of us the fellow gave a loud cry of
recognition and before I could leap through the doorway and prevent
them, they had both turned and were flying up the corridor as fast as
their feet would carry them.

Now there was no time to be lost—everything must be sacrificed to
speed. Without thought of caution or silence we hastened through the
pits towards the runway in the tower; and when we stepped into the inner
court it was night again, but the farther moon was in the heavens and
there were no clouds. The result was that we were instantly discovered
by a sentry, who gave the alarm as he ran forward to intercept us.

What was a sentry doing in the courtyard of Ras Thavas? I could not
understand. And what were these? A dozen armed warriors were hurrying
across the court on the heels of the sentry.

“Toonolians!” shouted Gor Hajus. “The warriors of Vobis Kan, Jeddak of
Toonol!”

Breathlessly we raced for the gate. If we could but reach it first! But
we were handicapped by our prisoners, who held back the moment they
discovered how they might embarrass us, and so it was that we all met in
front of the gate. Dar Tarus and Gor Hajus and Hovan Du and I put Valla
Dia and our prisoners behind us and fought the twenty warriors of Toonol
with the odds five to one against us; but we had more heart in the fight
than they and perhaps that gave us an advantage, though I am sure that
Gor Hajus was as ten men himself so terrible was the effect of his name
alone upon the men of Toonol.

“Gor Hajus!” cried one, the first to recognize him.

“Yes, it is Gor Hajus,” replied the assassin. “Prepare to meet your
ancestors!” and he drove into them like a racing propeller, and I was
upon his right and Hovan Du and Dar Tarus upon his left.

It was a pretty fight, but it must eventually have gone against us, so
greatly were we outnumbered, had I not thought of the apes and the gate
beside us. Working my way to it I threw it open and there upon the
outside, attracted by the noise of the conflict, stood a full dozen of
the great beasts. I called to Gor Hajus and the others to fall back
beside the gate, and as the apes rushed in I pointed to the Toonolian
warriors.

I think the apes were at a loss to know which were friends and which
were foes, but the Toonolians apprised them by attacking them, while we
stood aside with our points upon the ground. Just a moment we stood thus
waiting. Then as the apes rushed among the Toonolian warriors, we
slipped into the darkness of the jungle beyond the outer wall and sought
our flier. Behind us we could hear the growls and the roars of the
beasts mingled with the shouts and the curses of the men; and the sound
still rose from the courtyard as we clambered aboard the flier and
pushed off into the night.

As soon as we felt that we were safely escaped from the Island of Thavas
I removed the gags from the mouths of Xaxa and Sag Or and I can tell you
that I immediately regretted it, for never in my life had I been
subjected to such horrid abuse as poured from the wrinkled old lips of
the Jeddara; and it was only when I started to gag her again that she
promised to desist.

My plans were now well laid and they included a return to Phundahl since
I could not start for Duhor with Valla Dia without provisions and fuel;
nor could I obtain these elsewhere than in Phundahl, since I felt that I
held the key that would unlock the resources of that city to me; whereas
all Toonol was in arms against us owing to Vobis Kan’s fear of Gor
Hajus.

So we retraced our way towards Phundahl as secretly as we had come, for
I had no mind to be apprehended before we had gained entrance to the
palace of Xaxa.

Again we rested over daylight upon the same island that had given us
sanctuary two days before, and at dark we set out upon the last leg of
our journey to Phundahl. If there had been pursuit we had seen naught of
it; and that might easily be explained by the great extent of the
uninhabited marshes across which we flew and the far southerly course
that we followed close above the ground.

As we neared Phundahl I caused Xaxa and Sag Or to be again gagged, and
further, I had their heads bandaged so that none might recognize them;
and then we sailed straight over the city towards the palace, hoping
that we would not be discovered and yet ready in the event that we
should be.

But we came to the hangars on the roof apparently unseen and constantly
I coached each upon the part he was to play. As we were settling slowly
to the roof Dar Tarus, Hovan Du and Valla Dia quickly bound Gor Hajus
and me and wrapped our heads in bandages, for we had seen below the
figures of the hangar guard. Had we found the roof unguarded the binding
of Gor Hajus and me had been unnecessary.

As we dropped nearer one of the guard hailed us. “What ship?” he cried.

“The royal flier of the Jeddara of Phundahl,” replied Dar Tarus,
“returning with Xaxa and Sag Or.”

The warriors whispered among themselves as we dropped nearer and I must
confess that I felt a bit nervous as to the outcome of our ruse; but
they permitted us to land without a word and when they saw Valla Dia
they saluted her after the manner of Barsoom, as, with the regal
carriage of an empress, she descended from the deck of the flier.

“Carry the prisoners to my apartments!” she commanded, addressing the
guard, and with the help of Hovan Du and Dar Tarus the four bound and
muffled figures were carried from the flier down the spiral runway to
the apartments of Xaxa, Jeddara of Phundahl. Here excited slaves
hastened to do the bidding of the Jeddara. Word must have flown through
the palace with the speed of light that Xaxa had returned, for almost
immediately court functionaries began to arrive and be announced; but
Valla Dia sent word that she would see no one for a while. Then she
dismissed her slaves, and at my suggestion Dar Tarus investigated the
apartments with a view to finding a safe hiding place for Gor Hajus, me,
and the prisoners. This he soon found in a small antechamber directly
off the main apartment of the royal suite; the bonds were removed from
the assassin and myself and together we carried Xaxa and Sag Or into the
room.

The entrance here was furnished with a heavy door over which there were
hangings that completely hid it. I bade Hovan Du, who, like the rest of
us, wore Phundahlian harness, stand guard before the hangings and let no
one enter but members of our own party. Gor Hajus and I took up our
positions just within the hangings through which we cut small holes that
permitted us to see all that went on within the main chamber, for I was
greatly concerned for Valla Dia’s safety while she posed as Xaxa, whom I
knew to be both feared and hated by her people and therefore always
liable to assassination.

Valla Dia summoned the slaves and bade them admit the officials of the
court, and as the doors opened fully a score of nobles entered. They
appeared ill at ease and I could guess that they were recalling the
episode in the temple when they had deserted their Jeddara and even
hurled her roughly at the feet of the Great Tur, but Valla Dia soon put
them at their ease.

“I have summoned you,” she said, “to hear the word of Tur. Tur would
speak again to his people. Three days and three nights have I spent with
Tur. His anger against Phundahl is great. He bids me summon all the
higher nobles to the temple after the evening meal to-night, and all the
priests, and the commanders and dwars of the Guard, and as many of the
lesser nobles as be in the palace; and then shall the people of Phundahl
hear the word and the law of Tur and all those who shall obey shall live
and all those who shall not obey shall die; and woe be to him who,
having been summoned, shall not be in the temple this night. I, Xaxa,
Jeddara of Phundahl, have spoken! Go!”

They went and they seemed glad to go. Then Valla Dia summoned the odwar
of the Guard, who would be in our world a general, and she told him to
clear the palace of every living being from the temple level to the roof
an hour before the evening meal, nor to permit any one to enter the
temple or the levels above it until the hour appointed for the
assembling in the temple to hear the word of Tur, excepting however
those who might be in her own apartments, which were not to be entered
upon pain of death. She made it all very clear and plain and the odwar
understood and I think he trembled a trifle, for all were in great fear
of the Jeddara Xaxa; and then he went away and the slaves were dismissed
and we were alone.



                              CHAPTER XIV
                               JOHN CARTER


Half an hour before the evening meal we carried Xaxa and Sag Or down the
spiral runway and placed them in the base of the Great Tur and Gor Hajus
and I took our places on the upper platform behind the eyes and voice of
the idol. Valla Dia, Dar Tarus and Hovan Du remained in the royal
apartments. Our plans were well formulated. There was no one between the
door at the rear of the Great Tur and the flier that lay ready on the
roof in the event that we were forced to flee through any miscarriage of
our mad scheme.

The minutes dragged slowly by and darkness fell. The time was
approaching. We heard the doors of the temple open and beyond we saw the
great corridor brilliantly lighted. It was empty except for two priests
who stood hesitating nervously in the doorway. Finally one of them
mustered up sufficient courage to enter and switch on the lights. More
bravely now they advanced and prostrated themselves before the altar of
the Great Tur. When they arose and looked up into the face of the idol I
could not resist the temptation to turn those huge eyes until they had
rolled completely about the interior of the chamber and rested again
upon the priests; but I did not speak and I think the effect of the
awful silence in the presence of the living god was more impressive than
would words have been. The two priests simply collapsed. They slid to
the floor and lay there trembling, moaning and supplicating Tur to have
mercy on them, nor did they rise before the first of the worshippers
arrived.

Thereafter the temple filled rapidly and I could see the word of Tur had
been well and thoroughly disseminated. They came as they had before; but
there were more this time, and they ranged upon either side of the
central aisle and there they waited, their eyes divided between the
doorway and the god. About the time that I thought the next scene was
about to be enacted I let Tur’s eyes travel over the assemblage that
they might be keyed to the proper pitch for what was to follow. They
reacted precisely as had the priests, falling upon the floor and moaning
and supplicating; and there they remained until the sounds of bugles
announced the coming of the Jeddara. Then they rose unsteadily to their
feet. The great doors swung open and there was the carpet and the slaves
behind it. As they rolled it down towards the altar the bugles sounded
louder and the head of the royal procession came into view. I had
ordered it thus to permit of greater pageantry than was possible when
the doors opened immediately upon the head of the procession. My plan
permitted the audience to see the royal retinue advancing down the long
corridor and the effect was splendid. First came the double rank of
nobles and behind these the chariot drawn by the two banths, bearing the
litter upon which reclined Valla Dia. Behind her walked Dar Tarus, but
all within that room thought they were looking upon the Jeddara Xaxa and
her favorite, Sag Or. Hovan Du walked behind Sag Or and following came
the fifty young men and the fifty maidens.

The chariot halted before the altar and Valla Dia descended and knelt
and the voices that had been chanting the praises of Xaxa were stilled
as the beautiful creature extended her hands towards the Great Tur and
looked up into his face.

“We are ready, Master!” she cried. “Speak! We await the word of Tur!”

A gasp arose from the kneeling assemblage, a gasp that ended in a sob. I
felt that they were pretty well worked up and that everything ought to
go off without a hitch. I placed the speaking-tube to my lips.

“I am Tur!” I thundered and the people trembled. “I come to pass
judgment on the men of Phundahl. As you receive my word so shall you
prosper or so shall you perish. The sins of the people may be atoned by
two who have sinned most in my sight.” I let the eyes of Tur rove about
over the audience and then brought them to rest upon Valla Dia. “Xaxa,
are you ready to atone for your sins and for the sins of your people?”

Valla Dia bowed her beautiful head. “Thy will is law, Master!” she
replied.

“And Sag Or,” I continued, “you have sinned. Are you prepared to pay?”

“As Tur shall require,” said Dar Tarus.

“Then it is my will,” I boomed, “that Xaxa and Sag Or shall give back to
those from whom they stole them, the beautiful bodies they now wear;
that he from whom Sag Or took this body shall become Jeddak of Phundahl
and High Priest of Tur; and that she from whom Xaxa stole her body shall
be returned in pomp to her native country. I have spoken. Let any who
would revolt against my word speak now or for ever hold his peace.”

There was no objection voiced. I had felt pretty certain that there
would not be. I doubt if any god ever looked down upon a more subdued
and chastened flock. As I had talked, Gor Hajus had descended to the
base of the idol and removed the bonds from the feet and legs of Xaxa
and Sag Or.

“Extinguish the lights!” I commanded. A trembling priest did my bidding.

Valla Dia and Dar Tarus were standing side by side before the altar when
the lights went out. In the next minute they and Gor Hajus must have
worked fast, for when I heard a low whistle from the interior of the
idol’s base, the prearranged signal that Gor Hajus had finished his
work, and ordered the lights on again, there stood Xaxa and Sag Or where
Valla Dia and Dar Tarus had been, and the latter were nowhere in sight.
I think the dramatic effect of that transformation upon the people there
was the most stupendous thing I have ever seen. There was no cord or gag
upon either Xaxa or Sag Or, nothing to indicate that they had been
brought hither by force—no one about who might have so brought them.
The illusion was perfect—it was a gesture of omnipotence that simply
staggered the intellect. But I wasn’t through.

“You have heard Xaxa renounce her throne,” I said, “and Sag Or submit to
the judgment of Tur.”

“I have not renounced my throne!” cried Xaxa. “It is all a——”

“Silence!” I thundered. “Prepare to greet the new Jeddak, Dar Tarus of
Phundahl!” I turned my eyes towards the great doors and the eyes of the
assemblage followed mine. They swung open and there stood Dar Tarus,
resplendent in the trappings of Hora San, the long dead Jeddak and high
priest, whose bones we had robbed in the base of the idol an hour
earlier. How Dar Tarus had managed to make the change so quickly is
beyond me, but he had done it and the effect was colossal. He looked
every inch a Jeddak as he moved with slow dignity up the wide aisle
along the blue and gold and white carpet. Xaxa turned purple with rage.
“Impostor!” she shrieked. “Seize him! Kill him!” and she ran forward to
meet him as though she would slay him with her bare hands.

“Take her away,” said Dar Tarus in a quiet voice, and at that Xaxa fell
foaming to the floor. She shrieked and gasped and then lay still—a
wicked old woman dead of apoplexy. And when Sag Or saw her lying there
he must have been the first to realize that she was dead and that there
was now no one to protect him from the hatreds that are leveled always
at the person of a ruler’s favorite. He looked wildly about for an
instant and then threw himself at the feet of Dar Tarus.

“You promised to protect me!” he cried.

“None shall harm you,” replied Dar Tarus. “Go your way and live in
peace.” Then he turned his eyes upward towards the face of the Great
Tur. “What is thy will, Master?” he cried. “Dar Tarus, thy servant,
awaits thy commands!”

I permitted an impressive silence before I replied.

“Let the priests of Tur, the lesser nobles and a certain number of the
Jeddak’s Guard go forth into the city and spread the word of Tur among
the people that they may know that Tur smiles again upon Phundahl and
that they have a new Jeddak who stands high in the favor of Tur. Let the
higher nobles attend presently in the chambers that were Xaxa’s and do
honor to Valla Dia in whose perfect body their Jeddara once ruled them,
and effect the necessary arrangements for her proper return to Duhor,
her native city. There also will they find two who have served Tur well
and these shall be accorded the hospitality and friendship of every
Phundahlian—Gor Hajus of Toonol and Vad Varo of Jasoom. Go! and when
the last has gone let the temple be darkened. I, Tur, have spoken!”

Valla Dia had gone directly to the apartments of the former Jeddara and
the moment that the lights were extinguished Gor Hajus and I joined her.
She could not wait to hear the outcome of our ruse, and when I assured
her that there had been no hitch the tears came to her eyes for very
joy.

“You have accomplished the impossible, my chieftain,” she murmured, “and
already can I see the hills of Duhor and the towers of my native city.
Ah, Vad Varo, I had not dreamed that life might again hold for me such
happy prospects. I owe you life and more than life.”

We were interrupted by the coming of Dar Tarus, and with him were Hovan
Du and a number of the higher nobles. The latter received us pleasantly,
though I think they were mystified as to just how we were linked with
the service of their god; nor, I am sure, did one of them ever learn.
They were frankly delighted to be rid of Xaxa; and while they could not
understand Tur’s purpose in elevating a former warrior of the Guard to
the throne, yet they were content if it served to relieve them from the
wrath of their god, now a very real and terrible god, since the miracles
that had been performed in the temple. That Dar Tarus had been of a
noble family relieved them of embarrassment, and I noted that they
treated him with great respect. I was positive that they would continue
to treat him so, for he was also high priest and for the first time in a
hundred years he would bring to the Great Tur in the royal Temple the
voice of god, for Hovan Du had agreed to take service with Dar Tarus,
and Gor Hajus as well, so that there would never be lacking a tongue
wherewith Tur might speak. I foresaw great possibilities for the reign
of Dar Tarus, Jeddak of Phundahl.

At the meeting held in the apartments of Xaxa it was decided that Valla
Dia should rest two days in Phundahl while a small fleet was preparing
to transport her to Duhor. Dar Tarus assigned Xaxa’s apartments for her
use and gave her slaves from different cities to attend upon her, all of
whom were to be freed and returned with Valla Dia to her native land.

It was almost dawn before we sought our sleeping silks and furs and the
sun was high before we awoke. Gor Hajus and I breakfasted with Valla
Dia, outside whose door we had spread our beds that we might not leave
her unprotected for a moment that it was not necessary. We had scarce
finished our meal when a messenger came from Dar Tarus summoning us to
the audience chamber, where we found some of the higher officers of the
court gathered about the throne upon which Dar Tarus sat, looking every
inch an emperor. He greeted us kindly, rising and descending from his
dais to receive Valla Dia and escort her to one of the benches he had
placed beside the throne for her and for me.

“There is one,” he said to me, “who has come to Phundahl over night and
now begs audience of the Jeddak—one whom I thought you might like to
meet again,” and he signed to one of his attendants to admit the
petitioner; and when the doors at the opposite end of the room opened I
saw Ras Thavas standing there. He did not recognize me or Valla Dia or
Gor Hajus until he was almost at the foot of the throne, and when he did
he looked puzzled and glanced again quickly at Dar Tarus.

“Ras Thavas of the Tower of Thavas, Toonol,” announced an officer.

“What would Ras Thavas of the Jeddak of Phundahl?” asked Dar Tarus.

“I came seeking audience of Xaxa,” replied Ras Thavas, “not knowing of
her death or your accession until this very morning; but I see Sag Or
upon Xaxa’s throne and beside him one whom I thought was Xaxa, though
they tell me Xaxa is dead, and another who was my assistant at Thavas
and one who is the Assassin of Toonol, and I am confused, Jeddak, and do
not know whether I be among friends or foes.”

“Speak as though Xaxa still sat upon the throne of Phundahl,” Dar Tarus
told him, “for though I am Dar Tarus, whom you wronged, and not Sag Or,
yet need you have no fear in the court of Phundahl.”

“Then let me tell you that Vobis Kan, Jeddak of Toonol, learning that
Gor Hajus had escaped me, swore that I had set him free to assassinate
him, and he sent warriors who took my island and would have imprisoned
me had I not been warned in time to escape; and I came hither to Xaxa to
beg her to send warriors to drive the men of Toonol from my island and
restore it to me that I may carry on my scientific labors.”

Dar Tarus turned to me. “Vad Varo, of all others you are most familiar
with the work of Ras Thavas. Would you see him again restored to his
island and his laboratory?”

“Only on condition that he devote his great skill to the amelioration of
human suffering,” I replied, “and no longer prostitute it to the foul
purposes of greed and sin.” This led to a discussion which lasted for
hours, the results of which were of far-reaching significance. Ras
Thavas agreed to all that I required and Dar Tarus commissioned Gor
Hajus to head an army against Toonol.

But these matters, while of vast interest to those most directly
concerned, have no direct bearing upon the story of my adventures upon
Barsoom, as I had no part in them, since upon the second day I boarded a
flier with Valla Dia and, escorted by a Phundahlian fleet, set out
towards Duhor. Dar Tarus accompanied us for a short distance. When the
fleet was stopped at the shore of the great marsh he bade us farewell,
and was about to step to the deck of his own ship and return to Phundahl
when a shout arose from the deck of one of the other ships and word was
soon passed that a lookout had sighted what appeared to be a great fleet
far to the south-west. Nor was it long before it became plainly visible
to us all and equally plain that it was headed for Phundahl.

Dar Tarus told me then that as much as he regretted it, there seemed
nothing to do but return at once to his capital with the entire fleet,
since he could not spare a single ship or man if this proved an enemy
fleet, nor could Valla Dia or I interpose any objection; and so we
turned about and sped as rapidly as the slow ships of Phundahl permitted
back towards the city.

The stranger fleet had sighted us at about the same time that we had
sighted it, and we saw it change its course and bear down upon us; and
as it came nearer it fell into single file and prepared to encircle us.
I was standing at Dar Tarus’ side when the colors of the approaching
fleet became distinguishable and we first learned that it was from
Helium.

“Signal and ask if they come in peace,” directed Dar Tarus.

“We seek word with Xaxa, Jeddara of Phundahl,” came the reply. “The
question of peace or war will be hers to decide.”

“Tell them that Xaxa is dead and that I, Dar Tarus, Jeddak of Phundahl,
will receive the commander of Helium’s fleet in peace upon the deck of
this ship, or that I will receive him in war with all my guns. I, Dar
Tarus, have spoken!”

From the bow of a great ship of Helium there broke the flag of truce and
when Dar Tarus’ ship answered it in kind the other drew near and
presently we could see the men of Helium upon her decks. Slowly the
great flier came alongside our smaller ship and when the two had been
made fast a party of officers boarded us. They were fine looking men,
and at their head was one whom I recognized immediately though I never
before had laid eyes upon him. I think he was the most impressive figure
I have ever seen as he advanced slowly across the deck towards us—John
Carter, Prince of Helium, Warlord of Barsoom.

“Dar Tarus,” he said, “John Carter greets you and in peace, though it
had been different, I think, had Xaxa still reigned.”

“You came to war upon Xaxa?” asked Dar Tarus.

“We came to right a wrong,” replied the Warlord. “But from what we know
of Xaxa that could have been done only by force.”

“What wrong has Phundahl done Helium?” demanded Dar Tarus.

“The wrong was against one of your own people—even against you in
person.”

“I do not understand,” said Dar Tarus.

“There is one aboard my ship who may be able to explain to you, Dar
Tarus,” replied John Carter, with a smile. He turned and spoke to one of
his aides in a whisper, and the man saluted and returned to the deck of
his own ship. “You shall see with your own eyes, Dar Tarus.” Suddenly
his eyes narrowed. “This is indeed Dar Tarus who was a warrior of the
Jeddara’s Guard and supposedly assassinated by her command?”

“It is,” replied Dar Tarus.

“I must be certain,” said the Warlord.

“There is no question about it, John Carter,” I spoke up in English.

His eyes went wide, and when they fell upon me and he noted my lighter
skin, from which the dye was wearing away, he stepped forward and held
out his hand.

“A countryman?” he asked.

“Yes, an American,” I replied.

“I was almost surprised,” he said. “Yet why should I be? I have
crossed—there is no reason why others should not. And you have
accomplished it! You must come to Helium with me and tell me all about
it.”

Further conversation was interrupted by the return of the aide, who
brought a young woman with him. At sight of her Dar Tarus uttered a cry
of joy and sprang forward, and I did not need to be told that this was
Kara Vasa.

There is little more to tell that might not bore you in the telling—of
how John Carter himself took Valla Dia and me to Duhor after attending
the nuptials of Dar Tarus and Kara Vasa; and of the great surprise that
awaited me in Duhor, where I learned for the first time that Kor San,
Jeddak of Duhor, was the father of Valla Dia; and of the honors and the
great riches that he heaped upon me when Valla Dia and I were wed.

John Carter was present at the wedding and we initiated upon Barsoom a
good old American custom, for the Warlord acted as best man; and then he
insisted that we follow that up with a honeymoon and bore us off to
Helium, where I am writing this.

Even now it seems like a dream that I can look out of my window and see
the scarlet and the yellow towers of the twin cities of Helium; that I
have met, and see daily, Cathoris, Thuvia of Ptarth, Tara of Helium,
Gahan of Gathol and that peerless creature, Dejah Thoris, Princess of
Mars. Though to me, beautiful as she is, there is another even more
beautiful—Valla Dia, Princess of Duhor—Mrs. Ulysses Paxton.



                           TRANSCRIBER NOTES

Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple
spellings occur, majority use has been employed.

Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors
occur.




*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The master mind of Mars" ***


Copyright 2023 LibraryBlog. All rights reserved.