The Chessmen of Mars
of the throne, following a few paces behind U-Dor. As they halted at
the foot of the marble steps, the proud gaze of Tara of Helium rested
upon the enthroned figure of the man above her. He sat erect without
stiffness--a commanding presence trapped in the barbaric splendor that
the Barsoomian chieftain loves. He was a large man, the perfection of
whose handsome face was marred only by the hauteur of his cold eyes and
the suggestion of cruelty imparted by too thin lips. It needed no
second glance to assure the least observing that here indeed was a
ruler of men--a fighting jeddak whose people might worship but not
love, and for whose slightest favor warriors would vie with one another
to go forth and die. This was O-Tar, Jeddak of Manator, and as Tara of
Helium saw him for the first time she could not but acknowledge a
certain admiration for this savage chieftain who so virilely
personified the ancient virtues of the God of War.
U-Dor and the jeddak interchanged the simple greetings of Barsoom, and
then the former recounted the details of the discovery and capture of
the prisoners. O-Tar scrutinized them both intently during U-Dor's
narration of events, his expression revealing naught of what passed in
the brain behind those inscrutable eyes. When the officer had finished
the jeddak fastened his gaze upon Ghek.
"And you," he asked, "what manner of thing are you? From what country?
Why are you in Manator?"
"I am a kaldane," replied Ghek; "the highest type of created creature
upon the face of Barsoom; I am mind, you are matter. I come from
Bantoom. I am here because we were lost and starving."
"And you!" O-Tar turned suddenly on Tara. "You, too, are a kaldane?"
"I am a princess of Helium," replied the girl. "I was a prisoner in
Bantoom. This kaldane and a warrior of my own race rescued me. The
warrior left us to search for food and water. He has doubtless fallen
into the hands of your people. I ask you to free him and give us food
and drink and let us go upon our way. I am a granddaughter of a jeddak,
the daughter of a jeddak of jeddaks, The Warlord of Barsoom. I ask only
the treatment that my people would accord you or yours."
"Helium," repeated O-Tar. "I know naught of Helium, nor does the Jeddak
of Helium rule Manator. I, O-Tar, am Jeddak of Manator. I alone rule. I
protect my own. You have never seen a woman or a warrior of Manator
captive in Helium! Why should I protect the people of another jeddak?
It is his duty to protect them. If he cannot, he is weak, and his
people must fall into the hands of the strong. I, O-Tar, am strong. I
will keep you. That--" he pointed at Ghek--"can it fight?"
"It is brave," replied Tara of Helium, "but it has not the skill at
arms which my people possess."
"There is none then to fight for you?" asked O-Tar. "We are a just
people," he continued without waiting for a reply, "and had you one to
fight for you he might win to freedom for himself and you as well."
"But U-Dor assured me that no stranger ever had departed from Manator,"
she answered.
O-Tar shrugged. "That does not disprove the justice of the laws of
Manator," replied O-Tar, "but rather that the warriors of Manator are
invincible. Had there come one who could defeat our warriors that one
had won to liberty."
"And you fetch my warrior," cried Tara haughtily, "you shall see such
swordplay as doubtless the crumbling walls of your decaying city never
have witnessed, and if there be no trick in your offer we are already
as good as free."
O-Tar smiled more broadly than before and U-Dor smiled, too, and the
chiefs and warriors who looked on nudged one another and whispered,
laughing. And Tara of Helium knew then that there was trickery in their
justice; but though her situation seemed hopeless she did not cease to
hope, for was she not the daughter of John Carter, Warlord of Barsoom,
whose famous challenge to Fate, "I still live!" remained the one
irreducible defense against despair? At thought of her noble sire the
patrician chin of Tara of Helium rose a shade higher. Ah! if he but
knew where she was there were little to fear then. The hosts of Helium
would batter at the gates of Manator, the great green warriors of John
Carter's savage allies would swarm up from the dead sea bottoms lusting
for pillage and for loot, the stately ships of her beloved navy would
soar above the unprotected towers and minarets of the doomed city which
only capitulation and heavy tribute could then save.
But John Carter did not know! There was only one other to whom she
might hope to look--Turan the panthan; but where was he? She had seen
his sword in play and she knew that it had been wielded by a master
hand, and who should know swordplay better than Tara of Helium, who had
learned it well under the constant tutorage of John Carter himself.
Tricks she knew that discounted even far greater physical prowess than
her own, and a method of attack that might have been at once the envy
and despair of the cleverest of warriors. And so it was that her
thoughts turned to Turan the panthan, though not alone because of the
protection he might afford her. She had realized, since he had left her
in search of food, that there had grown between them a certain
comradeship that she now missed. There had been that about him which
seemed to have bridged the gulf between their stations in life. With
him she had failed to consider that he was a panthan or that she was a
princess--they had been comrades. Suddenly she realized that she missed
him for himself more than for his sword. She turned toward O-Tar.
"Where is Turan, my warrior?" she demanded.
"You shall not lack for warriors," replied the jeddak. "One of your
beauty will find plenty ready to fight for her. Possibly it shall not
be necessary to look farther than the jeddak of Manator. You please me,
woman. What say you to such an honor?"
Through narrowed lids the Princess of Helium scrutinized the Jeddak of
Manator, from feathered headdress to sandaled foot and back to
feathered headdress.
"'Honor'!" she mimicked in tones of scorn. "I please thee, do I? Then
know, swine, that thou pleaseth me not--that the daughter of John
Carter is not for such as thou!"
A sudden, tense silence fell upon the assembled chiefs. Slowly the
blood receded from the sinister face of O-Tar, Jeddak of Manator,
leaving him a sickly purple in his wrath. His eyes narrowed to two thin
slits, his lips were compressed to a bloodless line of malevolence. For
a long moment there was no sound in the throne room of the palace at
Manator. Then the jeddak turned toward U-Dor.
"Take her away," he said in a level voice that belied his appearance of
rage. "Take her away, and at the next games let the prisoners and the
common warriors play at Jetan for her."
"And this?" asked U-Dor, pointing at Ghek.
"To the pits until the next games," replied O-Tar.
"So this is your vaunted justice!" cried Tara of Helium; "that two
strangers who have not wronged you shall be sentenced without trial?
And one of them is a woman. The swine of Manator are as just as they
are brave."
"Away with her!" shouted O-Tar, and at a sign from U-Dor the guards
formed about the two prisoners and conducted them from the chamber.
Outside the palace, Ghek and Tara of Helium were separated. The girl
was led through long avenues toward the center of the city and finally
into a low building, topped by lofty towers of massive construction.
Here she was turned over to a warrior who wore the insignia of a dwar,
or captain.
"It is O-Tar's wish," explained U-Dor to this one, "that she be kept
until the next games, when the prisoners and the common warriors shall
play for her. Had she not the tongue of a thoat she had been a worthy
stake for our noblest steel," and U-Dor sighed. "Perhaps even yet I may
win a pardon for her. It were too bad to see such beauty fall to the
lot of some common fellow. I would have honored her myself."
"If I am to be imprisoned, imprison me," said the girl. "I do not
recall that I was sentenced to listen to the insults of every low-born
boor who chanced to admire me."
"You see, A-Kor," cried U-Dor, "the tongue that she has. Even so and
worse spoke she to O-Tar the jeddak."
"I see," replied A-Kor, whom Tara saw was with difficulty restraining a
smile. "Come, then, with me, woman," he said, "and we shall find a safe
place within The Towers of Jetan--but stay! what ails thee?"
The girl had staggered and would have fallen had not the man caught her
in his arms. She seemed to gather herself then and bravely sought to
stand erect without support. A-Kor glanced at U-Dor. "Knew you the
woman was ill?" he asked.
"Possibly it is lack of food," replied the other. "She mentioned, I
believe, that she and her companions had not eaten for several days."
"Brave are the warriors of O-Tar," sneered A-Kor; "lavish their
hospitality. U-Dor, whose riches are uncounted, and the brave O-Tar,
whose squealing thoats are stabled within marble halls and fed from
troughs of gold, can spare no crust to feed a starving girl."
The black haired U-Dor scowled. "Thy tongue will yet pierce thy heart,
son of a slave!" he cried. "Once too often mayst thou try the patience
of the just O-Tar. Hereafter guard thy speech as well as thy towers."
"Think not to taunt me with my mother's state," said A-Kor. "'Tis the
blood of the slave woman that fills my veins with pride, and my only
shame is that I am also the son of thy jeddak."
"And O-Tar heard this?" queried U-Dor.
"O-Tar has already heard it from my own lips," replied A-Kor; "this,
and more."
He turned upon his heel, a supporting arm still around the waist of
Tara of Helium and thus he half led, half carried her into The Towers
of Jetan, while U-Dor wheeled his thoat and galloped back in the
direction of the palace.
Within the main entrance to The Tower of Jetan lolled a half-dozen
warriors. To one of these spoke A-Kor, keeper of the towers. "Fetch
Lan-O, the slave girl, and bid her bring food and drink to the upper
level of the Thurian tower," then he lifted the half-fainting girl in
his arms and bore her along the spiral, inclined runway that led upward
within the tower.
Somewhere in the long ascent Tara lost consciousness. When it returned
she found herself in a large, circular chamber, the stone walls of
which were pierced by windows at regular intervals about the entire
circumference of the room. She was lying upon a pile of sleeping silks
and furs while there knelt above her a young woman who was forcing
drops of some cooling beverage between her parched lips. Tara of Helium
half rose upon an elbow and looked about. In the first moments of
returning consciousness there were swept from the screen of
recollection the happenings of many weeks. She thought that she awoke
in the palace of The Warlord at Helium. Her brows knit as she
scrutinized the strange face bending over her.
"Who are you?" she asked, and, "Where is Uthia?"
"I am Lan-O the slave girl," replied the other. "I know none by the
name of Uthia."
Tara of Helium sat erect and looked about her. This rough stone was not
the marble of her father's halls. "Where am I?" she asked.
"In The Thurian Tower," replied the girl, and then seeing that the
other still did not understand she guessed the truth. "You are a
prisoner in The Towers of Jetan in the city of Manator," she explained.
"You were brought to this chamber, weak and fainting, by A-Kor, Dwar of
The Towers of Jetan, who sent me to you with food and drink, for kind
is the heart of A-Kor."
"I remember, now," said Tara, slowly. "I remember; but where is Turan,
my warrior? Did they speak of him?"
"I heard naught of another," replied Lan-O; "you alone were brought to
the towers. In that you are fortunate, for there be no nobler man in