“You get the general Idea, Pete,” said Shea. “If I can examine Malambroso’s personal room, I might find us a clue. Okay?”
“Sure, I can arrange it, if you promise not to touch anything.”
* * *
Shea stood in Malambroso’s rented room, staring at the bookcases. At last he said to Brodsky: “I think I know where he’s taken our kid.”
“Where’s that?”
“To Barsoom.”
“Huh?”
“Barsoom, Edgar Rice Bunoughs’ version of Mars.”
“Aw, hell; I know there ain’t enough air on Mars to keep a bug alive —”
“Not the real Mars, but the one Burroughs imagined for his John Carter stories — or to put it another way, the Mars in another universe, which somehow got into Burroughs’ mind and formed the basis for his stories. In fact, I suspect Malambroso’s already made at least one trial thereto test out our syllogismobile. You can see the books. For Barsoom, he’s got a collection somebody would give real money for: the old McClurg hardbacks, the Methuen reprints, and the paperbacks: Ballantines from the sixties, the later Ace series, the Del Reys . . . I take it to mean he’s a Barsoomian fan. So, knowing about Barsoom already he’d naturally take off in that direction. Looks as though the only way to catch up withhimis for me to go to Barsoom.”
Brodsky sighed. “Wish I could go with you. But since I got promoted, seems like I’m buried under a daily blizzard of papers.”
* * *
“Harold Shea!” said Belphebe in tones of exasperation. “If you think for one minute I would let you go off by yourself after Voglinda, you’re as mad as some of your faculty colleagues think you are. She’s my daughter, too, you know. From what I’ve beard of Barsoom, gunmaking there isn’t so far advanced that a good longbow wouldn’t be useful as a backup.”
Shea sighed. “Oh, all right, darling. Get your stuff together.”
“What do they wear on Barsoom?”
“Mostly they go naked, except for a kind of harness of straps with pockets and pouches dangling. It doesn’t conceal anything.”
“You mean — you mean real naked, with everything showing?”
“That’s what I understand. They don’t seem to have the ancient Hebrew tabu on nudity, inherited by Christianity and Islam. Maybe you’d best stay home —”
“No, sir! If I have to show the Barsoomians my personal anatomy to get our precious back, I’ll do it! And if any Barsoomian makes a pass, I’ll make him eat a clothyard shaft for breakfast! But then, you couldn’t wear your mailshirt under your clothes, could you?”
“Not and pass myself off as a native Barsoomian, which we may have to do. According to Burroughs,” said Shea in his classroom manner, “Barsoomians are pretty puritanical in matters of sex and theft. Where they go off the reservation, from our point of view, is in their permissive attitude towards homicide. If you want to kill somebody, you just up and do it, and nobody gives a damn. At least, so Burroughs says, and I don’t know how accurate he was. I wouldn’t very far trust any writer who put tigers and deer in Africa.”
“Then I’d better pack an extra quiver!”
Shea made a slight face, knowing that it would fall to his lot to carry the extra weight on the portages, however short, that any extensive trip entailed. But he did not dissent, since the proposal made sense. He said:
“And I’ll take the old six-shooter. It’s not the most up-to-date firearm — everybody goes for automatics nowadays — but it’s simple and rugged and has fewer things to go wrong with it.”
“Is Barsoom a universe where firearms work?”
“According to Burroughs, yes; though I doubt his story of radium rifles that shoot fifty miles with radar sights.”
* * *
Harold Shea and Belphebe sat cross-legged on the rug in the center of the Shea living room. Shea, in breeches and boots, with a cowboy hat on his head, sat with a scabbard containing a shortened nineteenth-century saber on his left, a sheath holding a bowie knife in front, and on his right a holster with a big Smith & Wesson .44 revolver.
Belphebe wore green slacks, a similar jacket, and the feathered hat of her home world. Her longbow, unstrung, was slung over her back by its bowstring, passing between her full, young-mother breasts. A laden quiver was also slung to her back, its strap forming an X with the longbow string.
“Okay. said Shea, let’s go!” He grasped her near hand and began: “If P equals not-Q. then Q implies not-P . . .”II
Shea had been through these transitions before and so was ready for their effects. The living room dissolved into a whirl of colored spots. Momentarily he seemed to be suspended in nothing, as in a free-fall. Then, bit by bit, the world around him solidified. But this world was nothing like the one they had left.
The scene was of nighttime out-of-doors, lit by a brighter moonlight than Shea had ever seen on Earth. The source was a big, bright moon, even larger than Earth’s Luna, passing overhead. Elsewhere sparkled a myriad stars, brighter and more numerous than they would appear to the naked eye anywhere on Earth.
Beside him, Belphebe said. “That moon is travelling so fast you can see its motion against the stars. Also, it seems to be going from west to east, unlike our Earth’s moon.”
“Quite right, darling,” said Shea “That’s Thuria, the closer of Barsoom’s two moons, It corresponds to Phobos in our own universe. I don’t see the other satellite, Cluros as they call it here. If this were our Mars, you could only see Phobos from near the equator, and it’s only a big boulder anyway.
“Why couldn’t Phobos be seen from elsewhere?”
“The bulge of the planet would hide it. Just as it hides the Southern Cross From viewers in the northern parts of our world.”
“How do you know what the Barsoomians call them. if you’ve never been here before?”
“I’ve read Burroughs. Besides, the advantage of the sorites is that, if you compose it right, you arrive in the other universe already knowing the local language. Otherwise we should have to spend months studying Barsoomian in order to get around, as Burroughs’ John Carter did on his first arrival.”
“Probably several different languages, as on Earth,” said Belphebe.
“No; Burroughs says they have only one spoken language for the entire planet, though different nations have different ways of writing it. I daresay there are local dialects.”
“How could that be? Since languages are always changing, what would prevent the speech of Barsoom from diverging into branches, like those of the Latin or the Slavic languages on Earth?”
Shea shrugged. “I don’t know, darling. Perhaps some conqueror once brought the whole planet under his sway and ordained that his particular speech was the official one, which everyone had to use on pain of death. And it hasn’t had time to split into different languages yet.”
Thuria sank below the eastern horizon, whereupon a deeper darkness closed down, relieved by the pyrotechnic starlight.
“Oh, my!” said Belphebe. “Look at those stars! I’ve never seen them so bright on Earth — or in any other world I’ve visited.”
“It’s the thin atmosphere,” said Shea, “sort of like that on top of the Rocky Mountains. But if I’m not mistaken, the sun is coming up soon.”
The sky was visibly paling in a strip along the eastern horizon. little by little, a small but very bright sun climbed into view.
“I hope it warms us up,” said Belphebe. “I’m cold! And you tell me the Barsoomians go naked!”
“I think they usually put on some sort of wrap when they have to go out at night,” said Shea, pulling her close for warmth. “Nudism isn’t really comfortable for us Earthlings unless the air temperature is well over twenty-five Celsius. Hey!” He pointed. “I think we’ve landed near Lesser Helium!”
In the slowly waxing light, a few hundred meters distant rose a massive city wall, high enough to conceal any buildings within, with one exception. This was a tall, slim tower. As the light grew stronger, it lit up
another tower, even taller but much farther away.
The Sheas were sitting on a flat surface covered by a pinkish-yellow mosslike growth, stretching away to the horizon in all directions, save where it ended at the foot of the city wall.
“Hurrah for us!” said Shea, rising. “I aimed for the twin cities of Helium, and that’s what we got. The one in front of us is Lesser Helium; the one off in the distance, where you see the bigger tower, is Greater Helium.” He gave Belphebe a hand up.
“Where next?” she asked.
“Walk around the wall till we come to the main gate. Remember, your weight is less than half what it would be on Earth. So it’s easy to trip and fall if you don’t step cautiously.”
They set out briskly. As soon as they became used to their own reduced weights, they bounced along fast to warm their muscles. After a trot of a quarter to half an hour, they approached a road, whereon people and animals moved. The road led to a massive fortified gate, and the crowd looked like an assemblage of locals bringing in wagonloads of farm produce. They were massed around the gate, waiting, and more constantly arrived.
As the Sheas approached, Shea made out the distinctive features of these Barsoomians. They were black-haired men with bright-red skins — redder than that of any Native American, together with facial features much like those of Earthly Europeans. They shivered under blankets wrapped cloakwise around themselves Shea recognized the beasts of burden harnessed to the wagons as thoats — hefty animals on eight slender legs apiece, with gaping jaws and massive tails ending in broad blades, usable as weapons.
As the Sheas came near the gate, a silvery trumpet sounded. With a screechy creaking, one valve of the gate swung outward. After a pause, the other valve did likewise. Several men, naked but for a harness of straps supporting swords and other personalia, bustled out. Their harness was all of one design, thus constituting the gate guards’ uniform.
The gate guards talked among themselves and with members of the waiting crowd. Then two guards strode purposefully toward the Sheas. As they neared, the low sun flashed on large, bejeweled metal buckles and badges, where the straps of the harness crossed or joined.
“Who are you?” barked the nearer guard.
“From your garb,” said the second guard, “you look like Jasoomians.”
“So we are,” said Shea. “In fact, we are —”
“You must come with us at once?” said the first guard, seizing Shea’s arm in a firm grip, while his comrade took hold of Belphebe’s arm.
“Unhand me, sir!” cried Belphebe.
“Orders are orders,” said the first guard. “Come along, now!”
“What orders?” said Shea, “To bring any Jasoomians before the Jed at once!”
“Harold!” cried Belphebe. “Will you let these knaves lay hands on me?”
“Best we go along with them, darling,” said Shea, “since they’re taking us where we want to go anyway.”
* * *
Mors Kajak, Jed of Lesser Helium, sat behind a huge desk piled with scrolls. As Shea noted, the Barsoomians had not yet made the transition to the codex, the book of separate pages all bound together along one edge. The Jed was a big red Barsoomian of what, in an Earthman, would be called early middle age. He was stouter than most Barsoomians, with a few strands of gray in his bristling crew-out black hair.
Shea had read that Barsoomians kept the appearance of youth longer than Earthmen until, in the last century of their millennial lives, they rapidly aged. Like other Barsoomians, the Jed wore nothing save a harness of straps, whence dangled pouches, pockets, and a pair of swords in scabbards. At last he dropped the scroll he had studied and looked up.
“Well?”
“O Jed,” said the senior guard, “we found these Jasoomians trying to sneak in the main gate. Mindful of our orders, we seized and brought them hither.”
Belphebe looked ready to utter an angry outburst, when a gesture from Shea silenced her.
“You did right,” said the Jed. “you may return to your duties, leaving the Jasoomians here. As you go out, tell the two door guards to step into my sanctum.”
The senior gate guard saluted (a gestuze that reminded Shea of the Roman salute made notorious by Mussolini and Hitler). Then he did a smart about-face and departed, followed by his comrade. The two door guards entered the room and took places at either end of the massive desk.
Well, Jasoomians,” said the Jed, “how explain you your presence on this world?”
“First, O Jed,” said Shea, “permit me to protest the gate guard’s referring to my wife’s and my approach to the gate as ‘sneaking.’ We came peacefully and in plain sight.” Shea then plunged into the tale of Malambroso’s abduction of the infant Voglinda Shea.
The Jed judiciously put his fingertips together. “You say you are Professor Doctor Sir Harold Shea, and that the lady is your wife Belphebe?
“It may be that what you have told me is true. Pray ignore the manner whereby you were fetched hither. We have learned to be wary of Jasoomian visitors. They are such wild exaggerators and prevaricators, like my crazy son-in-law, Lord John Carter. When he bests one man in combat, he tells everyone that he has slain three, if he defeats three, they become a score.
“Moreover, Jasoomians are forever introducing subversive ideas, trying to upset our sound, stable, time-tried Barsoomian customs to make them more like those of their native world. Why, Carter has spoken of making it illegal to slay a man in fair fight!”
“You disagree, O Jed?” said Shea.
“Of course! Did we Barsoomians not kill one another off with such zest by duels and assassinations, the planet’s population would soon exceed that at which its scanty resources could support its people.
“Another Jasoomian, Ulysses Paxton, goes under the Barsoomian name of Vad Varo. He urged that each Barsoomian nation adopt a written constitution, to be confirmed by popular vote. He persuaded the Zodangans to try it, with the result that the chief of the Zodangan assassins’ guild, Ur Jan, won the Jedship.
“Patton has even preached that slavery is wrong, if you can believe that an apparently intelligent being could entertain such a nonsensical idea, and an inhumane idea to boot.”
“How is it inhumane?” asked Belphebe.
“Why, what else could you do with prisoners of war except to make slaves of them or kill them? If you turn them loose, they will return to their own land and come back to fight you again. The remaining alternative is to kill the lot, and Paxton deems that even more inhumane. But it is the only practical alternative to enslaving them.
“When Paxton took up residence in Zodanga, Ur Jan would have slain him for his subversive ideas had he not fled. Any such doctrine would utterly overthrow our social system and reduce the world to seething chaos!”
Shea said: “My own home world has struggled with similar difficulties. Where is Lord Carter now?”
“He has gone off to Ptarth to visit Thuvan Dinh, the Jed, and to promote some of his revolutionary ideas. It will be interesting to see how long Thuvan Dinh puts up with Carter’s transgalactic nonsense.”
“O Jed,” said Shea, “could you tell me more about Lord Carter’s mysterious arrival on Barsoom? likewise with Paxton. Some of our wise men have speculated that they sent their astral bodies to Barsoom, leaving their Earthly ones on their native planet. But that leaves open the question of whence came the mass of their Barsoomian bodies.
“There is also a mystery about where Lord Carter was born and when. He seems to have appeared out of nowhere and to have spent several times the normal Earthly life span, earning his living on Earth as a mercenary soldier — an occupation that no longer commands the respect it once did. Truth to tell, it has fallen into disrepute.”
“We have been puzzled, too,” said the Jed. “Nor have questions to Lord Carter done much to enlighten us. He is a jovial man of action, with little interest in the whys and wherefores of his becoming a Barsoomian.
“Now the consensus is that he is really a
Barsoomian, taken to Jasoom as a child or youth by some occult means, like that which brought you and your lady hither. It is surmised that his fair skin marks him as a descendant of the white race, so called, which dominated parts of Barsoom back when the oceans still washed the margins of the continents, before the races that then existed merged to form the present red race.
“But enough of this pleasant chatter, Sir Harold. Not for naught do some folk of Lesser Helium call me ‘Mors Chatterbox’ — albeit not to my face. But the man whose duty it is to stand beside me and stop me when I talk too much is on vacation. So, Doctor Shea, what mean you to do next in pursuit of your vanished offspring?”
“My first step,” said Shea, “is obviously to find out whether Malambroso has actually come to Barsoom. Is that the sort of thing your Barsoomian mastermind, Ras Thavas, would know?”
“Of course! Had you not brought up the matter, I should have suggested him myself. He has his own system of keeping track of events in Barsoomian cities, which we have found useful in warning us of aggressions and revolutions.” The Jed turned to one of his guardsmen. “Dator Thin, you shall send a message to Doctor Ras Thavas, respectfully requesting his presence here forthwith.”
The guardsman saluted and departed. The Jed said:
“Sir Harold, plan you to go about Barsoom searching for this miscreant on your own?”
“Yes, sir, unless you could furnish me with helpers.”
The Jed shook his head. “Since this is a matter among Jasoomians, it concerns not the Empire of Helium, I will not, therefore, let my people become involved therein, aside from furnishing such information as you can elicit from Ras Thavas. It strikes me, however, that clad in those hideous and overheating garments, you could not hope to do aught by stealth. You are as conspicuous as an Otzian on a snowbank.”
From his reading, Shea knew that by “Otzian” the Jed meant a member of the black-skinned race of Barsoom, who dwelt in OtzValley at the South Pole. He continued:
The Exotic Enchanter Page 15
