The Collected John Carter of Mars (Volume 3)

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  “Oh, no, Dotar Sojat,” she cried, drawing my cheek close to hers, “you must not die—for I love you.”

  “But Rojas,” I expostulated, “how can you love a man whom you have known for only a few hours and seen but for a few minutes?”

  “I knew that I loved you the moment that I set eyes upon you,” she replied, “and I’ve seen you for a great many more than a few minutes. I have been almost constantly in the courtyard since I first saw you, watching you. I know every changing expression of your face. I have seen the light of anger, and of humor, and of friendship in your eyes. Had I known you all my life I could not know you better. Kiss me, Dotar Sojat,” she concluded. And, then I did something for which I shall probably always be ashamed. I took Rojas in my arms and kissed her.

  Did you ever hold a ghost in your arms and kiss her? It humiliates me to admit that it was not an unpleasant experience. But Rojas clung to me so tightly and for so long that I was covered with confusion and embarrassment.

  “Oh, that we could be always thus,” sighed Rojas.

  Personally I thought that however pleasant, it might be a little inconvenient. However, I said, “Perhaps you will come often again, Rojas, before I die.”

  “Oh, don’t speak of death,” she cried.

  “But you know yourself that Ptantus will have me killed—unless I escape.”

  “Escape!” She scarcely breathed the word.

  “But I suppose there will be no escape for me,” I added, and I tried not to sound too hopeful.

  “Escape,” she said again, “Escape! ah if I could but go with you.”

  “Why not?” I asked. I had gone this far and I felt that I might as well go all the way if by so doing I could release Llana of Gathol from captivity.

  “Yes, why not?” repeated Rojas, “but how?”

  “If I could become invisible,” I suggested.

  She thought that over for a moment and then said, “It would be treason. It would mean death, a horrible death, were I apprehended.”

  “I couldn’t ask that of you,” I said, and I felt like a hypocrite for that I knew that I could ask it of her if I thought that she would do it. I would willingly have sacrificed the life of every person in Invak, including my own, if thereby I could have liberated Llana of Gathol. I was desperate, and when a man is desperate he will resort to any means to win his point.

  “I am most unhappy here,” said Rojas, in a quite natural and human attempt at self-justification. “Of course, if we were successful,” continued Rojas, “it wouldn’t make any difference who knew what I had done because they could never find us again. We would both be invisible, and together we could make our way to your country.” She was planning it all out splendidly.

  “Do you know where the flier is that brought the girl prisoner?” I asked.

  “Yes, it was landed on the roof of the city.”

  “That will simplify matters greatly,” I said. “If we all become invisible we can reach it and escape with ease.”

  “What do you mean ‘all’?” she demanded.

  “Why I want to take Ptor Fak with me,” I said, “and Llana of Gathol who was captured the same time I was.”

  Rojas froze instantly and her arms dropped from about me. “Not the girl,” she said.

  “But, Rojas, I must save her,” I insisted. There was no reply. I waited a moment and then I said, “Rojas!” but she did not answer, and a moment later I saw her slim back materialize in the entrance to one of the streets opposite me. A slim back surmounted by a defiantly held head. That back radiated feminine fury.

  chapter VII

  AFTER ROJAS LEFT I was plunged almost into the depths of despair. Had she but waited I could have explained everything and the four of us might have escaped. I will admit that I have never been able to fathom the ways of women, but I felt that Rojas would never return. I presume that my conviction was influenced by those lines from The Mourning Bride, “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”

  However, I did not give up hope entirely—I never do. Instead of repining, I went to work on the lock of my shackle with the bit of wire that Kandus had brought me. Ptor Fak moved over to watch me. I sat facing my tree, close to it, and bending over my work; and Ptor Fak leaned close and bent over it too. We were trying to hide from preying eyes the thing that I was attempting to do; and as it was now late at night we hoped that there would be no one in the courtyard other than ourselves.

  At last I found the combination and after that it took me only a few seconds to unlock Ptor Fak’s shackle. Then a voice behind us spoke.

  “What are you doing?” it demanded; “why are you not asleep?”

  “How can we sleep with people constantly annoying us?” I asked, hiding the wire beneath me.

  “Stand up,” said the voice, and as we stood up the shackles fell away from our ankles.

  “I thought so,” said the voice. Then I saw the piece of wire rise from the ground and disappear. “You are very clever, but I don’t think Ptantus will appreciate your cleverness when he hears about this. I shall set a guard to watch you two constantly hereafter.”

  “Everything is going wrong,” I said to Ptor Fak a moment later, after I saw a warrior enter one of the streets, hoping that it was he who had spoken to us and that there were no others around.

  “It seems hopeless, doesn’t it?” said Ptor Fak.

  “No,” I snapped, “not while I still live.”

  The following afternoon Kandus’ voice came and sat down beside me. “How goes it?” he asked.

  “Terrible,” I said.

  “How is that?” he asked.

  “I can’t tell you,” I said, “because there is probably a guard standing right here listening to everything that I say.”

  “There is no one here but us,” said Kandus.

  “How do you know?” I asked; “your people are as invisible to you as they are to me.”

  “We learn to sense the presence of others,” he explained; “just how, I can’t tell you.”

  “How you do it is immaterial,” I said, “as long as you are sure there is no one here listening to us. I will be perfectly frank with you, I succeeded in removing Ptor Fak’s shackle and my own. Someone caught me at it and took the piece of wire away from me.” I did not tell Kandus that I had broken the wire he had given me in two and that I still had the other half of it in my pocket pouch. There is no use in telling even a friend everything that you know.

  “How in the world could you have hoped to escape even if you could remove your shackles?” he asked.

  “It was only the first step,” I told him. “We really had no plan, but we knew that we certainly could not escape as long as we were shackled.”

  Kandus laughed. “There is something in that,” he said, and then he was silent for a moment. “The girl who was captured with you,” he said presently.

  “What of her?” I asked.

  “Ptanus has given her to Motus,” he replies; “it was all done very suddenly. Why, no one seems to know, because Ptantus hasn’t any particular love for Motus.”

  If Kandus didn’t know why, I thought that I did. I saw Rojas’s hand and a green-eyed devil in it—jealousy is a heartless monster. “Will you do something more for me, Kandus?” I asked.

  “Gladly, if I can,” he replied.

  “It may seem like a very silly request,” I said, “but please don’t ask me to explain. I want you to go to Rojas and tell her that Llana of Gathol, the girl that Ptantus has given to Motus, is the daughter of my daughter.” It may seem strange to you denizens of Earth that Rojas could have become infatuated with a grandfather, but you must remember that Mars is not Earth and that I am unlike all other Earth-men. I do not know how old I am. I recall no childhood. It seems to me that I have just always been, and I have always been the same. I look now as I did when I fought with the Confederate army during the Civil War—a man of about thirty. And here on Barsoom, where the natural span of life is
around a thousand years and people do not commence to show the ravages of old age until just shortly before dissolution, differences in age do not count. You might fall in love with a beautiful girl on Barsoom; and, as far as appearances were concerned, she might be seventeen or she might be seven hundred.

  “Of course I don’t understand,” said Kandus, “but I’ll do what you ask.”

  “And now another favor,” I said. “Ptantus half promised me that he would let me duel with Motus and he assured me that Motus would kill me. Is there any possible way of arranging for that duel to be fought today?”

  “He will kill you,” said Kandus.

  “That is not what I asked,” I said.

  “I don’t know how it could be done,” said Kandus.

  “Now if Ptantus has any sporting blood,” I suggested, “and likes to lay a wager now and then, you bet him that if Motus will fight me while Motus is still visible, that he cannot kill me but that I can kill him whenever I choose.”

  “But you can’t do it,” said Kandus. “Motus is the best swordsman on Barsoom. You would be killed and I should lose my money.”

  “How can I convince you?” I said. “I know that I can kill Motus in a fight. If I had anything of value, I would give it to you as security for your wager.”

  “I have something of value,” said Ptor Fak, “and I would wager it and everything that I could scrape together on Dotar Sojat.” He reached into his pocket pouch and drew forth a gorgeous jewelled medallion. “This,” he said to Kandus, “is worth a jeddak’s ransom—take it as security and place its value on Dotar Sojat.”

  A second later the medallion disappeared in thin air, and we knew that Kandus had reached out his hand and taken it.

  “I’ll have to go inside and examine it,” said Kandus’ voice, “for of course I cannot see it now that it has become invisible. I’ll not be gone long.”

  “That is very decent of you, Ptor Fak,” I said, “that medallion must be almost invaluable.”

  “One of my remote ancestors was a jeddak,” explained Ptor Fak; “that medallion belonged to him, and it has been in the family for thousands of years.”

  “You must be quite certain of my swordsmanship,” I said.

  “I am,” he replied; “but even had I been less certain, I should have done the same.”

  “That is friendship,” I said, “and I appreciate it.”

  “It is priceless,” said a voice at my side, and I knew that Kandus had returned. “I will go at once and see what can be done about the duel.”

  “Don’t forget what I asked you to tell Rojas,” I reminded him.

  chapter VIII

  AFTER KANDUS LEFT US, time dragged heavily. The afternoon wore on and it became so late that I was positive that he had failed in his mission. I was sitting dejectedly thinking of the fate that was so soon to overtake Llana of Gathol. I knew that she would destroy herself, and I was helpless to avert the tragedy. And, while I was thus sunk in the depths of despair, a hand was placed on mine. A soft hand; and a voice said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You didn’t give me a chance,” I said; “you just ran out on me without giving me a chance to explain.”

  “I am sorry,” said the voice, “and I am sorry for the harm I have done Llana of Gathol; and now I have condemned you to death.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Ptantus has commanded Motus to fight you and kill you.”

  I threw my arms around Rojas and kissed her. I couldn’t help it, I was so happy. “Good!” I exclaimed. “Though neither of us realized it at the time, you have done me a great favor.”

  “What do you mean?” she demanded.

  “You have given me the chance to meet Motus in a fair fight; and now I know that Llana of Gathol will be safe—as far as Motus is concerned.”

  “Motus will kill you,” insisted Rojas.

  “Will you be there to see the duel?” I asked.

  “I do not wish to see you killed,” she said, and clung to me tightly.

  “You haven’t a thing to worry about, I shall not be killed; and Motus will never have Llana of Gathol or any other woman.”

  “You can tell his friends to start digging his grave immediately,” said Ptor Fak.

  “You are that sure?” said Rojas.

  “We have the princess,” said Ptor Fak, which is the same as saying in America “It is in the bag.” The expression derives from the Barsoomian chess game, jetan, in which the taking of a princess decides the winner and ends the game.

  “I hope you are right,” said Rojas. “At least you have encouraged me to believe, and it is not so difficult to believe anything of Dotar Sojat.”

  “Do you know when I am to fight Motus?” I asked.

  “This evening,” replied Rojas, “before the whole Court in the throne room of the palace.”

  “And after I have killed him?” I asked.

  “That is to be feared, too,” said Rojas, “for Ptantus will be furious. He will not only have lost a fighting man but all the money he has wagered on the duel. But it will soon be time,” she added, “and I must go now.” I saw her open my pocket pouch and drop something into it, and then she was gone.

  I knew from the surreptitious manner in which she had done it that she did not wish anyone to know what she had put in my pocket pouch, or in fact that she had put anything into it; and so I did not investigate immediately, fearing that someone may have been watching and had their suspicions aroused. The constant strain of feeling that unseen eyes may be upon you, and that unseen ears may be listening to your every word was commencing to tell upon me; and I was becoming as nervous as a cat with seven kittens.

  After a long silence Ptor Fak said, “What are you going to do with her?”

  I knew what he meant; because the same question had been worrying me. “If we succeed in getting out of this,” I said, “I am going to take her back to Helium with me and let Dejah Thoris convince her that there are a great many more charming men than I there.” I had had other women fall in love with me and this would not be the first time that Dejah Thoris had unscrambled things for me. For she knew that no matter how many women loved me, she was the only woman whom I loved.

  “You are a brave man,” said Ptor Fak.

  “You say that because you do not know Dejah Thoris,” I replied; “it is not that I am a brave man, it is that she is a wise woman.”

  That started me off again thinking about her, although I must confess that she is seldom absent from my thoughts. I could picture her now in our marble palace in Helium, surrounded by the brilliant men and women who crowd her salons. I could feel her hand in mine as we trod the stately Barsoomian dances she loves so well. I could see her as though she were standing before me this minute, and I could see Thuvia of Ptarth, and Carthoris, and Tara of Helium, and Gahan of Gathol. That magnificent coterie of handsome men and beautiful women bound together by ties of love and marriage. What memories they evoked!

  A soft hand caressed my cheek and a voice, tense with nervousness said, “Live! Live for me! I shall return at midnight and you must be here”; then she was gone.

  For some reason or other which I cannot explain, her words quieted my nerves. They gave me confidence that at midnight I should be free. Her presence reminded me that she had dropped something into my pocket pouch and I opened it casually and put my hand into it. My fingers came in contact with a number of spheres, about the size of marbles, and I knew that the secret of invisibility was mine. I moved close to Ptor Fak; and once again with the remaining bit of wire I picked the lock of his shackle, and then I handed him one of the spheres that Rojas had given me.

  I leaned very close to his ear. “Take this,” I whispered; “in an hour you will be invisible. Go to the far end of the courtyard and wait. When I return I too shall be invisible and when I whistle thus, answer me.” I whistled a few of the opening notes of the national anthem of Helium, a signal that Dejah Thoris and I had often used.

  “I und
erstand,” said Ptor Fak.

  “What do you understand?” demanded a voice.

  Doggonit! there was that invisibility nemesis again and now all our plans might be knocked into a cocked hat. How much had the fellow heard? What had he seen? I trembled inwardly, fearing the answer. Then I felt hands at my ankle and saw my shackle fall open.

  “Well,” repeated the voice peremptorially, “what was it that you understood?”

  “I was just telling Ptor Fak,” I said, “how I was going to kill Motus, and he said he understood perfectly.”

  “So you think you are going to kill Motus, do you?” demanded the voice. “Well, you are going to be very much surprised for a few minutes, and after that you will be dead. Come along with me; the duel is about to take place.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. The fellow had evidently seen or heard nothing of any importance.

  “I’ll see you later, Ptor Fak,” I said.

  “Good-by and good luck,” he replied. And then, accompanied by the warrior, I entered a city street on my way to the throne room of Ptantus, jeddak of Invak.

  chapter IX

  “SO YOU THINK you’re pretty good with the sword,” said the warrior walking at my side and who was now visible to me.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Well, you’re going to get a lesson in swordsmanship tonight. Of course it won’t do you much good because after it is all over you will be dead.”

  “You are very encouraging,” I said, “but if you are fond of Motus, I suggest that you save your encouragement for him. He is going to need it.”

  “I am not fond of Motus,” said the warrior; “no one is fond of Motus. He is a calot and I apologize to calots for the comparison. I hope that you kill him but of course you won’t. He always kills his man, but he is tricky. Watch out for that.”

  “You mean he doesn’t fight fair?” I asked.

  “No one ever taught him the word,” said the warrior.

  “Well, thank you for warning me,” I said; “I hope you stay to see the fight, maybe you will be surprised.”

  “I shall certainly stay to see it,” he said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But I am not going to be surprised; I know just what will happen. He will play with you for about five minutes and then he’ll run you through; and that won’t please Ptantus for he likes a long drawn out duel.”