Thuvia and Carthoris were just plain fun to have around. They accepted us as equals, slightly senior to them, but “family,” and that let them relax.
Cart did one thing that was definitely protocol before he relaxed: after being introduced to our wives—and bending over and kissing their hands, somewhat awkwardly, he then unbuckled his sword and placed it at their feet, midway between them.
This is, I understand, between a single man and a maid, is or can be a proposal of marriage. It did not mean that now; we all were most visibly married. So it had its other meaning; “I will defend you with my life, now and forever.” It is never a polite gesture; it is a blood oath, to the death.
I’m proud of our women. Deety was at once solemn, but she does that easily. Hilda dropped the jester’s mask she wears most of the time—and showed the lady (and heroine) underneath.
Neither smiled, both had tears in their eyes. Working together, they buckled his sword back on. Then Hilda spoke for both of them: “We thank you, Prince Carthoris. You have honored us. We will try always to justify your faith in us.”
Jake caught my eye; he started fumbling at his Sam Browne as I unhooked my Navy belt. Together, we laid our weapons at the feet of Princess Thuvia.
She’d had more experience at this than our girls had, probably by a factor of several hundred. She stood very straight and sang: “Gentle sirs, senior cousin, learned doctor, I pray that I will ever deport myself to bring honor to your blades. I feel warmly safe knowing that they protect me. I accept their shelter and thank you for it.”
“And Helium thanks you,” Cart rumbled. “I have spoken.”
Thuvia picked up our weapons, let the Sam Browne hang on her forearm while she hooked up my sword belt, then turned to Jake, figured out how it had to go, put the shoulder strap over his head and onto his shoulder, then buckled the belt. His saber had come unhooked; she fumbled a bit, while Jake quietly helped her. Then she went into his arms and gave him an all-out Deety kiss.
Then it was my turn.
That ended all ceremony. By then all three women were dripping tears, and Deety and Sharpie were streaking their makeup. For they were indeed made up from their toes to maybe fifteen centimeters above their heads, complex hairdos studded with jewelry.
Each was wearing a dagger and a jeweled belt, like Thuvia. That was just a starter. Wrist bracelets, upper arm bracelets, rings, pendants, necklaces, anklets, and things I have no names for—all crusty with gems. Deety had an emerald in her navel that should have been in the forehead of an image in some jungle temple. I don’t know what held it there. A corkscrew? Self-confidence?
A horseback guess says that each of our wives was wearing a couple of hundred thousand newdollars in colorful doodads—plus their inestimable value (on Earth) as anthropological items. Maybe I underestimated.
But I was a perfect little gentleman. I didn’t ask why Deety and Hilda were dressed like birds of paradise; I just joined Jake in shooing everyone back onto the balcony, where the ladies had been lounging when we returned. The table out there had been replenished with wines and snacks, but not the assortment we three men had shared half an hour before. I saw why mealtimes were vague in the palace; lavish food was always in reach. Now and then a pixie—Ajal, Kissa, somebody—would glance out, remove anything partly emptied and replace it with fresh. With masterly deduction I figured out that the Campfire Girls were holding a picnic in the room assigned to them.
Cart and Thuvia are easy company. Old-shoe comfortable. Cart is sober-sided except for his infectious grin—but he had heavy burdens. Thuvia had Deety’s three major expressions: thoughtfully impassive, big grin, and little-girl startled. But balanced differently; Thuvia grinned most of the time, talked a lot without committing herself over much, and had an easy bawdiness. While she looked Deety’s age, she was older than Deety (much older) and far more experienced.
She kidded her husband much as Sharpie did Jake. Deety made unexpected remarks that sounded like kidding but were not; Deety herself was most unexpected. But Sharpie’s remarks were serious only when needful.
Thuvia sat on a balustrade, one knee up high with her inner leg dragging, while Deety faced her in the same pose, mirror image. I sat on a cushion where I could hand food and wine to each of them, and tried not to stare too overtly at Thuvia, although she clearly didn’t give a hoot. (There was no “body modesty” on Barsoom; they didn’t have the concept any more than a kitten has. They wore ornaments, they wore furs for warmth—and I understood that in the far north furs were fashioned into full clothes, for warmth. They wore weapons and sometimes body armor. But they didn’t wear clothes for “decency”—that indecent Garden-of-Eden myth that corrupts our culture never took hold there.)
Cart stretched on his back and stared openly at Deety. I knew that Deety didn’t mind; she’s been a lifetime rebel against that taboo … and I didn’t mind; it enriched Cart without impoverishing me—staring is the most harmless of recreations and should be encouraged. Sharpie was stretched on her belly near Cart and fed him the way our pixies fed us, when we let them.
Thuvia asked me, “Is it really true that Earth’s incredible oceans are several meters deep?”
Deety answered for me. “Thu, several meters deep would just be a pond. Or a small lake. Oceans are much more than a kilometer deep. Often many kilometers deep.”
“Issus! I have trouble visualizing it. I’ve heard it before … but it sounded like travelers’ tall tales.”
“I must think about it in haads. A haad is ….”
“… about half a kilometer, Thu. I had to estimate just yesterday.”
“A haad is six-tenths of a kilometer, Deety,” Cart put in.
“Near enough. I didn’t have anything to measure with. I just stood my husband up by a green friend of mine and pointed to a place on his tummy that would mark about two meters, knowing how tall Zebadiah is. Goodness! I promised both Tommy Tucker and Kach I would get in touch today. And I haven’t.”
Sharpie suddenly sat up. “And so did I! Thu! How do we get in touch with American Express?”
Cart answered, “You ask Tira. But Deety, what do you need from American Express? Perhaps we have it in the palace.”
“Not this, you don’t. Our green friends, Cart. Tommy Tucker—Tawm Takus. And another one. Kach Kachkan.”
“Tawm Takus I know; he’s a brood-nephew to my godfather General-in-Chief Tars Tarkus. A good man, Tawm Takus. Conscientious—but no sense of humor.”
“Look who’s talking,” Thuvia drawled.
“Peace, my princess—had one once; I’ll find it again … once I get some worries cleared up. ‘Kach Kachkan?’ Unusually tall, even for a green man? Heavily muscled? Scars all over him?”
Sharpie answered, “I don’t know how tall green giants usually are but that’s a perfect description of Kach. He’s taller than Tawm Takus, quite a bit.”
“It has to be the same man. Senior Underofficer of the Thark regiment of the Allied Forces stationed here. And, except for my father, the deadliest warrior on Barsoom. Deadly even without weapons.”
I said, “Tawm Takus referred to Kach as ‘sergeant major.’ ”
“Same rank, different use of English idiom. If Tawm Takus is with American Express, he probably knows more English than I do. Thuv is the only member of our family who speaks it as well as my father does.” Cart smiled ruefully. “She learned it first, from my father. They used to joke in it … until Mother and I learned it in self-defense. But Thu uses idioms and words my mother and I haven’t learned.”
“Yes,” agreed Thuvia comfortably, “including some your father says I should not use. Although I learned them from hearing him use them when he was vexed. Deety, after the revolution I’m going to work for Thomas Cook. So I’m always trying to enrich my English vocabulary. You and Hilda have enriched it today.”
“After the revolution you’ll be a slave, Thuv,” her husband said.
“Thu,” put in Sharpie, “I made a deal with Tommy Tucker�
��Tawm Takus—to teach him impolite English in exchange for his teaching me the swear words and barracks language of soldiers here. You could join the class—if it won’t make you blush.”
“A woman who has spent many cycles as a slave of the Holy Therns forgets how to blush, Hilda.”
“If she ever knew,” added Thuvia’s husband.
“Ignore my husband, Sharpie. He’s a … what was that very long word?”
“Floccinaucinihilipilificator.”
“Zeb, has my honor been maligned?” Cart asked me.
“Comrade, you’ll probably die from it. But not for many cycles.”
“Then I won’t worry. Flocksy nasty— Oh, to Iss with it!”
“Cart,” Deety said plaintively, “how do I get to American Express?”
“It’s about three haads straight down the Avenue of Heroes. But Deety, you don’t go there; you require American Express to come here.”
“But I don’t want American Express. I just want to see Kach. And Sharpie wants to see Tommy.”
“Now?”
“Well … as soon as possible.”
“Very well. Tira!”
Tira materialized as if Cart had rubbed the Magic Lamp. “Highness, you called?”
“With your permission, Zeb? Tira ….” Cart shifted to Barsoomian; I caught only “American Express” and the names of our green friends. Cart turned back as Tira vanished. “They will be here in … perhaps twenty of your minutes. Unless they are farther away than the office of American Express. Deety, what are you looking upset about? Are my arrangements not satisfactory?”
“Yes, but … I promised Kanakook … that Kach Kachkan’s thoat … that I would see her, too.”
“You promised a thoat?”
“Why not? She’s a friend of mine. One doesn’t break promises to children or animals, ever.”
“She did promise the thoat,” I agreed. “I heard Deety. And the thoat understood her.”
The prince regent looked impressed. “Cousin, you have been blessed with a most remarkable wife.”
“I know it, Cart. But so have you.”
“The central fact of my existence, Zeb.”
“I got dealt a pretty good hand, too,” Jake said smugly. “Five aces.”
“Five? But there are only …. Sorry! ‘Five.’ ”
Sharpie said, “If anyone mentions the joker, I’m leaving the room. Balcony.” She reached out and gently tickled her husband’s thigh with her toes.
“Now,” Thuvia said softly, “that you gentlemen have finished building up our morale—for which we thank you—let’s put Deety’s mind at rest. Deety dear, Cart told Tira ‘all possible speed.’ Since our green allies can’t fit into our tubes or ground fliers, they must either walk, or ride their giant thoats. Since the order came from the Regent and included ‘all possible speed,’ now or very quickly a Navy flier is clearing the Avenue of Heroes ahead of two giant thoats running their fastest. Unless your friends are far from American Express. If so, Tira will report it in a moment or two. But they will still come with all possible speed, even if they are a hundred haads away. The Regent’s orders are not questioned.”
“But suppose they are working? They are couriers.”
“If so, they are not working for the Regent. Deety, there are disadvantages to being royal—some days I would almost welcome being a slave again. But there are advantages, too. Cart exercised a minor advantage for a guest we are very anxious to please. You, dear.”
My darling got her little-girl look. “I didn’t mean to be a nuisance—but thank you, Cart; Sharpie and I do want to see our friends. How do we go down to see them?”
“Oh, they’ll come up here,” our host assured her, “with an escort to clear the way. Deety, when my father made allies of the largest Green Hordes, apartments in this guest wing were modified to accommodate our giant friends. This hall behind us has a ceiling high enough even for Kach Kachkan. So, I think, does your dining hall. There is at least one retreat room with washing trays and other fixtures designed for the somewhat different needs of green men. Tira knows where it is—I don’t. Will your guests be staying overnight?”
“Why … I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Either way, no need to tell anyone but Tira. Your guests are our guests as long as you wish them to stay. For one night I think they would be comfortable in this hall behind us; they are used to sleeping anywhere. For longer than overnight, tell Tira; a nearby apartment will be provided.”
“I … I’m overwhelmed. But how do I see Kanakook? A thoat can’t come up here.”
Cart gave a wry grin. “True. But you will be able to see her from here and go down to where she is; just tell Tira—escort is at hand. See that fenced-off area in this courtyard? All large houses are built somewhat like this one and provide for thoats … so that no thief can reach them in the night. Tira! Dear, tell the Watch that the thoats of the green guests of our guests are to graze in this courtyard, not with the other thoats.”
“Yes, Highness. I have already told them.”
“Tira, if I could persuade my mother to part with you, I would return your indenture and appoint you Secretary of State for Domestic Affairs—and load half the work of the realm on you.”
“Don’t let him do it to you!” Thuvia cut in. “You’d never have a moment’s peace.”
“Highness, I have no political ambitions.”
“Nor do I, Issus take it! But I can’t avoid it. Are all your problems solved, Deety? I should get back to work. This has been a delightful rest, for which I thank you.”
Thuvia stretched and yawned. “Duty calls me, too. Girls, don’t ever marry a politician. Sirs, ladies, may we be excused?”
“Just a moment!” said Jake. “Cart, will you answer one question for me; directly, no dodging?”
Cart said quietly, “As my father’s deputy, I can do no other. Speak, distinguished Doctor.”
“My daughter, without intending to, is bringing two green men into your home. Is it possible that this is why the prince regent and his royal consort now have duties elsewhere?”
“No, distinguished Doctor, it is not possible. But I must clarify it. Tawm Takus is my relative through Tars Tarkus … in all but egg. Kach Kachkan is not; I have seen him only on parade. I regret to say that we have never fought side by side—although we have shared blood of Helium’s enemies in the same battle. But tomorrow or ten cycles from now we may fight side by side, or back to back. Do you think me such a … a ‘popinjay,’ I think I have the right word—such a snob that I would not share wine and sleeping silk with a warrior such as he?”
“Your Highness, I offer my apologies.”
“I can’t accept them, Jake, for no offense was intended, and I intended none. My princess, I think we should wait and meet the guests of our guests, who are thereby our guests.”
“My chieftain, you speak with your father’s wisdom. I agree.”
“Hey!” said Deety, almost in tears, “Pop, Thu, Cart, you’re all making too much of this! You’ve got work to do; go do it! You’re certain to meet our friends another time—you’ll like ’em. But it doesn’t have to be today! Oh, dear!”
The prince relaxed, no longer ramrod straight. He grinned that grin that made him look younger than I was. “Okay, Deety dear.”
Thuvia and that man she lives with should have left then, but Sharpie interrupted. “Deety, we forgot to give back the pretties! Tira! We need help. And someone to carry them back.” She was shucking off “pretties,” a thousand newdollars a shuck. Deety looked startled, moved quickly to catch up.
Thuvia grabbed each by an arm. “Darlings! What in the world are you doing?”
“Handing back the jewelry you loaned us. I’ll send Laba and Kona along with you to carry them.”
“But those are not loans. They are gifts.”
“Thuvia, if you think we’ll accept gifts this lavish, you don’t know me very well. Or Deety, either.”
Yes, Thuvia was capable of the helple
ss-little-girl-with-too-big-a-problem look, too. Had she and Deety been twins in some other time-space? Or would be—pick the tense you like. “If you send them back, I’ll be forced to store them until you want them. And those from Mother Dejah, too. Returned gifts are terribly bad fortune—they mean a broken friendship.”
Carthoris confirmed it. “But perhaps this will help. On Barsoom most jewelry is very old. Most of it winds up, eventually, with royal houses. But jewels can’t be eaten, they are useless as weapons—and usually can’t be sold as jewelry, usually comes into one’s possession as a gift. Mother must have at least a chest of jewelry she has never worn. What can be done with jewelry is to give it to some dear friend who will wear it. But if you two won’t keep these trinkets, they simply become burdens, never to be touched.”
So our two darlings, willy-nilly, came into a fortune of priceless jewelry. The only outcome was that they put back on what they hastily stripped off … and insisted on being kissed again, this time by both Cart and Thuvia. So Jake and I kissed Thuvia’s hand and shook Cart’s hand. They left, a bit late.
Deety, as always, had a problem. “Aunt Hilda, should we wear these jewels for Kach and Tommy Tucker? Or take off all but dagger and belt, as Thu did?”
“We’ll ask Tira, of course. How about it, Tira hon?”
“The Princess Thuvia was correct both times. When she sent these for you and then came to escort you, the occasion was formal even though the jeddara’s invitation did not so describe it. But when she returned with you, it was no longer formal, so she changed.”
I finally got it straight. Our dears had been allowed to sleep until they woke, then had been undisturbed while they broke fast. Then they had been set upon by all eight pixies under Tira’s supervision—bathed, made up from head to toe, hair arranged in splendor, and adorned with more jewelry than I had ever seen on a woman.
The Pursuit of the Pankera: A Parallel Novel About Parallel Universes Page 26
