The Chessmen of Mars - Edgar Rice Burroughs (best thriller novels of all time txt) 📗

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