He shrugged. “It is not supposed to be; but that is a question we do not even ask ourselves, for we must eat to live; and this is all that they bring us.”
chapter V
THE JUDGMENT OF THE JEDS
JANAI, the girl from Amhor, sat apart. Her situation seemed to me pathetic in the extreme—a lone woman incarcerated with seven strange men in a city of hideous enemies. We red men of Barsoom are naturally a chivalrous race; but men are men, and I knew nothing of the five whom we had found here. As long as John Carter and I remained her fellow prisoners she would be safe; that I knew, and I thought that if she knew it, any burden of apprehension she might be carrying would be lightened.
As I approached her, with the intention of entering into conversation with her, the officer who had questioned us in the guard-room entered the compound with two other officers and several hormads. They gathered us together, and the two officers accompanying the officer of the guard looked us over. “Not a bad lot,” said one.
The other shrugged. “The jeds will take the best of them, and Ras Thavas will grumble about the material he is getting. He always does.”
“They don’t want the girl, do they?” asked the officer of the guard.
“Our orders were to bring the prisoners,” replied one of the others.
“I should like to keep the girl,” said the officer of the guard.
“Who wouldn’t?” demanded the other with a laugh. “If she had the face of an ulsio you might get her; but the good looking ones go to the jeds, and she is more than good looking.”
Janai was standing next to me, and I could almost feel her shudder. Moved by a sudden impulse, I pressed her hand; and for an instant she clung to mine, instinctively groping for protection; then she dropped it and flushed.
“I wish I might help you,” I said.
“You are kind. I understand, but no one can help. You are only better off in that you are a man. The worst they will do to you is kill you.”
The hideous hormads surrounded us, and we were marched back through the guard-room and out into the avenue. John Carter asked an officer where we were being taken.
“To the Council of the Seven Jeds,” he said. “There it will be determined what disposition is to be made of you. Some of you will go into the culture vats. Those of you who are fortunate will be retained to train and officer troops as I was. It’s not much to look forward to, but it’s better than death.”
“What is the Council of the Seven Jeds?” asked The Warlord.
“They are the rulers of Morbus. They are the seven hormads whose brains developed normally and who wrested control from Ras Thavas. Each one aspired to rule; and as none would give up what he considered his rights, they proclaimed themselves all jeds, and rule conjointly.”
At a little distance from our prison we came to a large building before the entrance to which was a guard of hormad warriors commanded by a couple of officers. There was a brief parley here, and then we were taken into the building and along a long corridor to a large chamber before the doorway to which we were detained for a few minutes by another detail of guardsmen. When the door was opened we saw a number of hormads and officers standing about and at the far end of the room a raised dais on which seven red men were seated on carved chairs. These were evidently the seven jeds, but they did not look like the hormads we had previously seen. On the contrary they were quite normal and most of them fine looking men.
We were taken to the foot of the dais; and here they looked us over, asking about the same questions that the officer of the guard had asked us when we were admitted to the prison. They discussed us at some length, as men might discuss a number of thoats or calots they were considering purchasing. Several of them seemed much interested in Janai, and finally three of them laid claim to her. This started an altercation which ended in a vote being taken as to which of them would get her, but as there was never a majority in favor of any one man, it was decided to hold her for a few days and then turn her over to Ras Thavas if the claimants could not come to some agreement among themselves. This decided, one of the jeds addressed us men prisoners.
“How many of you will serve us as officers of our troops if you are permitted to live?” he asked.
The only alternative being death, we all proclaimed our willingness to serve as officers. The jeds nodded. “We shall now determine which of you are best fitted to serve as officers of our fighting men,” said one; and, speaking to an officer standing near us: “Fetch seven of our best warriors.”
We were then led to one side of the room, where we waited. “It looks like fighting,” said John Carter with a smile.
“I am sure that nothing would suit you better,” I replied.
“Nor you,” he said; then he turned to the officer with whom he had talked on the way from the prison. “I thought you said the seven jeds were hormads,” he said.
“They are.”
“They don’t look like any of the hormads I have seen.”
“Ras Thavas fixed them up,” said the officer. “Perhaps you don’t know that Ras Thavas is the greatest scientist and surgeon on Barsoom.”
“I have heard as much.”
“You have heard right. He can take your brain out and put it in the skull of another man. He has performed that operation hundreds of times. When the seven jeds heard about it they selected seven of the best looking officers and compelled Ras Thavas to transfer their brains into the skulls of these officers. You see they had been hideous creatures, and they wanted to be handsome.”
“And the seven officers?” I asked.
“They went to the culture vats, or rather their brains did—the original bodies of the seven jeds went with them. Here come the seven fighting warriors. In a few minutes you will know which of you are going into the vats.”
We were now taken to the center of the room and lined up facing seven huge hormads. These were the least malformed that we had so far seen, but they were still most repulsive looking creatures. We were furnished with swords, and an officer gave us our instructions. Each of us was to engage the hormad facing him, and those of us who survived without a serious wound would be permitted to live and serve as officers in the army of Morbus.
At a command from an officer, the two lines advanced; and in an instant the chamber rang with the clash of steel on steel. We men of Helium believe that we are the best swordsmen on Barsoom, and of us all, none is so great a swordsman as John Carter; so I had no apprehensions as to the outcome of the contest so far as he and I were concerned. The creature attacking me depended upon weight and brute strength to overcome me, which are the tactics most generally adopted by all of them, since they are not endowed with any great amount of intelligence. He evidently hoped to cut through my guard with a single terrific stroke of his heavy weapon, but of course I am too old a hand at fighting to fall victim to any such crude method of attack. As I parried his cut and stepped aside, he rushed past me awkwardly; and I could have run him through easily, but I had learned in my first encounter with these monsters that what would constitute a lethal wound to a mortal man would cause a hormad no inconvenience whatsoever. I should have to sever one of his legs or both his arms or decapitate him to put him out of the fighting. That, of course, gave him a tremendous advantage over me; but it was not insuperable. Or at least that was what I thought at the beginning of our engagement, but I soon commenced to have a suggestion of a doubt. The fellow was a far better swordsman than any of those we had encountered at the time of our capture. As I learned later, these creatures against whom we were pitted were selected for their superior intelligence, which was slightly above the average of their kind, and specially schooled in swordsmanship by red Martian officers.
Of course, had he been a normal man I could have easily dispatched him; but to avoid his mad rushes and his blade and decapitate him presently appeared a much larger job than I had anticipated. Aside from all else, he was a most unpleasant antagonist, for his face was absolutely hideous. One eye was far
up at the corner of his forehead and twice as large as its mate. His nose had grown where one of his ears should have been, while his ear occupied the normal position of his nose. His mouth was a large and crooked rent filled with great fangs. His countenance alone might have been quite enough to have unmanned an antagonist.
Occasionally I caught a glimpse of the other duels progressing around me. I saw one of the Phundahlians fall, and almost simultaneously the head of John Carter’s antagonist rolled upon the floor where it lay cursing and screaming while its body lunged madly about endangering everyone in the chamber. A number of other hormads and officers pursued it with nooses and nets in an effort to catch and bind it, and while they were thus occupied the thing bumped into my antagonist throwing it off balance and giving me the opening for which I had been waiting. I swung a terrific blow then and caught the fellow square across the neck, sending his head rolling upon the floor. Then there were two headless bodies dashing about hacking right and left with their heavy swords. I tell you, the other hormads and the officers had a busy few minutes before they finally captured and subdued the horrible things; and by the time they had the fighting was over, but there were two more hormads flopping about the floor, each with a leg gone. These had been overcome by Pandar and Gan Had. The man from Ptarth and the man from Duhor had been killed. Only four of us seven were left. The two heads upon the floor reviled us while other hormads gathered up the debris of battle and carried it away in nets.
Now we were taken again before the dais of the Council of the Seven Jeds; and once more they questioned us, but this time more carefully. When they had done with the questioning they whispered among themselves for a while; then one of them addressed us.
“You will serve as officers, obeying your superiors and all orders you may receive from the Council of the Seven Jeds,” he said. “You cannot escape from Morbus. If you serve faithfully you will be permitted to live. If you are guilty of disobedience or treason you will be sent to the vats. That will be the end of you.” He turned to John Carter and me. “You men from Helium will serve for the present with the laboratory guard. It is the duty of the laboratory guard to see that Ras Thavas does not escape and that no harm befalls him. We have chosen you for this duty for two reasons: you are both extraordinary swordsmen and, being from distant Helium, cannot feel any partiality either for him or for Toonol or for Phundahl. You can therefore act wholly in our interests as against those of these enemies. Ras Thavas would like to escape or regain control of Morbus. Phundahl would like to rescue him. Toonol would like to destroy him. Either one of them would be glad to get him away from us so that he could produce no more hormads. The man from Phundahl and the man from Toonol will be used to train our warriors as they emerge from the vats. The Council of the Seven Jeds has spoken; it is for you to obey.” He nodded toward the officer who had brought us in. “Take them away.”
I looked toward Janai. She caught my eye and smiled at me. It was a very brave little smile. A pathetic little smile out of a hopeless heart. Then they led us away.
chapter VI
RAS THAVAS, MASTER MIND OF MARS
AS THEY CONDUCTED us down the corridor toward the main entrance to the building my mind was occupied in reviewing the incredible occurrences of the day. These few hours had encompassed a lifetime. I had passed through such adventures as in my wildest dreams I could not have imagined. I had become an officer in the hideous army of a city the very existence of which I had not dreamed of a few hours ago. I had met a strange girl from far Amhor; and, for the first time in my life, I had fallen in love; and almost within the hour I had lost her. Love is a strange thing. Why it had come to me as it had, how it had come, were quite beyond me to explain. I only knew that I loved Janai, that I should always love her. I should never see her again. I should never know if I might have won her love in return. I should never be able to tell her that I loved her. My whole life hereafter would be colored and saddened by the thought of my love, by my remembrance of her; yet I would not have relinquished my love for her could I have done so. Yes, love is a strange thing.
At the intersection of the main corridor with another, John Carter and I were led to the right. Pandar and Gan Had continued on toward the main entrance. We called good-by to one another and were gone. It is remarkable how quickly friendships are formed in the midst of a common jeopardy. These men were from strange cities commonly enemies of Helium, yet because we had endured danger together I felt a definite friendly attachment toward them; and I did not doubt but that they were inclined similarly toward John Carter and me. I wondered if we should ever meet again.
They led us down this new corridor and across a great courtyard into another building, above the entrance to which were hieroglyphics strange to me. No two nations of Barsoom have the same written language, although there is a common scientific language understood by the savants of all nations; yet there is but one spoken language upon Barsoom, which all peoples use and understand, even the savage green men of the dead sea bottom. But John Carter is very learned and reads many languages. He told me that the hieroglyphics read Laboratory Building.
We were taken into a medium size audience chamber where an officer told us to wait and that he would fetch Ras Thavas, that we might meet the man we were to help guard and watch. He also told us that Ras Thavas was to be treated with respect and consideration as long as he made no effort to escape. He had the freedom of the laboratory and was, in a sense, all powerful there. If he called on us to help him in his work, we were to do so. It was evident that the Council of the Seven Jeds looked with awe upon him although he was their prisoner, and that they had sense enough to make life as easy for him as possible. I was very anxious to see Ras Thavas, of whom I had heard. He was called The Master Mind of Mars, and although he had often turned his remarkable talents to nefarious schemes, he was nevertheless admired because of his great learning and skill. He was known to be over a thousand years old; and because of this fact alone I would have been curious to see him, as the span of life upon Barsoom is seldom so great. A thousand years is supposed to be the limit, but because of our warlike natures and the prevalency of assassination few attain it. He must, indeed, have been a withered little mummy of a man, I thought; and I wondered that he had the strength to carry on the enormous work in which he was engaged.
We had waited but a short time when the officer returned accompanied by an extremely handsome young man who looked at us with a haughty and supercilious air, as though we had been the dregs of humanity and he a god.
“Two more spies to watch me,” he sneered.
“Two more fighting men to protect you, Ras Thavas,” corrected the officer who had brought us here from the other building.
So this was Ras Thavas! I could not believe my eyes. This was a young man, unquestionably; for while it is true that we Martians show few traces of advancing years until almost the end of our allotted span, at which time decay is rapid, yet there are certain indications of youth that are obvious.
Ras Thavas continued to scrutinize us. I saw his brows contract in thought as his eyes held steadily on John Carter as though he were trying to recall a half remembered face. Yet I knew that these two men had never met. What was in the mind of Ras Thavas?
“How do I know,” he suddenly snapped, “that they have not wormed their way into Morbus to assassinate me? How do I know that they are not from Toonol or Phundahl?”
“They are from Helium,” replied the officer. I saw Ras Thavas’s brow clear as though he had suddenly arrived at the solution of a problem. “They are two panthans whom we found on their way to Phundahl seeking service,” concluded the officer.
Ras Thavas nodded. “I shall use them to assist me in the laboratory,” he said.
The officer looked surprised. “Had they not better serve in the guard for a while?” he suggested. “That will give you time to have them watched and to determine if it would be safe to have them possibly alone with you in the laboratory.”
“I know
what I am doing,” snapped Ras Thavas. “I don’t need the assistance of any fifth-rate brain to decide what is best for me. But perhaps I honor you.”
The officer flushed. “My orders were simply to turn these men over to you. How you use them is none of my concern. I merely wished to safeguard you.”
“Then carry out your orders and mind your own business. I can take care of myself.” His tone was as disagreeable as his words. I had a premonition that he was not going to be a very pleasant person with whom to work.
The officer shrugged, gave a command to the hormad warriors that had accompanied us, and marched them from the audience chamber. Ras Thavas nodded to us. “Come with me,” he said. He led us to a small room, the walls of which were entirely lined with shelves packed with books and manuscripts. There was a desk littered with papers and books, at which he seated himself, at the same time motioning us to be seated at a bench nearby.
“By what names do you call yourselves?” he asked.
“I am Dotar Sojat,” replied John Carter, “and this is Vor Daj.”
“You know Vor Daj well and have implicit confidence in him?” demanded Ras Thavas. It seemed a strange question, since Ras Thavas knew neither of us.
“I have known Vor Daj for years,” replied The Warlord. “I would trust to his loyalty and intelligence in any matter and to his skill and courage as a warrior.”
“Very well,” said Ras Thavas; “then I can trust you both.”
“But how do you know you can trust me?” inquired John Carter quizzically.
Ras Thavas smiled. “The integrity of John Carter, Prince of Helium, Warlord of Barsoom, is a matter of worldwide knowledge,” he said.
The Collected John Carter of Mars (Volume 3) Page 27