“Well, I do know that much. Our women lay eggs; yours have live birth. There is one life form on Barsoom that does that. But what’s the difference? Laying eggs requires tending an incubator for a rather long time. Possibly it is better to incubate the egg inside where there is no worry about always keeping the right temperature.”
“Cart, it’s roughly the difference between being annoyed by a hangnail and being clawed by a wild banth. ‘Obstetrics’ is the name of a highly difficult specialty practiced by learned physicians to make the extremely dangerous process of live birth less dangerous. Did you know that both Deety and Hilda are pregnant? Have fertilized eggs inside them, I mean; you may not know the usual word. I think they told Princess Thuvia; she may not have told you.”
“Thuvia did tell me; she said they were both happy about it.”
“Yes, Cart, they are; Hilda and Deety are brave. But if you want to have innocent blood on your hands and the deaths of two women on your conscience—women at whose feet you placed your sword—go ahead with your plans to keep us here against our will.”
The prince chewed his lip and looked agonized. “Zeb, are you still my blood brother?”
“Now and forever, Cart. My sword was at your feet. Shall I place it there again?”
“It is at my feet and mine is at yours. I think I must abdicate to my mother. But first I will remove that guard around your space chariot. I will seek out my mother … tomorrow morning, when she is ready to receive people. But I will remove the guard now!”
“Cart, you’re telling me to take Gay Deceiver and escape. While you turn your back. I see that you remember that I told you that I could pilot out of the courtyard garden without help. Yes, I can. But I am still prophesying. You will leave that guard where it is. You will not abdicate. You will not close your eyes to something that would blemish your honor. I will not enter that courtyard garden like a thief in the night. Instead, tomorrow we will all have a farewell picnic. All of us. These be firm prophecies.”
“A picnic!”
“Certainly. Friends often say farewell with a party, do they not? But I want this one outdoors at a particular spot because I have something to do there. Two things, besides the farewell picnic. Thuvia helped Deety and Hilda to choose good timepieces for Tawm Takus and Kach Kachkan. Then Thuv insisted on lending them her credit by writing a draft in payment. But Deety and Hilda are both proud—conscientious—and insisted on Thuvia keeping the timepieces until they could redeem her draft. We brought a supply of gold to Barsoom with us … but, not knowing what we would run into, I left it in the Bay of Blood.”
“The Bay of Blood? Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I would have sent you out in a flier with an armed escort. That gold may be gone now. Issus!”
“It will be there, when we go for it—tomorrow. I hid it most carefully and know exactly how to find it. Cart, quit worrying; I prophesy that all will be happy. Tomorrow will be a jolly picnic—the next day we will be gone. But I need your help with tomorrow’s picnic. I want all our friends there. You, Thuvia, your gracious mother—yes, and by all means Mobyas Toras; Jake would be disappointed if Mobyas were not there. Will you offer me the use of a flier big enough for all our party? More than the number I mentioned because, if I may, I think it would be a gracious gesture for us to take along Tira and her eight pixies. They can serve the picnic—they wouldn’t be happy not serving—and they will picnic, too. Cart, how can I arrange catering for a large picnic?”
“ ‘Catering?’ Another word I do not know.”
“The wine, the food—including food for our two green giant friends—and how early must they start to arrive at a reasonable hour when they aren’t hampered by passengers—as they were when they picked us up there. A sentimental reason for making it the Bay of Blood, too; it was where we met our giant friends.”
“Their thoats are very fast; just tell them when to meet you and where. But this ‘catering’ thing—this is your home; the palace kitchens will provide everything.”
“Cart, I want to give this party, not have it given to me.”
“You will be giving it. Tell Tira what you require. I have spoken.”
Carter shrugged. “You have me blocked in—I can’t possibly work out how to cater it outside the palace without your help. Is it permitted to make presents of money to slaves? Indentured servants? Or does that touch honor, too?”
“Quite proper, even expected. Not lavish, please.”
“Would small gold coins from Earth—Earth-Zero—be acceptable?”
“Yes. But they will keep such coins as keepsakes, not change them into tanpi. Now I’m prophesying!”
“It takes a brave prophet to predict what women will do. Oh, I forgot one point. Will you please ask Thuvia to fetch along those timepieces? I think Hilda and Deety will want to present them at the picnic. Cart, could we meet at the Promontory of Tears in the Bay of Blood? Say at midday tomorrow? Would that timing suit your ladies, do you think?”
“I see no obstacle. How will your princesses dress? Dagger and belt?”
“I think they would enjoy a last chance to dress up as ladies of Helium. But would that annoy the jeddara and Thuv?”
“No. Or rather, they, too, must dress up anyhow. For this will be a public occasion, Zeb. I must provide guards. Will your honor be offended if there are fliers overhead?”
“Meaning I might think they were there to keep me from leaving suddenly?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t be leaving from there. But that’s wild country; I must protect Mother and Thu—and Deety and Hilda.”
“Cart, you know I refused to promise not to leave. I still won’t promise—I might leave very suddenly. So put the whole Helium Navy overhead if you wish. But let’s all enjoy a happy time and not worry about the ambassador and his knavish lies. After the picnic is over is soon enough for this nonsense—let’s have a jolly time! Feel better?”
“Much better. Zeb, you’re a strange one—I would never have guessed that you could prophesy.”
XXIX
Hilda
Istill think our Zebbie boy had something to do with that lime Jell-O in my swimming pool. I don’t mean he lied to me; Zebbie is too smart for that. But if I had tape recordings of every word Zebbie has ever said to me about lime Jell-O, then got a trained semanticist (like Deety, only Deety wouldn’t do it) to analyze it, I’ll bet there would be a loophole you could drive a lorry through.
But I don’t want to catch Zebbie out. He’s the perfect skipper for our pirate crew. My Jacob is too candid for the job; he doesn’t even have Deety’s ability to go deadpan.
Zebbie got back the night before, told us all that we were going on a picnic, then sent Tira to consult with the executive chef of the palace. He chased our eight wood nymphs into their rooms, then called a conference, tête à tête à tête.
“Pipe down and listen. Hold all questions.” Zebbie spoke very quietly for a quarter of an hour. “Do you all understand your assignments?”
“Yes,” agreed Deety, “but I don’t understand why I must ….”
“Deety. Lifeboat rules.”
She looked startled. “Yessir!”
“Zeb,” Jacob said, “wouldn’t it be better to tell ….”
“Lifeboat rules for you, too—unless you want to boss the operation. I’m willing—want the job?”
Jacob blinked. “No, Captain. Aye aye, sir.”
(I decided not to ask the question that had been niggling at me.)
“Now each repeat back to me your precise instructions. Copilot.”
“I am to get word to Mobyas Toras—if I can reach him ….”
“Precise! Start over.”
“Uh, I will find Mobyas Toras and invite him to a feast excursion in honor of the jeddara and the prince regent. He is expected at the regent’s apartments half a zode—call it an hour and fifteen minutes—before midday, local noon. I will not tell him how to dress, but will make clear that all our family and all the royal family will be in full formal leath
ers and decorations.”
“Correct. Hilda?”
Call-me-Joe piloted us. I called him “Joe”; he grinned and saluted. But he was not in command. It was a big flying ship, the flagship (I think) of the Helium Navy. The captain (or maybe the admiral—anyhow the one in front at the gangway when Dej’—the jeddara—came aboard and all the bugles sounded)—the captain—admiral—was so covered with fancy leather and decorations that I had to look twice to see that he was almost as scarred as Kach.
But it wasn’t like a warship aboard; it was more like an excursion steamer, gay with banners, and with silks and furs and cushions ’most everywhere. I didn’t see anything that I recognized as weapons ’cept the swords and personal weapons of the swarm of warriors we had with us—but the L-gun in Gay doesn’t look like a weapon either; that airship may have been armed to the teeth.
I stayed at the gangway while Tira shooed her brood aboard, each with a curtsy to me. “Tira, our darlings don’t look happy. What’s the matter, dear? Didn’t you tell them that this is a picnic, for fun?”
“Yes, Princess. But they are frightened. None of us has ever flown before.”
“Are you scared?”
She managed a dimple. “Not as frightened as I was, Princess Hilda. I’ll be all right.”
“Sure you will be. So calm them down and have them start serving.”
We cruised slowly, so slowly that the windscreens protected our hairdos. I understand that our big ship could have reached the Promontory of Tears in only minutes, but we went the long way around, circling both Greater and Lesser Helium, sightseeing, as we had more than an hour to kill. I sought out Thuv and Dej’, seated on big cushions back aft, and got on with my assignment—listened as they pointed out palaces and places of interest, while I worked the talk around to babies—not difficult; Dej’ and Thuv both are grandmothers. Of course, they were intensely interested in how we do it. Soon I had them listening with horrified fascination to every grisly delivery-room story I had on tap, some that I had actually seen, some that I had simply heard about—but I told all of it as if I myself had been present … and embellished the horror, made them more horrid.
After one, Dej’ said, “Oh, that poor girl! Why did they let her suffer so long? Why didn’t her surgeons grant her the grace of a quick death?”
“But, Dej’ darling, she lived through it—didn’t I make that clear? And so did her baby—a fine, healthy, young lad now, tall as Zebbie’s shoulder. And she had two more babies after that, both healthy, and no more than normal pain and blood.” (Two lies and a damned lie in that one; her OB tied off her tubes.)
Thuvia shivered. “I’m glad we lay eggs. Hillbilly—aren’t you scared?”
I managed a wan smile. “All of the women of my race go through this. I will be proud to endure it to give my beloved Jacob an heir.” Then I swallowed air on purpose and belched. “Excuse me—a touch of morning sickness.” (They already knew, from me, what I meant by that.)
“Thuvia! Send for our physician!”
I put my hand on her arm. “Dej’, I’m all right—and your physician won’t know what to do for me—he can’t know.” I added, “But I’m worried about Deety.”
“The Princess Deety is ‘morning sick’?”
“No. A much graver worry than that. You see …. No, I must explain. I’m not very muscular and I’m very limber—and I have good measurements. But Deety is an athlete, as strong as a man and somewhat muscle-bound by it. And despite her size, her pelvic measurements are less than mine”—two lies in that; Deety is limber as a worm and seems to have been specially designed to have babies—“so when she goes into labor, her baby could get its skull stuck in her pelvis … and both would die”—still another lie; while that should not be allowed to happen, it’s usually possible to save either the baby or the mother—a horrid choice—“so you can bet everything you own that Sharpie will be standing by … and at the first suggestion of trouble, I’m going to insist on a caesarean at once!”
Thuvia said, “But Hilda, didn’t you tell me that you two were egg-fertilized at the same time? Won’t you be—‘in labor,’ you called it—at the same time?”
I grudgingly admitted that it could happen … but probably one of us would reach the finish line first, by a day or two. (Mild fibs, no, flat lies—but useful.) “But there is really nothing to worry about. As soon as the prince regent permits us to leave, our husbands will take us to the finest obstetricians to be found.” Then I looked thoughtfully worried. “But I do hope the prince regent will grant permission soon. It should be soon—for Deety’s sake.”
Dejah Thoris jumped at the bait. “What’s this about my son not permitting you to leave? What do you mean, dear child? You are not prisoners—you are my guests!”
I looked helpless—I can look very helpless when I try. “Uh …. Oh, dear! Jacob always did say I talk too much. Imperial Majesty—forgive me!”
“Forgive you for what, dear? Explain yourself.”
I didn’t answer. I just shrank up and made myself still smaller and looked frightened and miserable—I’ve had that down pat most of my life though I haven’t needed it much the past twenty-odd years.
Dej’ put her arm around me and called out, “Guard!” An officer resplendent was suddenly in front of her. She spoke to him very rapidly in Barsoomian and I caught not a word. He saluted and was gone so fast he might as well have jumped overboard.
Cart showed up quickly, noticed that I was with his mother, spoke in English—the dear boy is always polite. “The jeddara commands my presence?”
Dej’ spoke to her son in their own language. Cart was standing as she started in—standing but relaxed. Then he snapped to attention like a United States Marine on parade—and stayed that way throughout the exchange. Dej’ spoke softly; her words couldn’t have carried very far, and Cart answered the same way—but his face got redder and redder until he was almost purple, while his features never moved. They both did a lot of talking—but Dej’ interrupted Cart more than once while he never interrupted her. I felt sorry for him; Cart is a truly sweet man. No sense of humor, but men so seldom do.
At last he said two words, ones I had learned from Tira; they translated as three words: “At once, Jeddara!”
“Wait!” Dej’ said in English. “Tell the Princess Hilda the gist of it. Then find Captain Zebadiah John Carter of Virginia. Tell him all of it.”
“Yes, milady Mother. Princess Hilda, I purposed telling Zeb this publicly at your picnic, but my mother has ruled otherwise. I summoned to my apartments early this morning the ambassador from Earth and directed that he bring with him his official copy of the extradition treaty between Helium and Earth. He showed up but he had no treaty with him—just some notes, which he said were a summary—claimed that the treaty itself was on Earth. I … Zeb has told you about this matter? A demand on Helium that we surrender Zeb to him, I mean? Do you know the word ‘extradition’?”
“Certainly, Cart.”
“It’s more than I knew—until yesterday.”
“Zeb told us the essentials, I think. Silly business, isn’t it? Do I look kidnapped?”
Dej’ tightened her arm around me. “The Princess Hilda is kidnapped by me, at the moment. Thuvia, do you think your pet banths would enjoy a meal of raw ambassador?”
“Mama, it might poison them. Bad meat.”
“Joking, dear daughter. We are not barbarians; an emissary even from an enemy is inviolate in his person. But I propose restricting him and all his diplomatic party to his embassy until my grandfather or my husband returns—at which time he will be sent home, I firmly predict. Restricted, save for one appearance before me—tomorrow! Tell her, my son.”
“Yes, Mother. Princess Hilda, I think you know that my authority is merely delegated; I have none of my own. During the absence of the jeddak, and the jeddak of jeddaks—and the jed of Lesser Helium—all authority is in the person of the jeddara. But it pleases my mother to have me practice ruling so that I may—”
“Don’t make excuses for me, Carthoris. Ruling bores me. I’m lazy, Hilda; I let men do the work.”
“So do I, Dej’—when possible.”
“ ‘When possible.’ But sometimes it is not. Go on, son.”
“Yesterday I found myself in an impossible position. I tried to work it out and I thought I had—mostly. But now my mother has taken over the problem by assuming the authority vested in her—to my great relief, I should add.”
“Skip the comments, Carthoris.”
“Yes, Mother. Tomorrow, the ambassador will be summoned by the jeddara; she will receive him from the throne—I received him in my chambers.” Cart grinned for the first time. “I would not wish to be in his shoes!”
I suddenly straightened up. “Cart, does he wear shoes? Or does he dress as we do?”
Dej’ said, “What does it matter what he wears, Hilda? Not only are the charges against our dear cousin Zebadiah ridiculous, but also I know that there was no so-called extradition treaty. Little as I care for the weary business of statecraft, I attended every session with the men of Jasoom when first they came here; it was my husband’s wish. My son missed some of them ….”
“We were in Ptarth, Mother,” put in Thuvia. “You know why.”
“My son and Princess Thuvia were representing my husband and me at the capital of our closest ally, Hilda. I was not imputing lack of diligence to Carthoris. Hilda, I have heard that treaties on Jasoom are often long and complex; here they are not. If a jeddak’s word is not to be trusted, of what use is a long and complex document? In the agreement by which we permitted Earthling ships to land here and agreed to their embassy and to treat Earthling visitors as guests, there was no word about arresting fugitives for them. The idea is foreign to us and I do not see its usefulness. We have a saying, ‘The banths make good judges’—meaning that an evil-doer cannot escape forever the fate he makes for himself. Not only do I know by my own ears that there was no such agreement, but also, had there been, my husband and my grandfather would have instructed my son before leaving him as Regent.”
The Pursuit of the Pankera: A Parallel Novel About Parallel Universes Page 34