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01 - Thuvia, Maid of Mars - Edgar Rice Burroughs · Classic Science Fiction Books

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Thuvia made of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs, Chapter one, Carthoris and Thuvia.
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Upon a massive bench of polished air sit beneath the gorgeous blooms of a
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giant panalia, A woman sat, her shapely sandaled foot tapped impatiently upon the
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jewel strewn walk that wound beneath the stately serapus trees across the scarlet sward of
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the royal gardens of Thuvon din Jeddak Ptarth. As a dark haired, red
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skinned warrior bent low toward her, whispering heated words close to her ear.
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Ah Thuvia of Ptarth, he cried, you are cold even before the fiery
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blasts of my consuming love. No harder than your heart, nor colder is
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the hard, cold air sight of this thrice happy bench, which supports your
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divine and fateless form. Tell me, o Thuvia of Ptarth, that I
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may still hope that though you do not love me now, yet some day,
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some day, my princess I. The girl sprang to her feet with
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an exclamation of surprise and displeasure. Her queenly head was poised haughtily upon her
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smooth red shoulders. Her dark eyes looked angrily into those of the man.
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You forget yourself and the customs of barsoom Astoc, she said, I have
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given you no right thus to address the daughter of thuvon Din, nor have
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you won such a right. The man reached suddenly forth and grasped her by
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the arm. You shall be my princess, he cried, by the breast
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of isis thou shalt, Nor shall any other come between Astok, Prince of
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Dusar and his heart's desire. Tell me that there is another, and I
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shall cut out his foul heart and fling it to the wild calets of the
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dead sea bottoms. At touch of the man's hand upon her flesh, the
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girl went pallid beneath her coppery's skin. For the persons of the royal women
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of the courts of Mars are held but little less than sacred. The act
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of Astok, Prince of Dusar was profanation. There was no terror in the
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eyes of Thuvia of Ptarth, only horror for the thing the man had done,
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and for its possible consequences. Release me. Her voice was level,
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frigid. The man muttered incoherently and drew her roughly toward him. Release me,
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she repeated, sharply, or I call the guard, and the Prince
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of Dusar knows what that will mean. Quickly, he threw his right arm
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about her shoulders and strove to draw her face to his lips. With a
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little cry, she struck him full in the mouth with the massive bracelets that
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circled her arm. Callet, she exclaimed, And then the guard, the
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guard hasten in protection of the Princess of Ptarth. In answer to her call,
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a dozen guardsmen came racing across the scarlet sward, their gleaming long swords
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naked in the sun, the metal of their accouterments clanking against that of their
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leathern harness, and in their throats hoarse shouts of rage at the sight which
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met their eyes. But before they had passed half across the royal garden,
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to where Astok of Dusar still held the struggling girl in his grasp, another
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figure sprang from a cluster of dense foliage that half hid a golden fountain close
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at hand. A tall, straight youth, he was with black hair and
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keen gray eyes, broad of shoulder and narrow of hip, a clean limbed
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fighting man. His skin was but faintly tinged with the copper color that marks
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the red men of Mars from the other races of the dying planet. He
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was like them, and yet there was a subtle difference, greater even than
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that which lay in his lighter skin and his gray eyes. There was a
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difference too in his movements. He came on in great leaps that carried him
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so swiftly over the ground that the speed of the guardsman was as nothing by
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comparison. Astok still clutched Thuvia's wrist as the young warrior confronted him. The
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newcomer wasted no time, and he spoke but a single word, callot.
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He snapped, and then his clenched fist landed beneath the other's chin, lifting
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him high into the air and depositing him in a crumpled heap within the center
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of the pimalia bush beside the air sight bench. Her champion turned toward the
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girl, Kowor Thuvia of Ptarth. He cried, it seems that fate timed
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my visit well. Kowor Cathoris of Helium. The princess returned the young man's
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greeting, and what less could one expect of the son of such a sire.
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He bowed his acknowledgment of the compliment to his father, John Carter,
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war Lord of Mars, and then the guardsmen, panting from their charge,
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came up, just as the Prince of Dusar, bleeding at the mouth and
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with sword drawn, crawled from the entanglement of the Pamalia. Astoc would have
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leaped to mortal combat with the son of dejah Thoris, but the guardsmen pressed
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about him, preventing, though it was clearly evident that Naught would have better
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pleased Cathoris of Helium. But say the word, Thuvia of Ptarth, he
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begged, and Naught will give me greater pleasure than metting to this fellow the
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punishment he has earned. It cannot be Cathoris, she replied, even though
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he has forfeited all claim upon my consideration. Yet is he the guest of
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the Jeddak, my father, And to him alone may he account for the
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unpardonable act he has committed. As you say, Thuvia, replied the Heliumite.
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But afterward he shall account to Carthoris, Prince of Helium, for this
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affront to the daughter of my father's friend. As he spoke, though there
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burned in his eyes a fire that proclaimed a nearer, dearer cause for his
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championship of this glorious daughter of Barsoom. The maid's cheek darkened beneath the satin
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of her transparent skin, and the eyes of Astok, Prince of Dusar,
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darkened too, as he read that which passed unspoken between the two in the
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royal gardens of the Jeddak, And thou to me, he snapped at Cathoris,
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answering the young man's challenge. The guard still surrounded Astok. It was
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a difficult position for the young officer who commanded it. His prisoner was the
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son of a mighty Jeddak. He was the guest of Thu bon Din until
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but now an honored guest upon whom every royal dignity had been showered to arrest
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him, forcibly could mean nought else than war. And yet he had done
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that which, in the eyes of the Ptarth warrior, merited death. The
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young man hesitated. He looked toward his princess. She too, guessed all
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that hung upon the action of the coming moment. For many years Dusar and
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Ptarth had been at peace with each other. Their great merchant ships plied back
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and forth between the larger cities of the two nations. Even now, far
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above the gold shot scarlet dome of the Jeddak's Palace, she could see the
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huge bulk of a giant freighter taking its majestic way through the thin Barsoomian air
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toward the West and Dusar. By a word, she might plunge these two
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mighty nations into a bloody conflict that would drain them of their bravest blood and
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their incalculable riches, leaving them all helpless against the inroads of their envious and
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less powerful neighbors, and at last a prey to the savage, green hordes
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of the dead Sea bottoms. No sense of fear influenced her decision, for
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fear is seldom known to the children of Mars. It was rather a sense
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of the responsibility that she, the daughter of their Jeddak, felt for the
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welfare of her father's people. I called you Padwar, she said to the
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Lieutenant of the Guard, to protect the person of your princess and to keep
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the peace that must not be violated within the royal gardens of the Jeddak.
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That is all, you will escort me to the palace, and the Prince
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of Helium will accompany me. Without another glance in the direction of Astok,
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she turned, and, taking Carthoris's proferred hand, moved slowly toward the massive
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marble pile that housed the ruler of Ptarth and his glittering court. On either
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side marched file of guardsmen. Thus, Thuvia of Ptarth found away out of
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a dilemma, escaping the necessity of placing her father's royal guest under forcible restraint,
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and at the same time separating the two princes, who otherwise would have
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been at each other's throat. The moment she and the guard had departed beside
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the pomalia stood Astok, his dark eyes narrowed to mere slits of hate beneath
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his lowering brows, as he watched the retreating forms of the woman who had
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aroused the fiercest passions of his nature and the man whom he now believed to
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be the one who stood between his love and its consummation. As they disappeared
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within the structure, Astok shrugged his shoulders and with a murmured Oath crossed the
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gardens towards another wing of the building, where he and his retinue were housed.
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That night he took formal leave of Thuvan Din, and though no mention
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was made of the happening within the garden, it was plain to see through
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the cold mask of the Jeddak's courtesy that only the customs of royal hospitality restrained
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him from voicing the contempt he felt for the Prince of Dusar Carthoris was not
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present at the leave taking, nor was Thuvia. The ceremony was as stiff
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and formal as court etiquette could make it. And when the last of the
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Dusarians clambered over the rail of the battleship that had brought them upon this fateful
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visit to the court of Ptarth, and the mighty engine of destruction had risen
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slowly from the ways of the landing stage, a note of relief was apparent
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in the voice of thuvon Din as he turned to one of his officers with
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a word of comment upon a subject foreign to that which had been uppermost in
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the minds of all for hours. But after all, was it so foreign
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inform Prince Sauvon. He directed that it is our wish that the fleet which
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departed for Cowl this morning be recalled to cruise to the west of Ptarth.
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As the warship bearing Astok back to the court of his father turned toward the
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west, Thuvia of Ptarth, sitting upon the same bench where the Prince of
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Dusar had affronted her, watched the twinkling lights of the craft growing smaller in
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the distance. Beside her, in the brilliant light of the nearer moon,
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sat Carthoris. His eyes were not upon the dim bulk of the battleship,
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but on the profile of the girl's upturned face. Thuvia, he whispered.
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The girl turned her eyes toward his. His hand stole out to find hers,
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but she drew her own gently away. Thuvia of Ptarth, I love
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you, cried the young warrior. Tell me that it does not offend.
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She shook her head sadly. The love of Carthoris of Helium, she said,
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simply, could be not but an honor to any woman. But you
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must not speak, my friend, of bestowing upon me that which I may
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not reciprocate. The young man got slowly to his feet. His eyes were
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wide in astonishment. It had never occurred to the Prince of Helium that Thuvia
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of Ptarth might love another. But at Cadabra, he exclaimed, and later
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here at your father's court, What did you do, Thuvia of Ptarth,
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that might have warned me that you could not return my love? And what
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did I do, Carthoris of Helium, She returned, that might lead you
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to believe that I did return it. He paused in thought, and then
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shook his head. Nothing, Thuvia, that is true. Yet I could
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have sworn you loved me. Indeed you well knew how near a worship has
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been my love for you. And how might I know it? Carthoris?
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She asked innocently, did you ever tell me as much? Ever before have
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words of love for me fallen from your lips? But you must have known
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it, he exclaimed. I am like my father, witless in matters of
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the heart, and of a poor way with women. Yet the jewels that
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strewn these royal garden paths, the trees, the flowers, the sward,
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all must have read the love that has filled my heart since first my eyes
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were made new by imaging your perfect face. And form. So how could
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you alone have been blind to it? Do the maids of Helium pay court
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to their men? Asked theuvia, you are playing with me, exclaimed Carthoris,
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say that you are but playing, and that, after all you love
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me Theuvia, I cannot tell you that, Carthoris, for I am promised
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to another. Her tone was level, but was there not within it the
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hint of an infinite depth of sadness? Who may say, promised to another?
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Carthoris scarcely breathed the words. His face went almost white, and then
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his head came up as befitted him, in whose veins flowed the blood of
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the overlord of a world. Carthoris of Helium wishes you every happiness with the
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man of your choice, he said, with and then he hesitated, waiting
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for her to fill in the name. Kulan tith Jeddak of Caoul. She
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replied, my father's friend and Ptarth's most puissant. Ally, the young man
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looked at her intently for a moment before he spoke again, you love him,
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Thuvia of Ptarth, He asked, I am promised to him? She
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replied simply. He did not press her. He is of Barsoom's noblest blood
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and mightiest fighters, mused, Carthoris, my father's friend and mine would that
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it might have been another. He muttered, almost savagely. What the girl
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think thought was hidden by the mask of her expression, which was tinged only
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by a little shadow of sadness, that might have been for Carthoris or self,
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or for them both. Carthoris of Helium did not ask, though he
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noted it, for his loyalty to Culan Tith was the loyalty of the blood
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of John Carter of Virginia, for a friend greater than which could be no
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loyalty. He raised a jewel incrusted bit of the girl's magnificent trappings to his
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lips. To the honor and happiness of Culan Tith, and the priceless jewel
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that has bestowed upon him, he said, and though his voice was husky,
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there was the true ring of sincerity in it. I told you that
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I loved you Thuvia, before I knew that you were promised to another.
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I may not tell you it again, but I am glad that you know
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it, for there is no dishonor in it, either to you or to
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Culan Tith, or to myself. My love is such that it may embrace
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as well Kulan Tith, if you love him. There was almost a question
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in the statement I am promised to him, she replied. Carthoris backed slowly
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away. He laid one hand upon his heart, the other upon the pommel
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of his long sword. These are yours always, he said. A moment
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later he had entered the palace and was gone from the girl's sight. Had
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he returned at once, he would have found her prone upon the ersite bench,
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her face buried in her arms. Was she weeping? There was none
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to see. Carthoris of Helium had come all unannounced to the court of his
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father's friend that day. He had come alone in a small flier, sure
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of the same welcome that always awaited him at Ptarth. As there had been
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no formality in his coming, there is no need of forey in his going
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to thuvon Din. He explained that he had been but testing an invention of
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his own with which his flier was equipped, a clever improvement of the ordinary
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Martian air compass, which, when set for a certain destination, will remain
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constantly fixed thereon, making it only necessary to keep a vessel's prow always in
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the direction of the compass needle to reach any given point upon Barsoom by the
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shortest route. Carthoris's improvement upon this consisted of an auxiliary device which steered the
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craft mechanically in the direction of the compass, and upon arrival directly over the
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point for which the compass was set, brought the craft to a standstill and
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lowered it automatically to the ground. You readily discern the advantage of this invention,
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he was saying to thuvon Din, who had accompanied him to the landing
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stage upon the palace roof, to inspect the compass and bid his young friend
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farewell. A dozen officers of the court, with several body servants or grouped
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behind the jeddak and his guest eager listeners to the conversation, So eager on
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the part of one of the servants that he was twice rebuked by a noble
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for his forwardness in pushing himself ahead of his betters to view the intricate mechanism
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of the wonderful controlling destination compass as the thing was called. For example,
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continued Carthoris, I have an all night trip before me. As to night
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I set the pointer here upon the right hand dial, which represents the eastern
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hemisphere of Barsoom, so that the point rests upon the exact latitude and longitude
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of Helium. Then I start the engine, roll up in my sleeping silks
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and furs, and with lights burning, race through the air toward Helium,
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confident that at the appointed hour I shall drop gently toward the landing stage upon
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my own palace, whether I am still asleep or no, provided suggested thuvon
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Din, you do not chance to collide with some other night wanderer in the
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meanwhile, Carthoris smiled, No danger of that, he replied, see here,
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and he indicated a device at the right of the destination compass. This
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is my obstruction evader, as I call it. This visible device is the
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switch which throws the mechanism on or off. The instrument itself is below deck,
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geared both to the steering apparatus and the control levers. It is quite
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simple, being nothing more than a radium generator, diffusing radioactivity in all directions
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to a distance of a hundred yards or so from the flier. Should this
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enveloping force be interrupted in any direction, a delicate instrument immediately apprehends the irregularity
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at the same time imparting an impulse to a magnetic device, which in turn
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actuates a steering mechanism, diverting the bow of the flier away from the obstacle
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until the craft's radioactivity sphere is no longer in contact with the obstruction. Then
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she falls once more to her normal course. Should the disturbance approach from the
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rear, as in the case of a faster moving craft overhauling me, the
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mechanism actuates the speed control as well as the steering gear, and the flier
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shoots ahead and either up or down as the oncoming vessel is upon a lower
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or higher plane than myself. In aggravated cases, that is, when the
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obstructions are many or of such a nature as to deflect the bow more than
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forty five degrees in any direction, or when the craft has reached its destination
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and dropped to within a hundred yards of the ground, the mechanism brings her
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to a full stop, at the same time sounding a loud alarm which will
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instantly awaken the pilot. You see, I have anticipated almost every contingency.
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Fu bon Din smiled his appreciation of the marvelous device. The forward servant pushed
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almost to the flier's side. His eyes were narrowed to slits, all but
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one, he said. The nobles looked at him in astonishment, and one
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of them grasped the fellow none too gently by the shoulder to push him back
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to his proper place. Carthoris raised his hand. Wait, he urged,
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let us hear what the man has to say. No creation of mortal mind
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is perfect. Perchance he has detected a weakness that it will be well to
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know at once. Come, my good fellow, and what may be the
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one contingency I have overlooked. As he spoke, Carthoris observed the servant closely.
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For the first time he saw a man of giant stature and handsome,
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as are all those of the race of Martian red men. But the fellow's
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lips were thin and cruel, and across one cheek was the faint white line
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of a sword cut from the right temple to the corner of the mouth.
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Come, urged the Prince of Helium speak. The man hesitated. It was
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evident that he regretted the temerity that had made him the center of interested observation.
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But at the last, seeing no alternative, he spoke. It may
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be tampered with, he said, by an enemy. Carthoris drew a small
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key from his leathern pocket pouch. Look at this, he said, handing
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it to the man. If you know aught of locks, you will know
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that the mechanism which this unlooses is beyond the cunning of a picker of locks.
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It guards the vitals of the instrument from crafty tampering. Without it,
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an enemy must half wreck the device to reach its heart, leaving his handiwork
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apparent to the most casual observer. The servant took the key, glanced at
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it shrewdly, and then as he made to return it to Carthoris dropped it
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upon the marble flagging. Turning to look for it, he planted the sole
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of his sandal full upon the glittering object. For an instant he bore all
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his weight upon the foot that covered the key. Then he stepped back,
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and, with an exclamation as of pleasure that he had found it, stooped,
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recovered it and returned it to the heliumite. Then he dropped back to
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his station behind the nobles, and was forgotten. A moment later, Carthoris
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made his adieu to thuvon Din and his nobles, and with lights twinkling,
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had risen to the star shot void of the Martian night. End of chapter one,