L. Camp - The Exotic Enchanter

Thuria sank below the eastern horizon, whereupon a deeper darkness closed down, relieved by the pyrotechnic starlight.

“Oh, my!” said Belphebe. “Look at those stars! I’ve never seen them so bright on Earth — or in any other world I’ve visited.”

“It’s the thin atmosphere,” said Shea, “sort of like that on top of the Rocky Mountains. But if I’m not mistaken, the sun is coming up soon.”

The sky was visibly paling in a strip along the eastern horizon. little by little, a small but very bright sun climbed into view.

“I hope it warms us up,” said Belphebe. “I’m cold! And you tell me the Barsoomians go naked!”

“I think they usually put on some sort of wrap when they have to go out at night,” said Shea, pulling her close for warmth. “Nudism isn’t really comfortable for us Earthlings unless the air temperature is well over twenty-five Celsius. Hey!” He pointed. “I think we’ve landed near Lesser Helium!”

In the slowly waxing light, a few hundred meters distant rose a massive city wall, high enough to conceal any buildings within, with one exception. This was a tall, slim tower. As the light grew stronger, it lit up another tower, even taller but much farther away.

The Sheas were sitting on a flat surface covered by a pinkish-yellow mosslike growth, stretching away to the horizon in all directions, save where it ended at the foot of the city wall.

“Hurrah for us!” said Shea, rising. “I aimed for the twin cities of Helium, and that’s what we got. The one in front of us is Lesser Helium; the one off in the distance, where you see the bigger tower, is Greater Helium.” He gave Belphebe a hand up.

“Where next?” she asked.

“Walk around the wall till we come to the main gate. Remember, your weight is less than half what it would be on Earth. So it’s easy to trip and fall if you don’t step cautiously.”

They set out briskly. As soon as they became used to their own reduced weights, they bounced along fast to warm their muscles. After a trot of a quarter to half an hour, they approached a road, whereon people and animals moved. The road led to a massive fortified gate, and the crowd looked like an assemblage of locals bringing in wagonloads of farm produce. They were massed around the gate, waiting, and more constantly arrived.

As the Sheas approached, Shea made out the distinctive features of these Barsoomians. They were black-haired men with bright-red skins — redder than that of any Native American, together with facial features much like those of Earthly Europeans. They shivered under blankets wrapped cloakwise around themselves Shea recognized the beasts of burden harnessed to the wagons as thoats — hefty animals on eight slender legs apiece, with gaping jaws and massive tails ending in broad blades, usable as weapons.

As the Sheas came near the gate, a silvery trumpet sounded. With a screechy creaking, one valve of the gate swung outward. After a pause, the other valve did likewise. Several men, naked but for a harness of straps supporting swords and other personalia, bustled out. Their harness was all of one design, thus constituting the gate guards’ uniform.

The gate guards talked among themselves and with members of the waiting crowd. Then two guards strode purposefully toward the Sheas. As they neared, the low sun flashed on large, bejeweled metal buckles and badges, where the straps of the harness crossed or joined.

“Who are you?” barked the nearer guard.

“From your garb,” said the second guard, “you look like Jasoomians.”

“So we are,” said Shea. “In fact, we are —”

“You must come with us at once?” said the first guard, seizing Shea’s arm in a firm grip, while his comrade took hold of Belphebe’s arm.

“Unhand me, sir!” cried Belphebe.

“Orders are orders,” said the first guard. “Come along, now!”

“What orders?” said Shea, “To bring any Jasoomians before the Jed at once!”

“Harold!” cried Belphebe. “Will you let these knaves lay hands on me?”

“Best we go along with them, darling,” said Shea, “since they’re taking us where we want to go anyway.”

* * *

Mors Kajak, Jed of Lesser Helium, sat behind a huge desk piled with scrolls. As Shea noted, the Barsoomians had not yet made the transition to the codex, the book of separate pages all bound together along one edge. The Jed was a big red Barsoomian of what, in an Earthman, would be called early middle age. He was stouter than most Barsoomians, with a few strands of gray in his bristling crew-out black hair.

Shea had read that Barsoomians kept the appearance of youth longer than Earthmen until, in the last century of their millennial lives, they rapidly aged. Like other Barsoomians, the Jed wore nothing save a harness of straps, whence dangled pouches, pockets, and a pair of swords in scabbards. At last he dropped the scroll he had studied and looked up.

“Well?”

“O Jed,” said the senior guard, “we found these Jasoomians trying to sneak in the main gate. Mindful of our orders, we seized and brought them hither.”

Belphebe looked ready to utter an angry outburst, when a gesture from Shea silenced her.

“You did right,” said the Jed. “you may return to your duties, leaving the Jasoomians here. As you go out, tell the two door guards to step into my sanctum.”

The senior gate guard saluted (a gestuze that reminded Shea of the Roman salute made notorious by Mussolini and Hitler). Then he did a smart about-face and departed, followed by his comrade. The two door guards entered the room and took places at either end of the massive desk.

Well, Jasoomians,” said the Jed, “how explain you your presence on this world?”

“First, O Jed,” said Shea, “permit me to protest the gate guard’s referring to my wife’s and my approach to the gate as ‘sneaking.’ We came peacefully and in plain sight.” Shea then plunged into the tale of Malambroso’s abduction of the infant Voglinda Shea.

The Jed judiciously put his fingertips together. “You say you are Professor Doctor Sir Harold Shea, and that the lady is your wife Belphebe?

“It may be that what you have told me is true. Pray ignore the manner whereby you were fetched hither. We have learned to be wary of Jasoomian visitors. They are such wild exaggerators and prevaricators, like my crazy son-in-law, Lord John Carter. When he bests one man in combat, he tells everyone that he has slain three, if he defeats three, they become a score.

“Moreover, Jasoomians are forever introducing subversive ideas, trying to upset our sound, stable, time-tried Barsoomian customs to make them more like those of their native world. Why, Carter has spoken of making it illegal to slay a man in fair fight!”

“You disagree, O Jed?” said Shea.

“Of course! Did we Barsoomians not kill one another off with such zest by duels and assassinations, the planet’s population would soon exceed that at which its scanty resources could support its people.

“Another Jasoomian, Ulysses Paxton, goes under the Barsoomian name of Vad Varo. He urged that each Barsoomian nation adopt a written constitution, to be confirmed by popular vote. He persuaded the Zodangans to try it, with the result that the chief of the Zodangan assassins’ guild, Ur Jan, won the Jedship.

“Patton has even preached that slavery is wrong, if you can believe that an apparently intelligent being could entertain such a nonsensical idea, and an inhumane idea to boot.”

“How is it inhumane?” asked Belphebe.

“Why, what else could you do with prisoners of war except to make slaves of them or kill them? If you turn them loose, they will return to their own land and come back to fight you again. The remaining alternative is to kill the lot, and Paxton deems that even more inhumane. But it is the only practical alternative to enslaving them.