L. Camp - The Exotic Enchanter

“Looks like Barsoom’s last wetland.” Then be had to explain the term “wetland.” “Time was,” he said, “when it was considered the right, natural thing for any Earther to kill any wild animal he came upon, and to drain and ditch wetlands to turn them into farmland. But lately people have begun to see that wetlands have their essential function, too. Get rid of them and you’ll be sorry.”

“I understand,” said Ras Thavas. “A few Barsoomians have tried to agitate similar proposals to conserve natural features. But so far the masses have taken the view that these are mere busybodies seeking excuses to meddle in others’ affairs and to deprive them of their normal means of making their livings. One might think that the length of Barsoomian lives would lead the rabble to take a long view, extending over centuries or millennia. But most find a year as far ahead as they can or are willing to think.”

“Sounds like Earth,” said Shea.

“How is your altitude holding, Doctor?” asked Ras Thavas.

“Losing, little by little. I don’t like to empty our last bags of ballast, because that would leave us without vertical control.”

“I can see that we are flying lower and lower,” said Ras Thavas. “Perhaps we had better alight on the first good landing spot we find, rather than wait for the loss of refufupizaidi to bring us down on a spot not of our choosing.”

“Sound thinking,” said Shea.

“What else would you expect, from one of my superior intel — Sorry; there I go again.” With a shamefaced grin, Ras Thavas got out his telescope and scanned the marsh-land below and ahead of them. “Methinks I see a patch flat enough, dry enough, and sufficiently unencumbered by plant life to serve our needs. About ten degrees to port, Doctor.”

* * *

The Banth came down to a quiet landing on a patch of soil overgrown with the yellow-pink moss instead of the ubiquitous shrubs, trees, and swamp plants. Shea said:

“I don’t think its practical to try to walk to Toonol.”

Belphebe said: “The understatement of the year, darling. Is there any chance you could find and repair the leak? You were always pretty fast with the wrench and the soldering iron with our car.”

Scrutinizing the hull, Ras Thavas said: “I cannot see any holes in the tanks. But then, we should have to take the whole ship apart to find a mere pinhole, and all the remaining refufupizaidi would escape. Have we any lift left?”

Shea worked the controls, “I think there’s a little; but not enough to raise us off the ground. So we might as well manhandle the Banth into the water. If the hull leaks, we can use those mugs we brought along for lunch to bail it out.”

Belphebe: “Can this flier float?”

“It should,” said Ras Thavas. “When, following discovery of the refufupizaidi , these machines were first devised, their design followed that of the smaller water craft, since remnants of Barsoom’s oceans still existed. That was before my time. So fliers still look something like boats. Propose you to attempt the rest of our journey by water?”

“We can try.” said Shea, “Even if the swamp watercourses wriggle like worms on a hook, I think I can figure out a route from this map.”

“What are worms on a hook?” inquired Ras Thavas. Shea explained, adding: “What worries me more right now is how we shall ever get this contraption back to Lesser Helium, to recover our deposit. It took most of our liquid funds.”

“I may be able to tide you over.” said Ras Thavas.

“What, you?” said Shea in mock astonishment. “You being altruistic?”

Ras Thavas looked embarrassed. “I try to benefit from your pronouncements, Doctor. Since we are all in this together, it is the logical course to follow. And I am sure that we shall be able to have the ship repaired in Toonol.”

* * *

“All right,” said Shea, taking a grip on the stem of the Banth. “Let’s see how that fine new body Vad Varo gave you works with loads. Take the bow, and grab the end of the painter.”

“Grab what? Oh, you mean the rope at the how. I fear my Barsoomian thews are not the equivalent of yours, since my body — either this one or its predecessor — lacked the advantage of growing up on a high-gravity planet. On your own world are you classed as a man of exceptional strength?”

“Not at all,” said Shea. “If anything, I rate as a rather skinny fellow.”

“Fortunately for me,” said Ras Thavas, “my superior brain has made it unnecessary to develop musculature above that which I inherited, and the habits that I formed in the thousand years of my former life have remained with me, At least, in the Bauth , you will not be able to force calisthenics upon me!”

With final grunts, they slid the ship into the stagnant water. Shea seized the painter, and the three boarded the craft, which rocked a little. Shea coiled the painter, studied his map, and bent to turn on the motor, The airscrew revolved in its case, slowly at first, then faster until it became a blur to the sight. Shea said:

“Doctor please get up on the forward deck to watch for snags and shallows, so you can warn me off them.”

“Can’t we go faster?” said Belphebe.

“I don’t dare, lest we run into an obstacle. So I have set the motor control to ‘medium’.”

* * *

For hours, Shea navigated the flier cautiously through the countless creeks and sloughs of the Toonolian Marsh. In the bow, Ras Thavas called back warnings of snags and shallows. Once a half-submerged log turned out to be an animal of the crocodillan kind.

“I sure don’t want to run into him ,” said Shea, “He might take it into his little reptilian brain to come aboard.”

“Harold!” cried Belphebe. “Look at that thing overhead! We’re going to pass right under it.” She bent her efforts to stringing her bow.

“Where?” said Shea. “Oh, that! Looks like a tough customer, how about it, Doctor?”

“If you leave it alone, it will probably extend the same courtesy to you,” said the savant.

The creature in question looked something like a man-sized lizard with six legs, each leg ending in formidable hooked claws. It was perched on a branch of a large tree that grew out of the water in midchannel. Belphebe shrieked:

“Watch out, Harold!”

Shea’s attention had been distracted long enough for the Banth to run head-on into the tree. Ras Thavas slid off the bow into the muddy water. The tree shuddered, and the Barsoomian swamp lizard felt from its branch to land on the engine compartment of the flier, forward of the seat in which Shea sat handling the controls. Belphebe had occupied the other seat, but she had risen to string her bow. She seized one of the safety cleats to steady herself.

In falling off the bow, Ras Thavas had quick-wittedly grabbed the painter. He had scarcely emerged from the water when he began hauling himself up on the bow again.

“Don’t shoot!” cried Belphebe, who had nocked an arrow but not drawn it. “If you missed, you’d hit Ras Thavas!”

Shea, trading stares with the swamp reptile at arms length, returned his pistol to its holster and instead drew his short sword, saying:

“At such close quarters, I’d prefer this.”

The reptile hissed and yawned, showing formidable fangs. Further forward, Ras Thavas called:

“Let it alone, Shea! I have it under control.”

Shea could not see what sort of control the savant had over the swamp reptile. But after a few more seconds, the animal turned and dove over the side. It swam away with serpentine sweeps of its tail.

“How did you do that, Doctor?” asked Shea.

“All higher forms of Barsoomian life are more or less telepathic,” said Ras Thavas. “I simply exerted my superior mental powers, and chide me not for referring to those powers. Without them, you and your lady might have sustained fatal wounds. These animals are difficult to kill. Is there a towel aboard to wipe off this muck?”