Edgar Burroughs - Synthetic Men of Mars

The danger threatening Janai was constantly on my mind, and my inability to aid her drove me almost to distraction. If there were only something that I might do. But there was nothing. I seemed to be utterly helpless, and Janai’s situation equally hopeless.

Sometimes we had dull days at the zoo; but as a rule there was a steady stream of people passing along the avenue between the cages, and almost always there was a little crowd gathered in front of my cage when the avenue was not jammed by those who came and stood looking at me for hours at a stretch. There were always new faces; but there were those that I had learned to recognize because they came so often; and then one day I saw Gantun Gur in the crowd. He shouldered his way toward me, eliciting much grumbling and some hard words; but when someone recognized him and his name was passed around, the spectators gave way before him, for no one wished to antagonize the Assassin of Amhor. What a reputation the original must have gained!

“Kaor, Tor-dur-bar,” he said, coming close to the cage.

“Kaor, Gantun Gur,” I replied. “It is good to see you again; and I wish that I might speak to you privately.”

“I will come back,” he said, “after the visitors are expelled. You see, I am something of a privileged character in Amhor and around the palace. No one wishes to antagonize me, not even Jal Had.”

I thought that the day would never end, that the visitors would never leave. The hours dragged interminably; but at last the guards drove the public out, and the carts containing food for the beasts were wheeled down the avenue. Then Orm-O came with his hamper of scraps; but there was no sign of Gantun Gur. I wondered if he had again deserted me, or if his boasted privilege was a myth. I was particularly anxious to see him, because I had finally evolved a plan which I thought might prove beneficial for Janai. I asked Orm-O for some word of her, but he only shook his head and said that he had not seen her around the palace for days.

“Perhaps Vanuma has had her destroyed,” I suggested, fearfully.

“Perhaps,” he said. “The last I heard was that she was not treating Janai so well as she had in the beginning. Some say that she whips her every night now.”

I couldn’t imagine Vanuma or anyone else whipping Janai, for she was not the type to take a whipping meekly.

It was almost dark and I had given up all hope of Gantun Gur, when I saw him approach my cage. “Kaor, Tor-dur-bar!” he said. “I was delayed; no less a person than Jal Had himself. He came to me in conversation.”

“Whom does he wish killed now?” asked Ur Raj.

“He only wished to be certain that I was not planning on killing him,” replied Gantun Gur. “Do you know that I would rather be what I am, head of the Assassins’ Guild, than to be Prince of Amhor! My power is unlimited; everyone fears me, for, while I am known, all my assassins are not; and even those who might plot against me fear to do so lest my spies learn of it.”

“You have come a long way from the laboratory building, Gantun Gur,” I said, with a smile. “But tell me, does Janai still live? Is she well? Is she safe?”

“She lives and is well, but she is not safe; she never can be safe in Amhor. At least her life will never be safe as long as Vanuma lives. Of course, I do not need to tell you that, neither I nor any of my assassins will destroy Janai; but Vanuma may find someone else to do it, or even do it herself in desperation; so I have come to the conclusion that the best thing that I can do is to have Vanuma assassinated.”

“No, no,” I objected. “The moment Vanuma were out of the way, there would be none to protect Janai from Jal Had.”

“That is right,” said Gantun Gur, scratching his head. “I had not taken that phase of the matter into consideration. As a matter of fact, it would not be so bad for Janai, for then she would become Princess of Amhor; and from what I have seen of Jal Had’s other wife, Janai would rule undisputed queen.

“But she does not wish to marry Jal Had,” I said. “Vor Daj loves her. We must save her for him.”

“Vor Daj,” said Gantun Gur, “lying as one dead in the pits beneath the laboratory building of Morbus, certainly surrounded and perhaps long since devoured by the horror that spreads from Vat Room No. 4. No, no, Tor-dur-bar, while I admire your loyalty to Vor Daj, I think that it is wasted. Neither you, nor I, nor Janai will ever see him again.”

“Nevertheless, we must do what we can to save Janai for him; for I, for one, have not given up hope that Vor Daj some day will be rescued.”

“Well, have you a plan, then?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, “I have.”

“What is it?” he demanded.

“Get word to Vanuma, even if you have to tell her yourself, that Jal Had has learned that she is attempting to hire assassins to destroy Janai, and that he has sworn that if Janai dies, no matter what the cause, he will immediately destroy Vanuma.”

“Not a bad idea,” said Gantun Gur. “I can get that word to her immediately through one of her female slaves.”

“I shall breathe more easily when I know that you have done it,” I said.

I certainly slept better that night than I had for a long time, because I felt that, temporarily at least, Janai was safe. It was well for my peace of mind that I did not know what the next morning was to bring.

My cell was divided laterally by a partition, the front of the cell being open on the avenue, the rear consisting of a dark compartment in which there was a single, small window and a heavy door in the back wall. This was my bedroom, and my bed was a pile of the moss-like, ochre vegetation that covers the dead sea bottoms of Barsoom. A sliding door, that was raised and lowered by means of a rope passing over a pulley and thence outside the back of the cage, connected the two compartments. When I was in the front compartment, attendants could lower the door and enter the rear compartment for the purpose of cleaning it out, and vice versa, no one venturing to come into either compartment alone with me. I must say for Jal Had, that he had our cages kept reasonably clean; but that was because he realized that he could thus keep us in a more healthy condition and not because of any humanitarian instincts which he possessed.

The morning after Gantun Gur’s visit, I was awakened by the beating of drums and the mournful notes of wind instruments producing music that sounded very much like a dirge. Further sleep was impossible; so I crawled out into the daylight of my front compartment where I saw Ur Raj standing with his face pressed against the bars of his cage, looking toward the palace.

“Why the music?” I asked. “Are they celebrating something?”

“Perhaps they are at that,” he replied, with a smile, “though that music means that a member of the royal family is dead.”

“Let us hope that it is Jal Had,” I said.

“Probably no such luck,” returned Ur Raj.

The attendants were coming along the avenue, feeding the animals; and when they reached Ur Raj’s cage we asked them who was dead; but they told us that it was none of our business, and passed on. Of course, there was no reason why they should not have told us, if they had known; but it seemed to give them a feeling of greater importance if they treated us like wild beasts rather than like men, and wild beasts are not supposed to know anything of the affairs of their masters.

The green man in the adjoining cage had never been a very friendly neighbor. I think he resented the fact that I attracted more attention than he. He never addressed me, and had answered in monosyllables or not at all, the few times that I had spoken to him; but, of course, that might have been because they are naturally a sullen and taciturn race; but now, quite unexpectedly, he spoke to me.