With Dejah Thoris

As we reached the open, the two female guards who had previously been ordered to attend to Dejah Thoris approached us, as if to take her into custody once again. The red martian woman shrunk towards me in fear and I felt both of her hands tightly fold against my arm.

I waved both of the green martian women away, not bothering with them.

"From now on, Sola will be the one to attend to her." I said to the two who could only nod at my words. Being considered as a Tharkian Chieftain certainly has its benefits. And the fact that I had managed to fight with Tars Tarkas, the mightiest of Jeds, on equal grounds further solidified my position in the cold and cruel hearts of the green martian warriors.

As I waved the women away, I felt a piercing gaze somewhere behind me, directed at both me and Dejah Thoris. The gaze contained a hint of blood lust, hidden among the vast coldness that I could feel.

I turned behind me to witness the perpetrator of the gaze. Whom I saw was a face all too familiar.

It was Sarkoja, the most vile and fierce example of a green martian female that I had ever seen until now.

Looking at her figure that was quietly gazing at the two of us, I glared at her with the coldest look I could muster. And that... seemed to work. Though, I did expect the reaction to be more extreme, the best I got was her looking away.

It did make me remember the various novels Damien Smith had read, which showcased people that could make someone faint with just a glare. And even though I had the power of Kundalini, it didn't seem like I could do that.

But even in all my dissatisfaction, I couldn't do anything about that.

Anyway, Sarkoja left after this little staring contest we had and we moved on from there.

I soon found Sola and explained to her that I wished her to guard Dejah Thoris as she had guarded me; and that I wished her to find other quarters where they would not be molested by Sarkoja, for staying in the women's quarters would be risky still.

Even though I had made it plenty clear that Dejah Thoris was under my protection, it didn't mean that the declaration would serve as a deterrent to Sarkoja. For in my learning about Martian culture, I had learned that here on Barsoom, the opposite sex do not kill each other.

...What a bullshit culture. Anyway, it worked both ways so at least I won't be afraid of a female martian(Cough* Sarkoja Cough*) attacking me.

I accompanied Sola and Dejah Thoris in a search for new quarters, which we found in a building nearer the audience chamber and of far more pretentious architecture than our former habitation.

We also found in this building real sleeping apartments with ancient beds of highly wrought metal swinging from enormous gold chains hanging from the marble ceilings. The decoration of the walls was most elaborate, and, unlike the frescoes in the other buildings I had examined, portrayed many human figures in the compositions.

These were of people like myself, completely humaoid, and of a much lighter color than Dejah Thoris. They were clad in graceful, flowing robes, highly ornamented with metal and jewels, and their luxuriant hair was of a beautiful golden and reddish bronze. The men were beardless and only a few wore arms. The scenes depicted for the most part, a fair-skinned, fair-haired people at play.

I looked at the frescoes with interest, looking at the human like figures depicted on the walls. When my gaze had landed upon them, I had thought of them to be the records of humans. But I knew that was impossible. How convergent would evolution have to be for humans to develop here on Barsoom as well?

Upon seeing the drawings on the walls, Dejah Thoris clasped her hands together and with an exclamation of surprise and excitement, fervently looked at the depictions of a species that had long been extinct. Sola, on the other hand, barely paid any attention to them.

We decided to use the room on the second floor, that overlooked the plaza for Dejah Thoris and Sola, while I occupied a room that was on the rear end of the second floor.

Sola then headed to bring in the necessary materials to make ourselves at home, namely the bedding and the various cooking ingredients and utensils.

After Sola left, Dejah Thoris looked at me with a slight smile on her beautiful and unblemished face.

"I saw the fight with the one called Tars Tarkas. And I too understand your position among these people. You also have your way with words, managing to secure the perfect position among them while not being too bounded by them too. You are as smart as you are mighty." She complemented.

"But as true as that may be, I still fail to fathom your words of belonging from a far away land. And although you speak the same language as me, listening from the Tharkian's words, you seem to have only recently learned the language of the Barsoomian culture. All Barsoomians speak the same tongue from the ice-clad south to the ice-clad north, though their written languages differ. Only in the valley Dor, where the river Iss empties into the lost sea of Korus, is there supposed to be a different language spoken, and, except in the legends of our ancestors, there is no record of a Barsoomian returning up the river Iss." Amid her long monologue, a look of horror suddenly appeared on her gorgeous face.

"Do not tell me you have returned! The people of Barsoom would kill you horribly anywhere upon the land if that were to be true; please tell me it is not!" She said as her voice quivered and her small delicate hands reached up to press my chest, as if to force out a denial from my very heart.

Looking at her pleading expression, I could not, for the life of me, understand why it was such a big deal to travel up a river.

From the time I had spent here, I understood that there was only a single remaining river in all of Barsoom, that was the River Iss. The river Iss was supposed to be a gateway to the Martian Afterlife where the 'Goddess of Life Eternal, Issus' lies; and the valley Dor, where the Iss empties out at, is supposed to be at the bosom of Issus.

Obviously, me, who was a combination of Damien Smith and John Carter was skeptical about that fact. But if there was one thing that both Damien and John knew, it was to never question someone on their beliefs. It was alright to express your doubt, but it was never a good idea to question them on it.

So, as skeptical as I was about killing a man for travelling upriver, I was in no position to speak about it. It was Barsoomian culture and it would remain so for centuries to come. I could not change that.

"Although I do come from a far away land, I assure you Dejah Thoris, I do not come from the valley Dor. The lost sea of Korus is still very much lost in my eyes." I said with a comforting smile, a smile that seemed to enchant the beautiful red woman before me. It was then that I realized that I was extremely anxious whether she would believe me or not.

I looked into her wide, jewel like eyes, I could not help but be lost in them. I did not know the reason as to why I felt so inexplicably attracted to her. When my eyes met hers, I didn't understand why- I shuddered. A similar wave coursed through her body as well and she draw away from me with a sigh.

She turned to me and whispered, "I believe you John Carter. For on Barsoom, there is no one that lies. If that person does not wish to speak the truth, he is silent." She continued, "But if you do not belong to these lands, nor do you come from the valley Dor, which lands do you hail from?"

Contemplating for a bit I answered, "I come from another world entirely. The planet I come from is called Earth, which lies in the third position in the same star system, just before Barsoom which is called as Mars on my home planet."

"As for how I came here, even I am oblivious to the cause." I finished.

She gazed at me with troubled eyes, long and questioningly. That it was difficult to believe my statement I knew well, nor could I hope that she would do so however much I craved her confidence and respect. I would much rather not have told her anything, but I, for some reason, could look into the depth of those eyes and refuse her slightest behest.

Eventually she said, "Even though what you speak of is hard to believe, I cannot help but believe your words."

Relief flooded my mind as I heard her words. After that, we engaged in a conversation for several minutes, asking questions from each other about various subjects.

Surprisingly, she was very knowledgeable about Earthly events and history. When I asked her the reason, she answered, "Even school boys know of the geography and the history of Jasoom, or Earth as you call it. All of the flora and fauna, the different happening on the planet, the climatic changes, the wars that happen, are all of them not just laying there to be observed by the heavens, John Carter?"

This baffled me, I must confess, fully as much as my statements had confounded her; and I told her so. She then explained in general the instruments her people had used and been perfecting for ages, which permit them to throw upon a screen a perfect image of what is transpiring upon any planet and upon many of the stars. These pictures are so perfect in detail that, when photographed and enlarged, objects no greater than a blade of grass may be distinctly recognized.

This left in bafflement but so was to be expected from an alien civilizations. But the various cultural media that deal with an alien invasion might be influencing my thought process. I mean, Damien Smith had read a lot, and I mean a LOT of sci-fi novels featuring alien life and speculative biology. And about 60% of them had very advanced alien civilizations. That might be the reason I had been expecting the Mars civilization to also be technologically advanced, but the extent of their technological was still underestimated by me.

"If, then, you are so familiar with earthly things," I asked, "why is it that you do not recognize me as identical with the inhabitants of that planet?" She smiled again as one might in bored indulgence of a questioning child.

"Because, John Carter," she replied, "nearly every planet and star having atmospheric conditions at all approaching those of Barsoom, shows forms of animal life almost identical with you and me; and, further, Earth men, almost without exception, cover their bodies with strange, unsightly pieces of cloth, and their heads with hideous contraptions the purpose of which we have been unable to conceive; while you, when found by the Tharkian warriors, were entirely undisfigured and unadorned. The fact that you wore no ornaments is a strong proof of your un-Barsoomian origin, while the absence of grotesque coverings might cause a doubt as to your earthliness."

I then narrated the details of my departure from the Earth, explaining that my body there lay fully clothed in all the, to her, strange garments of mundane dwellers. At this point Sola returned with our meager belongings and her young Martian protege, who, of course, would have to share the quarters with them.

Sola asked us if we had had a visitor during her absence, and seemed much surprised when we answered in the negative. It seemed that as she had mounted the approach to the upper floors where our quarters were located, she had met Sarkoja descending. I wondered how I did not pick up her presence with my superior sensory perceptions, but considering how taken I was in the conversation with Dejah Thoris, it was pretty obvious why I wasn't able to sense her.

We decided that she must have been eavesdropping, but as we could recall nothing of importance that had passed between us we dismissed the matter as of little consequence, merely promising ourselves to be warned to the utmost caution in the future.

Dejah Thoris and I then fell to examining the architecture and decorations of the beautiful chambers of the building we were occupying.

She told me that these people had presumably flourished over a hundred thousand years before. They were the early progenitors of her race, but had mixed with the other great race of early Martians, who were very dark, almost black, and also with the reddish yellow race which had flourished at the same time.

These three great divisions of the higher Martians had been forced into a mighty alliance as the drying up of the Martian seas had compelled them to seek the comparatively few and always diminishing fertile areas, and to defend themselves, under new conditions of life, against the wild hordes of green men.

Ages of close relationship and intermarrying had resulted in the race of red men, of which Dejah Thoris was a fair and beautiful daughter. During the ages of hardships and incessant warring between their own various races, as well as with the green men, and before they had fitted themselves to the changed conditions, much of the high civilization and many of the arts of the fair-haired Martians had become lost; but the red race of today has reached a point where it feels that it has made up in new discoveries and in a more practical civilization for all that lies irretrievably buried with the ancient Barsoomians, beneath the countless intervening ages.

These ancient Martians had been a highly cultivated and literary race, but during the vicissitudes of those trying centuries of readjustment to new conditions, not only did their advancement and production cease entirely, but practically all their archives, records, and literature were lost.

This made me contemplate. It seemed that the red martians and the green martians were not the only humanoid races here on Mars. What had been explained by Dejah Thoris as the race of the 'Black Men' and the 'Yellow Men' who were supposedly extinct made me feel uneasy. Though I could not figure out why.

Then there was also the 'White Men' of Mars, also known as the 'Therns'.

Dejah Thoris related many interesting facts and legends concerning this lost race of noble and kindly people. She said that the city in which we were camping was supposed to have been a center of commerce and culture known as Korad. It had been built upon a beautiful, natural harbor, landlocked by magnificent hills. The little valley on the west front of the city, she explained, was all that remained of the harbor, while the pass through the hills to the old sea bottom had been the channel through which the shipping passed up to the city's gates.

The shores of the ancient seas were dotted with just such cities, and lesser ones, in diminishing numbers, were to be found converging toward the center of the oceans, as the people had found it necessary to follow the receding waters until necessity had forced upon them their ultimate salvation, the so-called Martian canals.

We had been so engrossed in exploration of the building and in our conversation that it was late in the afternoon before we realized it. We were brought back to a realization of our present conditions by a messenger bearing a summons from Lorquas Ptomel directing me to appear before him forthwith. Bidding Dejah Thoris and Sola farewell, and commanding Woola to remain on guard, I hastened to the audience chamber, thinking about the reason that Lorquas Ptomel had summoned me for.

In my mind, I related the matter to the subject of Sarkoja spying on me for some reason. It was just an intuition.

Anyway, as I reached the audience chamber, I witnessed both Lorquas Ptomel and Tars Tarkas seated upon the rostrum, looking at me with a fierce gaze.

'…This ought to be interesting…'