CHAPTER 2

The sky was pink and cloudless, and a smaller sun, low in the sky, shone brilliantly upon my naked skin. It was cool, though not uncomfortably so. I raised myself slowly onto one elbow to look about me. I was lying near the edge of the roof of a building I judged to be three or four storeys high. The roof was flat and near me were two small flyers, which I immediately recognized from descriptions of them by John Carter.

The building upon which I lay, together with a number of smaller structures, was completely encircled by a wall some 25 feet high. Beyond the wall, in the near distance, was a level plain evidently under cultivation for it was green in colour and laid out in long rectangles. Beyond that began the ochre vegetation that covers most of Mars.

I experienced an overwhelming sense of elation. My life on Earth had been deteriorating to a state of boredom. Of one thing I was now certain: I would no longer be bored!

My adventure began almost at once when I was startled to see, from the corner of my eye, another flyer landing on the roof. Unlike the others, this machine was larger and enclosed with a cockpit. Shortly three men emerged from it. I was hidden from them behind one of the smaller craft, but was able to observe the newcomers. They seemed typical of the Red race of Martians described by John Carter and all were scantily clad in tunics, their leather harnesses bristling with weapons. All had black hair and coppery skin, with the exception of the taller man, whose skin was fairer than the others'.

They rapidly disappeared from sight, but I received a fleeting impression that the taller man was being led, like a blind man, toward the entrance door.

I thought about my predicament for awhile and concluded I had no choice but to follow the men. I reasoned that I was friendless, had no knowledge of the language, and could not have escaped from the roof easily, even knowing that Mars' low gravity would make me more nimble. Without a good deal of experimentation, however, it would be dangerous to try jumping. Besides, where would I then go? Gingerly, I rose to my feet and for some time had to concentrate on keeping them firmly on the ground.

The door, which was unlocked, opened to a downward-curving ramp which led to the next floor. I hesitated at the opening at the bottom, which led into a broad hallway. There was no one about, and an open door drew me, with caution, to peer inside. The room, hung all around with heavy draperies, contained a number of low platforms, heaped with tumbled furs and lengths of silk. A sleeping room, then. Further exploration revealed several similar rooms, all unoccupied.

I descended another ramp to the next level, finding more of the same. At the time, I concluded that if this were a house, it contained rather a large family! The reason later became obvious: the slaves of the household slept near their masters as protection.

I realized that I would be discovered momentarily, but kept on boldly in a carefree state of mind, quite unfamiliar, but oddly welcome to me.

I met someone on the next ramp. She was hurrying up toward me, looking at her feet. When she became aware of me she glanced up, reacting with such an incredulous expression that I couldn't help but smile. She turned and fled in terror, crying something loudly. Within moments the ramp seemed crowded with people, all women, who ordered, demanded and questioned in a tongue beautiful to hear, but utterly incomprehensible.

I think it was my passive appearance that eventually calmed them and finally one woman took charge. She hushed them all and turned to me. She asked me something slowly and clearly, but it might as well have been Chinese.

I replied politely "I don't understand a word you're saying."

My strange language set them jabbering in excitement again, which took the woman some moments to silence. She turned to them and apparently told them to go about their business, for quite soon I was alone on the ramp with my hostess.

She smiled at me and, taking my hand, led me up one level to one of the bedrooms. There she ducked behind an arras and reappeared holding a silky garment which she directed me to put on. I smiled and thanked her. She had to assist me with the short toga-like affair after I, with considerable puzzlement, turned it over several times to discover which way was up. The plain, tan-coloured garment was cinched with a wide soft leather belt.

She then stood me before a small mirror suspended from the ceiling and began to brush out my dishevelled hair. Even I, at that moment, found my appearance remarkable, as it most certainly was for my hostess who, I knew, would never have seen a red haired individual. Now freed of the encumbrance of trying to appear older with layers of ugly makeup, my face had transformed into one of glowing health. My ginger hair, now freed of its severe restraints, was an unruly tangle of waist length tresses which she fingered in awe, and brushed with long gentle strokes.

I was a seven-day wonder!

Literally – because within a week the novelty of my appearance wore off and I found myself little more than a slave in that household.

My master was a farmer whose name was Kam Or. His farm was one of several hundred similar ones surrounding and protected by the City of Ptarth. Most Barsoomian farmers are fairly well-to-do, and Kam Or maintained a large household for his sizable family which consisted of himself, his wife Forian, five sons and one daughter. It was the daughter, whose name was Kamia, whom I had first met on the ramp. She was young, just having achieved adulthood and, not having a personal maid, had beseeched her mother to assign me to the position.

Thus began my life on Barsoom.

In my long life on Earth I was proficient in languages, and my aptitude stood me now in good stead. Even so, as I learned Barsoomian speech, it seemed to come readily to my tongue, as if I had learned it long ago as a child and then forgotten. Within a ten-day Kamia had taught me sufficient of that ancient tongue to be able to converse readily. Within a few weeks I spoke it as one born to the planet.

There is little point in detailing the tedium of everyday life in a Barsoomian farmhouse. Perhaps it is enough to say that life is much the same everywhere. As a slave my day was long and revolved entirely about the mundane activities of my young mistress which, as can be imagined, were drearily dull. So much for adventures!

The events that followed, then, were a welcome, if somewhat hazardous, diversion.

One evening, about an hour or two after everyone had retired for the night, I lay tossing restlessly while sleep eluded me. Finally I rose and tiptoed out into the hall and down a ramp to seek a glass of water. I became aware of a flickering light descending the ramp below and, curious, silently followed. The glow eventually stopped at the cellar level. Curiosity drew me downward with care. The cellar was empty, except for piled storage containers, and only dimly lit by a single radium torch thrust into a bracket beside the doorway. Nonplussed, I hesitated, wondering which way to go. Someone had preceded me here carrying that torch, but had somehow vanished. As I was aware only of one exit up the ramp, he must have left the cellar by some means unknown to me and had left the torch intending to return.

Where could I hide in the event that he abruptly returned and found me where I should not be? There was a stack of containers in one corner and by moving one of them a little, I was able to wedge myself between it and the wall.

I had not long to wait. To my astonishment, a section of wall nearly opposite my hiding place, slid open and one of Kam Or's sons emerged. He passed his hand over part of the wall beside the door, whereupon it closed silently leaving no trace of its existence. He took up the torch and soon I was left in total darkness.

Here was a mystery! I paused only long enough to allow the torch light to flicker out of sight, then groped across the cellar to the place where I had seen the door. By a stroke of luck, I found the tiny knob that controlled the latch and in a moment the door again stood open. The gloom beyond was dimly illuminated by ancient radium bulbs. A long tunnel led downward, which I followed cautiously. At two points the tunnel diverged into others, but fresh footprints in age-old dust showed the way.

I soon came to a large chamber containing several heavily barred doors. I frowned. This looked like a dungeon. Was there a prisoner here? Gathering my dissolving courage, I called, "Is there anyone here?"

No answer. I moved farther into the room, and called again.

Then behind me I heard a shuffling sound. I whirled just as a hoarse voice growled, "Who is there? Who are you?" The speaker's face appeared behind the bars of one of the first cells I had passed.

I approached and said, "I am Lara, a slave in the household of Kam Or. Who are you? Why are you here in this terrible place?"

My concern seemed to ease him and he replied rather less brusquely, "You are not one of them?"

"No," I replied. "I accidentally discovered the cellar door which leads to these pits. How long have you been here?"

He replied wearily, "It has been difficult to keep count. As nearly as I can estimate, it is 200 days since I was abducted."

Abducted - two hundred days since! The same day I had arrived on Mars. And then I recalled the man who had been assisted from the flyer on the roof. I looked at the prisoner more closely. What I could see of his beardless face was drawn and gaunt, showing strong features and a mobile mouth. His eyes, however, were half closed, the skin around them showing they had been terribly injured.

I was standing directly in front of him, but his eyes did not focus upon me. He was blind.

It was that which compounded my horror at the man's plight. "How were you blinded?"

He nodded. "Acid. It was the only way they could have taken me. If I had seen them I would not be here." He clenched his teeth and gripped the bars as if throttling someone.

Overwhelmed with anger, I said, "I will help you", and placed my hand on his in an effort to convey my concern. With a motion too swift to comprehend, he had my wrist in a grip of steel, his other hand twisting my hair painfully. He pulled me roughly against the door and it was all I could do to keep from shrieking.

"Where is the key?" he growled.

I gasped, "I do not know, but I – if you will let me go I will try to find it. Kam Or's son may have it on his person. I said I would help you – I wish to escape also. And," I pointed out, "you could go nowhere without a guide . . ."

His grip hardened, and I sobbed, "Please! I want to help you!"

He released me abruptly. I fell to my knees sobbing, panting, and fighting to regain my composure.

He was silent for a time, then asked, "Are you hurt?"

My wrist burned and my scalp ached. "No," I lied.

In a moment he said, "I am sorry . . . you are correct of course. I am helpless this way."

"It is all right," I assured him. "I am surprised you are still sane after so long alone in this horrible place." I rose and went over to him again. "Now I must go. If I am to help you I must not be discovered here." I dared to place my hand on his again, and could see him struggling with his desperate need to flee.

After a long moment, gently this time, he took my hand and lightly placed his lips upon it. "I wish I could see you. Go quickly."

"Kaor," I whispered, and fled noiselessly back along the tunnel. I encountered no one while regaining my room, and once there sat on my bed to devise a plan for escape.