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Page 28
She, too, had noted the questioning attitude of the thern who had
borne Sator Throg away.
"It bodes no good for us, O Prince," she said. "For even though
this fellow dared not chance accusing you in error, there be those
above with power sufficient to demand a closer scrutiny, and that,
Prince would indeed prove fatal."
I shrugged my shoulders. It seemed that in any event the outcome
of our plight must end in death. I was refreshed from my sleep,
but still weak from loss of blood. My wounds were painful. No
medicinal aid seemed possible. How I longed for the almost
miraculous healing power of the strange salves and lotions of the
green Martian women. In an hour they would have had me as new.
I was discouraged. Never had a feeling of such utter hopelessness
come over me in the face of danger. Then the long flowing, yellow
locks of the Holy Thern, caught by some vagrant draught, blew about
my face.
Might they not still open the way of freedom? If we acted in time,
might we not even yet escape before the general alarm was sounded?
We could at least try.
"What will the fellow do first, Thuvia?" I asked. "How long will
it be before they may return for us?"
"He will go directly to the Father of Therns, old Matai Shang. He
may have to wait for an audience, but since he is very high among
the lesser therns, in fact as a thorian among them, it will not be
long that Matai Shang will keep him waiting.
"Then if the Father of Therns puts credence in his story, another
hour will see the galleries and chambers, the courts and gardens,
filled with searchers."
"What we do then must be done within an hour. What is the best
way, Thuvia, the shortest way out of this celestial Hades?"
"Straight to the top of the cliffs, Prince," she replied, "and then
through the gardens to the inner courts. From there our way will
lie within the temples of the therns and across them to the outer
court. Then the ramparts--O Prince, it is hopeless. Ten thousand
warriors could not hew a way to liberty from out this awful place.
"Since the beginning of time, little by little, stone by stone, have
the therns been ever adding to the defences of their stronghold.
A continuous line of impregnable fortifications circles the outer
slopes of the Mountains of Otz.
"Within the temples that lie behind the ramparts a million fighting-men
are ever ready. The courts and gardens are filled with slaves,
with women and with children.
"None could go a stone's throw without detection."
"If there is no other way, Thuvia, why dwell upon the difficulties
of this. We must face them."
"Can we not better make the attempt after dark?" asked Tars Tarkas.
"There would seem to be no chance by day."
"There would be a little better chance by night, but even then the
ramparts are well guarded; possibly better than by day. There are
fewer abroad in the courts and gardens, though," said Thuvia.
"What is the hour?" I asked.
"It was midnight when you released me from my chains," said Thuvia.
"Two hours later we reached the storeroom. There you slept for
fourteen hours. It must now be nearly sundown again. Come, we
will go to some nearby window in the cliff and make sure."
So saying, she led the way through winding corridors until at
a sudden turn we came upon an opening which overlooked the Valley
Dor.
At our right the sun was setting, a huge red orb, below the western
range of Otz. A little below us stood the Holy Thern on watch upon
his balcony. His scarlet robe of office was pulled tightly about
him in anticipation of the cold that comes so suddenly with darkness
as the sun sets. So rare is the atmosphere of Mars that it absorbs
very little heat from the sun. During the daylight hours it is
always extremely hot; at night it is intensely cold. Nor does the
thin atmosphere refract the sun's rays or diffuse its light as upon
Earth. There is no twilight on Mars. When the great orb of day
disappears beneath the horizon the effect is precisely as that of
the extinguishing of a single lamp within a chamber. From brilliant
light you are plunged without warning into utter darkness. Then
the moons come; the mysterious, magic moons of Mars, hurtling like
monster meteors low across the face of the planet.
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