The Chessmen of Mars | Page 6

as something that would, as a matter of course,
take place in the indefinite future, as, for instance, his promotion in the navy, in which he
was now a padwar; or the set functions of the court of her grandfather, Tardos Mors,
Jeddak of Helium; or Death. They had never spoken of love and that had puzzled Tara of
Helium upon the rare occasions she gave it thought, for she knew that people who were

to wed were usually much occupied with the matter of love and she had all of a woman's
curiosity--she wondered what love was like. She was very fond of Djor Kantos and she
knew that he was very fond of her. They liked to be together, for they liked the same
things and the same people and the same books and their dancing was a joy, not only to
themselves but to those who watched them. She could not imagine wanting to marry
anyone other than Djor Kantos.
So perhaps it was only the sun that made her brows contract just the tiniest bit at the same
instant that she discovered Djor Kantos sitting in earnest conversation with Olvia Marthis,
daughter of the Jed of Hastor. It was Djor Kantos' duty immediately to pay his respects to
Dejah Thoris and Tara of Helium; but he did not do so and presently the daughter of The
Warlord frowned indeed. She looked long at Olvia Marthis, and though she had seen her
many times before and knew her well, she looked at her today through new eyes that saw,
apparently for the first time, that the girl from Hastor was noticeably beautiful even
among those other beautiful women of Helium. Tara of Helium was disturbed. She
attempted to analyze her emotions; but found it difficult. Olvia Marthis was her
friend--she was very fond of her and she felt no anger toward her. Was she angry with
Djor Kantos? No, she finally decided that she was not. It was merely surprise, then, that
she felt--surprise that Djor Kantos could be more interested in another than in herself.
She was about to cross the garden and join them when she heard her father's voice
directly behind her.
"Tara of Helium!" he called, and she turned to see him approaching with a strange
warrior whose harness and metal bore devices with which she was unfamiliar. Even
among the gorgeous trappings of the men of Helium and the visitors from distant empires
those of the stranger were remarkable for their barbaric splendor. The leather of his
harness was completely hidden beneath ornaments of platinum thickly set with brilliant
diamonds, as were the scabbards of his swords and the ornate holster that held his long,
Martian pistol. Moving through the sunlit garden at the side of the great Warlord, the
scintillant rays of his countless gems enveloping him as in an aureole of light imparted to
his noble figure a suggestion of godliness.
"Tara of Helium, I bring you Gahan, Jed of Gathol," said John Carter, after the simple
Barsoomian custom of presentation.
"Kaor! Gahan, Jed of Gathol," returned Tara of Helium.
"My sword is at your feet, Tara of Helium," said the young chieftain.
The Warlord left them and the two seated themselves upon an ersite bench beneath a
spreading sorapus tree.
"Far Gathol," mused the girl. "Ever in my mind has it been connected with mystery and
romance and the half-forgotten lore of the ancients. I cannot think of Gathol as existing
today, possibly because I have never before seen a Gatholian."
"And perhaps too because of the great distance that separates Helium and Gathol, as well
as the comparative insignificance of my little free city, which might easily be lost in one

corner of mighty Helium," added Gahan. "But what we lack in power we make up in
pride," he continued, laughing. "We believe ours the oldest inhabited city upon Barsoom.
It is one of the few that has retained its freedom, and this despite the fact that its ancient
diamond mines are the richest known and, unlike practically all the other fields, are today
apparently as inexhaustible as ever."
"Tell me of Gathol," urged the girl. "The very thought fills me with interest," nor was it
likely that the handsome face of the young jed detracted anything from the glamour of far
Gathol.
Nor did Gahan seem displeased with the excuse for further monopolizing the society of
his fair companion. His eyes seemed chained to her exquisite features, from which they
moved no further than to a rounded breast, part hid beneath its jeweled covering, a naked
shoulder or the symmetry of a perfect arm, resplendent in bracelets of barbaric
magnificence.
"Your ancient history has doubtless told you that Gathol was built upon an island in
Throxeus, mightiest of the