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Updated: June 5, 2025
I said in true Martian greeting, and the warriors arose and saluted me. "I have but just found my way hither from the Golden Cliffs," I continued, "and seek audience with the hekkador, Matai Shang, Father of Therns. Where may he be found?" "Follow me," said one of the guard, and, turning, led me across the outer courtyard toward a second buttressed wall.
But if they be, then shall they be returned to you on the morrow." As he spoke he looked straight at Matai Shang, not as a devotee should look at a high priest, but as a ruler of men looks at one to whom he issues a command.
The awful creature in my grasp mumbled inarticulately for a moment, then a sudden gleam of cunning shot into those hideous, close-set eyes. "Dejah Thoris? Dejah Thoris?" and then that shrill, unearthly laugh pierced our ears once more. "Yes, Dejah Thoris I know. And Thuvia, and Phaidor, daughter of Matai Shang. They each love John Carter. Ha-ah! but it is droll.
What hope for me of mercy at the hands of the fanatical Kulan Tith with such advisers as Matai Shang and Thurid. The black grinned malevolently in my face. "You shall not escape this time, Earth man," he taunted. The guards closed toward me. A red haze blurred my vision. The fighting blood of my Virginian sires coursed hot through my veins. The lust of battle in all its mad fury was upon me.
I saw the ugly gleam in Matai Shang's evil eyes as Dejah Thoris narrated all that had passed between Thurid and herself, and when she came to that part which dealt with my interference with the dator of the First Born her gratitude was quite apparent, though I could see by her eyes that something puzzled her strangely.
"Holy Hekkador of the Holy Therns," the jeddak was saying, "shower thy blessings upon Dotar Sojat, the valorous stranger from distant Hastor, whose wondrous heroism and marvelous ferocity saved the day for Kaol yesterday." Matai Shang stepped forward and laid his hand upon my shoulder. No slightest indication that he recognized me showed upon his countenance my disguise was evidently complete.
"It shall be as you wish, Dator," replied Matai Shang; "nor is that all power and riches shall be yours if you restore my daughter, Phaidor, to me, and place within my power Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium.
Thurid was beside her now pushing past to reach me first, and then what happened happened so quickly that it was all over before I could realize the truth of it. Phaidor's slim hand shot out to close upon the black's dagger wrist. Her right hand went high with its gleaming blade. "That for Matai Shang!" she cried, and she buried her blade deep in the dator's breast.
That there was something radically wrong with the flier was evident from its lack of buoyancy, and the further fact that though Thurid had turned twice to the starting lever the boat still hung motionless in the air, except for a slight drifting with a low breeze from the north. Now Matai Shang was close to the gunwale. A long, claw-like hand was reaching up to grasp the metal rail.
When the altercation in the balcony had subsided Matai Shang turned again to me. "Earth man," he cried, "you have earned a more ignoble death than now lies within our weakened power to inflict upon you; but that the death you die tonight may be doubly bitter, know you that when you have passed, your widow becomes the wife of Matai Shang, Hekkador of the Holy Therns, for a Martian year.
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