Queen of Mars - Book III in the Masters of Mars Trilogy (13 page)

“What, then?”

“She is with Frane.”

It was as if a thunderbolt had gone through
me. “This cannot be!”

“Her own...madness was caused by mocra root,
administered to her by we know not who, a confederate of Frane
within the palace. The same spy, we believe, poisoned General Xarr
with an overdose of the same drug. Before the capital was bombed
your mother was spirited away, and we know that she now is in
Frane’s hands.”

Rage grew within me, but I held it in check
as I saw my father’s spectral form begin to weep.

“I loved her so...” he said, putting covering
his face with his paws.

“I will bring her home safely,” I said.

“If you were to do that,” my father said,
reaching out – and through – my own paw with his own, “what is
happening to me would be a peaceful end.”

“I will get her back, father,” I said,
gritting my teeth. “I vow it.”

My father’s form faded, flickered, came
wavering back.

Newton was behind me, his paw drawing me
gently away.

“You must let them rest,” he whispered.

“No! Leave me alone with them for a
moment!”

As if my command had been a gunshot, both
Newton and Darwin withdrew from the room, closing the door gently
behind them.

I faced the only two forms who had dominated
my nightmares and my waking life since I was a kit. As much as I
had always dreaded this place, I had longed desperately for the
company and wisdom of these two beings. And here before me they
were fading, dying, forever.

“I will never forget you,” I said, and again
tears threatened to come.

My father said nothing, only nodding. My
grandmother mustered all of her strength and, for just a moment,
became substantial. She reached out with her paws and drew me to
her, holding me. I swore I could feel her beating heart against my
breast.

“You are the hope of all of Mars,” she said,
“and I leave knowing that everything your father and I, and my
father before me, hoped for will be fulfilled in you.”

She kissed the top of my head, a substantial
gesture.

“Go now,” she said, and I felt her embrace
melt away around me.

At the door, I looked back, and they were
nearly gone, only a flicker inhabiting each throne, staring into
nothingness.

I walked out, and met Newton and Darwin in
the hallway waiting for me.

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” I
pleaded.

Newton shook his wizened head. “Very soon
they will be gone. I am sorry, your majesty.”

I fell into Darwin’s arms.

“This burden is too much!” I said.

He let me cry for a few moments and
then he whispered in my ear, in as light and tender a voice as he
could muster, “But you will have me at your side. Always.”

T
hat evening, as we
prepared to take off for the city of Bradbury, word came from
Newton that my father and grandmother were gone forever.

N
o committee greeted
us at the outskirts of Bradbury when we landed, nor was one
expected. As Darwin had explained to me, Frane had put a mighty
price on my head, and money did strange things even to staunch
loyalists. We were spirited from our black airship into a black
motor car, its windows darkened, and taken to the heart of the
city, much less grand than Wells but still a pretty place, where
the government in exile had been established.

When I entered the hall, a smaller, drab
version of the grand Hall of Assembly, I was happy to see so many
familiar faces. I was greeted from either side of the aisle by
senators and assembly members alike, some close friends who I
thought I would never see again. As I climbed to the dais to speak
I looked out at many unfamiliar faces, also, but sought to
immediately make them feel at ease.

“It may sound strange, in these troubled
times, to say that this is a happy day for the republic,” I began,
“but that is exactly what it is. For free government does still
exist, a united Mars still does exist. Many of you are newly
elected to your posts, having come to office under sad and dire
circumstances, but do not think that you are in any way
‘substitute’ senators or fill-in members of the assembly. You have
been appointed, or, in some cases, elected, by the people of Mars –
and it is the people of Mars we represent. As long as the people
exist, a free Mars will exist. And, after this final battle, Mars
will, once and for all, be free of the forces that seek to destroy
it.

“As I said, these are happy times. Many of
you lost loved ones in the dastardly bombing of Wells, as did I.
This should make our resolve even greater. And even with such a
dire blow, we still sit here today and plan our future, and that of
our kits. Soon we will embark on a great mission, but today, I say
yet again, is a happy day.

“For it is the day your Queen weds.”

These words had the desired effect. I had
known this first meeting with the women and men who were the
backbone of my rule, and what better way to present myself to them
– to many, for the first time – than as a betrothed Queen.

I left the dais, then, and a page announced
that there would be a wedding ceremony followed by festivities that
evening – which meant, of course, that I immediately went into a
kind of shock.

That afternoon was a bittersweet affair.
Darwin, making his own preparations, was nowhere to be seen, but
Thomas, who had accompanied us back from Arsia Mons, was a great
help and comfort. He joined me with his niece Rebecca, who had,
almost miraculously, survived the melee at Valles Marrineris and
had made her way with the remains of the army to Bradbury.

“You know,” Thomas said, and for the first
time I noticed that he was a half-step beyond middle age, his fur
greying and his step not quite as brisk as it had always been, “I
was at both your father’s and your grandmother’s wedding – though I
was only a kit when Queen Haydn was married. My uncle, Rebecca’s
grandfather, who later betrayed Haydn” – and now, for a brief
moment, bitterness entered his voice – “was her closest advisor,
and I was allowed to attend the ceremony, which was with an army on
the march.” He smiled at the distant memory. “I had my first taste
of wine that evening, and my first dance – with the fat cook
Brenda. She was a wonderful woman.”

“It was a shame she was lost when Wells was
bombed.”

“It certainly was,” Rebecca chimed in. She
was aiding the bevy of seamstresses who buzzed around me like sand
hornets as I stood on a box, putting pins into my white gown and
taking them out again.

“Many good people were lost when Wells was
bombed,” Thomas said. He shook his head. “I look at Newton and I
see myself in a few years. There has been too much strife for too
long.”

“I agree.”

Thomas caught the irony in my voice and
looked up from his own thoughts. “I’m sorry, your majesty. Of
course you know these things.” He put a claw to his chin, pensive.
“You father’s wedding was a fine affair. We were at Olympus Mons,
and the gypsy kings Radion and Miklos were present, and there was
much wine drinking and dancing, I can tell you! Your father and
mother were so happy. And now when I think of what’s happened to
your mother, her own betrayal...”

He shook his head.

“We will save her, and find out who the
betrayer is,” I said.

His face darkened. “I have made it my
personal mission, your majesty.”

And then, as if by an act of will, he lifted
his gloomy thoughts from his shoulders and told me only happy
things about my grandmother, and, especially, about my father and
mother in happier times.

When the seamstresses were finished I struck
a pose and said to Thomas and Rebecca, “Well?”

“It is a magnificent gown, your majesty!”
Rebecca said brightly.

“It certainly is,” Thomas seconded.

“I think so, too,” I replied. “You are
finished, ladies. No more pins. And I thank you.”

The seamstresses bowed and withdrew, and so
did Thomas and Rebecca, and I stood regarding myself in the full
length mirror before me. I certainly did not look like myself, all
curves and white flowing lines with a chaste veil. The scar I had
suffered on the way to Valles Marrinieris had faded. In a way I was
disappointed, since I had worn it in Xarr’s honor. I longed to
return to my tunic and boots and stretch my arms, but I lingered
for a moment on the strange vision before me.

I actually looked like a Queen.

All you have to do now is act like
one,
I thought.

Then I did remove the gown, and let the
seamstresses back in to work their magic with needle and thread
where pins had been.

T
he ceremony, the
celebration, the entire evening went by in a blur. I was handled
like a prize horse, pulled around by the reins from here to there
and back again. There was much wine drinking, but I did not much
like the taste of the stuff; and much dancing, though I already
knew that I could not so much as take a step to correct time; and
many paws to shake, and many lips to kiss my ring, and many
presents I would never open but give to the poor, and much pomp and
formality which I discovered, as I had feared, that I had no taste
for. This was not as I had imagined it. As for Darwin, I saw him
barely at all, for he was mired in his own bog of formalities as
the new King. There were even papers to sign, and wax seals to be
pressed with a signet ring – though we were not even together for
that!

It was with a very happy heart that I was
finally able to steal away from my own wedding party, long after
midnight, as the music and wine were still in abundance, but my own
patience was not. I had not seen my husband for more than an hour,
and would not be surprised if he was in one of his famous hiding
spots, just to get away from the noise and bustle.

In my white gown, which felt more
constricting by the moment, I stole out to the gardens behind the
assembly hall, which had been cleared of its chairs for the party.
The laughter and drunken bravado faded to a washing murmur behind
me, and the stars were out in abundance overhead. The air was
filled with the perfume of flowers. I looked up at the sky and
thought of Copernicus, and our adventures together. I hoped he was
well, and resolved to send for him when it was safe.

I felt rather than heard a movement behind me
– and had been grabbed before I could react.

Paws encircled me, pulling me tight and
forcing me to turn around.

I began to fought, then saw Darwin’s face
before me, grinning from ear to ear.

“My Queen!” he whispered, kissing me fiercely
on the mouth.

It was as if hard stone had suddenly melted,
and I turned to a soft thing in his arms. We dropped to all fours
and nuzzled, and then we kissed.

The heavens were forgotten, and a new kind of
heaven opened up for me, right there in the garden, with the
night’s perfume around us.

Later, as I gathered the ruins of the white
gown around me, and stole to our wedding chamber for a proper sleep
and more, I caught sight of blue Earth high overhead, a beacon.

It still had that strange pull on me, and I
thought again of Copernicus, and his paper that claimed Earth as
the origin of the Old Ones – but then Darwin whispered fiercely in
my ear, “To bed!” and all thoughts of others but he and I were
banished to the wind.

T
wo days later found
me on the most bizarre trip of my life. Part way by air ship and
then by motor car, through gates of thick iron and massive stone
towers to either side manned by grim gunners, across a courtyard
where we parked and I left the motor car, attended by five burly
guards who brought me through another, smaller but even thicker
iron gate, which protested on its rusted hinges like a yowling
feline, and then yet a third gate where a stone-faced guard, fully
the tallest and widest feline I had ever seen, looked down at me
and then bowed, saying in a rumbling voice that sounded like caught
thunder, “Your majesty. He waits for you.”

I thanked him, and then was let into a stone
building, cold and damp and nearly without light, and led down a
long corridor passing empty cell upon empty cell until I stood
before the last one on the left, which was narrow and dim.
Somewhere there was a steady, slow drip was I already found
annoying.

My massive companion turned to me and said,
“We will stay with you,” indicating the five guards and
himself.

“No, you will leave me alone.”

“Then you must not enter the cell, your
majesty.”

“Nonsense. Open it and let me in.”

“But—”

“This moment, gaoler.”

He gave a deep sigh. “Very well.”

With a low growl of disapproval in the back
of his throat that sounded like a breaking storm, he unlocked the
barred door with a huge key which made a huge click and then pulled
the door wide.

Before I could enter he stuck his head into
the gloomy space and said in an unfriendly, deep hiss, “If one hair
is disturbed on her head I will break you in half myself.”

A low chuckle came from within, and I saw a
figure shift in the dimness.

The gaoler stepped fully aside and let me
enter.

To my surprise he locked the door after
me.

“Rules,” he explained in his basso
rumble.

“Of course. Now let us be.”

“As you wish.”

The gaoler moved off, and five guards
following reluctantly.

I turned to the figure in the gloom.

“Hello, grandfather,” I said, trying to make
my voice sound without inflection.

The low chuckle came again, and now my
grandfather, Senator Misst, traitor to the republic, rose fully out
of the dimness into sight.

To my surprise he looked much as I had
remembered him on my one and only other visit to this place, when I
was a kit. My mother had taken me, before the onset of her madness,
and over the objections of my father, of course. But she had wanted
me to meet my grandfather, as much for his sake as for mine. He had
been severe, well-groomed – but when he saw me then there came a
glint to his eye, and he had smiled, something my mother later told
me he never did.