Queen of Mars - Book III in the Masters of Mars Trilogy (3 page)

L
ater, when I was
alone curled up in my bed with the window locked tight and Darwin
long gone, the way he had come, I thought about what had
happened.

And thought on it again, until sleep finally
robbed me of all thought, and unfurrowed my brow, and the strange,
unknowable stirrings in me were quelled for the night.

I
f Frane were to
drop a bomb on this place at this time, I thought, all of her
problems would be solved.

I had never seen so many politicians and
dignitaries in one place. From my prominent position, wedged
securely between fat, scar-faced old General Xarr and the empty
seat that represented my absent mother, I looked out upon a sea of
expectant Senators and ambassadorial representatives from the four
corners of Mars. The tunic and pennant colors were astonishing,
with, among the twenty expected hues of red from deep cranberry to
a light pink, were bright lemon yellows mixing with jade greens and
blues as rich and deep as the theorized oceans of Earth. There were
pastel shades and bold primaries side by side, a rainbow blur that
extended to the deepest recesses of the hall. Indeed, the only
empty seat was that beside me.

We truly are still a world of clans, I
thought, and a slight shiver went through me to think that this
republic was still so fragile, held together with little more
than...

Me.

Another shiver ran through me, and old Xarr
leaned over and rasped, his breath still redolent of last night’s
wine, “Are you all right, princess?”

“As much as I will be,” I said, and he
frowned.

“There is little for you to do today, missy.
Just sit still, and pay attention.”

“I’m not a kit, and don’t call me missy,” I
ordered.

He sat up straight as if an arrow had hit
him. “Yes, Princess Clara.”

I felt a pang of regret for the rebuke I had
given him, but only a slight one because of the churning inside
me.

Newton, at the dais to my right, called for
order, and the shuffling and whisperings of the huge assemblage
quieted.

“We gather here today,” Newton’s voice,
rather reedy but strong enough to ring out in the hall, “to discuss
the most serious threat to the Republic since the last rebellion,
five years ago. This may, in fact, be the most serious threat our
planet has ever faced. Thankfully,” he said, holding his paws out
in an inclusive gesture, “we face it together, and not as a world
divided clan against clan.

“But that does not decrease in any way the
urgency, or the danger. You have no doubt read the literature which
was distributed before this meeting began, and know the basic facts
of the re-emergence of Frane in the far western wastelands. You
have also been made aware that she has secured the Republic’s most
important scientific facility, which was located in that area. We
are still assessing what weapons and instruments of war she has
obtained, and what she may do with them.

“But, believe it or not, there is a greater
danger than Frane at this moment. Many of you who have kept up with
our work in the Science Guild are aware of our warnings of the last
five years that Mars is losing its atmosphere. Slowly, inexorably,
the life-giving oxygen of our planet is leaking off into space. And
to this point we have been able to do nothing about it.

“Today, rather than bring just bad news, I
also bring good tidings. For the Science Guild has now been able to
bring one of the oxygenation stations that the Old Ones left behind
back to partial life, and we are confident that we may soon go far
beyond that and have all of these facilities – which in the dim
past initially, we believe, provided Mars with its breathable
atmosphere – back in operation. If this occurs it will avert the
single greatest danger our civilization has ever faced.”

Though Newton held up his paws for quiet, the
thunderous roar of ovation that broke out could not be quelled. He
stood stoically while this outpouring of good will, a release,
rolled over him and finally dissipated.

“Thank you, my friends, but there is much
work for all of us to do. For with this new threat from the west,
there is the possibility that Frane may interfere with this
planet-saving work of ours. That is why I need all of you to make
sure that your local governors secure their own territories, and
patrol their own borders, and guard especially any of these
oxygenation facilities that may exist nearby. Many of them are in
ruins, but they must be protected at all costs. All of our lives
depend on it.”

A senator, dressed in the resplendent robes
of the K’fry clan, peacock blue and a deep, liquid yellow, stood
and asked for recognition. Newton bowed and gave it to him.

“Newton,” the Senator boomed, holding a paw
out clenched in a fist, “do you believe that Frane would be insane
enough to destroy the entire planet?”

“We cannot assume anything. The woman is mad.
It is a possibility against which we must protect.”

The senator sat down, grumbling.

“We have only an outpost!” cried one of the
ambassadors from the northern cold climes of Arcadia Planitia. Not
as startling as the previous speaker, his tunic was a plain,
tasteful, light green fringed in gold. “There are two of these
oxygenation stations in our borders, and we nothing to protect them
with!”

Newton held up a paw. “Protection will be
provided, and troops will be sent to help you.” He looked around
the hall, forestalling any further outbursts. “This goes for all
the stations. We will do everything we can to assist you, both the
government and the Science Guild. This meeting was called merely to
alert you to the danger, so you could notify your localities of the
threat.”

“The government is too weak!” came a
thunderous voice from the back of the hall. I knew that voice. It
belonged to Senator Thell, of my mother’s – and Frane’s – clan, the
F’rar. He stood up, a massive feline dressed in deep blood red, his
fur, like my own, black as night. Even from where I sat I could see
the amber fire of his eyes.

“Senator—” Newton began, holding a paw out
for silence.

“Let him speak!” came another voice, from the
left of the hall.

“Yes, let Thell speak!” from the right.

“Yes!” just in front of me, the oily Prine,
of the Sarn clan, clad in dark robes as viscous looking as
himself.

Newton bowed, and Senator Thell stood
tall.

“The problems we have,” he thundered in his
basso voice, “can be traced to one source.” After waiting a moment,
no doubt for theatrical effect, he threw out one massive paw and
pointed with an almost violent gesture at the empty seat beside me.
“And that is it! There is no figure at the head of this government
to which all these wonderful delegates can hold allegiance. It
shames me to say that one of my own clan, and a distant cousin at
that, spends her days unable to cope with her duties. Queen
Charlotte grieves for her husband still, as do we all, but while
she grieves, and while we wait for a kit to grow into a woman, Mars
is run by committee! And in the meantime, the outer fringes of the
republic remain soft, and Frane – again to my greater shame,
another of my clan who I once fought for! – sneaks in and steals
from under our noses the very things we need to say strong. This is
not right!”

There were thunderous shouts of “Here, here!”
and “He is right!” which threatened to become a din.

Without thinking, with a knot in my stomach
the size of a fist, I slowly rose and walked to the podium. I heard
nothing, until I realized that the Hall of Assembly had quieted
below a whisper. Newton stepped aside, and as I looked out I saw
that Senator Thell, his mouth agape, was sitting unsteadily
down.

I counted to five, thinking about the things
Darwin and I had discussed. He had said I would have no trouble
with my little speech, but he was not here now and for a moment I
went blank.

Then it all came flooding back to me.

“Esteemed senators, honored dignitaries
and welcome guests,” I began, wondering how strong my own voice
sounded – surely a pip next to Thell’s roar, “I welcome you today
not as a kit, but as your Queen.”

I
remember little of
what happened next – how Darwin, on cue, appeared with the
administrator of the oath, how the Hall of Assembly broke out in
cheers and celebration, how the bells in the clock tower in Wells
center city chimed, I was told later, for a full hour. I remembered
none of this, nor little of the impromptu parties I attended nor
the dignitaries I was introduced to nor the senators who kissed my
ring. I remember briefly sitting on the throne and then, recalling
that my grandmother Haydn had refused such pomp, sending it away
with a wave of my paw. I remember dancing with Darwin before he was
spirited away by another female, and his disappointed look when
that happened. I remember dining on delicacies, and the receiving
lines, and the blaring of trumpets, and playing (very briefly, and
with mistakes) on the tambon while those around me clapped
politely, and I remember drinking wine, though not for the first
time (I had often stolen a sip at one function or other) and I
remember the bells chiming again at midnight as Newton, sensing my
exhaustion, removed me from the festivities with apologies all
around and whispered in my ear, not without admiration, I thought,
“That was an act of theater worthy of your grandmother!” and I
remember falling asleep almost immediately with all of these things
swirling in my head like those waltzing dancers, and I remembered
last of all, amid all these dancing thoughts, I am Queen of
Mars.

I
t was the next day
that old Xarr died.

He took to his bed, I learned later, during
the coronation ceremonies. Never one to pass up good wine, or bad
for that matter, he had been thoroughly inebriated the last time I
saw him, dancing badly with a senator from my own home district,
Argyre. She was homely and stiff as a board on the dance floor, but
this had not deterred the old general from circling her in a rough
stumble that was anything but graceful.

But he had looked happy, and fit for his
years – and then I was summoned to his bedchamber the next morning
with the news that he did not have long to live.

Newton was there, scowling, and when I
entered old Xarr fought to rise from his bed, and growled
weakly.

“Let me address my queen!” he shouted
hoarsely, and laid back exhausted but smiling as I stood over
him.

“Your majesty,” he croaked out, his scar
ravaged face even more grotesque, shrunken, the patchily furred
features pulled back in a rictus of death.

I turned to Newton and said, angrily, “What
happened to him? This can’t be some sudden illness. I saw him not
ten hours ago fit and hale as ever.”

“We don’t know, your majesty,” Newton said in
a low, even voice, and by the hooded flat look in his eyes, and his
grim visage, he told me that there was more to the story he would
not tell me now.

I whispered, “Is there any hope for him?”

“No,” was his curt reply.

A claw drew me around, and I turned to see
the old general fighting off a spasm of pain which bowed his body
as his paw gripped me.

“Your majesty!” he hissed.

The episode passed, and he lay back,
exhausted, and smiled weakly at me again.

“Come closer, sprite,” he said.

“You may not call me that,” I chided him
affectionately.

“Of course I can.” And for a moment his eyes
closed, and I thought he was gone.

I bent closer, smelling a strange odor from
his lips – an herb or medicine, vaguely weedy. It reminded me
vaguely of another odor I knew...

He opened his eyes and looked straight into
mine.

“Majesty,” he rasped, “you must do your old
general one final favor. I served your father, and his mother
before. I served the republic with all my heart. I lost my son to
the first war, but I...always...served. I only wish that I could
have died on the field...”

He broke off into a weak coughing fit, and I
swear that any normal feline would have been dead at that point.
But Xarr fought death itself to finish what he wanted to tell
me.

“I...have served well...”

“Yes, general, you have served well. No one
has served better.”

“Then grant me this...wish...”

Again he broke off, a spasm wracking his body
from head to foot. He moaned and clenched his teeth until the fit
passed.

“I...”

“Tell me what you want, general, and I will
swear to do it.”

“Find...”

His voice was barely a breath, and I leaned
even closer, assaulted by the rancid, herblike odor.

His eyes drew wide, as if looking into the
world beyond, and he grabbed me tight with both paws as if to take
me there. For a moment I was frightened but then his eyes locked on
mine and he roared, “Find the one who murdered me!”

And then his body went limp, and he had
gone.

Shaking, I turned to Newton and said, “Is
this true?”

“Yes.”

“He was murdered?”

“The same poison that was used to murder your
grandmother Haydn. In her case it was put in gemel tea – this time
into his last flagon of wine last night.”

“Who did this?” I demanded.

Newton was staring past me, at the lifeless
form of General Xarr. He seemed almost not to have heard me. I was
about to repeat the question when I saw that a tear was tracking
down the scientist’s stoic face. I had never thought Newton capable
of such sentiment.

“Who...” I asked, gently.

“We don’t know, your majesty.” And now
he looked at me, his eyes dry. “But it means we have a traitor and
assassin in our midst.”

X
arr’s funeral was
on a grand scale, as I ordered. His casket, draped in the colors of
his city of Burroughs, green and white, was lowered into the ground
after traversing a mile-long gauntlet of his troops. Though at
attention, many of them were openly weeping. A plain white tablet
marked the filled-in hole. Later a monument, which I had proposed
and the Senate had immediately adopted, would be erected on the
spot, a statue showing the general in his prime, arm raised to give
orders, horrid facial scars and all.