Queen of Mars - Book III in the Masters of Mars Trilogy Read online

  “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.”

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

  Twenty-One

  No 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.

  The 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.

  Twenty-Two

  Two 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.

  He was smiling now – still well-groomed, still severe even in his prison rags. He had moved to the end of his cot and sat looking up at me expectantly.

  “You look a little like me,” he said, not without some self satisfaction.

  “I always thought so,” I replied.

  He patted the cot next to him. “Come, sit beside me. I won’t bite.”

  “I know that. I’ve come for your help.”

  “Oh?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you came merely to visit your old grandfather on his birthday.”

  “Is it your birthday?”

  “No.” The low chuckle again. “It’s just that, I thought you might come.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need me to keep the F’rar in line, while you finish Frane off once and for all. I may be in jail, Clara, but my mind isn’t.”

  “I was told you were one of the sharpest Senators ever to walk to floor of the Hall.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “You were also a traitor.”

  “Yes, again.”

  “Why?”

  His smile faded. “Do you have to ask that? Is there so little F’rar blood in you that you have to ask?”

  “I want to hear it from you.”

  He stood up, and the veins in his neck stood out and he pounded one clenched paw into his other open one.

  “Because we are the natural rulers of Mars! The F’rar were the first great race of felines! All other clans were inferior, and always will be!” He turned to me and his face was filled with pleading.

  “Don’t you see this, Clara? You have done a great thing – become Queen of Mars – but now you must use that position to make the F’rar the true rulers of Mars – now and forever!”

  I stood. “I thought I could speak with you,” I said, trying desperately to control my inner rage, “but I see that you still don’t understand.”

  He took hold of me. “Listen to me, granddaughter! You are Queen! All you need do is declare your F’rar blood, to the exclusion of all else, and the deed is done! All the F’rar will rise to support you! Frane is history – you are the future!”

  “Is that madness in your eyes I see?” I asked.

  “It is allegiance to my race!”

  I pulled away from him, and walked to the door of the cell.

  I turned around and said, quietly, “Frane has kidnaped my mother.”

  “What!”

  “It is true. One of Frane’s confederates slowly poisoned her for months, driving her mad, and now Frane holds her.”

  He was pensive. “You know I hate your mother for putting me here.”

  “I know that.”

  “But I love her, and always will, because she is my daughter.”

  I waited, and finally, in the gloom, he spoke again, quietly. “I will help you, of course.”

  “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

  His coarse chuckle returned. “You know you remind me too much of myself.”

  “I was counting on that, grandfather.”

  He broke out into a loud cackle of a laugh. “Oh, I do believe I both like and love you, Clara!”

  “Thank you.” I approached him, and held my signet ring out in the dimness. “From now on you will address me as your Queen.”

  His eyes were steady on me, unwavering in the twilight of his cell.

  “And,” I continued, “once you kiss this ring, you will have pledged fealty unto death to me, and to the republic I stand for. You do realize that, grandfather?”

  “Yes,” he said. His eyes had not left my face, and he made no move to bend his head and kiss my ring.

  “And you realize that if you were to break that oath of fealty, your death would be
swift, and certain?”

  “I have never broken an oath.”

  “I know that.”

  He bent his head, and kissed my ring.

  “I have never broken an oath until now,” he continued, lifting his head. His smile, hard now, returned. “I once swore allegiance to Frane – but now, for what she has done to my daughter, she will die.”

  “I know that before becoming a senator you were a great general, is that not true?”

  “It is true.”

  “Then I will ask you to be a great general again. We will march against Frane within the week, and you will be at the head of my army with me.”

  “It will be my pleasure to serve you. And of course, you sought my fealty knowing that it would quell any lingering unrest in the F’rar clan. By securing me you have secured the F’rar. Clever girl.”

  “Gaoler!” I shouted, and at once the huge lumbering feline, jangling his keys, returned, standing before me expectantly.

  “Let us out,” I said. “This man has been pardoned.”

  Twenty-Three

  A long week of preparation. My grandfather proved to be even more able than I had hoped, and wasted no time in getting our army of three thousand ready for war. This would be a cold weather campaign, and each feline was outfitted with proper clothing and schooled in the arts of winter fighting.

  I left the army in General Misst’s capable hands and traveled to the east with Newton by motor car to examine one of the revived oxygenation stations. My king came with us, and we made this a honeymoon of sorts. It was beautiful country, farmland and junto tree forests all in the first bloom of spring.

  “It’s odd that we’ll be leaving spring behind, to fight in perpetual winter,” I remarked, and Newton concurred.

  “I’ve been to the pole, and it’s a horrid place,” he replied. “At the height of summer the temperature never rises above twenty degrees Fahrenheit. At this time of year it will be even colder.”