John Carter by Stuart Moore Page A

yet. But I will.”
    The wagon lurched, jolted to a stop. Matai slid open a small panel behind his head. Then he placed a finger to his throat and spoke in a completely different voice.
    The voice of a Zodangan military officer.
    â€œPadwar, what’s the holdup?”
    From up front, the driver’s muffled reply. “Sorry, sir. Streets are blocked. It’s the wedding procession.”
    Matai closed the panel, mildly annoyed. He turned back around, smiling at Carter’s futile struggles.
    â€œIncreased strength and agility. A simple matter of gravitation and anatomy…we should have foreseen it.”
    â€œWe?”
    â€œNo apparent intelligence increase—unfortunately for you. Still, this will not do at all.” Matai held up the medallion, dangled it close to Carter. “We can’t have Earthmen projecting themselves to Barsoom, leaping about and causing all manner of disruption.”
    Carter frowned. This man or creature, whatever he was, had enormous weaponry and power at his command—and he seemed to know all about Carter and Earth as well. Suddenly Carter recalled Dejah’s words back in the Thark settlement.
    â€œYou’re a Thern,” he said.
    â€œTherns are a myth,” Matai replied.
    Then Matai touched his throat again and spoke in the officer’s voice. “Padwar, we’ll go on foot.”
    The battlewagon’s rear doors swung open. Carter felt a lightening sensation in his legs and discovered he could stand. When he looked up again, Matai Shang had transformed wholly, body and clothing, into a young Zodangan officer.
    They hurried out of the wagon and into the crowd. Zodangan citizens massed around them, dressed in celebratory red. There were too many, packed too tightly, for Carter to make a run for it. And his arms were still bound.
    â€œThe Therns do not exist,” Matai said in a low voice. “ I do not exist. Indeed, I work very hard at that.”
    The crowd grew even thicker, jostling and bumping against Carter. When he looked up, Matai’s officer form had been replaced by the figure of a smiling elderly woman.
    â€œExcuse me,” Matai was saying. “Many pardons…the blessings of Issus be upon you…”
    As the crowd thinned, Carter looked up to see the royal float approaching, gliding above the wide street. Sab Than and Dejah Thoris stood atop its roof, waving down at the adoring citizens.
    â€œIt’s a shame, really,” Matai said in his old lady’s voice. “She is a remarkable creature. And she came very close indeed.”
    â€œYou mean the Ninth Ray,” Carter said.
    â€œIt’s of no consequence now. Tonight, when the two moons meet and vows are exchanged, there will be a grand ceremony. And then she, and anyone else with knowledge of the Ninth Ray, will be eliminated.” Matai turned to Carter and smiled a cruel, inhuman smile. “Shame there’s no one to warn her.”
    Carter whipped around, back toward the float—and the web snaked its tendrils up, covering his mouth again. A muffled cry died in his throat.
    The royal float slid by. Of all the cheering crowd, only Carter could see the sadness behind Dejah Thoris’s stoic smile.
    Matai waved as the float passed by. “The balance must be restored.”
    Then he grasped Carter’s arm roughly, leading him off through the crowd again. Up ahead, Carter saw the elevated space of the Zodangan Hangar Deck with its multiple levels of skycraft, pilots, and mechanics.
    The web receded again. Carter gasped for breath.
    â€œWhat—what gives you the right to interfere?”
    â€œWhy do you care?” Matai seemed honestly curious. “This is not your home; you have no obligation to these people. How would they say it in Virginia? You have no dog in this fight. You’re a man without a cause.”
    As they approached the base of the Hangar Deck, Matai shifted casually back into the form of an