Queen of Mars - Book III in the Masters of Mars Trilogy by Al Sarrantonio

far
south?”
    “More than odd,” General Reis said, striding
into my tent. “My apologies, your majesty – if we had had any
indication of a harlow in the area we would of course have used the
perimeter defenses.” He studied my face, which was still being
dabbed at by Rebecca, who had retrieved a first aid kit.
    “Do I remind you of anyone?” I teased, but he
did not, or chose not, to understand.
    He asked, “Shall I give orders to march?”
    “Of course. What of injuries?”
    “One soldier dead, trampled by the harlow.
Eight Baldies killed. The attack was deliberate.”
    “We may expect more of the same?”
    “Perhaps. I’ve already doubled scouting
parties.”
    I nodded, and after a moment he turned on his
heel and left, marching out as he had marched in.
    “Strange...” I said, to no one in
particular.
    “Your majesty?” Rebecca answered, halting her
ministrations.
    I waved my paw. “Nothing, Rebecca. Thank you
for your help. It feels much better.”
    There were sudden tears in her eyes. “You
saved my life! And were hurt because of it!”
    I took her paw in my own, and squeezed it.
“You would have done the same for me.”
    She snuffled, looking away, and continued to
attend to my wound, which stung greatly but which I was already
forgetting.
    Strange , I thought.
    Strange that the Baldies seemed to be in
control of that harlow, when normally they would have been wild
with lust for the beast’s tusks, which they valued above all else.
I had never heard of a harlow being controlled before, by
anyone.
    Did Frane now have power over the beasts of
the world?
    And how had she been able to control the
Baldies, who were notoriously wild and untamable, in the first
place?
    Strange...
     

Ten
    W e became a more
cautious army, more vigilant, more ready, with more probing
tendrils ahead and behind us, more careful reconnaissance by our
aerial companions – and yet for the next two weeks, as we drew
nearer to Frane’s army, all was quiet. There was a brief sandstorm,
whipped down from the desert to the north but petering out almost
before it began. In a way this was a disappointment, for we had
barely secured our equipment and locked ourselves in our battened
down tents than the skies cleared and it was time to move again.
Copernicus explained to me later that we were too far south to feel
the real wrath of any such storm, and that we had felt the farthest
edges of it.
    “Another hundred miles north, though...” he
said, shaking his head, “and it would have been another story
indeed.”
    He did not share my disappointment, and spent
that night in rapture with his telescope under the stars.
    I had spent the previous three evenings alone
in my tent, trying to compose a letter to Darwin. There was no
doubt now in my mind that I loved him, and I thought it only right
that I express that love to the one I had left behind. But every
attempt –
    My dearest Darwin...
    Darwin, my love...
    – had ended with my crumpling the offending
sheet of stationary in my paws and throwing it to the ground.
    Finally, I decided to be direct:
    Darwin,
    I trust this letter finds you well. We
are about to engage in a great battle, and I find that I must tell
you certain things now, since there may be no other time. I don’t
know how this happened or why, but the fact is that I love you.
This is a mysterious thing to me, but it is a fact that must be
faced. When I return, if you feel the same, as I think you do, I
propose that we be betrothed and that you be my King.
    I signed it with all my love, then read it
over again and nearly tore it up. It was lame and ineffectual, but
at that moment the evening courier arrived, and, almost without
thinking, I folded and shoved it into an envelope, closed it with
my seal and gave it to him. There would be no other chance before
battle, and I put the letter into his paw.
    He bowed and left, and I took a great,
deep breath and then walked out to look at the stars with
Copernicus.
    T wo days