"We will perform the brain transplants now," he announced, clutching my short-sword in one hand.

As several of the madmen reached for me, I struggled again to break free. But it was pointless. I could not budge. We were carried from the hut, helpless, to the center of the clearing.

Tur motioned for the villagers to gather about, and we were set upon altars made from roughly hewn logs.

"The experiment is a simple one," Tur said. "I will take the brain from this red man, and place it in the skull of this woman."

"Why?" asked someone at the back of crowd.

The question seemed to startle the demented "surgeon," who was busy sharpening my blade upon a rock. I feared that he was blunting it more than anything else. Not that it would matter.

"It might do some good in the world," Tur finally answered.

"What will you do with the brain of the woman?" asked someone else.

"I hadn't thought of that," Tur admitted.

"Can I have it?" the questioner wondered. "I'd like to keep it as a souvenir."

"I suppose," Tur said. "But I must say, the request reeks of sentimentality."

As the madman hefted my short-sword in what looked to be a blow that would sever my head, a small flier landed in the clearing. A red man in leather harness and a half-dozen similarly garbed assistants descended from its deck and approached.

Meanwhile, three naked lunatics were unceremoniously thrust from the deck of the ship. Others from the village swarmed about, putting them through the same detailed examination I had undergone the day before.

"What have we here?" the red leader asked of those gathered about me and Shis-Inday. "What are you people doing now?"

"Ras Thavas!" exclaimed Tur. "You are in time to witness an experiment of great scientific importance."

"Indeed," commented the one called Ras Thavas. His tone was that of a parent humoring a child. He pushed his way through the crowd and looked upon us. "And what experiment is that?"

"I am about to place this red man's brain in his mate's cranium," Tur explained.

"Without benefit of anesthesia?" Ras Thavas asked. He seemed amused.

"Well, we don't have any..." Tur stammered. "The technique is still sound, however."

"Enough!" Ras Thavas roared. The lunatics scattered. Tur himself dropped my blade and scampered for the trees.

Ras Thavas looked at me in a clinical sort of appraisal. He was a typical red man: well-proportioned, black hair, a sword at his hip. He wore the weapon, however, as if it was seldom put to the use that Issus intended. Such men exist on Barsoom -- but they are rare.

His expression was one of scientific curiosity. If he wondered what circumstances had brought me to this rather ignoble predicament, he did not ask.

When the gaze of Ras Thavas turned to Shis-Inday, an intense interest immediately consumed him. He touched her forehead, examined her teeth, and then probed her with a small instrument.

Still gravely ill, the girl swooned in and out of delerium.

"Remarkable!" the scientist remarked, looking at his instrument.

He ordered his assistants to carry her to the flier, including me in his gesture as an afterthought.

We were soon underway, flying low above the marsh in a northerly direction. Once clear of the trees, I could see the outline of a city on the horizon.

"Phundahl," said a padwar near me. He seemed to spit the word out, as if its taste was unpleasant in his mouth.

"Your home?" I asked.

The warrior grunted.

"We are of Toonol, and Phundahl is our enemy," said the padwar, who was called Bal Zak. "Ras Thavas, however, is not particular about politics. He is making use of facilities that Xax, the Jeddak of Phundahl, has provided."

"And what of the village -- the lunatics who were about to brain me?"

"Experiments gone awry," said Bal Zak. "That village is one reason I, for one, am not too disturbed by Ras Thavas's allegiance with Phundahl. Xax permits the scientist to test his theories upon Phundahlian subjects. It's about the best use of Phundahlians that I can think of. When the mastermind is done with them, they are brought to Gooli, in the Great Marsh, and abandoned. We deposited a new batch today. It's lucky for you that we did. Or, perhaps, not so lucky."

The young padwar leaned close, and in a low voice added, "If you ask me, Xax himself is madder than any of those we just left in the village. And on that score, Ras Thavas is not far behind the Jeddak."

The spired city grew in the path of our plodding flier. It brought exotic images to my mind. "Phundahl" and "Toonol" had always been but names on a map. To an American of Jasoom, similar images might be conjured of places that John Carter has told me he visited in his long years of wandering and fighting upon your planet -- Khatmandu atop the tall Himalayas, or Xuja in the heart of darkest Africa. Opar is another distant place of danger I recall the Warlord describing.

In the days of which I speak, Phundahl and Tonool hinted of mystery and adventure to the men of Helium. We knew not their horrors and blasphemy firsthand.

I would soon discover the madness of Phundahl, though.

With a shudder, I realized this was no place of worship for the true goddess, Issus. It belonged to the pagan deity of a backward people.

We entered the pits. Traversing the ancient passages, we soon came upon a sprawling, well-lighted apartment that was filled with an array of scientific instruments. Medical examination tables lined one wall, and it was to one of these that the scientist took Shis-Inday.

An assistant hoisted the unconscious girl to one of the tables.

"Remarkable," Ras Thavas muttered again, as he examined the girl. "The subject is unlike any other I've ever encountered."

"She is not of Barsoom," I offered.

Ras Thavas snorted.

"Of course not," the scientist said, derisively. "Any fool could determine that."

He turned on me then and asked why she was ill.

"Poisoned by a man-eating plant in the Great Marsh," I replied.

He stuck her with a needle, and a colorless liquid flowed into Shis-Inday's arm. He added other liquids to the mix, and seemed satisfied that the girl would recover.

"Where is she from?" he asked.

"I'd have thought any fool could have determined that," I answered.

If the jab carried any insult to the ears of Ras Thavas, he showed no sign of it.

"And where are you from, fool?"

"I am Tardos Mors, prince of Helium," I replied.

"And you do not know, prince of Helium, where the girl was born?"

"She is unable to say," I answered sullenly. "She calls the planet of her birth 'The World,' but appears to have been living among the green men of Warhoon for some time. How she came to be here is anyone's guess."

"She is not of Rasoom, or Cosoom -- that much is evident," Ras Thavas mused. "Thought waves from the inhabitants of those planets suggest extreme refinement, power and flexibility. Even in sleep, the brain patterns of this subject reflect a barbaric savagery that differs little from the green primitives you say she has been among."

He turned from the table, consulting a worn book that I took to be a journal of sorts. He made a few notations in it. When he spoke, it was more to himself than to me or his assistants.

"Jasoom, perhaps," said the scientist. "Yes, that must be it. Jasoom -- a land that time forgot. Its people have advanced little beyond the white apes."

As the examination continued, Ras Thavas seemed less and less intrigued by the girl.

"The subject is of little use in my current experiments," he muttered to an asstant, who took copious notes. "She has even less ability to survive for long periods without water than the humans of Barsoom. That's to be expected, if she is of Jasoom, which is abundant in that respect. If only that incompetent Zodangan would finish his space ship, rather than playing with that other monstrosity! Then we could take all that we need..."

The thought struck some buried chord with the scientist. He turned abruptly back to me.

"How did she get here?" he demanded.

At that moment, three warriors entered the apartments.

"Xax demands the presence of Ras Thavas and his captives," ordered the leader.

"I am busy," replied the scientist.

"You will be dead, unless you comply, Toonolian," growled the warrior.

Bal Zak nudged me.

"The walls of Tur's temple have ears," the padwar said. "Even in the pits. It will not go well for you, if the girl is truly of Jasoom. I find the notion hard to believe. But the Phundahlians will consider it blasphemous."

Shis-Inday slowly regained consciousness. Without waiting for any further comment from Ras Thavas, the Jeddak's guards hustled us from the chamber, and up through the pits to the temple. The scientist followed, cursing the interruption.

As we were ushered into a great hall, Bal Zak seemed to stiffen at the sight of a colossal statue -- a squatting, man-like figure. The eyes of the idol rolled ponderously about the massive room, coming to rest upon our party at the far end.

"Tur," the Toonolian whispered. "The god of Phundahl."

Prone before the figure was a man in jewel-encrusted harness, whom I took to be Xax, the Jeddak. It was a pitiful, ignoble position for the ruler of any Barsoomian nation. As a prince of Helium, the sight sickened me. As a Defender of the Faith -- that of the true deity, Issus -- I found the spectacle abhorrent in the extreme.

Standing to one side was a young woman, also ornately jeweled.

"Xaxa," Bal Zak said, following my gaze. "The princess -- daughter of the Jeddak."

She seemed rather homely, for a Barsoomian princess. But etiquette prohibited me from commenting upon that.

The man rose, his head still bent low before the stone god. He did not raise his eyes until he'd turned to face us. Then he stood, motionless, staring at us. The eyes of the giant idol were also transfixed upon Shis-Inday and me. Xaxa took up her father's position upon the cold floor.

The Jeddak did not speak. My heart lept to my throat when the statue did.

"Blasphemers!" it bellowed, in a resonating tone that nearly shook the walls.

Xaxa leapt from the ground. Her body contorted. She bent toward us in a mocking pose of supplication.

"He worships a false goddess!" she screamed, pointing at me. Then the princess turned toward Shis-Inday.

"There are no worlds but Barsoom!" Xaxa cackled in a high- pitched wail. "Nothing exists but that which Tur created!"

The god in question continued to stare at us.

"Chain them in the pits," it said after a long moment. "Let them ponder not my judgement, for it is inevitable -- but the method by which it shall be carried out!"

"These two be guests of Ras Thavas!" shouted Bal Zak, who'd taken a liking to me and Shis-Inday for some reason. Perhaps it was simply because we had been deemed enemies of Phundahl. The Tonoolian had made it plain that he felt no love for Phundahl or its people.

"The girl could be important," added Ras Thavas.

"Tur has spoken," said Xax.

The Jeddak fell to the ground -- gibbering like the lunatics we'd left behind in the Great Marsh.

With that, we were led by the guards back into the pits.