Today, I cherish the pomp and circumstance of royal life. Courtly affairs come easily to me now -- the formal state dinners, diplomatic negotiation, receiving foreign dignitaries in the halls of Barsoom's most ancient and majestic palace. Perhaps those duties take the place of an empty longing in my heart.

But on the night of my wedding, it was still an alien sort of existence. My brother had been born to it, as my father had been before him. To me, it was a tedious chore.

It would always be such to Shis-Inday, whose savage sire practiced diplomacy at the point of a wooden spear.

We slipped away to the Royal Observatory during the Dance of Barsoom.

Shis-Inday sat in the front row of the darkened theater. I worked the controls at the back of the large room, casting images upon the ground glass before the girl.

Without telling her my intent, I maneuvered the dials so that a refection of Jasoom appeared. First, the view was from space. She was fascinated, but did not understand what she saw.

"A brother of Kleego-na-ay," she marveled. "But so large! And blue."

Without a word, I shifted the focus so that we descended through the atmosphere of Jasoom, a realistic experience for the viewer. Shis-Inday swayed, dizzied by the illusion of movement. I saw her clutch the armrests upon her chair. But she made no sound, and appeared captivated by the effect.

When the tumbling picture slowed, we had a perfectly clear birds-eye view of rolling ocean.

It was my turn to marvel. Such a sight had not been seen upon Barsoom for ages. Whenever I gaze upon your abundant planet, the sight of an ocean never fails to amaze me. I feel small before such titanic depths. How do you of Jasoom stand to be always reminded of your insignificance?

With the turn of a dial, our perspective shifted to land -- a green valley.

Another twist, and we saw a primitive city on the continent I believe is called Europe.

"El Caballo!" Shis-Inday cried. It was a four-legged thoat, diminutive and covered with hair, pulling a wooden cart through the dirt streets of the settlement. The man who held the beast's reigns also elicited comment: "A Pindah-Lickoyee," the girl murmured.

Again the view changed, to an open plain of rock and sparse grasses. Massive mountains ringed the horizon, more imposing than any Barsoomian landscape. Forests were also visible in the mist of distance.

Shis-Inday leaped to her feet, rushing to touch the screen. She'd have crawled inside, if she could.

"The World!" she breathed, reverently.

Wisps of smoke curled from another settlement -- which was very different from the first we had seen. Simple shelters, made from wooden poles and brush, housed people who looked like my princess.

"The Men of the Woods," she said quietly. "The Shis-Inday."

Night was falling upon The World. I rotated the view upward, toward the sky, which stirred as much emotion in the girl as had the sight of her people. The face of Night was a familiar companion to her.

I pointed out Barsoom.

"The Weeping Lover," she said softly.

Without another word, she left the room.

In all the years that Shis-Inday spent in the royal palace of Helium, she never returned to the observatory. If she could not pass through that tantalizing viewscreen, Shis-Inday wanted no part of it. The Jasoomian princess believed it better to dream of The World, and visit it with her Spirit Guide, than to be teased by ghostly reflections of it.

Selfishly, I hoped that The World was beginning to lose some of its hold upon her.

And yet, I knew how alone I'd feel had I been cut off forever from my beloved Barsoom.

My coronation was elaborate.

I rose to the throne of Helium with the grace and wisdom that I'd learned by watching my father. Would that he'd been there to witness the solemn spectacle. I felt his presence, and that of my brother.

Shis-Inday stood at my side, and I was content in the moment.

"Do you still miss it so terribly, my princess?" I asked.

Without the diluting influence of the light from Kleego-na-ay's crazy cousins, the stars stood out in brilliant glory. Among them, we picked out the blue-green orb of The World.

"At times," Shis-Inday said softly, "I wonder about The Men of the Woods. About my mother, and father. Do they weep for me? Do they still live, to weep?"

"Would you return to Jasoom, if you could?"

It was a difficult question for me to ask. I was surprised, and gratified, by the quick answer.

"Not without you, my nantan," she said.

I took her in my arms. The Barsoomian endearment always thrilled me, when spoken by my Jasoomian princess in her own language.

"The ways of Usen are mysterious," she purred. "But He is truly the Life-Giver. I know that now more surely than ever I have before. He has given me life, by sending me here. If I was transported to The World tonight, I'd spend the rest of my days attempting to return to you."

It was a grand gesture by my friend, Thuvan Dihn, Jeddak of that proud nation.

But we both knew it was little more than a gesture.

Peace upon Barsoom?

Unlikely.

Nevertheless, our two nations made quite a spectacle of its dedication. I and my Jeddara attended the opening with a retinue of thousands. And the millions who populated the Ptarthian capital seemed all to be there, crowding the streets and showing their visitors from Helium the finer things that Thuvan Dihn's empire had to offer in the way of culture and entertainment.

Sporting events, parades and exhibitions filled the days. Thuvan Dihn and I treated the crowds to a duel; the gamblers of Ptarth lost quite a sum that day.

Ballroom dancing, theater and sumptuous dining occupied our nights.

It was a week that I will long remember.

On the day of the symbolic structure's dedication, I stood upon a balcony on its top floor, watching from above as Thuvan Dihn spoke to the assembled crowds from a platform in the court yard far below. His daughter, who'd hatched shortly after hostilities ceased, stood between Shis-Inday and me, holding our hands.

Our son, Mors Kajak, nestled at my wife's breast. He had not been hatched. I do not fully understand the genetics of it, but Ras Thavas made it possible for Shis-Inday to bear my heir.

Barsoomians do not nurse their young. The sight of my son's mother providing him nourishment in this way is indescribable. It made me feel a bond with them both that no other of my race can know.

"Your father is a great man, Thuvia," I told the girl.

"Yes," she said.

"Do you think he can see you all the way up here?" asked Shis-Inday, playfully.

"I am sure of it," the girl said confidently, waving to the speck that was Thuvan Dihn. "If he ever lost sight of me, my father would travel to the ends of Barsoom to find me again."