The Dragon of the Ishtar Gate
- Автор: Де Камп Лайон Спрэг
- Год: 1968
- Язык: английский
- Год: Lancer Books
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «The Dragon of the Ishtar Gate». Краткое содержание книги:
Dragon is probably closest in mood to de Camp's fantasy novels, while Bronze God and Arrows are closer to his science fiction, with their description of engineering problems, and personality clashes among researchers and engineers. Dragon also reflects de Camp's then-recent acquaintance with the Conan stories and other works of Robert E. Howard. Bessas, the huge Persian nobleman, is not only a close match for Conan in physique, but his mood swings, fixation on his mother, and tendency to toss of verses, seems a reflection of Howard himself. (Fortunately, his poems reflect de Camp's verbal dexterity and wit, not Howard's melancholy.)
The travelers stood in line before the basin wherein, when their turns came, their hands were washed by eunuch priests with painted faces. While waiting, Bessas muttered to Myron:
"Let's hope these lassies be not like that witch I knew in Patala, whose wont it was to turn herself into a cobra in the midst of copulation. Albeit the Indians' ways are not ours, I still think this an uncouth habit."
One of the priests, fat and beardless and clanking with jewelry, led them to the western side of the temple. Here cords attached to stakes marked out a path. The path zigzagged past a series of benches on which sat a score of young women in their finery, wearing bright-colored dresses and strings of beads about their heads and necks.
Myron took his time, strolling back and forth past the girls. He found it hard to discern their features in the dim, ruddy light. But this, he told himself, was often just as well. Some of the women smiled invitingly; some lowered demure eyelashes; some looked unhappily apprehensive. At last Myron chose one who gave back a challenging stare. He tossed his threepence into her lap, saying:
"I summon you in the name of the goddess." The girl put away the coin, rose, and led Myron to a row of huts, built against the wall of the temenos.
Half an hour later, Myron and Skhâ awaited their leader at the entrance to the temenos. Skhâ, grinning, asked:
"How did you make out?"
"I managed, though nowadays I find the early morning more propitious for such sport. And you?"
"I had a fine time; she was frightened at first …" Skhâ launched into a verbose account of his experience, detailing every thrust and parry. Then he began to tell of a great-uncle named Mizai, who served as a mercenary in Egypt before the Persian conquest of that land, and whose principal prowess was lectual rather than warlike. He rattled on for half an hour, while Myron became uneasy about Bessas' long absence. To Myron's anxious questioning, Skhâ replied:
"Oh, such a mighty man will wish to prang his lass several times in a row. So there was my great-uncle Mizai, safely hidden in King Aahmes' harem. But the women would not leave him alone for an ush; for, while a hundred wives and concubines may satisfy the vanity of a king, you would search the wide world over ere you found a king who could satisfy a hundred wives and concubines.
"But for six days Mizai did the best he could, which was no more than three ordinary men could have done. And whilst he was pleasuring the women and pacifying those who quarreled over which should have the next turn at him, a woman came running in, crying that King Aahmes had returned early from his campaign and was even now dismounting from his chariot before the palace at Memphis."
"What did they do, smuggle Mizai out in a laundry basket?" said Myron.
"Nay. They thought of that, and many other dodges, but for one reason or another none could be brought to pass. So my great-uncle, thinking valor the better part of discretion, armed himself and ran through the halls and chambers of the palace, shouting: 'Stop the intruder! Catch the skulker! A villain is sneaking into the harem!
Seize him to guard the sanctity of our divine king's dwelling!'
"Whilst thus running and shouting, Mizai met the king, who demanded to know the cause of this uproar. Mizai stammered out a story, that he had been walking his post when a eunuch called to him to come because a burglar had been espied in the palace. In the midst of which tale, Mizai swooned dead away and fell to the floor with a crash. The cause of this faint was Mizai's exhaustion from his exertions among the king's women. But the king, thinking it a result of Mizai's strenuous efforts on His Majesty's behalf, promoted him to—Good gods, look!"
Skhâ stared past Myron with popping eyes. Myron spun and gaped in turn.
Coming at a trot from the women's huts was Bessas, with a girl on his shoulder. Although Bessas was fully clad, the woman was naked. As the Bactrian passed Myron and Skhâ he shouted:
"Come on, you whoresons! This is a rescue!"
"Zeus almighty!" breathed Myron.
Not knowing what else to do, he ran after his leader. So did Skhâ; and so, shortly, did the temple guards and the eunuch priests, the latter squealing: "Stop! Rape! Kidnapping!" The lion uttered a groan.
Others took up the chase until Bessas led a procession three blocks long, some carrying torches and all screaming threats and imprecations against the foreigner. They zigzagged through narrow vaulted alleys where the only light was the ruddy, pulsing beams of the torches borne by the pursuers. They ran through the stinking tannery district, whence came Halpa's famous leather goods.
A thrown stone grazed Myron's hair. He imagined clawlike hands reaching for his back, though he did not dare to turn for fear of tripping. He drew deep, rasping breaths and pounded the pavement in an effort to catch up with Bessas. The Bactrian ran easily, not even breathing hard despite the weight he bore.
It was a long chase, for the temple was on the side of town opposite to the khan. Myron would have been utterly lost in the alleys; but Bessas, having once been over the ground, chose the right turns without hesitation.
Six furlongs from the temple of Ashtarth, the blank fortresslike walls of the khan loomed against the stars. Bessas yelled:
"Let us in!"
The night porter opened the gate. Bessas entered, pushing the man roughly aside. He set the girl on her feet. Then, seeing Myron and Skhâ stumble through the entrance, he slammed and bolted the portal. Instantly came the pounding of sticks and fists against the door and cries of, "Open! Let us in! The man is a robber! He must be brought to justice!"
"Open that gate and it's your last act," snarled Bessas to the porter, who hopped from foot to foot in indecision. To Myron, Bessas said: "Get our gear and saddle up. We'll figure how to draw them away from the gate so we can make a dash."
Myron, gasping, said: "What—what in the name of the Dog is this?"
The naked girl screamed something in the Halpine dialect. The proprietor of the khan and a couple of his guests hastened out of the tavern. The pounding on the door increased. Myron cried:
"A pestilence on you, Bessas! If you require a woman, you can purchase—"
"This is no slave, but an oppressed free maiden, whom I am rescuing—"
"Harken, pray!" cried the proprietor. "She says she does not wish to go with you. She did but jest in the temple."
"What?" Bessas whirled on the girl. "Is this true? Speak slowly!"
"It is true," said the girl, beginning to sob. Myron noticed that her arms and thighs were tattooed with flowers and doves. "You s-seemed such a great foolish lout that I thought to have a little fun with you by joking about my hard lot and how I should love to escape it. I never imagined that you would take it all to heart. Then, when you bore me out of the temenos, the jolting so knocked the wind out of me that I could not speak. But I cannot leave home and kinsmen to roam the world with wild adventurers! Cover me, somebody, and let me go back to my temple."
Bessas' pocked face fell; his mighty shoulders drooped. The proprietor opened the door a crack, while Bessas braced his back against it to keep the mob outside from rushing in. By dint of much shouting, the proprietor convinced those outside that there had been a misunderstanding. He let in the chief men, a few at a time, to see that all was now well.
The girl, wrapped in a borrowed cloak, stood with tears furrowing the paint on her face. Bessas stood to one side with hanging head, gnawing his mustache with shame and vexation.