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.)
Skhâ cheerfully fetched and carried. The rigors of the journey had banished some of the fat from his tubby form. He told more tales of the amatory exploits of his great-uncle Mizai, who, if the Karian was to be believed, must have left descendants in half a hundred countries.
Kothar, during this time, withdrew into lengthy silences. Sometimes his companions overheard him at night, praying to unknown gods or conversing with unseen presences. He questioned his fellow travelers about their dreams, which were many and vivid.
Bessas, for instance, dreamt that he was impaled on a stake, while a dragon tore at him, all the while uttering endearments in his mother's voice. But whatever the dream, Kothar's interpretation was the same.
"The gods are trying to warn us," he would say. "Supernatural beings from the world of spirits menace us. You must put your trust in me."
Dust devils appeared over sandy stretches beside the endless river, as if pursuing the travelers. After Kothar wrought a mighty incantation against them, they went away for a while.
The local Egyptian dialects began to give Kothar trouble. When Bessas asked him if he had ever been this far south before, he gave evasive replies until Bessas caught him by the front of his robe and roared:
"May the Corpse Fiend crunch you up! I want the truth, by Mithra!"
"I have in sooth been here," murmured the Syrian, "but in previous lives, not in this one."
This led to an argument on reincarnation. Bessas had heard much of it in India; and Myron said: "I am told that a philosopher of Samos, one Pythagoras, held such a doctrine."
"It's an idea," said Bessas, "but I see not what good it does you to have lived before if you cannot remember your previous lives. You would only make all the same stupid mistakes over again."
"Perchance you mortals cannot remember your previous lives," said Kothar.
"Meaning that you can, eh?"
The guide smiled enigmatically.
On the sixteenth of Simanu, the bluffs closed in until there were only narrow strips of verdure along the river. The Nile widened. Islands, large and small, rose from its placid surface and split it into many channels.
The town of Swenet appeared, hemmed in between the river and the bare buff-colored cliffs. In the market place they saw burly, shaven, linen-clad Egyptians; black-brown, leather-capped Nubians; mop-haired, surly black Bugaitae and Ophirites from the Red Sea; slender and voluble Dankalas from the Cataracts; and Kushites who had brought hides, tusks, and plumes up from the South to trade.
The Kushites were slight, black-skinned men in kilts of cloth or leather. Some had a strip of the skin of a yellow wildcat or other beast wound turbanwise around a mass of curly black hair. Every one had a set of tribal scars cut in his cheeks.
Kothar learnt in the market place that the satrap held court in his palace on the island of Yeb, a bowshot from the waterfront. Thither they took their way. At the ferry landing, Myron grasped Bessas' arm, saying:
"Well, grind me to sausage and feed me to Kerberos; look at those! We haven't seen them since we left Memphis."
He referred to a number of dromedaries, which lay in the sun and rhythmically moved their jaws. Among them squatted or lay a dozen skirted Arabs. These were easily distinguished from the Egyptians and Nubians by their slender build, sharp birdlike features, hawk noses, and pointed beards. They stank of rancid fat, which glistened on their long black hair. Some conversed in low tones; some stared blankly; some of them knitted caps or socks; some slept in patches of shade.
As Kothar approached the group, the Arabs raised their heads with a motion that made Myron think of snakes. Their expressions were sullen and wary; their dark eyes glittered. Hands strayed towards the hilts of daggers. But when the Syrian spoke to them in their own tongue, teeth flashed in sudden smiles.
"They say," said Kothar, "that they think the satrap has lured their shaykh to Yeb and treacherously seized him there. Short of causing the waters to part, as a Judean magician is once said to have done, they cannot think how to rescue him. They beg that the great rich lord"—he nodded at Bessas—"put in a word for their chief when he gets to the island."
"Who is this chief?" asked Bessas.
"Zayd ibn-Harith, shaykh of the Banu Khalaf."
"Tell them we'll do what we can. This boat looks fairly sound; make me a bargain with the boatman, Kothar. Skhâ. and Shimri, stay here,"
While they waited for Kothar to complete his haggle with the boatman, they were startled by unearthly shrieks from a nearby house. When they asked about this, they were told the noise was made by black boys captured by slave raiders, who were being castrated before being sent north to serve as eunuchs in the harems of Persian lords.
Myron winced as this explanation unfolded. "I always thought a eunuch a figure of fun, but I suppose that to the victim it is quite as dreadful a tragedy as the tale of Xerxes' brother Masistes."
"My dear old friend," said Bessas, "you are really too kindhearted for this rough, rude world, one of whose laws is that the strong shall rule and exploit the weak. Since we cannot change the world, let us make sure that we be counted amongst the strong."
The satrap's palace and other houses and temples lay on the isle, half hidden by a jungly growth of palm trees. Before the palace stood a pair of soldiers from Yeb's Judaean garrison: burly, black-bearded men in corselets of lizard mail.
Inside the palace was noise and turmoil. A pair of Judaean guards held by the arms a tall, thin old man with a long gray beard, wearing an Arabian robe and head shawl and silver hoops in his ears. Two more held a slender veiled woman. Both captives struggled and shouted. Several others in the room, including a trio of Nubians and the heavily rouged little man on the satrapal throne, were also shouting.
The small man at last leaped up, shaking his fists above his head, and screamed, "Quiet!" in Persian. Another man, an Egyptian from his appearance, yelled, "Silence!" in Egyptian and Aramaic.
The noise continued, however, until an accident interrupted it. The small painted man, in his agitation, stood on the seat of his throne. While hopping and shouting from this point of vantage, he caught his foot in his cloth-of-gold embroidered robe and fell to the dais on which the throne stood.
An awful silence descended upon the chamber. Soldiers and litigants looked uneasily at one another, as if momentarily fearing a massacre of all so unfortunate as to have witnessed the downfall of the satrap's dignity. The Egyptian leaped to help the small man up and dust him off. The latter, cherry-red of face, glared for half an ush about the room. At last, in a strangled voice, he said:
"Can anybody here speak both Arabic and Persian?" The Egyptian repeated the question in Aramaic.
"I can," said Kothar.
"Then," said the Egyptian, "in the name of the First Ennead, do! Be our interpreter. Our regular interpreter has been devoured by the crocodiles; His Lordship speaks nought but Persian; and our prisoners know neither Aramaic nor Egyptian to speak of."
"Who are you, anyway?" said the satrap.
Kothar introduced himself and his fellow travelers.
"Oh," said Astes, satrap of Kushia. "You should not have come in unannounced. But my usher had to leave his post to help out with this devil's dance. So My Excellency will pardon the affront. Ask this old sand thief what became of the young man who spoke some civilized languages."
Kothar repeated the question. After Shaykh Zayd had spoken, the Syrian explained:
"He says the clan held an all-night dance the night before last to celebrate the fullness of the moon. And this youth became so overwrought with the joy of the dance that he sought to lay lustful hands upon the shaykh's daughter—"