Best Science Fiction of the Year 1984 Part 16

"Ten minutes, my lord. Significance?" The geometer eyed the Greek pharaoh carefully. "To determine the significance, we may need the a.s.sistance of the priests"-he bowed gravely to Hor-ent-yotf and Rabbi Ben Shem-"and the historians"-a bow to Cleon, the Homeric exegesist-"and perhaps to other philosophers, living and dead."

Claudius Pulcher had meanwhile returned from the credentia with a wine refill. "Aside from all this a.s.sistance, real or threatened," he grumped, "can anyone tell me the signifi-cance of seven degrees and ten minutes?"

"By itself, nothing," volunteered Hamilcar Barca. "How-ever, taken with certain other measurements, it could give you the size and shape of the Earth." He said to the librarian: "Am I right?"

Eratosthenes sighed, and glanced at Ptolemy from the cor-ner of his eye."Oh, go ahead," said the pharaoh wearily. (And oh, to be on that barge!) The Greek shrugged. "At Syene, where the finest red granite is quarried, a tall pole casts no shadow at noon on the day of the summer solstice, and the sun shines directly into the wells. This is so because Syene lies almost directly on the Tropic of Cancer. Also, Alexandria lies almost due north of Syene, at a distance of 5,000 stadia. Now seven degrees and ten minutes is about 1/50 of a full circle, so 5,000 is 1/50 of a full circle on the Earth. Thus we multiply 5,000 by 50, and we get 250,000 stadia as the circ.u.mference of the Earth."

"One moment," interposed Ptolemy. "You say 5,000 sta-dia. How did you measure that?"

"From cadasters-registers of land surveys for tax pur-poses, made by the Second Rameses, over a thousand years ago. The exact dimensions of the nomes are given. It's a matter of simple addition, from Syene to the sea, with certain adjustments."

The Roman frowned. "I still don't see. What's a 'stadia,' anyhow?"

Hamilcar Barca smiled. "The singular is stadion. A bit over eight stadia to your Roman mile. Using your units, General, the world is a sphere about 30,000 miles in circ.u.mference."

"Ridiculous," breathed Pulcher. "It can't possibly be that big."

"This is entirely unofficial," interposed Ptolemy hastily. "The Great House takes no position..."

Rabbi Ben Shem smiled uneasily. "Dear Eratosthenes... the Earth cannot be a sphere. Our Holy Scriptures state, 'the four corners of the Earth.' "

"I think we may be overlooking the obvious," said Hor-ent-yotf. "Our esteemed geometer a.s.sumes the sun is so far away that its rays, as received here, are parallel. The a.s.sump-tion is totally unwarranted, as I shall show. There are other, much more reasonable conditions that will give the same data." He pulled a piece of papyrus from his linens and inspected it. "If the sun is 40,000 stadia distant, it will give your same shadow angle of about seven degrees here at Alexandria, will it not, Eratosthenes?"

The mathematician smiled. "Quite so-a.s.suming the Earth is flat."

"As is indeed the case," said the Roman amba.s.sador.

Hamilcar Barca shook his head. "Like the Greeks, we Carthaginians are a seafaring people. On sh.o.r.e, when we watch a ship come in, we see first the tip of the mast, then the sails, then the bow. That means to us that the Earth is a great ball, and that the ship comes up into view over the curvature. It is the same at sea. For example, my trireme arrived here at night. We came in. guided by the great Pharos light tower. At first, our man at mast-top could not see the light at all. And then, suddenly, 'Light ho!' and there it was, just over the belly of the sea."

There was a moment's silence, broken by Ptolemy. His voice was strained. "This is a very interesting discussion; yet I do not feel that we can ignore a thousand years of research and thought that have gone into the problem. Certainly the ancient authorities leave no doubt on the question. Homer said the Earth was a flat disc, bounded by the River Ocea.n.u.s. A decade before the battle of Marathon, Hecataeus announced the same fact."

"One moment, your majesty," said Hamilcar Barca. "Your own Aristotle believed the Earth to be a sphere because of the round shadow on the moon, during lunar eclipse."

Ptolemy shrugged. "Homer's disc, head-on, would cast a round shadow."

"My lords," said Rabbi Ben Shem harshly, "/ make no attempt to define or deal with impiety.

Certainly Greek his-tory provides ample precedent. I have read widely in your Library, Eratosthenes, and I can cite your own laws and applicable cases. Your Anaxagorus propounded a heliocentric system, and wrote that the sun was a big blazing ball, bigger even than the Peloponnesus. He was condemned toprison for his impiety. Pericles was barely able to save his life. Aristarchus also proposed a heliocentric cosmos, and was accused of impiety. Alcibiades was recalled from the Syracuse campaign to face charges of impiety to Hermes: whereupon Athens lost the war. Socrates was executed for impiety.

Protagoras con-fessed agnosticism and fled Athens with a price on his head."

Ptolemy rubbed his chin. "I, for one, believe Homer, who declared the Earth to be flat, with its omphalos-navel-at Delphi. A sphere seems quite impossible. People at the anti-podes would walk with their heads hanging down. Trees would grow downward. Rain would fall up. These things cannot be." He fixed a grim eye on Eratosthenes. "The G.o.ds gave us a flat world, my young friend. Adjust your numbers to fit the facts, not the other way around." And so having deliv-ered his views, and having thus dried his throat, he and Pauni left the group in search of the wine table.

"Well, then, man of the Library," said Ben Shem, with just a hint of triumph, "you will of course recant?"

Eratosthenes found his body turning, not to face the rabbi, but instead to Hor-ent-yotf. It was to the priest of the hawk-G.o.d that he gave his answer: "No! I do not recant. I do not retract. It is as I said." The hawk-priest stared at him without the slightest expression.

"Oh!" said Ben Shem. "You claim the Earth is a sphere?"

"Yes."

"And it circles the sun?"

"Did I say that? If I didn't, I meant to."

"Aiee!" shrieked the rabbi. "Heresy, heresy compounded!" He pulled at his beard, and a few hairs tore loose.

"Sorry," said the Greek apologetically. "I didn't know you'd take it this way."

The priest stumbled away, muttering.

Khor shot a thought into the geometer's mind: "Science is a very upsetting subject around here."

"Yes."

Hamilcar Barca broke in. "May I ask a question about your 5,000-stadia measure to Syene?"

"Of course."

"Does that include a rake-off by your local priests? Say, one-sixth?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, suppose the true measurement is actually 4,285 stadia. Do the priests add one-sixth, or 715, for their share of the grain crops?"

"Yes." It was Hor-ent-yotf who answered. They all looked around at him. "From the time of Menes,"

said the priest, "the first pharaoh, who united upper and lower Egypt, the temples have taken one-sixth of the crops. We do this pain-lessly, by telling the farmer his plot is one-sixth larger than it really is."

Eratosthenes was embarra.s.sed. "I am caught in a gross error. The circ.u.mference is then 4,285 times 50, not 5,000 times 50. More accurately, the circ.u.mference is"-he thought a moment-"214,250 stadia, or about 26,000 Roman miles."

"The one-sixth difference is not significant," said Hor-ent-yotf. "The crux of the matter is, you have attempted to heresy of the gravest order." He signaled to Ne-tiy. She glanced once at Eratosthenes, then followed the hawk-priest away from the group.

"Watch him," warned Khor. "I see into his mind. He has condemned you, and he means to kill you."The geodesist shrugged. "It had to come."

"Shouldn't you leave now?"

"Why delay the confrontation? It might as well be here. Regardless of what happens to me, Ne-tiy can drive you back to your ship."

"I wasn't thinking of that. When the time comes, I can manage by myself."

"Can you see them?" asked Eratosthenes. "You are taller."

13. Something in the Wine "I see them both very well. He and the female approach the wine table. He whispers to her. She is to put something in your wine."

"Poison."

"Yes. You are to die by poison. The mind of the female is in a great turmoil. She wants to refuse. But the priest threat-ens her. Ah, she looks back this way. but she cannot see you. What a strange expression on her face, Eratosthenes. How is one to interpret it?"

"Horror, possibly. She does not really want to kill me. She resists strongly, but I think probably she will make the at-tempt. From childhood, this is what the temple trained her to do."

"They argue some more. He insists. He says to her, if she fails, servants will bind her mouth and limbs, and carry her in a cart to the temple pool, and the crocodiles will feed. And you will die in any case."

"Pleasant fellow."

"Perhaps you should leave with me, Eratosthenes. As you know, I still seek a bipedal specimen. On my world you need have no fear of a.s.sa.s.sination."

The librarian laughed forlornly. "Don't tempt me, admira-ble visitor. What are they doing now?"

"Nothing as yet. I am in the mind of the priest. He is thinking about rings on his fingers, and three white powders. a.r.s.enic... strychnine... aconite. a.r.s.enic is tasteless, but takes a while, probably too long for what he wants. Also you might get sick and vomit. Strychnine? A good one. Not much is needed.

Acts in a few minutes. Whole body goes into mortal spasm. He's seen a man die, lying flat, resting only on his heels and the back of his skull. But strychnine is bitter. You might taste it and not drink the wine.

No, no strychnine for you. It's aconite. The deadliest known poison. It is ex-tracted from a delicate plant that looks like a tiny helmet or hood, and which grows in mountains called the Alps, far to the north of the Roman domains. A crystal the size of a grain of sand can be fatal. You are quickly paralyzed. Your heart stops. Death is quick. Ah, he's moving. He cups his hand over a wine goblet. The cap on his golden ring opens. A powder falls into the wine. He gives the goblet to the girl. He snarls at her, and she moves away. Look sharp, Eratosthenes! Here she comes!"

And there was Ne-tiy, standing before him quietly. "I have brought wine, my lord."

He looked at her in glum silence.

She raised the cup to her own lips.

"No!" he cried. He struck the cup away. It clattered to the floor, splashing red liquid over carpet and guests, who stared around in dismay. "Sorry!" cried the geometer. "So clumsy of me!" He called a serving man to bring mop and bucket.

Ne-tiy had not moved. "True, my lord, I could not harm you. Yet, what you have done to me just now is a cruel thing. For now I face a very painful death. The wine would have been... like going to sleep."

"Khor, take care of her for a moment." His voice grated harshly in his own ears. "Take her out on thebalcony. I'll join you there in a little while." Now, Hor-ent-yotf, you son of river sc.u.m, where are you?

14. The Bargain He found him quickly. If Hor-ent-yotf was surprised, he didn't show it.

Eratosthenes controlled his voice carefully, as though he were discussing the weather, the cost of grain, or whether the eastern harbor might need dredging this year. "I understand that Ne-tiy has refused to kill me. This despite your direct order. So that now her own life is forfeit. Is this not so?"

"Why should I stand here, talking to a Greek sp.a.w.n of Set? Yet it is so. She failed. She dies."

"Let us bargain, high avenger of Horus." Should he in-clude his own life in the negotiations? No. Too demeaning. Just Ne-tiy. He said, "I will buy her."

"Ah?" The small eyes peered suspiciously at the heretic. "With what?"

"Information. I know the burial site of the boy-pharaoh, Tut-ankh-amun."

The eyes of the priest popped. "You lie! You lie most vilely!"

Eratosthenes smiled. "No. It is so. Tut, son-in-law of that great heretic, Ikhnaton, who decreed the worship of Aton, the sun, and desecrated all other temples. Ikhnaton, who built Akhetaton, an entire city, devoted to the worship of Aton..."

"The City of the Criminal!" breathed the priest. "He died. And we destroyed his city. We destroyed everything of his. All-"

"Except the tomb of Tut... who married Ikhnaton's third daughter.''

"Prove it!" hissed Hor-ent-yotf. "Prove you really know!"

"I have seen the records. The report, for example."

"Report? What report?"

"The one written by the captain of pharaoh's guards. He caught the grave robbers in the act of breaking in. He slew them on the spot, reinforced the entrance, and posted a guard."

"Goon."

"I can give you the record of the final funerary banquet, held within the tomb itself. Eight necropolis officials ate five ducks, two plovers, a haunch of mutton. They drank beer and wine, and they swept up all residue with two small brooms, put the debris in a special jar, and buried the jar in a pit outside the tomb. I have seen the jar."

The Avenger of Horus studied the librarian, and his eyes narrowed in a crafty squint. "How much can you tell me about the location?"

"It's in the Necropolis of Thebes, in the Valley of Kings."

"Hm. That's a big place. Specifically-?"

"No specifics as to place until we have an agreement."

"I see. His queen, the vile sp.a.w.n of the criminal pharaoh Ikhnaton?"

"Her name was Ankhesenamun. But she was not buried with the boy king."

"Interesting." The priest hesitated. "But certainly the tomb was re-entered subsequently?"

"No. The entrance was later further sealed, one might say almost by accident. I have verified that the seal is undisturbed."

"The last of the Atonist h.e.l.l-people," muttered the priest. "Pull him out of his death-lair. Burn theinfidel mummy. The gold and silver go to the servants of Horus."

"Is it a bargain?"

The holy man hesitated. They both waited for a time in silence.

Eratosthenes sighed. "The excavation will be expensive. A hundred slaves must be rented and housed and fed for several weeks. You will need ready money. I will sign over my Cyrenian estates to you, together with my gold on deposit in local banks."

Hor-ent-yotf still seemed lost in thought.

"If we cannot agree," said the librarian gravely, "I will be forced to take a certain action."

"Oh, really?" The priest's mouth curled. "Exactly what?"

"I will turn over Tut's location to the Council of Antiqui-ties. They will excavate at government expense. There will be great excitement, presaging a revival of Aton-ism."

The priest clenched his fists. "You wouldn't!"

"I would."

"Yes, Greek, I think you would... for you are the ultimate obscene evil..."

"Well?"