Best Science Fiction of the Year 1984 Part 17

"But hear me well, son of darkness. We speak only of the faithless slave girl. What Horus intends to be your fate, only the G.o.d can say."

"Such is my understanding."

"Then consider it done." The priest struck his chest with his fist. "I will have the temple clerks draw up the agree-ment, in hieroglyphics and in Greek, and I will come with it to the Serapeum tomorrow afternoon. We will sign before witnesses."

"Yes." Eratosthenes turned back toward the balcony. The priest hesitated for a moment, then followed at a dozen paces. He swirled his cloak about him as though to minimize con-tamination from the air the Greek pa.s.sed through.

15. Sirius Rising As he stood on the balcony with the girl, Khor found himself thinking of Queva, and Ne-tiy, and how they seemed to blend into one person, one pa.s.sionate loving mind. "I will wait for you," Queva had said.

He had followed closely the negotiations between Eratos-thenes and Hor-ent-yotf. Ne-tiy had saved the Greek's life at apparent cost of her own, and now the man had given up all that he had to save her.

Khor would not have believed these creatures capable of such n.o.bility. But there it was. Strong stuff.

How was he going to enter this in the ship's log? The Supervisor would neither believe nor understand.

So skip it all. Maybe tell Queva someday.

I'm very nearly done here, thought the star-traveler. Just one more little job. Ah, come on out on the balcony, Eratosthenes. And here comes Hor-ent-yotf, right behind you. That's good, very good. He shot a thought to the Greek: "Dawn is coming, friend. Look, there's my home star-rising just over the sea!"

"Sirius?" said Eratosthenes, pointing.

"Sothis!" said Hor-ent-yotf, giving the Egyptian name for the great blue star.

Khor spoke again to the mind of Eratosthenes: "Your Sirius-my home star. And a fine conclusion to a profitable visit. You see the first heliacal rising of Sirius, or Sothis, and you tell me that means the Nile has now started to rise. It means the summer solstice, and great festivities throughout the land, going on for days. Thank you for all your help in repairing my ship, and for your contributions, including this last.""Our pleasure, esteemed visitor!" Then he stopped. "This... last?"

"Especially this last," replied Khor cryptically. "It is time for me to go. If I launch within the next few minutes, my trajectory vectors out directly toward Sirius."

"I'll call Ne-tiy, and she'll run you over to your ship." He was still puzzled.

"No need. I know where it is."

"But how-?"

"Ah, my friend, I see you really didn't know. Well then, in view of what is about to happen, perhaps you should have some important witnesses. Get Ptolemy and one or two oth-ers. Quickly now."

Eratosthenes felt a lump of cold lead forming in his stomach.

"Hurry!" said Khor. Through the black body veil the command burst like the hiss of the great gyrfalcon.

G.o.ds! thought the Greek. That was an actual shouted com-mand! He's vocalizing! The librarian sliced through the bal-cony drapes and stumbled into Claudius Pulcher, arm in arm with Ptolemy. "My lords,"

he gasped, "could you please join me on the balcony?"

"What's up, Eratosthenes?" demanded the Greek pharaoh. "Oh, I know-Sirius is now visible? Is that it?"

"Majesty, if you please..." Eratosthenes pulled the drapes aside.

A little crowd was already gathering: Pauni... Hamilcar Barca... a dozen gilded dignitaries.

The tall shrouded figure faced them all, then bowed espe-cially to Ptolemy. "Thank you for a pleasant evening, ruler of Egypt," he said in harsh sibilant tones. He took his shroud with both hands and in a smooth majestic motion pulled it away from his head and body, then let it fall to the floor.

They stared.

The great head was entirely feathered. The mouth was an amber beak. Feathers scintillated on arms and chest. Some sort of breech-clout covered the groin. The legs terminated in scales and in what were almost human feet, except that the toes were taloned. As in the raptor birds of the Nile, a horizontal fold over each eye gave the face a stern, even fierce expression.

Eratosthenes now realized that the outlander was a consum-mate actor, that every word, every gesture, was planned for its dramatic effect, and that this terrified audience lay in the hands of Khor.

The mystery-creature now made his feathers vibrate, so that they excited nearby nitrogen atoms, and surrounded his plumaged body in a golden triboluminescent glow.

Ptolemy dropped his wine cup. Even Eratosthenes, who had suspected something like this would happen, was stunned.

"Horus!" gasped Hor-ent-yotf. "Thou art the G.o.d!"

"Thou sayest, worthy Hor-ent-yotf," hissed the visitor.

"To your knees, everyone," roared the priest.

And so they did. With one exception. Rabbi Ben Shem tore his cloak and ran screaming from the room.

Khor looked full at Hor-ent-yotf. "Come."

Hor-ent-yotf rose and walked forward, as though tranced. Khor took the man in his arms. "Arise, all, and witness," he commanded.Gigantic wings unfolded from Khor's shoulders. The spread of those great pinions exceeded even the breadth of the balcony.

And now even Eratosthenes was done in. He p.r.o.nounced slowly, quietly, and with great conviction, his favorite school-boy oath. "Holy... excrement... of Zeus!"

Khor ignored him. "Since I take with me this holy man, I must appoint and sanctify a person to take his place, and to rule my holy temples in his stead. I name Ne-tiy. Come forward, child!"

They made way for the slave-girl. She bowed before the winged thing.

"I name thee High Priestess for Horus, for Egypt, and for all the world, exalted above all men, above even my n.o.ble son, the pharaoh Ptolemy. Take thee to mate whom thou wilt. Be fruitful, and be merry. I go."

He held the priest with one hand and tossed something to Eratosthenes with the other.

Next, there was a tremendous rush of air from the fantastic wings, and the giant birdman leaped over the bal.u.s.trade and was gone.

Eratosthenes watched for a moment. At least the coursing creature was headed in the right direction.

Should he feel sorry for Hor-ent-yotf? He decided that maybe he should. However, he didn't. A character flaw, possibly. But who was perfect?

The rest of them joined him at the parapet. AH eyes were looking out over the city, searching the skies. And now a collective gasp. "There!" cried someone. "The chariot!"' shouted another. "See the lights!"

"Straight into the rising sun!"

He turned away and hefted the strange ball Khor had thrown to him. No time now to study it in detail, but he knew intuitively what it was: a model of the Earth.

He raised his eyes. Ne-tiy was standing at the entrance-way, looking at him. The geometer walked toward her. "How it is on his world, I do not know. But in Greek lands, the man takes the woman, though she be exalted, and of the highest rank. And so I take thee, Ne-tiy."

She gave him a sweeping bow and a most marvelous smile.

16. The River "I hope the Horus affair has taught you a lesson," said Ptolemy. "I think you must now be quite convinced."

The two couples rested under the rear canopy of the royal yacht, which was moving upriver with its great red sail stretched tightly by the north wind. Pauni and Ne-tiy were immersed in private murmurs while the men talked intermit-tently.

"I have learned much," admitted Eratosthenes.

"For myself," continued the Greek pharaoh, "I never had any doubt that the G.o.ds were real. It is a bit puzzling, though, that the G.o.d would take that priest. I never thought much of Hor-ent-yotf. Always considered him a dangerous fanatic. Shows how wrong even I can be."

"A memorable man," murmured Eratosthenes.

In silence they watched a riverside village pa.s.s. The river had now risen to the stage where the house-cl.u.s.ters were accessible only by causeways and moles. The brown people had drawn back into their reed and wattle cone-roofed huts to let father Hapi drop his bounty. In a couple of months the waters would recede. The farmers would sow their wheat and barley, and finally they would reap. Four months of flood and receding water, four months of sowing and growing, four of harvest and drying up.Then repeat. And repeat. They had been doing this for more than fifty centuries. From time to time conquerors had flowed in, then out again, like waves on the seash.o.r.e. Nubians... Hyksos... a.s.syrians...

Persians. And now the Greeks. A million Greeks, up and down the river. How long would we last? Who throws us out? Rome? Carthage? "Majesty," said Eratosthenes, "what happened to those two amba.s.sadors?"

"Interesting, that. They both got word that Panormus, on Sicily, fell to the Roman besiegers. Barca was recalled to Sicily to organize the Carthaginian guerrillas. Pulcher will return to Rome to organize an army to fight Barca. It's all insane, isn't it? What will they do with Sicily? Who cares? But Sicily isn't really the point, is it?"

Eratosthenes shrugged. "No. Actually, there are two points: one is greed, the other conquest. If Carthage wins, her greedy ships will sail west to c.i.p.angu... the Indies... perhaps in our generation. They sail for trade and profit. If Rome wins, we will not see the antipodes for a thousand years. They go nowhere they cannot conquer. And they move only on roads.''

"I fear I must agree," said Ptolemy. "We Greeks used to go out to colonize. But that spirit is dead. It died five hundred years ago." The pharaoh's nose twitched. He looked back toward the incense tripods on the stern of the yacht. "We cover the smell of death with other smells." The braziers burned balsam, carnation, anise, and the blossoms of a.s.sorted flowers.

Eratosthenes smiled. He didn't really care for the artificial smells either. Actually, he preferred the river odors: willows, reeds, orchards, palms, fish (living and dead), the dung of humans and beasts, all veneered by this ma.s.sive rising water and its suggestion of distant melting snows. He studied the beads of condensate on the chill sides of his silver goblet.

Ptolemy was watching him. "It's cooled with crushed ice. Improves the tang and fights the heat. The locals prefer their beer warm. Do you realize they have never seen ice? They don't even have a word for it in their language."

"Curious," said Eratosthenes absently. Ice... snow... he mused. I made a special map of the Nile, beyond the cataracts, south to the confluence of the Blue and White Nile. Melting snow... that's what starts the yearly flood. Snow on far, equatorial mountains. Vast mountain ranges, far to the south. And feeder lakes. Big ones, inland seas. Some day we'll find them.

Ptolemy squinted around toward the ladies. "The priests are putting on quite a show at Thebes, in the great temple of Karnak. We would all be honored if the Betrothed-of-Horus could open the ceremonies."

"So it is written," said Eratosthenes gravely.

"Good. Settled. Religion, true religion, keeps a country alive, don't you agree, dear Eratosthenes?"

"Oh, quite."

"You've read Herodotus, of course. You recall that the Greeks at Marathon called on the great G.o.d Pan to terrify the Persians, and he did, and we won."

(Not to mention, we had a very smart general, thought Eratosthenes.) "And you know," continued Ptolemy, "that Athena her-self saved our fleet at Salamis. She was actually seen to alight on the prow of Themistocles' flagship."

"So I recall."

"So then, quite aside from the appearance of Horus last night, it is plain that the G.o.ds exist, and have been with us from the beginning. Clearly, they control human affairs. We must yield to the G.o.ds in all things, Eratosthenes. When science and religion conflict, science must yield."Ptolemy took the geometer's silence for a.s.sent. "Did I ever tell you of the great Alexander's journey to the shrine of Ammon, at Siwah?"

(Many times, thought Eratosthenes.) "I don't seem to re-call..."

"Well then. My father, the first Ptolemy, told it to me. Storms had completely obliterated the desert roads. Nothing to be seen but a sandy waste. The priests wanted to turn back. 'No,' said Alexander. 'If I am truly a natural son of Ammon, the G.o.d will send a guide.' And no sooner than spoken, here were these two serpents, rising out of the hot sands. 'Follow us,' they said, and off they went..."

(Wasn't it two ravens last time? thought Eratosthenes.) "Amazing," he said.

"He said to her, 'Be fruitful; be merry.' "

The map-maker had to think a moment. "Yes, the G.o.d Horus, to Ne-tiy."

"Not to you, though, Eratosthenes. Nothing merry about geometry."

"No."

"My father knew Euclid, who wrote his Elements back there in Alexandria. Father tried to plow through the Ele-ments. Tough going. Complained to the master, there should be an easier way. Euclid replied, 'My lord, there is no royal road to geometry.' Father was so impressed that he founded the chair of mathematics at the Library. We've had a world-renowned geometer there ever since. Including you, young fellow."

"I am honored. And grateful."

"Actually, things turned out rather well for you."

"Yes."

To their rear the young women were talking in low tones. He heard a strange tinkling sound, as of little silver bells. He started to turn, then stopped. He knew what it was. Ne-tiy had laughed. He had never heard her laugh before. He re-laxed and looked out over the river, to the west. The sun was a glowing semicircle, growing smaller and smaller as it dropped below the darkening hills.

"Gizeh," said Ptolemy, shading his eyes as he pointed into the sunset. "Have you ever seen the pyramids?"

"Yes, sire. But perhaps the ladies..."

The two women were already at the rail, looking out over the distant sands. The men joined them.

They were all thralled to silence by the three immense structures.

Egypt, O Egypt, thought Eratosthenes. Land of cyclopean architecture and b.e.s.t.i.a.l G.o.ds. Where does awe leave off and disgust begin?

Twilight was brief. The sailors were already lighting lamps along the ship's walkways. Upriver, along the sh.o.r.e, more lights were visible. Torches, thought the mathematician. A lot of them. And the sound of sistra and tambourines, with shouting and singing and much merriment. The whole city was turning out to greet the pharaoh.

"We're coming into Memphis," said Ptolemy. "I'll have to join in the temple ceremonies, and Pauni and I will sleep in the palace tonight. You can join us, or you can remain on board."

"If it please you, we'll stay."

"I thought you might. You and the priestess may have my quarters. Everything is prepared. Until tomorrow, then."

17. Khor's GlobeNe-tiy watched with uneasy curiosity as Eratosthenes opened the chest and carefully removed the little statue of Atlas, his back and arms still bent to receive his as yet invisible burden.

"I see writing on the base. An inscription in Greek," she said. "What does it say?"

"It says, 'Tell my friends I have done nothing unworthy of philosophy.'-Hermius.''

"What does it mean? And who was he, this Hermius?"

"Hermius was a Greek who studied with Aristotle, under Plato. He was captured by the Persians and tortured. He said these words, and then he died."

"I see. You admire him."

"Very much." From another compartment he pulled out the ball that Khor had tossed to him on the balcony. Bigger than his fist, smaller than his head. It fit exactly on the t.i.tan's back.

"What is that?" whispered Ne-tiy.