The 43 Antarean Dynasties - Mike Resnick, ebook
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THE 43 ANTAREAN DYNASTIESby Mike Resnick_To thank the Maker Of All Things for the birth of his first male offspring, theEmperor Maloth IV ordered his architects to build a temple that would foreverdwarf all other buildings on the planet. It was to be made entirely of crystal,and the spire- covered roof, which looked like a million glistening spear-pointsaimed at the sun, would be supported by 217 columns, to honor his 217 forebears.When struck, each column would sound a musical note that could be heard forkilometers, calling the faithful to prayer.__The structure would be known as the Temple of the Honored Sun, for his heir hadbeen born exactly at midday, when the sun was highest in the sky. The templetook 27 Standard years to complete, and although races from all across thegalaxy would come to Antares III to marvel at it, Maloth further decreed that noaliens or non-believers would ever be allowed to enter it and desecrate itssacred corridors with their presence..._#A man, a woman, and a child emerge from the Temple of the Honored Sun. The womanholds a camera to her eye, capturing the same image from a dozen unimaginativeangles. The child, his lip sparsely covered with hair that is supposed to implymaturity, never sees beyond the game he is playing on his pocket computer. Theman looks around to make sure no one is watching him, grinds out a smokelesscigar beneath his heel, and then increases his pace until he joins them.They approach me, and I will myself to become one with my surroundings, toinsinuate myself into the marble walls and stone walkways before they can speakto me._I am invisible. You cannot see me. You will pass me by._"Hey, fella -- we're looking for a guide," says the man. "You interested?"I stifle a sigh and bow deeply. "I am honored," I say, glad that they do notunderstand the subtleties of Antarean inflection."Wow!" exclaims the woman, aiming her camera at me. "I never saw anything likethat! It's almost as if you folded your torso in half! Can you do it again?"I am reminded of an ancient legend, possibly aprocryphal though I choose tobelieve it. An ambassador who was equally fascinated by the way the Antareanbody is jointed, once asked Komarith I, the founder of the 38th Dynasty, to bowa second time. Komarith merely stared at him without moving until theembarrassed ambassador slunk away. He went on to rule for 29 years and was neverknown to bow again.It has been a long time since Komarith, almost seven millennia now, and Antaresand the universe have changed. I bow for the woman while she snaps herholographs."What's your name?" asks the man."You could not pronounce it," I reply. "When I conduct members of your race, Ichoose the name Hermes.""Herman, eh?""Hermes," I correct him."Right. Herman."The boy finally looks up. "He said Hermes, Dad."The man shrugs. "Whatever." He looks at his timepiece. "Well, let's getstarted.""Yeah," chimes in the child. "They're piping in the game from Roosevelt III thisafternoon. I've got to get back for it.""You can watch sports anytime," says the woman. "This may be your only chance tosee Antares.""I should be so lucky," he mutters, returning his attention to his computer.I recite my introductory speech almost by rote. "Allow me to welcome you toAntares III, and to its capital city of Kalimetra, known throughout the galaxyas the City of a Million Spires.""I didn't see any million spires when we took the shuttle in from thespaceport," says the child, whom I could have sworn was not listening. "Athousand or two, maybe.""There was a time when there were a million," I explain. "Today only 16,304remain. Each is made of quartz or crystal. In late afternoon, when the sun sinkslow in the sky, they act as a prism for its rays, creating a flood of exoticcolors that stretches across the thoroughfares of the city. Races have come fromhalfway across the galaxy to experience the effect.""Sixteen thousand," murmurs the woman. "I wonder what happened to the rest?"#_No one knew why Antareans found the spires so aesthetically pleasing. Theytowered above the cities, casting their shadows and their shifting colors acrossthe landscape. Tall, delicate, exquisite, they reflected a unique grandness ofvision and sensitivity of spirit. The rulers of Antares III spent almost 38,000years constructing their million spires.__During the Second Invasion, it took the Canphorite armada less than two weeksto destroy all but 16,304 of them..._#The woman is still admiring the spires that she can see in the distance. Finallyshe asks who built them, as if they are too beautiful to have been created byAntareans."The artisans and craftsmen of my race built everything you will see today," Ianswer."All by yourselves?""Is it so difficult for you to believe?" I ask gently."No," she says defensively. "Of course not. It's just that there's so _much..._""Kalimetra was not created in a day or a year, or even a millennium," I pointout. "It is the cumulative achievement of 43 Antarean Dynasties.""So we're in the 43rd Dynasty now?" she asks.#_It was Zelorean IX who officially declared Kalimetra to be the Eternal City.Neither war nor insurrection had ever threatened its stability, and even thetowering temples of his forefathers gave every promise of lasting for alleternity. It was a Golden Age, and he could see no reason why it should not goon forever..._#"The last absolute ruler of the 43rd Dynasty has been dust for almost threethousand years," I explain. "Since then we have been governed by a series ofconquerers, each alien race superceding the last.""Thank goodness they didn't destroy your buildings," says the woman, turning toadmire a water fountain, which for some reason appears to her to be a mysticalalien artifact. She is about to take a holo when the child restrains her."It's just a goddamned water bubbler, Ma," he says."But it's fascinating," she says. "Imagine what kind of beings used it in agespast.""Thirsty ones," says the bored child.She ignores him and turns back to me. "As I was saying, it must be criminal torob the galaxy of such treasures.""Yeah, well _somebody_ destroyed some buildings around here," interjects thechild, who seems intent on proving someone wrong about something. "Remember thehole in the ground we saw over that way?" He points in the direction of theFootprint. "Looks like a bomb crater to me.""You are mistaken," I explain, leading them over to it. "It has always beenthere.""It's just a big sinkhole," says the man, totally unimpressed."It is worshipped by my people as the Footprint of God," I explain. "Once, manyeons ago, Kalimetra was in the throes of a years-long drought. Finally Jorvash,our greatest priest, offered his own life if God would bring the rains. Godreplied that it would not rain until He wept again, and we had not yet sufferedenough to bring forth His tears of compassion. But He promised that He wouldstrike a bargain with Jorvash."I pause for effect, but the man is lighting another cigar and the child isconcentrating on his pocket computer. "The next morning Jorvash was found deadinside his temple, while God had created this depression with His foot andfilled it with water. It sustained us until He finally wept again."The woman seems flustered. "Um...I hate to ask," she finally says, "but couldyou repeat that story? My recorder wasn't on."The man looks uncomfortable. "She's always forgetting to turn the damned thingon," he explains, and flips me a coin. "For your trouble."#_Lobilia was the greatest poet in the history of Antares III. Although he diedduring the 23rd Dynasty, most of his work survived him. But his masterpiece,"The Long Night of the Exile" -- the epic of Bagata's Exile and his triumphantReturn -- was lost forever.__Though he was his race's most famous bard, Lobilia himself was illiterate,unable even to write his own name. He created his poetry extemporaneously,embellishing upon it with each retelling. He recited his epic just once, and wasso satisfied with its form that he refused to repeat it for the scribes who werewaiting for a final version and hadn't written it down._#"Thank you," says the woman, deactivating the recorder after I finish. Shepauses. "Can I buy a book with some more of your quaint folk legends?"I decide not to explain the difference between a folk legend and an article ofbelief. "They are for sale in the gift shop of your hotel," I reply."You don't have enough books?" mutters the man.She glares at him, but says nothing, and I lead them to the Tomb, which alwaysimpresses visitors."This is the Tomb of Bedorian V, the greatest ruler of the 37th Dynasty," I say."Bedorian was a commoner, a simple farmer who deposed the notorious MaelastriXII, himself a mighty warrior who was the last ruler of the 36th Dynasty. It wasBedorian who decreed universal education for all Antareans.""What did you have before that?""Our females were not allowed the privilege of literacy until Bedorian's reign.""How did this guy finally die?" asks the man, who doesn't really care but isunwilling to let the woman ask all the questions."Bedorian was assassinated by one of his followers," I reply."A male, no doubt," says the woman wryly."Before he died," I continue, "he united three warring states without fighting asingle battle, decreed that all Antareans should use a common language, andoutlawed the worship of _kreneks_.""What are _kreneks_?""They are poisonous reptiles. They killed many worshippers in nameless, obsceneceremonies before Bedorian IV came to power.""Yeah?" says the child, alert a...
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