"Ronald Green - Great Kings War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Ronald)
toward the Main Assembly HallтАФthe University's largest lecture hall. Danthor Dras, the Dean of
Aryan-Transpacific and one of the most respected, and feared, scholars at the University, was going to
speak on the history of Styphon's House Subsector. Dras focused interest on any topic he covered, but
this time media interest in the displaced former Pennsylvania State Trooper was attracting serious news
and broadcast attention all on its own.
The lecture hall was almost filled and Sirna was forced to sit at the back, near the main entranceway.
She had just settled into her form-fitting seat, when Danthor Dras strode up to the lectern, newsies trailing
behind like jackals after a big cat. Dras' hair flowed back from his leonine countenance like silver wings,
giving him the look of a successful Fourth Level politician or preacher. As he cleared his throat, the noisy
Dhergabar University lecture room fell silent.
"I've been invited here to address the Kalvan Study Teams and interested observers," Danthor Dras
smiled to acknowledge the crowd, which spilled out into the hallways of the large lecture room, as well as
the millions of viewers watching his three-dimensional image on all the major networks.
"As most of you know, I've spent more than fifty years researching Fourth Level, Aryan-Transpacific, as
part of my research on theocracies and their effects on political and economic structures. And, let me say
this," Danthor Dras grinned widely, "this outfit is the nastiest bunch of religious frauds and out-and-out
crooks it's been my pleasure to study."
The switch from dry lecture to informality had the desired effect and the crowd responded
enthusiastically.
slave pen filled with skin-and-bone wretches eating slop out of animal troughs before switching to a scene
where white robed priests were wielding whips on slaves, wearing nothing but tattered shirts and
trousers, hauling rocks in what appeared to be near-freezing weather. Next the display featured a room
full of yellow and black robed high priests eating at a table laden with food and delicacies, while being
entertained by musicians and scantily clad dancers. Then the scene changed to a burning village assaulted
by armored men with red capes and silver armor wielding some kind of long bladed poleax. A black
robed upperpriest pointed to a group of comely young women who were led away in chains, while their
neighbors were burned out of their houses. Any who tried to defend themselves were hacked to death.
One man attempted to run away and was shot by a primitive pistol the length of a small carbine.
"Rather than bore you with too many details," Dras continued, "let me give you Styphon's House history
in capsule form. Some five hundred years ago the 'god' Styphon was a minor deity, a healer god, among
a much larger pantheon, with only a few half-hearted followers on the primitive Aryan-Transpacific
Sector. The dominant gods among the Zarthani, as this group of the Sanskrit-speaking Indo-Aryan
settlers called themselves, were Allfather DralmтАФthe usual wise all-knowing father god figure, Yirtta
Allmother, the female goddess of fertility and Galzar Wolfhead, god of war.
"This all changed when one of the priests of a small temple who called themselves Styphon's House was
mixing a batch of primitive chemical compounds that pass for medicine on this backward Sector. When
he mixed his ingredients and put them under a flameтАФthey went BAM!"
His voice boomed through the room, echoing this primal moment.
"So it was that gunpowder, or fireseed as they called it, was born on Aryan-Transpacific. This
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